The Sands of Time

She almost didn't recognize it. Without the blazing sun to char the desert sands, gales of wind to bury travelers in dunes of sand, and waves of heat to scorch exposed flesh, Sunagakure almost seemed peaceful. Under the illuminating moon, the silica particles twinkled across the village, and from above she could only imagine the sea of stars that it must, or that she hoped, it looked like. It was unfortunate that her view of the village was through the window of the manor, and even more inopportune that she had no more time to inspect its glistening beauty. She closed the curtain, and made her way through the eloquently decorated dining room, to the kitchen. There, a pot of boiled water sat perched on the stove, and next to it was a lonely cup of tea. She picked it up, and took a sip. It tasted just as she expected.

Perching herself on the marble island in the middle of the aisle, Natsumi couldn't help but shiver with anxiety. The last time they had met, they were both trying to kill one another.

--- Flashback ---

"You're stronger than I anticipated." Her message was genuine, but her tone was almost condescending. Did she expect him to be any less than what he was? And if she did, then why did she? His existence erected heroic myths and rallied thousands under a single banner. His odachi was almost entirely red, stained by the blood of his enemies. His armor was untouched, demonstrating his ascendance among human beings. His entire identity exuded his superiority, yet her opinion expecting less than perfection.

Like the enigma he was however, he remained silent as he rushed her with his blade. The steel collided. Sparks erupted from the surface of the steel, the clang boomed across the battlefield; someone had to win. In the heat of the moment, the odachi leaped towards the sky, ripping through the air while its wielder stumbled onto the ground with a force equally as powerful. When the dust that encapsulated the two samurai eventually cleared, he found a sword inches from his nose.

What she respected most was that he didn't struggle, nor betray his identity. He didn't litter their duel with words of sympathy, or actions of cowardice. Perhaps that was the reason she didn't drive her sword between his eyes. She sheathed her blade. "You've given me much to think about. So, I'll spare you. But, just know. It is by grace that you have been saved. Through faith, not by works." Then, she was gone.

--- End Flashback ---

From then, she hadn't encountered him again, and though the legends of his name soon faded away, just as her reputation had, she knew that he was alive. Her only confirmation was one purely based on speculation. A speculation so influential to who she was today, that she would jeopardized her mission just to prove, or disprove it. When he entered, she felt that same surge of chakra flush over her senses, and all she could do was respond with a satisfying smile. "Who would've thought that you were one to keep a lady waiting.."