Yuuta stared at the approaching storm of poison.
Then his grip on the stick shifted.
He drew in a long breath, steadied his trembling hands and began rotating the stick in front of his body. The movement was awkward for the first few turns, but Yuuta kept his breathing controlled and gradually increased the speed, passing the stick from one hand to the other in a continuous circular motion.
He had seen this technique on television years ago. Shaolin practitioners had spun staffs around themselves so quickly that Yuuta, fascinated by it, had spent plenty of time trying to imitate the movement with random sticks whenever he had the chance. Back then it had been nothing more than something fun to copy.
Now his life depended on it.
The first bottle reached him.
CRACK!
The spinning stick caught the glass and sent it flying backward before it could shatter.
