━ imagine sparring with maki.

she refuses to go easy on you, and that's fine, you wouldn't have it any other way. you'd be more angry if she took it easy on you, in fact.

maki attacks you with perfect form. to an outsider, the frenzied movement looks like the most graceful dance. jumping and twisting in midair, limbs folding and unfolding like the petals of a black morning glory. a pivot of the heel. a shifting of weight.

you aim fast but light jabs and kicks at every part of her body, your feet whipping out in attempts to trip her. maki evades every one of your blows, spinning on her toes, her arms elegantly parting the air as she fends you off.

finally, she hooks a foot behind yours and pulls your heel from under you. your footing is unstable. you hit the ground hard, with maki on top. straddling your hips, she captures your wrists with her hands, and her grin is wide and white.

i win, maki says, but with her face inches from yours, and her body a warm weight against yours, you don't really feel as disappointed as you should.