[Given that split second, Squalo does finally pause, bracing himself for the inevitable next attack instead of pressing on. Part of him wants to examine the wound. See how deep it is, how much blood he's losing, because past all the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the pain barely even registers. But he has to focus on the fight. Concentrate or die.
Already, his movements have been a seemingly haphazard mixture of different styles. A fencing stance, a swing from fighting with the heavy chinese dao. He just has to find something that will work against Yamamoto. There has to be some opening. But the question brings an outright snarl to his face.]
He's the fucking heir! You think I need another reason?
no subject
Already, his movements have been a seemingly haphazard mixture of different styles. A fencing stance, a swing from fighting with the heavy chinese dao. He just has to find something that will work against Yamamoto. There has to be some opening. But the question brings an outright snarl to his face.]
He's the fucking heir! You think I need another reason?