Baze can tell that Chirrut is flagging, is desperate to defend himself. But Baze doesn't dare go easy on him. To give him anything less than Baze's best would be an insult.

Still. Baze does not aim for his head. The larger teen sweeps for his feet and swings for his ribs and takes aim at his wrists, trying to incapacitate him.

Baze is young and honed, well-trained and muscled. He's not quite in his prime, but he's getting there, quickly. If Chirrut gives him an opening, Baze will take it.