A leaf trailing along a still pools surface could not compare to the grace and speed with which Azalea had left the room, via the window and braved the warm, but cooling summer night. She wore shoes now, flat black leather with straps that snaked up her legs to the knee and her steps were completely silent across the tiled roof of the tavern. The wind was misted, it was the hour of twilight, a quiet hour where all decent, normal people had long since found their beds, the lanterns that once lit the narrow streets had all but burned out, leaving only the enchanting, azure gaze of the moon to light her way. It was a feat easier said than done, though a ninja did not rely simply upon the sense of sight, but also that of sound, smell and touch, with all these combined a practised kunoichi could easily scale the rooftops even in pitch darkness, but Azalea was not a master of her art, certainly not a novice either, but as the moon sank behind a thick, patchwork of cotton clouds it became obvious, as she reeled to a stop that she was not yet capable enough to accomplish such a thing.

It was so dark now, she could not even see her hand in front of her face, she stood still and chanced a slow step forwards, silence, the tiles were hard and stayed fast under her foot, she chanced another, she had to keep moving, but that seemed to be another feat she could not easily fulfil. She heard his breath first, the low, grumbling, guttural sound of a man who saw something that he liked, even in the darkness which as it happened, began to fade at that moment. She turned, her body moved only slightly where as her head tilted to look over her shoulder, she wore her mask so that only her cerulean eyes were visible, floating upon her porcelain face, shrouded in the light bangs that had fallen from their tie in her haste.

He was a prominent man, barrel-chested and very tall, dark haired with near white flesh, he looked sickly yet his eyes were devilish and power hungry. His black hair fell long in the front but the rest was tied at the back of his neck, leaving a trail between his shoulder blades. He too dressed in the style of a ninja, pants to the knee, open toed, flat shoes, a top with a high collar that covered his face to his nose and metal plated gloves to the elbow. His weapon was elegant though grand, a spear that he wore on his back, the head of which was covered by a fleece bag, the string pulled tight about the spears neck.

“I see you found the blades at long last, Aya,” he referred to her by her alias, Aya, short for Amaya meaning ‘Night Rain.’

She turned to face him completely now, arms bent back at the elbow, she rested the back of her hands on her hips, fingers open, ready to grasp the handle of the Ashura blades at a moments notice.

“Nothing shall stand between Lord Goza and the Shogunate now,” her words were as a sharp as a vipers, cold and fierce, her eyes turned to liquid steel, shimmering under the gaze of the moon. “I shall not let you take them from me again Azuma.”

The rivalry between them was more than obvious, their clans had opposed each other for centuries, his, the Ichigoya clan had always fought for change and welcomed the westerners with their strange new technologies and complete disrespect for the ancient ways of battle. And though Azalea had been born to the river people, she had been made a child of the Izanami clan long ago and their policies lay true, loyal and linear with the shogunate.

There was a self confidence about him that turned rancid and into a pompousness, she could tell he was smiling beneath his high collar as fluidly, he raised one arm and grasped hold of his spear.

“We shall see about that Aya.”

He moved so quickly, flinging the bag from the blade of his weapon she did not have more than a second to retaliate, grasping the blades she pulled them forth, crossed them and caught the length of his spear between them before the bag even had a chance to fall to the tiles. The strength of their steel was matched and at such a long range it meant Azuma had to use more strength to equal her own. She was able to push him and she stepped back, gracefully flipping a few feet away and crouching low, poised and ready to strike with both blades lifted before her.

“You’ve grown quick, I see,” he stepped casually forwards, spear hanging in his hand at his side, a mere extension of his arm in the way he handled it. “Why not test those reflexes of yours, ey?” he jeered and darting forwards, he stabbed his spear at her in rapid succession. It was a challenge for her to dodge each one, she blocked with her blades, the sound of metal clashing as sparks flew, her body shifted one way and then the next, she leapt into the air and swung back, flipped out of his range and crouched again. It was not exactly a formidable fighting technique but until she could get closer it was the best she could do.

“I thought kunoichi were trained to use their bodies, not their swords,” he was mocking her now, leering at her exposed legs and the low neckline of her kimono. Scoffing, Azalea brushed off the comment, but obviously, it had angered her. She ran forwards, taken aback by her sudden fierceness, Azuma paused then struck at her, she deflected his spear and though tempted to let out a brief war cry, she remained absolutely silent as she leapt and landed down before him, one of her blades sliced across his chest, tearing open his shirt and revealing a fine layer of chain mail beneath it, the blade had even managed to slice through that, leaving only a faint cut on his flesh - it was nothing compared to the dagger he had revealed in his free hand, the length of which was now stuck two inches deep into her side. She gargled and pushed back, the dagger stained red with her blood, stumbling, she fell to one knee and grasped her side, one eye closed in pain, she bit her lip and cringed.

Course, she wasn’t the only one doubled over in pain. All it took was a scratch and Azuma was panting hard, he too stumbled, gasping and choking for breath, he reached into a pouch at his thigh and pulled from it a small ceramic bottle, uncorked it and drank the entire liquid contents within.

“It won’t be enough,” she gasped, “It’ll stop the paralysis, for now, but not the poison.” They both knew she was right. It was the reason the Ashura blades were so well known, so dangerous, they were poisoned, poisoned to such great magnitudes that only a person immunized to their sting could handle them bare handed let alone wield them. Azalea, was such a person. “Run along,” she panted, grinning beneath her mask in silent triumph, “Run back to your mistress and tell her of your failure, I’m sure she will not hesitate to use her sword on you…”

Growling, Azuma stumbled back, his hand reached back into his pouch and pulled from it a flash bomb which exploded as it hit the roof in a blinding golden light, which once faded revealed nothing but an empty rooftop. Azalea too had seen fit to use his bomb as a chance to make her own escape, though not much of one really. She leapt back, jarring her side and stumbled on the edge of the roof, then fell to the street below, landing hard on her side. Gasping for breath like a fish out of water, she winced and clutched her wound, her blades were back in their scabbards, freeing her hands and she used the one that was not trying to pressurize her bleeding to push herself from the cobblestones. She only made it as far as a nearby wooden fence. Leant against it, the color drained from her already pale cheeks, blood stained her kimono and ran down her leg, thick and crimson. Her vision grew foggy, the edges fading to darkness, but she clung on, did not yet let herself submit to unconsciousness as instead she sank to the ground, back still to the wall, she reached into her pouch. Her hand was shaking, like a leaf caught in the breeze but she managed to pull out a small rolled strip of old, brown leather. She laid it on the ground and opened it, rolling it out flat to reveal the many small silver instruments at her disposal, usually only used by doctors, it was basic but if she could stay awake long enough, it would be enough to save her from bleeding dry.

__________________