Cabello's thoughts begin to split, no longer flowing entirely with instinct and the effortless good mood. As Ryoma keeps imitating him, dual exchanges are no longer his only concern.
He also begins wondering whether Ryoma is quietly building a counter trap, waiting to abandon the imitation at the perfect moment.
As a result, although his dance and footwork remain as smooth as ever, every attack now carries the faintest hesitation, each punch leaving his hand only half committed.
When he glides lightly to his left, his shoulders still roll with the familiar Cuban rhythm. Then his lead shoulder twitches, and the jab starts to come.
But halfway through the motion, it dies, while his rear glove has already climbed anticipating Ryoma's jab. Then he drifts away on a few smooth shuffle dance steps, slips to another angle.
