Rain fell softly over the temple garden, a constant murmur that seemed to set the pulse of the world. Each drop struck the stones with a calm cadence, in stark contrast to what was about to unfold. The paper lanterns flickered with a yellowish glow, distorting the shadows that stretched between the bamboo stalks. Kanzō stood motionless, katana unsheathed, the blade reflecting a pale gleam. His breathing was slow, deep—as though he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
A few metres away, the air twisted slightly, and a presence vanished into the emptiness. Miyako smiled, then disappeared completely, leaving only the faint echo of her laughter. The invisibility wrapped around her like a liquid cloak, erasing her form until even the rain ignored her.
"Blind as you are," she murmured, her voice floating. "You look remarkably confident."
Kanzō did not move."I don't need eyes to sense murderous intent breathing down my neck."
The tone of his voice was not challenge, but certainty. Miyako furrowed her brow and slowly circled him. Her footsteps were soft, but he turned his head slightly, as though he could track them. Impossible—or so she believed.
Suddenly, she crouched, placing a hand on the wet ground."Let's see how well you can feel this."
A sharp blast cut the air. Two dry shots, back to back. The bullets whistled, but struck something metallic: Kanzō's katana, which moved with surgical precision, deflecting both projectiles in a single fluid motion. The sound was perfect, as if the steel had struck the rhythm of a melody.
Miyako grinned, hidden."How lovely. Do you dance too, or just know how to slice the air?"
Kanzō turned his head toward the source of the voice."The air is more honest than the shadows. At least it doesn't lie when it vibrates."
She grit her teeth. She leapt sideways and fired another burst, this time on the move. Kanzō evaded by tilting his body with impossible calm, the sword tracing arcs of energy. The bullets kicked up dust, shattered a stone column, tore flowers from the ground. Yet none touched him.
Miyako stopped shooting. The gun's smoke lingered a moment before fading away."Not bad, old man… but you haven't seen anything yet."
"Neither do I need to," he replied.
Silence descended again—tense and heavy. Only the dripping water and the rustle of leaves were audible. Kanzō raised his sword slightly, the blade pointing toward emptiness.
"Finished hiding, assassin?"
Miyako smiled beneath the cloak of invisibility. She took a step forward, feeling her heart quicken. She knew this man was unlike other heroes. His calm was dangerous. His stillness, a weapon.
When the blade clashed with the first shot, the metallic ring echoed across the temple. The prelude was over. The hunt, now, was mutual.
Kanzō stepped forward, rain sliding off his katana. Each of his movements was exact, measured, waste-free. He didn't need to look: his body seemed to listen to the world, sensing each droplet breaking on the ground, each vibration in the air.
Miyako, invisible, moved to his left flank and fired twice. Kanzō turned with grace, lifting his sword in a sweeping arc. The bullets rebounded off the steel—two deflected, one dodged—and with one pivot he unleashed a horizontal cut.
The air snapped. A wave of unseen energy swept the garden and split a stone column metres away. The impact tremored through the ground.
Miyako clicked her tongue."Wow… looks like you're not just a lucky old man."
"Luck doesn't exist," Kanzō replied, moving toward the sound of her voice. "Only those who listen, and those who die without understanding why."
Miyako smiled, running around him while swapping the submachine gun's magazine. Her invisibility kept her safe, but each footstep raised tiny splashes, betraying her presence. Kanzō spun precisely, as though the raindrops themselves told him where she was.
She pressed the trigger. A short burst from three different positions in seconds. Kanzō blocked two, sidestepped one, and in a downward motion unleashed a wave of energy.
The ground trembled. Paper lanterns flew into the air. The garden flooded with white light and stone fragments.
Miyako fell back, her camouflage flickering for an instant. The edge of the wave skimmed her arm, revealing part of her silhouette in a flash.
Kanzō turned his head toward her."There you are."
"Damn it!" Miyako spat, rolling to cover behind a broken wall. Her breath came fast, her heart hammered. She surveyed the ravaged garden: the hero's cuts were clean, lethal—each one might have split her in two.
