DESCRIPTION
Finally, after transitioning the circle about forty-five degrees, Cheryl saw Sakura shift his stance. He was getting ready to strike. Or at least feint. And she wasn't going to let him draw this out anymore.
In a burst of cotton shirt and blue denim, Cheryl lunged fake left hook, only to send out a right jab for just above his sternum as his guard transitioned. "HAAAI!"
But he had bated her well. His left arm tensing and pushing up to block her punch. "Osoi..." he smuggly chortled, stepping forward with his block-