Mutaro looked into the one eye of Rodgers.
She saw something there something that had not been there before. A fire. A will. A conviction that burned brighter than any blade, hotter than any rage. She smiled.
She said to herself, her inner voice quiet, almost reverent.
And so the seeds were planted inside him. She watched him stand broken, bleeding, but unyielding. So truly, your death was not in vain. As you had always said it would be.
She paused.
You're always right.
As always.
She broke into laughter.
"HAHAHA! HAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA!"
The sound echoed across the water sharp, joyous, triumphant. It carried over the waves, over the chaos, over the death that surrounded them.
She spoke out loud, her voice filled with approval.
"Good. Good." She raised her katana. "Now let's continue."
She paused.
"I want to see you push more."
She rushed him.
Her body shot forward her katana raised, her eyes fixed, her will absolute. She moved with the speed of a striking serpent, her blade cutting through the air, aimed at his heart.
Normally, Rodgers would back away before he launched an attack. He would create distance, buy time, regroup. But that was not the case here.
He rushed in.
As soon as he saw that she was even about to make an attack, he was already moving his body launching forward, his blade rising, his will absolute. Their weapons clashed CLANG! and the impact shook the deck beneath them.
He used the force and the momentum from her attack to spin his body around.
His body twisted a whirlwind of motion, a blur of steel and flesh and he hit her from the side. His blade cut through the air, aimed at her ribs, at her lungs, at her life.
She stopped the attack.
Her katana rose her reflexes immediate, her movements fluid, her will absolute. The blades met CLANG! and sparks flew.
She prepared to make another attack.
But he did not give her the chance.
He threw his sword in her face.
The blade spun through the air end over end, its edge gleaming, its purpose unfinished. She was forced to react, to block, to move.
And then he hit his leg on the hilt of the sword.
His intention was to stab the sword into her face. The blade shot forward fast, precise, deadly aimed at her eyes, at her mind, at her end.
She reacted fast enough.
Her body bent backward a contortion that defied anatomy, a flex that denied physics. The blade passed by her face, close enough to cut a strand of her blue hair, close enough to draw blood, close enough to kill.
He grabbed it.
His fingers closed around the hilt his grip firm, his will absolute and he pulled it back. He was planning to pin her to the ground, to end this battle, to win.
She turned her switch.
Her body shifted her weight shifting to her front foot, her katana rising to meet his, her will absolute. She used a natural force of gravity and without any resistance made a deep cut into his shoulder.
SHLIK!
The blade cut through flesh, grated against bone, sprayed blood across the deck. The pain was immediate, blazing, absolute.
She smiled.
Despite the pain, those emotions in his eyes refused to suppress themselves. They burned brighter, hotter, more absolute. It was all sedimenting within him what he now stood by.
For the first time, he was able to make an attack that left damage on her.
His sword swung across her chest during the moment she had deeply injured him. The blade cut through her bandages, opened her flesh, drew blood. It was not a deep wound not fatal, not crippling but it was real.
His attack was not like any normal attack.
It carried something within it. Something that his attacks had always been lacking. Something that had been planted in him, nurtured in him, born in him.
Conviction.
His attack carried a heavy dose of conviction within it.
Everything sedimented every battle, every loss, every moment of pain left a deep damage on her. And he did not stop there. Even if it meant he would lose his arm, this battle must go on.
Everything was on the line.
So what was this conviction that this man had found?
in the space between the question and the answer, between the wound that had been inflicted and the fire that still burned in his heart.
Rodgers stood, his sword raised, his body broken, his will absolute.
Mutaro stood, her wound bleeding, her eyes curious, her respect growing.
And the sea roared.