It was an opening Kisara Tendo had deliberately offered him!
Because Kisara Tendo knew him too well.
She knew Rentaro Satomi's deeply ingrained habit of defending and counterattacking when facing powerful enemies; she knew he relied too heavily on his prosthetic right arm's defensive strength; above all, she knew his right shoulder would dip ever so slightly before he threw a punch!
That was the price of living together for ten years.
To Kisara Tendo, every habit, every blind spot, every rhythm of Rentaro Satomi's breathing in combat was as clear as if it had been drawn on white paper.
[Tendo Combat Style] was founded on Type One's punches and Type Two's kicks.
But Rentaro Satomi relied too heavily on his prosthetic limbs, neglecting to train the rest of his body.
"Too slow."
"And you're full of openings."
Smack!
A slender, powerful hand precisely seized the wrist of Rentaro Satomi's only flesh-and-blood arm-his left.
Then.
She used his momentum and twisted.
Kisara Tendo's body traced an impossible arc through the air.
Her black pleated skirt fluttered.
Kisara Tendo abruptly raised her leg.
"Gah-!!!"
Rentaro Satomi's eyes instantly widened, nearly bulging out of their sockets.
A sharp pain tore through his abdomen.
-Kisara Tendo's knee strike.
Without a shred of mercy.
It slammed straight into his stomach.
"Gah-!!!"
Rentaro Satomi's eyes instantly widened, nearly bulging out of their sockets.
A mouthful of sour fluid mixed with bloody froth sprayed straight from his mouth.
The agony instantly doubled him over like a cooked shrimp, and all the strength he had gathered collapsed under that single blow.
But it wasn't over yet.
Kisara Tendo twisted, her black pleated skirt tracing an arc in the firelight.
Her long right leg whistled through the air and slammed down hard against Rentaro Satomi's neck.
Bam!