Masaru frowned. Just a fraction of an inch, but it happened. He didn't like people stepping on his sword. Still, it gives him time to start rolling away from Koutarou before the counter-attack begins.

It isn't enough to escape unscathed, but it avoids actual injury. The whip-sword's tip tears the outer part of Masaru's garments, not quite reaching his skin but still marking him first.

When the Pack Officer comes to a stop a couple dozen feet away and stands, he nods at Koutarou and gives him a quick salute with the blade, his other arm still tucked behind his back, his wakizashi still sheathed.

It's clear that, to Masaru, this is...if not a game, then at least still a fun, friendly spar, and not one that's turned more serious yet.

He stands in place, his sword held loosely in front of his body, clearly waiting for Koutarou to attack.