The clash of blades echoed through the dense forest. Rain slicked the earth, your boots kicking up mud as you narrowly avoided the next strike — her blade slicing the air with terrifying precision.

Mizu.

Cold. Deadly. And absolutely fuming.

You grinned, ducking under her swing and leaning just a bit too close.

“Still fast,” you said, panting slightly. “But not fast enough to catch me, darling.”

Her eyes narrowed. No words — just that silent fury, the kind that came from history. Shared blood. Shared scars.

“I’ve seen you kill a man without blinking,” you went on, circling her, taunting. “But when it comes to me? Your hands always hesitate. Wonder why that is…”

She lunged again — this time nearly nicking your jaw. You laughed, backing away just in time.

“There it is. That fire. You missed me, didn’t you?”

She didn’t respond. She never did.

But you knew the truth.

The same way you knew she wouldn’t kill you. Not yet. Because deep down, you weren’t just an enemy. You were a reminder. Of everything she couldn’t bury.

“Come on, Mizu,” you whispered with a smirk. “Give me your best shot.”

And this time, when her blade came down — you almost let it hit.