This time, it wasn't a dive. I matched her shoulder to shoulder and threw my hand forward. First jab she merely cocked her head, the second jab she tilted to the other side. She cocked her hand back and lunged with an uppercut which I managed to slide away from at the last moment, but it still grazed my jaw and split the skin shallowly.
I staggered back, turned and rammed toward her with my shoulder but she blocked with both hands, somewhat subduing the force. I lashed out and threw her hand off, sent a kick at her face—she blocked the kick, I rose into the air and threw two consecutive kicks, the right leg following after the left. Her movement was fast despite the weights pulling her down.
She lashed her own leg out in response. Surprisingly, the habit simply parted way for her leg to move freely, the fabric tightening around her figure. It almost ensnared me into a trap but I caught myself and rolled away from my position, feeling the wind of her leg passing my face.
