In all her years of training at Daybreak, Misaki had never had the skill to match a master swordsman in combat. But unencumbered by the tight kimono or the childish cowardice that had bound her for years, she had become a new creature, more fluid and boundless than a girl but more solid than a shadow—a woman of lightning sinew and roaring blood. For once in her life, her body kept pace with her mind. The moment she visualized a swing, the blade was there. The moment she registered an opening, she was inside it. If she willed her stance to hold, it held. She was breathing hard, but it occurred
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