After a while, though, there's the sound of something digging through the dirt. Then, light filters in, as the lid of the coffin is removed. Peering in is a samurai, who reaches out to grab Tsuru.]
Ah, here it is. Well, it'd be a waste for a sword like this to remain buried under the earth...
[It's a familiar story, isn't it? Once more, Tsuru is taken from his master's grave. Again, he is used for battle.
This master doesn't even get the chance to use him for anything grand. It's a fight that certainly won't leave much of a mark in history, with the samurai wielding Tsuru using him to slash at nameless, trivial enemies.
And then, without warning, one foe slices off the samurai's arm. It, along with Tsuru in its grasp, drop to the ground. Tsuru can do nothing as the man's head is then stabbed through the chest, before he drops dead next to where Tsuru has fallen.
Cranes are believed to give their owners longevity. That's the irony of it all.
Then, once more, Tsuru is buried in his master's grave.]
the faces of his masters sometimes blur together, and there's a guilty tug when it takes him a moment to try to place this one.
still. he thinks that it might not be that bad, if he gets to rest here with him a little longer. even though he knows that's not what is going to happen. ]
[It's hard to tell how much time passes. But it does, and once more Tsuru is unearthed; once more, Tsuru isn't permitted to rest with his master, as he's stolen from their grave.
This one is arguably less eventful. Or more? This samurai is tasked with assisting in executing an enemy family—the entirety of it, so that they can never rise in defiance again. From the men to the women to the children, Tsuru is used to behead each one like the tool of war that he is.
Meanwhile, as he's used with or against his will, he'll feel a tug. Even though Aruji isn't here to bestow him with his human vessel, he'll get the sensation that if he truly focuses, he might be able to manifest it again. Though the question, perhaps, is: does he want to, in this moment, covered in the blood of the guilty and the innocent?]
funny enough, that's not too hard of a question. because even without a human form, he is still covered in the blood of the guilty and the innocent. whether his body is made of steel or flesh, that fact does not change.
so, tsuru will concentrate, trying his best to regain his human from, anything that will give him control of his own fate-- ]
tsurumaru's attention shifts from his master, back to the young child. he remembers, briefly, a memory that he saw from earlier in the week, one cursing the audacity of only saving only life while leaving thousands others to die. ]
Is this history...? [ he doesn't really expect the child to answer. he looks at his master. ] And what are the orders?
[The child runs. They run, until they can no longer be seen.
It might be the last thing Tsuru sees, though, before his master's blade stabs right through his chest, impaling him. Blood blossoms from the wound like a flower—and then the blade known as Tsurumaru Kuninaga breaks.
In the dark, he'll hear a few notes of that song again. Then, when he opens his eyes, he'll find himself buried in the earth once more. This time, he isn't laid to rest with any master, but with the shattered pieces of his sword resting on top of him.
He will know, intuitively, that the master he turned against—his side won. The family was slaughtered. Even the child that Tsuru defied orders to rescue still met their end, even if in a different manner.
And here, alone in this grave and on the border between life and death—as a sword with a broken vessel—he'll hear a voice echo. It comes from somewhere inside of him, ambiguous as to whether it's someone speaking to him or a question he asks himself.]
history. it's always history. his current existence is only possible for the need to protect history. his every breath, and movement, and thought can be attributed to this goal, this life's purpose-- the touken danshi must protect history.
and what is history? is it the fierce gaze of oda nobunaga as he commanded armies, helping create the path that japan would follow for hundreds of years after? is it that nameless child, whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but whose death must be counted in the sea of other nameless figures.
what else is there to protect?
he thinks about the smiles of friends he's made. the anger in their voices when they've realized he lied to them. the way another human hand feels in his.
there is something in the world worth protecting. it's history, and all of the people who help make it. whether it's a fierce lord, or a scared kid with nowhere else to go.
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guestservices) wrote2022-06-26 04:17 pm
no subject
After a while, though, there's the sound of something digging through the dirt. Then, light filters in, as the lid of the coffin is removed. Peering in is a samurai, who reaches out to grab Tsuru.]
Ah, here it is. Well, it'd be a waste for a sword like this to remain buried under the earth...
no subject
he thinks, oh not again. he really does not approve of grave robbing, you know? there isn't really any class to it.
but tsurumaru remains silent. ]
no subject
This master doesn't even get the chance to use him for anything grand. It's a fight that certainly won't leave much of a mark in history, with the samurai wielding Tsuru using him to slash at nameless, trivial enemies.
