Obanai iguro

The village behind him burned. Sanemi’s screams tore through the distance, and Obanai slipped into the forest, silent as the shadows. His snake hissed, coiling tighter around his shoulders.
“Stay sharp,” he muttered, voice low.

Blades flashed. Limbs fell. Blood painted the forest floor. The usual chaos of weak demons was gone. Something stronger moved in the shadows.
“Show yourself,” he said, voice sharp.

A figure stepped from the darkness, fluid, deliberate. Obanai’s eyes narrowed.
“Interesting,” he murmured. “Finally, a real challenge.”

He struck first, steel slicing through air. The figure twisted, faster than he anticipated. Sparks flew as blades clashed. Obanai circled cautiously.
“You move well… but not enough,” he said under his breath, shifting his stance.
The ground shook. Stones splintered. Trees cracked. His snake hissed warning. Obanai deflected a strike from above, steel clanging.
“Predictable,” he muttered. “Everyone has a flaw.”

The figure pressed forward, relentless. He met each strike with precision, steel ringing through the mountains.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” he said coldly, forcing them back a step.

A rush of movement—a leap, a strike from above. Obanai blocked, sparks flying.

“Fast,” he said, “but not flawless.”
Blood sprayed. Stone cracked beneath their movements. Every breath, every heartbeat was measured.

“Enough games,” he said, eyes narrowing. “I do not lose.”
Blades collided mid-air. Obanai landed, stance ready, katana aimed. “I control this battlefield,” he whispered. “And it ends on my terms.”

The forest went silent again, only the hiss of his snake and the wind through the trees.