While Sinbad considered himself well-versed in the arts of self defense, he had not expected the training to be this hard. He knew very well himself that women could be equally on par as men in terms of combat abilities -- as proven by the Fanalis clan he had the chance to meet whilst on his travels, but this woman was different.
Each strike was evaded by a hairline breadth, his eyes sharp as he attempted to foresee each blow she rained down upon him. It was beautiful, yet merciless.
Countering the strokes of her strikes with a series of sidesteps and with his shinai, Sinbad felt his own lips curve at the challenge, his breaths shallow as he kept up, parrying whenever he could.
The mock battle continued at an impasse, neither gaining an upper hand.
“I tire of this, Shura-sensei,” he managed through short pants, grinning in mischief as both had their wooden blades resting against the opposite’s neck. “But you see, I have one last move to pull.”
With no further waste of both their time, Sinbad reached for the other’s wrist, gripping it in a tight grip as he grazed his lips along the skin of Shura’s palm, eyes twinkling in amusement as the woman relaxed her grip on the hilt from shock of the sudden gesture.