She had run. She had run the entire time, not stopping to face him even once after their encounter in the alley. She couldn’t defeat him. But he needed to defeat her. And that’s why she had run.

The Sword of a Thousand Suns sat brooding on a stump atop a hill overlooking Hukama’s camp below the temple plateau. Ujiwara had his elbows propped up on his knees, his right fist under his chin as he held his jutting katana hilt with his left, using it for support.

He looked up at the sky. The sun was out. It was hot and he nearly snarled, wishing the rains would hurry and return. Beyond the mountains, black clouds roiled. He could sneak into the temple. He could challenge her and defeat her there.

Hukama would not approve.

Ujiwara was finding the wait unbearable. Would he find her again once the real fighting broke out? He had defeated so many. The Lotus Green. Salamander. Even the Western Shield Bearer. His reputation was everything. If she escaped him, he might never recover from such an embarrassment. He would be a laughing stock. The Sword of a Thousand Suns couldn’t best a diminutive woman known for floating on the wind?

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No, he thought. No, she was much, much more than that. But that’s how they’ll say it. The scorn and the criticism inside his head weren’t real. No one had even known they’d crossed blades. And yet, he was certain it was a widespread rumor already. Surely.

Pathetic.

Head slipping into his hands, he made the decision. Hukama would be furious, but maybe he didn’t have to find out. No, he would. Ujiwara wouldn’t assassinate The White Feather. That would be dishonorable and perhaps a worse fate than if she escaped him.

He lurched off the log, made his way through camp toward the inner Western Gate entrance where the forest and the foothills lay beyond.

He would challenge her in front of the emperor’s own army. Then all would know, as it was meant to be between Legendary blade masters.