"If you can strike the wind," she said, laughing through gritted teeth, "maybe you can beat a shadow."
Kanzō nodded slightly."A shadow that speaks too much ends up being heard."
His tone was calm, almost compassionate. It angered Miyako.
"You think you're wise because you can't see?" she yelled from her cover. "All wise men die the same when their faith runs out."
She fired again, the sound echoing against broken stone. Kanzō turned toward the wrong echo. His sword cut the air where she no longer stood. Miyako smiled.
"Good… you're confusing yourself."
She dashed right, firing blindly just to make noise. Each burst became a distraction—a new echo in the chaos filling the garden. For the first time, Kanzō stalled a split second too long.
A bullet grazed his shoulder. Dark blood stained his tunic.
He showed no pain—only adjusted his stance."You use noise as a veil. Clever. But noise has its limits."
"And so do you," Miyako muttered, opening a small hatch on her belt.
She pulled out a grey grenade bearing a green symbol—the emblem of her father."Let's see how well you hear when the world falls silent."
She threw it into the middle of the garden. One second of hush… then a dry explosion without flame. The air filled with bright green smoke, a dense gas slithering like living fog. Sound vanished. Even the wind seemed to stop.
Kanzō frowned, his breathing laboured. He could not hear. Could not sense. His normally absolute gift faltered.
From somewhere in the haze, Miyako's voice filtered through—mocking, soft:"Now we are equal, blind master. You without your senses… and me with my desire to see you bleed."
The hero tensed, sword at the ready. The mist enveloped them both, swallowing light and sound.
The blind man's dance had just changed rhythm. The silence following the explosion felt unnatural. The green fog spread through the garden like liquid poison, covering every stone, every leaf. Even the rain's patter disappeared. Kanzō moved cautiously, turning his head as though seeking a melody that no longer existed.
His breathing was the only sound—a faint controlled gasp. He tried to focus, but something was wrong. He could not sense air flow clearly, nor ground vibrations. His usually perfect perception trembled.
"What… is this?" he murmured.
From somewhere in the mist, Miyako laughed low and twisted, as though the air itself mocked him."It's what happens when the world falls silent. Hard to hear a shadow when the wind ignores you, isn't it?"
Kanzō spun sharply, cutting with his sword. A burst of energy blasted out, but the arc was off—unsteady. The impact smashed a distant wall with no clear aim.
Miyako appeared for an instant, a trembling outline in the smoke, her submachine gun raised. She fired. The bullets struck his armour—one in the shoulder, another in the side. Both were inhibitor rounds, loaded with the fluid she'd made in the old plant.
Kanzō felt a buzz inside his body, a pressure that clouded his senses. His knees buckled for a moment.
Miyako smiled, satisfied."Oh, you like green. So do I."
Kanzō slowly stood upright, leaning on his katana. His breathing grew deeper, forced."So you can hurt me… that makes you dangerous."
Miyako tilted her head, invisible again, moving in circles around him."And you speak too much for someone who should be dead."
The voice came from the left. Kanzō turned, launching a precise thrust. The steel cut only air. She was already behind. She struck him with the butt of her submachine gun; the impact sounded hollow against his shoulder.
Kanzō blocked with a fluid move. Metal rang in the dense air. She used the gun like a staff, spinning on her axis, trying to knock him down.
He resisted with inhuman calm. His motions were smooth, almost elegant—but every blow had weight. He deflected the gun aside, pivoted on his heel, and delivered a downward slash.
The blade hit the ground inches from Miyako's face as she fell back just in time. The released energy opened a luminous crack that faded slowly.
She rolled, gasping."Old bastard…" She sweat along her forehead; her invisibility flickered, her body screaming for air.
Kanzō stood tall, expression serene despite his wounds. The green smoke began to thin out."Your trick… interesting. But air is returning to breathe."
His words hovered in the mist. Miyako propped herself on one knee, watching the waves of the inhibitor fade. The sound returned gradually: the wind's whisper, rain hitting the broken garden.
