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... bt of a Kiss
After I gave Kimchi the nod, my stance shifted—left leg extended like a duelist’s bait, right leg rooted deep, stable, grounded. I held Kiya in both hands, angling her downward in tail guard, the ancient posture of readiness. I breathed slow, the metal whisper of my sword matching the tempo of my heartbeat. Kimchi, of course, needed no countdown. She launched herself at me like a railgun shot disguised as a woman.
Her first strike screamed toward my left shoulder, a ...
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