The blade hovered inches from her neck. A bead of sweat slid down her temple, darkening the edge of her fishnet sleeve as she knelt motionlessly—the polished tatami mat beneath her knees creaked under her measured breathing. Her kunai glinted faintly in the dim light of the lanterns lining the grove beyond the shoji screens. On the other side of the blade, her assailant—a masked figure in deep crimson robes accented with gold trim—smirked beneath his veil, his grip on his katana unwavering. The surrounding garden beyond the open walls was alive with a cacophony of chirping crickets and the faint trickle of a koi pond. Moonlight spilled through the jagged openings in the forest canopy like shards of broken glass, dancing off her raven-black wig that cascaded just past her shoulders.
“You’ve danced well, kunoichi,” he hissed, his voice like gravel slipping down a mountainside. “But the game is over. The artifact belongs to the Shogun now.”
A coy smile tugged at the corner of her lips, as if the situation itself were the punchline of a deadly joke only she understood. “Does it, though?”
Before he could react, her arm—a blur of black and steel—snapped low, catching his ankle with the tip of her kunai. Blood sprayed in an arc as the man faltered backward, growling in pain. Her body followed suit in a fluid pirouette, tossing her long ponytail in a twisting arc as she rose and closed the distance. Now disarmed, his katana skittering across the mat, the man’s hands came up too slowly to defend himself. She slammed her knee into his torso, sending him crumpling into the wooden frame of the shoji screen. The screen splintered beneath his weight, revealing the lush expanse of the moonlit grove beyond.
She straightened her posture, flicking the blood from her kunai with a disdainful shake of her wrist. Her attire—what little there was of it—consisted of a sleek, sleeveless black bodysuit with intricate scroll-like embroidery in red running along the hem. Beneath, a layer of taut fishnet hugged her and glimmered faintly as it caught the ambient light. Around her forehead, the metal plate of the emblem of her clan gleamed: a coiled dragon swallowing its own tail. Leather armguards and strapped shin guards bore the scars of battle. Even standing still, her body hummed with a coiled energy, her striking green eyes glimmering beneath delicately painted lashes. Her pale skin was dappled by the ethereal shadows of cherry blossoms drifting from the grove’s overhanging branches.
“You didn’t come here for the artifact,” hissed the man, clutching his abdomen as he struggled to sit upright. “You came to send a message.”
Her head tilted slightly, as though reading him like a spider teasing its prey. “You learn faster than most.”
The metal plate of her headband caught the moonlight as she reached down, yanking him up by the folds of his crimson robe. His mask fell away, revealing a gaunt face twisted with pain and fury. Behind them, the koi pond rippled faintly, carrying the soft rustle of water lilies—a serene contrast to the violence unfolding under the bows of the cherry trees.
“Tell your Shogun this,” she whispered, her voice low but venomous. “The Dragon Clan bows to no one. If he wants submission, he’ll have to cut it out of us himself. And the last person who tried—” she raised her kunai to his throat “—didn’t get very far.”
With a final, dismissive shove, she released him, sending his crumpled form sliding noisily across the tatami mats. She didn’t bother to wipe the smear of blood from her blade before she slipped it back into the holster on her thigh. Taking one last glance at the fallen figure, she turned and stepped into the moonlit grove. Her movements were graceful, like the brush strokes of a master calligrapher. The cherry blossoms whispered secrets on the wind.
Far across the grove, glowing faintly through the dense boughs, the ceremonial pagoda of the Shogun’s fortress loomed against the horizon, its five tiers stacked like the legends of old. The mission wasn’t over—far from it. The artifact that the Shogun sought—a scroll said to grant immortality—was closer than she let on. Hidden in plain sight. But she wouldn’t take it to him. No. It belonged to her people, and she intended to fight to her last breath to ensure the Dragon Clan reclaimed what had been stolen.
As she dissolved into the shadows of the grove, her fleeting silhouette became indistinguishable from the swaying trunks of the trees themselves. Only the faint whisper of displaced air and the ripple of fishnet against bark betrayed her passage.
Behind her, the man’s strangled voice carried but a single word into the night. It clawed at the surrounding emptiness in desperation before vanishing into the cries of distant cicadas:
“Kurai…”
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: Deep Blue Hair and Ninja Vibes: Stunning Cosplay Inspiration for Naruto Fans
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