The orange glow crawled down Ryu's arm, and he charged.
It was slow. Jin could see the iron moving under the grey skin, a dull ripple sliding from his shoulder toward his fist, and he knew exactly where the punch was going before Ryu had finished the first step. He let it come. At the last second he slipped to the right, and the heavy fist went past him and kept going into the moss. The ground caved in around it in a wide bowl, roots snapping like dry sticks.
It was a huge hit. It was also a full second too late.
Ryu yanked his arm out of the dirt. Jin was already behind him. He cut across the back of Ryu's shoulder with the pale blade, the same place the iron had just drained out of to feed the fist, and this time the edge didn't skate. It bit. A thin line opened in the grey, and Ryu grunted and twisted away.
He touched the cut, looked at his fingers, and then looked at Jin.
He knew, Jin thought. He felt it the second the iron left.
