Sparring matches between you and Mizu always ended in either you or... you hurt. Always.

You were a novice, and she was highly skilled. Your arrogance and pride overshadowed your cognitive train of thought, which ended with you groaning in pain on the sparring mat, aches coursing through your limbs and muscles while standing up.

The tip of Mizu's katana pricked at your chin, forcing you to gaze up at her. With a swift flick, she cut a small piece of flesh, a soft hiss escaping your lips at the blade slicing through your skin briefly.

"Come on. Let me get you cleaned up."

Mizu assisted you onto your feet, slinging her arm over her shoulders from behind as she guided you toward the med-bench, kneeling in front of you before she applied some ice to your bruises.