Rodgers backed away a bit.
His boots scraped against the blood-soaked deck, each step deliberate, measured, careful. He stared at his opponent at the woman who stood before him with her katana drawn, her blue hair flowing in the wind, her eyes calm and unreadable.
He began to think.
From the look of things, he said to himself, his inner voice quiet, calculating, uncertain. This battle it's not really going to be one that's going to favour me.
He studied her form the way she held her blade, the way she stood, the way she breathed. Every detail screamed of a warrior who had been honed to perfection.
My opponent is someone who has never lost a battle. His jaw tightened. Someone that I've never been able to defeat not a single time ever since I was alive.
He remembered their first clash years ago, on a different sea, in a different world. He had been young then, confident, certain of his victory. She had cut him down in seconds.
It did not matter if genetics or even a higher divine power favoured me. He shook his head. She I can't beat her.
He looked at her at the woman who had stood beside the Iron Lantern through countless battles, who had defended him with her life, who had never fallen.
She was one of the reasons why the Iron Lantern and his crew were so dangerous as they were previously.
He laughed out loud a short, bitter, broken sound.
How did that bastard get someone like her on his crew? He shook his head. And build such a deep loyalty like this?
He closed his eyes and took a breath.
Focus. He forced the thoughts from his mind. Focus on the battle. Focus on the moment. Focus on survival.
He rushed at her.
His body launched forward his feet pounding against the deck, his muscles screaming in protest, his will absolute. As soon as he got into striking range, he drew his blade out.
He smiled.
The gap between the two of us is very close, he thought, his inner voice sharp with calculation. But it's more into my favour. Why?
Because of the length of her weapon. He watched her katana long, curved, deadly. Before it reaches me, I would have made a devastating attack.
He paused.
Though that does not mean I would leave unscathed. His voice hardened. I would get a really deep cut. One enough to die.
He attacked her.
His blade shot forward fast, precise, deadly aimed at her heart, at her throat, at her life. He put everything into the strike every ounce of strength, every flicker of hope, every shred of will.
She blocked the attack.
Her katana met his blade CLANG! and stopped it cold. The steel screamed with the impact, the sparks flying, the shockwave rippling through his arms.
And then she drew her weapon.
Her reflexes were so fast that he was not able to react. She moved like water, like shadow, like death itself. Her blade cut through the air aimed at his throat, at his heart, at his end.
He closed his eyes.
Fear gripped him cold, absolute, paralyzing. He could not move. Could not speak. Could not breathe. He waited for the impact, for the pain, for the end.
But she did not attack him.
She said, her voice calm, almost conversational.
"Are you dumb?" She paused. "Didn't I tell you?"
She lowered her blade.
"I will only defend."
Rodgers stood, frozen.
Mutaro stood, calm.
And the sea roared