[ Battle occupies a space in his mind like nothing else does. It's not just a means, it's a purpose all its own. Every line of his body has been carved with a fight in mind, from the sharpness of his wrists to the line of his back and the trio of metal implants that march down it. What it would do when he fighting came to an end was something he never got the chance to experience. There was only fighting, darkness, and then here. No past, no future. Only where he stands.
So it circulates in him, torrential and alive. Link's movement has him staying firm on his two feet, motions fluid but steely as he keeps the distance malleable, following the hits with the flats of his arms. One to try and glance the weaker jab away while taking the brunt of the hit with his other. His limbs almost have a metallic quality when they're hit, vibrating with the force of it, absorbing the shock so Mikazuki can keep centered.
With Link's fist driven into his arm, he rolls it, attempting to throw his arms aside and break his stance, angling his shoulder to try and ram him backwards. ]
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So it circulates in him, torrential and alive. Link's movement has him staying firm on his two feet, motions fluid but steely as he keeps the distance malleable, following the hits with the flats of his arms. One to try and glance the weaker jab away while taking the brunt of the hit with his other. His limbs almost have a metallic quality when they're hit, vibrating with the force of it, absorbing the shock so Mikazuki can keep centered.
With Link's fist driven into his arm, he rolls it, attempting to throw his arms aside and break his stance, angling his shoulder to try and ram him backwards. ]