"It's my turn."
The slender sword, Osprey,
slid and curled along the black blade, using the momentum to press Sandai Kitetsu an inch off course.
Then its tip rose like a venomous snake's head and thrust smoothly forward, forcing Rossi to jerk his head aside and let that cold glint skim past his cheekbone.
That fleeting dodge alone caused the initiative to change hands.
"Skillful Seal."
With the girl's sharp cry, her swordplay abruptly changed.
Her earlier head-on approach vanished, replaced by an unbroken stream of thrusts, each aimed at his throat, heart, or the space between his brows.
Clear metallic clashes erupted in rapid succession, like a summer downpour hammering a tin roof.
Rossi swung his blade to parry, his retreating footsteps leaving a string of depressions in the sand.
His concentration stretched to its limit, his Observation Haki's sensory net spread at full strength, trying to catch the path of every silver flash.
The two figures crossed the arena, one retreating and one advancing, invisible sparks flying whenever black and silver edges met.
Suddenly, a streak of scarlet bloomed.
A slender cut appeared on Rossi's forearm. Beads of blood scattered into the sand, only to be buried by the windblown grit stirred up by the girl's charge.
Even though he could read the attacks' trajectories in advance, his body could not keep up with a speed beyond his reactions.
He had been forced onto the defensive.
"Rossi!"
"He's actually being pushed back this badly..."
At the edge of the stands, several family members took half a step forward almost simultaneously.
Trebol was so shocked that he even forgot to maintain his usual comical mucus.
It was not that he had never considered the possibility of defeat, but he had not expected Rossi to be overwhelmed from the outset