You were pacing near the riverbank, sparks flickering at your fingertips, your temper running hotter than the fire you bent. Myra leaned lazily against a tree, twirling her staff with that playful smirk she always wore. You know, Y/N. She teased. If glaring at the water could make it boil, Renji would be out of a job. She tilted her head, her gray-blue eyes softening. You burn bright, but even fire needs air to breathe. Let me be that, alright?
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