Stavanger Bay rather have been killed by that beast than be saved by a half-breed

He did not know play, but he tried. He mimicked the actions of the children he had once protected, moved as they did, tried to remember all that they were in those moments of innocence; yet his own movements were more fluid and his occasional jolts towards his opponent - his target - more brisk. Tetsubo did not ease back with his power when he dove in to snap at her, or to bump her with a shoulder, and should any of his attacks connect, they would likely bruise her - or bleed. The actions of diving and twisting away from her, or moving in to attack on his own accord, made his own blood boil with the familiar warmth of battle; and soon Tetsubo would be consumed by it, leaving behind the game for the harsh reality he had always known.