The Dance of Steel and Ghosts

Smoke drifted lazily above the charred remains of the last safe house in the Whispering Wastes. Ash mixed with blood along the floorboards. And standing in the center of it all, barefoot and cloaked in silence, was Taiki Notajime — codename: Spider.

His eyes scanned the scene. Ten bodies. No signs of a struggle. Precise kills. Clean exits. The work of a professional.

But not just any assassin.

Taiji.

Taiki bent down near the youngest corpse, a courier boy no older than thirteen. His throat was slit without resistance.

“This wasn’t just a hit,” Taiki muttered under his breath. “It was a message.”

He stood slowly, pulling the hood over his face. The shadows welcomed him like an old friend.

He was being hunted again. But this time, not by enemies.

By memories.

---

Elsewhere, in a city buried beneath the sand — the black market town of Tenshara — whispers moved faster than blades. In the corner of a tavern filled with liars and killers, two informants exchanged more than coin.

“They say he’s looking for her,” one said, gulping rice wine. “The girl with the silver eyes.”

“No one survives a blade to the heart,” the other spat. “Even she couldn’t—”

“But what if she did?”

Both men froze as a presence approached.

Taiki.

Neither of them saw his face. Only a glint of steel — and silence.

---

Beneath the city, in the catacombs of the Shrouded Lotus Guild, a woman moved like water between candlelight. Her face hidden behind a silver fox mask. Her right arm scarred, the burns old but unforgotten. She traced a blade with her fingers, whispering a name to herself.

“Taiki…”

Amira Katashade — the girl the world thought dead — was very much alive.

And preparing.

---

Back in Tenshara, Taiki’s search led him to an ancient contact: Goro Jin, a blind archivist who once served the assassins before the massacre.

Goro sat cross-legged in a dusty room of scrolls, humming softly.

“I heard you lost yourself,” he murmured when Taiki entered.

“I did,” Taiki replied, his voice low. “And now I’m trying to find someone else.”

Goro tapped his cane. “You’re not looking for her, Taiki. You’re chasing your past. But beware — ghosts can bite.”

“I’m not afraid of ghosts.”

Goro smiled. “You should be. One of them is your twin.”

---

That night, Taiki stood on the rooftop of Tenshara, staring at the moon. The Crescent Moon blade pulsed faintly at his hip.

In the shadows across the rooftop, a figure appeared — twin swords drawn.

Not Taiji.

But someone else.

A test.

The assassin lunged without warning, their movements fluid and practiced. Taiki blocked, deflected, countered. Steel clashed under moonlight, their duel a dance of death.

But Taiki had learned pain. He had mastered silence. And with a final twisting slash, he disarmed his opponent and pressed his blade to their throat.

The mask fell.

It was a girl. No older than eighteen. Pale hair. Crimson tattoo under her eye.

She looked up at him and whispered, “They’re coming for you. And her. Again.”

Taiki’s eyes narrowed. “Who sent you?”

She smirked. “She did.”

Before he could ask more, a blade flew from the dark — slicing her throat in one smooth arc.

She collapsed in his arms.

Taiki turned sharply. A shadow stood at the end of the rooftop, bathed in starlight.

No mask. Just a mirror image.

Taiji.

Their eyes locked — red to red.