#beastkachu

Three was easy enough to sort out. For different minds, there sure wasn’t that much to differentiate. The first challenger, scruffy haired and impatient, lunged out first. Of course he would. A mind like his was an open book for Sinne. A swift lean to the left and the momentum did all the countering he needed. Sinne compromised the impatient youth’s footing, sending him to the ground with a throw more akin to a guided push. He felt it right then: a flash of doubt through the mind of a certain wire-thin second. His plan was to sneak in after his comrade, should an opening be made, and turn the fight to a two-on-one. Annoyed, he went for a sucker punch while Sinn’s back was turned. It whiffed through the air beside the mind-reader, a light breeze through his hair. A palm strike to the chin toppled him like glass. He didn’t need that much, of course, but he’d lie if this wasn’t a little bit hilarious.

Then another inkling, a mental curse. It was his grumpy friend back for more, tossing everything to the wind for another wild set of attacks. First, a left kick; blocked. Then punches, a left, a right, a second left, and a wild right swing. Sinne wondered if it was pity or boredom that he’d dispatch him so quickly. He danced around the haymaker and delivered a kick that sent him piling onto his co-conspirator.

“Next time, you shouldn’t be so obvious,” Sinne sighed. "It hurts.”

And then there was one. From this man’s position as last to fight, he could tell he was the leadfoot in the ensemble of clowns. All the way down to his shadowy moustache and hat. Unlike the other two, He was calmer, slower in his approach. Not even he paid much attention to his own cronies now. He struck his stance, his left hand in his pants pocket. Sinne half-grinned. At least he played the part of someone interesting. He attacked, and that’s when the real surprise happened. He got nothing from his mind as to where the left was going. Another left, and it was the same. Not wishing to be on the defensive anymore, he traded in kind. His final adversary quickly obliged to evade. Suddenly,

Right

Sinne was grazed by the black blur of a sleeve. It clicked. He couldn’t read him because there was nothing to read. He had seen his fair share of combat enough to turn his actions into instinct, moves that require no thought to aim.

“Alright,” Sinne muttered. “Trouble.”

Right

Right

The attack grew closer as the fight paced on. The earlier combatants were more engrossed in the match to join in, knowing this is one-on-one now. But the concern was strangely a close second. It was fun. Equal for the first time in his memory. However, he too would have his secrets. Mind-reading yields an aptitude of scanning. Mystery Hat threw him for a loop, but now it’s clear. Instinct goes as far as your bag of tricks with it.

Right

Sinn’s counter hook hit home. The previous attacks delivered a pattern more obvious than minds. The surprise bent him as equally with the blow, practically knocking his hat off. Despite the red right corner of his lip, he knew that was it. Fighting came with a unspoken link between the more seasoned competitors. He waved off his lackeys with the raise of his hand. With that hand he grabbed his hat, dust it off on his shirt, and turned to leave. The thinner second got the message first and followed, but there was a bit more confusion in the first, a frustration.

“Don’t act on that,” Sinne said. Finally he left in a huff.