Gin struggles. Very much.

His shoulder

was

bleeding, but the intense heat from the lance had already staunched the wound, and now bleeding was the least of his problems. One of his tonfas was shot off and probably at the pit of the clouds right now-- and he crumbles, because the weight was working against him now.

Priest Shura, or so he introduced himself as, rode on his vulture, and Gin couldn 't keep up. He leaps off and strikes down, and Gin has to brace both hands against it, feeling the burn spread through his weapon and begin to steam at his hands-- but he can 't let go. He can only bite his lip and swear and hope his knees don 't give in.

'Guard Point! '

Chopper yells, inflates-- but it does nothing when the vulture dives, sharp claws and piercing teeth shredding right through his defenses, scarring through the Merry on its way back up.