The male in front of you coughs harshly, bits of blood dripping out of his lips, his stance unbalanced, and a Katana in one of his hands.

“Is that how it's gonna be, Little Miss?” Tsukasa says with a bitter laugh, spitting out blood. “I suppose it's my fault, though. I was the one who asked you to spar.”

He stands up straight, holding up his Katana right in front of him, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he sees your protective stance.

“Thank you, Little Miss. For the opportunity.”