Chapter 24 – The Dance of Blades
The festival square was chaos. Guards clashed with townsfolk, stalls burned, and the sky cracked with fireworks. Ashura lay trembling in Temari's arms, lost in his storm, while Iroh and Fuyuko carved through soldiers like gods of war.
Then the crowd split.
A single man stepped forward, untouched by the chaos. He moved with a casual grace, running a hand through his long hair, straightening his kimono as if preparing for a date instead of a duel. His sword gleamed under the firelight, resting loosely at his hip.
???: "My, my… what a shame. Such a beautiful flower… standing in the mud of war."
Temari stood, blade raised, eyes sharp.
Temari: "Shut it. If you're here for him, you'll have to go through me."
The man smirked, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.
???: "How cruel. I only wished to spare you, princess. Surely a woman like you deserves silk sheets and moonlit gardens, not blood and steel."
Temari's grip tightened.
Temari: "One more word, and I'll carve that smirk off your face."
The man chuckled, unsheathing his blade with a smooth shiiing.
???: "Then let's dance. My name is Renjiro. Remember it — for when you dream of me later."
---
Steel met steel.
Temari lunged first, her strikes fast and precise. Renjiro parried effortlessly, his swordplay elegant, almost lazy, like a man toying with his prey.
Renjiro: (smirking) "Your form is flawless… yet your eyes, they burn too hot. Passion blinds warriors, blossom."
Temari: (gritting teeth) "Then let me blind you."
She feinted low, spun high — her blade kissed his cheek, drawing the first line of blood. Renjiro paused, touching the cut with a laugh.
Renjiro: "Ah… so the rose has thorns."
---
The tempo shifted. Renjiro's charm fell away as he moved faster, sharper, his strikes now carrying real weight. Temari's arms ached blocking him, her breaths coming quick, but she refused to yield.
A slash cut across her arm — blood sprayed, but she bit down, channeling healing chakra through her palm as she fought, the wound sealing mid-battle.
Renjiro's eyes widened with genuine admiration.
Renjiro: "Fascinating… a woman who mends herself as she fights. Truly, you are wasted on these children."
Temari: (snapping) "Keep your compliments. They won't save you."
---
The duel became a blur — sparks showering, blades flashing. Renjiro pressed, Temari countered, their footwork weaving like a deadly waltz. Around them, the chaos dimmed, as if the battlefield itself made space for their clash.
Finally, Temari found her opening. She slid under his guard, blade grazing his ribs. He staggered, clutching the wound, and for the first time his smirk faltered.
But instead of rage… he laughed.
Renjiro: (grinning, stepping back) "Exquisite. Truly. I haven't enjoyed myself like this in years."
He sheathed his sword in one smooth motion, ignoring the blood staining his clothes.
Renjiro: "We'll finish this dance another night, blossom. When you're ready… to give me your all."
With that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving only his voice echoing.
---
Temari stood panting, blade still raised. Her arms trembled, sweat mixing with blood, but her eyes burned with triumph. She glanced back — Ashura still unconscious, Temari kneeling beside him once more.
Temari: (quietly, to herself) "I'll protect you… even if it kills me."
The battle raged on around them, but something had changed. Temari was
no longer just a shadow in Ashura's story — she was carving her own.
—