Thwack. Thwack.
Sweat poured down Shinpachi's sides, soaking his hair and clothes.
A wooden sword was comfortable in his raw, callused hands, the polished grain vibrating against his palms with each strike.
C'mon...one more...
Thwack.
Twist into a counterstrike. Why did he block it? Sanosuke could feel his arms and core straining with exertion, aware of very little else than those smug summer-blue eyes and the heat that was nothing like the searing ocean heat of Matsuyama. But heat of any kind always affected his brain.
One more...one more...
The other's movements became more erratic, more primal and untrained. No amount of discipline could restrain that volcanic temper that had burned through the redhead's nonchalant facade.
But Nagakura Shinpachi deep down was cooler than a diamond.
His direct, precise bokken cut right through the explosions of attacks, past the jo staff, touching oh-so-gently between those flaring yellow tiger eyes.
And then he allowed himself to grin like never before.
"Point."
Dimly aware of his lungs screaming and heart pounding, it took Harada Sanosuke a moment to remember himself.
Then he coolly returned the smile.
The match had resembled something like an expert hunter calmly spearing an enraged lion.
Except the hunter himself was a blue-eyed lion and the prey was really a tiger.