Chapter 15 – The Flash of Steel
(The mountain air is sharp, carrying the echo of birds and the faint rush of wind. Ashura stands in the clearing, katana strapped at his side. His body is leaner, stronger, every movement steadier than before. The faint glow of the artifact under the bandages around his hand pulses like a heartbeat.)
Iroh: (arms crossed, watching) You've danced with your fists, but a true warrior does not only master one weapon. Today, we awaken your blade.
Ashura: (grinning) Hah. About time. These hands have been itching for steel.
(Temari sits nearby, sharpening kunai, trying not to look too interested. Shoto sits cross-legged, hugging his knees, wide-eyed with excitement.)
Temari: (under her breath) He better not swing it around like some street punk.
Shoto: (beaming) Big brother's gonna cut down mountains!
(Ashura steps forward, pulling the katana from its sheath in one clean motion. The blade gleams in the morning sun. He breathes deeply, centering himself, hearing Iroh's old words echo in his mind.)
Iroh's Voice (flashback): "Be like water — flow, adapt, crash when needed. Let the blade become an extension of your soul."
(He lowers into a grounded stance. His eyes sharpen. The spar begins.)
---
The Clash
(Iroh doesn't hold back. His staff whistles through the air, meeting Ashura's first strike with a violent crack of wood against steel. Ashura grits his teeth, his arms vibrating from the impact, but he pushes forward. His katana slashes in rapid arcs, clean and precise, each one forcing Iroh to adjust.)
Iroh: (smirking mid-fight) Better. You're not just swinging anymore. You're thinking.
Ashura: (breathing heavy) Thinking's overrated… cutting feels better!
(He spins, the katana singing as it slices through the air. Sparks fly as blade meets staff again and again. Temari's eyes widen — Ashura's wildness is gone, replaced by fluidity, his attacks weaving together like flowing water. His growth is undeniable.)
Temari: (muttering) …That's not a kid's swordplay anymore.
(Suddenly, Iroh shifts. His movements blur, faster, sharper. He vanishes from sight, appearing behind Ashura. Instinct kicks in — Ashura pivots, blade flashing up just in time. The katana collides with the staff, steel screaming as sparks scatter. Ashura's stance holds, muscles straining but unbroken.)
Ashura: (grinning) You're not slipping past me that easy, old man.
Iroh: (smile tugging at his lips) Hmph. Then let's see if your eyes can keep up.
---
The Speed Trial
(Iroh vanishes completely this time. His footsteps don't even touch the ground; only the rush of wind gives him away. It's a test of speed. Ashura whirls, slashing wildly, but he can't track him. His katana bites only air. Iroh's voice echoes around him like a phantom.)
Iroh: Speed is not about how fast your legs move. It is about timing. Precision. Knowing where your enemy will be… before they move.
(Ashura closes his eyes. His breathing steadies. The artifact pulses faintly under the bandages on his hand, its rhythm syncing with his heartbeat. Then — silence. Ashura moves. One step, one slash, perfectly placed.)
(Steel clashes. Ashura's katana intercepts Iroh's staff mid-swing. The shockwave splits the ground beneath them. For a split second — Ashura is gone, moving so fast his body blurs. He reappears behind Iroh, blade poised at his throat, frozen mid-strike.)
(Even Iroh's eyes widen. For the first time in years, he looks genuinely surprised.)
Iroh: (low voice) …So fast. Faster than I imagined.
(Ashura lowers the blade slowly, his chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temple. A cocky grin spreads across his face.)
Ashura: (panting) Guess my legs finally caught up to my fists.
---
Aftermath
(Shoto leaps up, cheering like crazy, fists pumping in the air.)
Shoto: I knew it! I knew big brother could do it!
(Temari mutters something, cheeks puffed, clearly impressed but annoyed at herself for being impressed.)
Temari: Don't get cocky, idiot… (muttering softer) but damn, that was fast.
(Iroh rests his staff on his shoulder, still composed, though his eyes linger on Ashura with a rare glint of pride — and concern.)
Iroh: Your sword sings. Your speed blinds. But power without discipline… is only chaos.
(He steps past Ashura, looking out over the horizon of mountains.)
Iroh: Tomorrow… you will face a trial that no blade or fist can overcome.
(Ashura tilts his head, confused, wiping sweat from his brow. Temari raises an eyebrow, Shoto blinks. The wind howls across the peaks,
carrying an ominous weight. The camera pans upward, fading out with tension in the air.)