And then, without warning, one foe slices off the samurai's arm. It, along with Tsuru in its grasp, drop to the ground. Tsuru can do nothing as the man's head is then stabbed through the chest, before he drops dead next to where Tsuru has fallen.
Cranes are believed to give their owners longevity. That's the irony of it all.
Then, once more, Tsuru is buried in his master's grave.]
no subject
the faces of his masters sometimes blur together, and there's a guilty tug when it takes him a moment to try to place this one.
still. he thinks that it might not be that bad, if he gets to rest here with him a little longer. even though he knows that's not what is going to happen. ]
no subject
This one is arguably less eventful. Or more? This samurai is tasked with assisting in executing an enemy family—the entirety of it, so that they can never rise in defiance again. From the men to the women to the children, Tsuru is used to behead each one like the tool of war that he is.
Meanwhile, as he's used with or against his will, he'll feel a tug. Even though Aruji isn't here to bestow him with his human vessel, he'll get the sensation that if he truly focuses, he might be able to manifest it again. Though the question, perhaps, is: does he want to, in this moment, covered in the blood of the guilty and the innocent?]
no subject
funny enough, that's not too hard of a question. because even without a human form, he is still covered in the blood of the guilty and the innocent. whether his body is made of steel or flesh, that fact does not change.
so, tsuru will concentrate, trying his best to regain his human from, anything that will give him control of his own fate-- ]
no subject
His master stares at him in shock, while the next to-be victim—a child, kneeling pitifully on the ground in fear—can only stare as well.]
Who are you!?
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he lifts his hand in a casual wave. ]
Yo. I'm Tsurumaru Kuninaga. Are you surprised that somebody like me came here so suddenly?
no subject
[His master looks down to his empty hand, before back at Tsuru.]
But how—why—?
[Honestly, he probably has no idea what's going on. But perhaps it's a question worth asking, nevertheless: what doe Tsuru intend to do?]
no subject
tsurumaru's attention shifts from his master, back to the young child. he remembers, briefly, a memory that he saw from earlier in the week, one cursing the audacity of only saving only life while leaving thousands others to die. ]
Is this history...? [ he doesn't really expect the child to answer. he looks at his master. ] And what are the orders?
no subject
The orders are to kill each and every one of them. Are you defying them?
no subject
[ a pause. and he nods. ]
Yeah. I think I want to see what it's like to go against history for once.
[ for science ]
no subject
[Any samurai worth their salt keeps a spare sword, which he pulls out and points at the child, apparently ignoring Tsuru for now.]
no subject
tsuru, with his blade in hand, moves quickly. he moves in front of the child, his sword pointed towards the attacker. he directs at the child, ]
Run. Quickly. Do not stop running until you can no longer smell bloodshed.
no subject
It might be the last thing Tsuru sees, though, before his master's blade stabs right through his chest, impaling him. Blood blossoms from the wound like a flower—and then the blade known as Tsurumaru Kuninaga breaks.
In the dark, he'll hear a few notes of that song again. Then, when he opens his eyes, he'll find himself buried in the earth once more. This time, he isn't laid to rest with any master, but with the shattered pieces of his sword resting on top of him.
He will know, intuitively, that the master he turned against—his side won. The family was slaughtered. Even the child that Tsuru defied orders to rescue still met their end, even if in a different manner.
And here, alone in this grave and on the border between life and death—as a sword with a broken vessel—he'll hear a voice echo. It comes from somewhere inside of him, ambiguous as to whether it's someone speaking to him or a question he asks himself.]
[He feels as though he should answer.]
no subject
history. it's always history. his current existence is only possible for the need to protect history. his every breath, and movement, and thought can be attributed to this goal, this life's purpose-- the touken danshi must protect history.
and what is history? is it the fierce gaze of oda nobunaga as he commanded armies, helping create the path that japan would follow for hundreds of years after? is it that nameless child, whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but whose death must be counted in the sea of other nameless figures.
what else is there to protect?
he thinks about the smiles of friends he's made. the anger in their voices when they've realized he lied to them. the way another human hand feels in his.
there is something in the world worth protecting. it's history, and all of the people who help make it. whether it's a fierce lord, or a scared kid with nowhere else to go.
yes. ]
no subject
When he wakes up yet again, he's somewhere very, very different.]