| [Dec. 22nd, 2013|05:02 am] |
Katsuko bared her teeth at the white-hot pain that raced from her fingers to her shoulder, newly-repaired bone and muscle screaming at the strain. She shoved back against Kakashi, hard enough that the hilt of her kodachi creaked.
Then she gave way.
Flow like water. Retreat to advance.
Kakashi’s blades skidded off her katana as she pivoted on her right heel, sliding out of the way. With nothing to push against, Kakashi’s momentum drove him forward. Katsuko swung her left arm around to drive the butt of her kodachi down onto the back of his unprotected neck.
Except Kakashi wasn’t there.
The skin between her shoulderblades pricked. Katsuko threw herself out of the way, hissing as razor-sharp steel barely kissed her spine through cloth. Kakashi was on her in the next breath, blades singing in the air. Katsuko parried a strike at her throat and danced back, buying herself time. She recognized the overhead swing he was using, the lunge-reverse-block sequence, the distinct guard stance he assumed when she counterattacked—
“You’re copying me,” she accused.
Kakashi’s expression didn’t change. “You’re very unoriginal.” The intensity behind his attack eased just a little, settling into a fast-paced rhythm as they traded blows. Every exchange of steel and sparks perfected his mimicry of the Hyoho Niten-ryu, coming closer to flawless accuracy each time.
Sweat trickled down Kakashi’s temples, disappearing underneath his mask. Katsuko’s shirt clung to her back, fabric damp with perspiration. Neither of them slowed down. Kakashi locked hilts with her again, his face framed between their crossed blades. This close, she could see the outline of his mouth through the mask. A distraction, if she were anything less than professional.
Katsuko smiled. “Impressive.”
Then she hooked her foot around his ankle and yanked, because no amount of copying could compensate for the way the knee overextended in this particular stance. It had taken months for Katsuko’s mother to beat the correct muscle alignment into her.
Kakashi’s visible eye widened an instant before he fell. He tucked his shoulder in and rolled when he hit the dirt, striking at her legs with his kodachi when she darted after him. He caught himself with one foot braced on the ground and leapt at her, sliding into a different fighting style with effortless grace.
This was new. Kakashi switched to a reverse grip, sacrificing defense for lightning-quick offense. The way he lunged at her, balanced lightly on the balls of his feet, looked more like boxing than anything else. Katsuko swept her katana in a wide arc, trying to gain space.
He pressed close, thwarting her attempts to put distance between them. His shorter tanto tangled with her katana and kodachi, fouling up her guard long enough for him to slam a knee up into her solar plexus. The breath rushed out of Katsuko’s lungs as she doubled up. One last-ditch effort freed her kodachi; she swiped at Kakashi, forcing him to leap away while she recovered.
Kakashi smiled underneath his mask, a little breathless. “Now you’re holding back.”
Katsuko sprang at him in answer. Her muscles burned, but it was a welcome ache; the give-and-take dance of a good spar hummed in her veins. Kakashi matched her every step, sliding around her blades like mist. She pushed herself to keep pace, switching her katana and kodachi hands to vary things up. |
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