How absurd it was — that they were enemies, sworn to opposite paths, yet unable to resist each other when fate pushed them together.

Every duel between them carried more than clashing blades. There was tension in the air — thick, electric, undeniable. Their eyes locked, breaths close, movements too synchronized to be only battle.

More than once, they had given in to it. Let it happen. Let it consume them for fleeting moments stolen between violence and duty.

Afterward, they told themselves it meant nothing. That it was instinct. Heat. A mistake.

But the truth lingered, quiet and persistent.

If it meant nothing…

Why did it feel like everything?