[The adrenaline was surging at this point so the harsh strikes to his gut and face didn't really hurt. He certainly felt winded and dazed - and it took him a sluggish second to capitalise on the woman backing off because of that - but he could feel his pulse pounding frantically and everything was very... good.
He scrambled onto his feet with less grace than Malia, his breathing short and sharp. In a detached part of him mind, he realised he needed to calm down. Bad things tended to happen when he got overexcited, especially when blood was spilled (and oh he could feel it underneath his claws and on his skin and-) and he tapped a bit too deeply into his demonic side. Bad things like... wanting to eat...
He grunted, giving his head a sharp shake, like he was trying to dislodge an irritating fly, before refocusing on Malia, straightening up completely and rolling his shoulders. Some of the feralness receded, but his claws remained, and he paced from side to side in short little steps, as if trying to decide what his next move should be.
No height advantage, no weight advantage either, they were equally matched in terms of strength - although Kazuya thought he could probably outpace her, his stamina was practically endless - and she was, though it pained him to admit it, a bit more experienced in close quarter fighting. Kazuya tended to do one-hit kills or strike from a middle distance; not prolonged wrestling matches unless it was do kill time and boredom with Ongyo-ki. He really didn't know if he could win or not now.
Okay.
Mid-step he lunged abruptly, a rapid feint at her left side before sharply going for the right instead, looking to get a good grip on her arm, even if he'd had to dig his claws real deep to do it. He'll grab it and shove her face down, arm twisted... no way could she wriggle her way out of that (if he could even wrestle her face down, that is)!]
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He scrambled onto his feet with less grace than Malia, his breathing short and sharp. In a detached part of him mind, he realised he needed to calm down. Bad things tended to happen when he got overexcited, especially when blood was spilled (and oh he could feel it underneath his claws and on his skin and-) and he tapped a bit too deeply into his demonic side. Bad things like... wanting to eat...
He grunted, giving his head a sharp shake, like he was trying to dislodge an irritating fly, before refocusing on Malia, straightening up completely and rolling his shoulders. Some of the feralness receded, but his claws remained, and he paced from side to side in short little steps, as if trying to decide what his next move should be.
No height advantage, no weight advantage either, they were equally matched in terms of strength - although Kazuya thought he could probably outpace her, his stamina was practically endless - and she was, though it pained him to admit it, a bit more experienced in close quarter fighting. Kazuya tended to do one-hit kills or strike from a middle distance; not prolonged wrestling matches unless it was do kill time and boredom with Ongyo-ki. He really didn't know if he could win or not now.
Okay.
Mid-step he lunged abruptly, a rapid feint at her left side before sharply going for the right instead, looking to get a good grip on her arm, even if he'd had to dig his claws real deep to do it. He'll grab it and shove her face down, arm twisted... no way could she wriggle her way out of that (if he could even wrestle her face down, that is)!]