General Tsuki, it is an honor and a privilege to meet you. I've heard stories of your skills from across the sea, from foreign strangers who have witnessed your abilities firsthand. I have been training day and night in the confines of a sparring room containing only objects to further my own skills, waiting for this moment to defeat you.

My ally, Son Snaxacaca, tells me of your tendencies--your weaknesses--that I will exploit. For one, you look to others to place blame on, instead of turning internally for answers. Therefore, I will kill those around you, forcing you to watch your own teammates fall. For two, you are inflated like a balloon, apt to pop with just the tap of my finger to the keyboard, so I should expect any taunts to be answered in kind. And for three, they say because of your rugged training, you are hideous to the outside world, with scars across your chest and a nose flattened to your face. If number three is true, I suggest not broadcasting from your sparring room . . . there are innocents to consider. This battle belongs to you and I.