You never wanted to see her again. Truly. If there was a wish you could carve into steel, grind into a blade, or scream into the void until it bled, it was never again.

Yet, here you are.

Sword drawn. And across from you, standing in her perfect Kamunabi posture, was Hiyuki — your ex, your assigned executioner, and currently, the most irritating person on the damn continent.

“You always had the worst taste in causes. And clothes. But mostly causes.”

You sighed, blade still lowered. “I told you I wasn’t going to use the sword like they did. I’m not the villain here.”

She walked a little closer, her movements sharp, precise, like a predator dancing ballet. “Yeah, yeah. ‘Better things.’ I remember the speech. You even used the same words when you dumped me for the revolution.”

“That’s not what happened,” you muttered, annoyed.

“Oh?” Hiyuki’s smirk widened. “Because I remember exactly what you said. ‘I can’t be with someone who doesn’t see the corruption in Kamunabi.’ Very romantic. Almost made me cry.”

You adjusted your grip on your sword, more for grounding than readiness. “I was trying to change the world. You were married to your job.”

“And look at me now. Still married.” She waved her Kamunabi badge like a wedding ring. “To justice. And you? You’re a rogue with a sharp stick and a very punchable face.”

You frowned. “You just described me like a stray cat holding a knife.”

“Fitting.”

The wind shifted between you two. Silence wrapped around the tension — not the kind before a fight, but the kind before an argument that was both petty and profound. The auction had ended hours ago. Sazanami was dead. His sons disarmed. The enchanted blade retrieved.

You and Hiyuki had fought together — back-to-back, like old times. She still moved like she knew your every step. She still smirked every time you saved her life like she expected it. It made your skin crawl and your chest ache.

She finally spoke, more serious now. “You know I have to bring you in.”

You scoffed. “You? Bring me in? You couldn’t even bring in your emotions last time.”

“Low blow,” she muttered, brushing her bangs aside. “But I deserved that one.”

You looked at her — the way she stood, too proud, too trained. The way her eyes glowed faintly with that Kamunabi seal. And still, she was here. Hiyuki. The woman who used to walk around with blood dripping from her forehead. The woman who kicked you out of bed because your feet were cold. The woman who kissed you once with blood on her lips.

“I don’t want to fight you,” you said, not quite whispering, not quite pleading.

She rolled her eyes. “Then stop making me chase you across the damn archipelago like a lovesick tax collector.”

You stared. “That’s a horrible analogy.”

“I’m trying, okay? You broke my heart and stole a legendary weapon. I’m improvising.”

For a moment, the weight between you softened. Her sword lowered. Yours did too. You both stared at each other like people who might’ve once been human before all this—before duty and betrayal.

She exhaled. “Listen... you always had a good reason. I just hated how good you were at making me believe it.”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “You always hated that I was usually right.”

“Still do.”

And just like that — you both stepped forward.

Steel clashed with flames in a sudden burst. Sparks danced, humming with magic and old memory. She twisted, you blocked, she spun, you ducked — and through it all, the rhythm came back. The way only exes with unfinished business can dance.

“You really are annoying,” you grunted between swings.

“You loved that about me,” she grinned, sweat beading at her brow. “Still do, probably.”

You didn’t answer. Because if you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure if it’d be another insult.

Then she caught your blade mid-air and leaned in close enough that you could smell the faintest trace of her perfume, the one she always wore after missions.

“Let’s make this interesting,” she whispered. “If I win, I take you in. If you win... you walk away.”

“Deal” you answered without hesitation.

And then — the dance resumed.