She spat blood onto the ground and smiled."What a shame. Just when I was enjoying myself."
Kanzō adjusted his combat stance, the sword diagonal before him. Calm on his face contrasted with the surrounding chaos."Fun has a price, Miyako. And yours seems to be life."
Miyako rose slowly, raising the submachine gun. The double barrel aimed straight at the hero's chest.
The garden was a ruin field: split columns, broken lanterns, the ground etched with energy marks still sparking green and blue. The air smelt of ozone and metal.
Both were breathing hard, bodies taut, measuring the next move. Smoke cleared, revealing their faces: he, firm like a statue; she, with a broken smile and eyes aflame.
"Again, old man," Miyako said, flicking a strand of her blue hair from her face.
Kanzō raised his sword, the blade reflecting the faint glow of surviving lanterns."As you wish," he replied calmly. "But this time, the shadow falls before the light."
The air trembled between them. And the garden held its breath once more.
Miyako moved between the garden's ruins like a erratic spectre. Her invisibility flickered— a fleeting glimmer in the darkness. Sweat ran down her face; her breathing, uneven, mixed with the sound of rain trickling from the temple roofs.
Kanzō advanced slowly, steps almost imperceptible. His katana glowed with a light blue shimmer. Each movement was exact, measured, the rhythm of a man who even mastered silence.
Miyako ground her teeth. If I keep attacking like this, he'll read me completely.She slid left, invisible, firing short bursts at random points. The bullets slammed into stone and columns, creating metallic echoes bouncing in the air.
Kanzō did not move. Instead of chasing sounds, he lifted his head and shut his eyes tighter, as if sinking into himself."Your footsteps are a whisper, but your anger is a scream," he said, voice steady amid the chaos.
Suddenly, he turned. The katana traced an arc in the air. A line of blue energy burst from the blade, crossing the garden like a horizontal lightning bolt. It struck the walls, raising dust and fragments of stone.
Miyako barely rolled aside in time. The wave grazed her leg, opening a burning wound that made her stagger."Son of—!" she shouted, dropping behind a broken column.
Kanzō turned again. Several energy waves shot out in every direction—a storm of blue lightning that lit the night. The air buzzed unendurable; the lines cut everything: ground, stone, air, even the rain.
Miyako dashed between the blasts, her invisible form merging with the flashes. Each step was a gamble. A wave nicked her shoulder; another shredded part of her coat. The smell of scorched cloth mixed with ozone.
Gritting her teeth, she produced her last grenade. The sphere glowed pale green, pulsing like a heart."Let's see if you like this, zen master," she murmured, tossing it into the garden.
It exploded with a muffled roar. A fresh wave of green fog spread, distorting the energy still in the air. Kanzō stepped back, feeling his perceptions vibrate, as though the world tipped beneath him.
Miyako seized the moment. She materialised partially behind him, submachine gun pointed at the back of his neck.But Kanzō had already anticipated the move. In a single motion he pivoted his body, and the katana released a compact burst of light. The blow came so swiftly Miyako barely saw it.
The burst struck her full on the left arm.The world went white.
The pain followed a second later—brutal, unbearable. Miyako screamed, falling to her knees. Her invisibility collapsed. The skin of her arm split along a bright red line, mixed with blue energy still sparking. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Kanzō lowered his sword slowly, his breath controlled, almost peaceful."Surrender," he said in a deep voice. "There is no glory in dying for revenge."
Miyako lifted her gaze. Her eyes were glazed, but a crooked smile crossed her blood-stained face."I didn't come for glory…" she wheezed. "I came for noise."
She struggled upright, holding her submachine gun with her good hand. She pressed the trigger. The weapon clicked dry. She laughed, a bitter chuckle that echoed in the rain.
Kanzō stepped forward silently.
The garden, now a ruin field, seemed to breathe. Blue and green lights still flickered on the ground. Miyako's blood mixed with the rainwater, steaming as though it burned from within.
"The blood smoked in the rain. And the night had yet to decide who would keep breathing."