[hider=Sangue Naga VS. Trad Oak]

A lonely house with abandoned life.

She remembered running excitedly across the once flourishing backyard, running into her parents with the active heart of a child. Once in a while, her father would bring snacks filled with sweet syrup, brown sugar, and sprinkles of sunflower seeds. She would sit next to her mother and father, the same people who brought life to her, loved her... and treasured her. Yes; she would sit and chatter endlessly, her curiosity never hitting a dead-end. And they would smile, answering every bit of her questions to the best of their abilities. They would then bring out more interesting things for her to get curious about, and the days lazily went on in the best way possible.

All of that, gone with the sorrowful sakura blossoms.

The child of the household vanished, and the people who brought her life had their lives taken by their brothers and sisters. The endless greed for eternal wealth made any sane mortal insane, and strife brought out the worst of living things. Reality was too different from fantasies. It was unforgiving, and made the blissfully unaware pay the highest prices.

Sangue experienced this first-hand.

She sat in the old house, resting on a flat pillow that lay over the hazy-green tatami mat. Everything dusty, she dusted, and everything rickety, she fixed. The house returned back to one-third of how she knew it, for with the existence of a unified family lost, the house's uniqueness lost all of its interesting qualities. A banner written in a foreign language was displayed on one of the walls, contained within a picture frame. "Fall in honor," her great grandfather spoke in a battle against terrifying monsters. And his words rested within the dead house, forever to be remembered as a mere memory.

The red-haired swordswoman sat with her knees on the blood-red pillow, wearing only a hakama and bandages to cover the permanent wounds inflicted above her chest. She sat in silence, her blade resting just as quietly on her lap.

A sound, a sense; something disturbed the tranquility of a dead man's home.

One of her eyes cracked open ever-so-slightly as her other eye, scarred by her own kind, remained shut. Suddenly, the atmosphere became cold, and the light that shone through the windows of the empty living room died. Darkness enveloped her, and the screams of death cried out for her, as if to take her to another realm.

An ominous dark-blue painted her room, the light-green of the ground now dark gray. Knowing that a foe had appeared, her pupil slowly moved itself to the outermost corner of her eye. She then closed the eye softly.

With abrupt swiftness, Sangue Naga swung herself up from the pillow, causing her mechanical prosthetic, the Apophis Claw, fly straight towards a man covered in darkness. Taken aback by her speed, the dark warrior deflected the Claw as quickly as possible with his shield, only to find Sangue rushing in to kick him square in the chest.

Their shadows were able to be seen through thin paper walls, the invader's shadow tumbling across the flat ground before he caught his balance. With hesitation in his actions, the man stood up, facing Sangue with a sword and shield.

Trad Oak was a good man. He seeks to protect Remnant's people, and he had a heart of gold. But Sangue had her own secrets; one of such secrets frightening the strong-hearted man. Now deeming her to be a monster of her own, he had come to slay her.

Sangue unsheathed her katana, letting it rest by her side. There was no need to show off her swordsmanship; Trad was a man she respected. Flinging her sword around just to show off her speed was a disgraceful idea, especially to one who came to end her life to potentially prevent the deaths of others. For underneath her light-headed surface, a darkness within her past haunted the people of the present, and would most likely destroy those who live in the future.

She, however, wanted to live.

Silence was brutally shattered when Sangue flung her claw at Trad once more. Fully prepared for the attack, Trad pushed aside the claw with his shield as he diagonally slashed at Sangue with his blade. The woman dodged to her right before moving to her left as she slashed at the same direction she moved into. Trad exemplified his power to defend by powerfully slamming the blade away from his neck.

With haste, she swung her sword, creating multiple cross-shaped afterimages of her blade meant to dice Trad into pieces, but the man handled her attacks with his shields with grace. After she found her attacks to be ineffective against him, the woman pulled her blade before stabbing at Trad's chest.

The man, however, did not defend. Instead, he let the blade graze across the surface of his waist as he slashed at Sangue. The woman swiftly tilted her head and pulled herself away from the vertical attack, knocking Trad down to the ground by swinging her Claw as she moved. Quickly getting up, Trad proceeded to block more of the Claw's attack with Svalinn.

Finding the onslaught of the Claw to be too tiring for him to consistently defend against, Trad quickly slashed upward.

The chains that connected with the Apophis Claw shattered thanks to his pinpoint accuracy.

Now at an advantage, Trad ran up to Sangue as he delivering his own sets of attacks, some of them being parried and some of them completely missing the woman. Right before he slashed downward, the woman pulled herself up to the man as she brought her katana up.

But Trad's strength was superior. Bringing his blade down with incredible strength, Gram sent Sangue's katana clattering across the ground as it tore through her arm. With a determined look, Trad pulled his blade by his side before plunging Gram straight into Sangue's stomach.

The happy child had died, and so will what was left of her.

Sangue looked up at Trad, whose tears tainted the house. For both he and Sangue knew that both of them were not wrong to fight for themselves, and there was to be only one who would fulfill their dreams. That was how reality worked.

Because a peace without strife existed only in fantasies. Such peace that is known to exist in reality, after all, is simply a white lie that transforms into the polar opposite of serenity.

"I'm sorry," he finally spoke, and Sangue could only stare at his closed eyes. "I'm sorry."

But just for once, she felt like reliving a fantasy.

The woman coughed out blood, and as she felt the embrace of her parents fading away from her cold body, she smiled. She wanted to wipe away Trad's tears, but she had lost everything. The red-haired swordswoman, who fell with honor by her side, felt Trad's sword slowly pull out of her. The blood-drenched warrior of the house surrounded by sakura leaves fell into Trad's arms.

The soft words that escaped her lips were words she wanted to speak of when she was once the greatest sinner to exist.

"I forgive you."

Sangue Naga's spirit passed away, with Trad prevailing over her cold ways. But even when she died, the man could not help but feel an everlasting regret.

He had killed a woman who simply wanted to live, away from her sin-filled past.[/hider]