Despite everything else that had been going on, Taiwan had worked hard preparing for this fight. To give it less than her best would be insulting to both Japan and herself. A lot of people hadn't seemed to understand why the two of them would fight if they insisted they weren't angry at each other - because she hadn't been, not really - but she
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On the deck of the S.S. Pasta, sun high in the sky, he holds out a sheathed katana for her as she approaches. He had originally asked her for a spar, but it was more of a challenge this way and he longed to hear the clash of swords again. "I hope you have prepared yourself for this." Japan smiles softly as he lets go of the hilt, testing her speed already.
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Without even thinking about it, she reaches out to take a hold of the sword as it falls, grip firm on the hilt, letting gravity pull it out of the sheath before flicking her wrist just so to send the sheath flying up, catching it in her other hand without looking. It was a flashy, entirely unnecessary movement, but one challenge must needs be met by another. "Yes." She says formally, and bows.
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"I will allow you to strike first," he says airily, smile fading fast, a more serious expression replacing it.
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Good. Resourceful as always.
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That's part of being an island, isn't it?
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