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Entry tags:
night five - kill log.
Who: Killers and Tsurumaru Kuninaga
When: The fifth night
Where: The jungles of Ship-Trap Island
[ It's the dead of night in the jungle. Considering the Hunt, you have to wonder if you're actually safe out here, but it at least seems quiet. Maybe you could try getting some rest, or maybe you should keep watch. Either way, that quiet may not seem very comforting. ]
When: The fifth night
Where: The jungles of Ship-Trap Island
[ It's the dead of night in the jungle. Considering the Hunt, you have to wonder if you're actually safe out here, but it at least seems quiet. Maybe you could try getting some rest, or maybe you should keep watch. Either way, that quiet may not seem very comforting. ]
no subject
He finally manages to find Kashuu somewhere in the jungle, quickening his pace until he manages to catch Kashuu's attention. When he does, he comes to a halt, putting his hands on his knees; his breaths are audible, as if he's been running for a while. ]
Kashuu! Kashuu. Yeesh, hold on for a second, would you? I finally found you.
[ Inhale, exhale, inhale, and he catches his breath, looking back up at the uchigatana. He does his best to smile, but of course, it doesn't come out quite right. (After the swords' agreement last night, it's no wonder, really.) ]
But before we begin... can I ask you something?
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But not even Max's apologies or promises to stop going after them helped to soothe the ache in his chest that's been gnawing away at him since Horikawa's body showed up. Not the turning tide, not the lack of pointed fingers, not the reassurance that they had support where it mattered. Not even the fact that Tsurumaru managed to leave the trial with only two votes, though that's for a different reason, maybe.
Either way, he'll definitely pause when he hears his name being called. He pauses, but it takes a few seconds before he turns around. Kashuu has never exactly been among the most stable of the swords, and even if he's good at shoving things to the side and pretending everything is fine, he's not used to - this. To loss. He was the one who left first, before, and he doesn't know how to cope with this. The wear of the past couple of days shows in every part of him now, from his lack of buoyancy to the way he can't seem to get his mouth to smile anymore.]
Huh? Sorry. I didn't know you were looking or I woulda stuck around a little longer. [Maybe. That said:] Yeah— sure. Ask whatever you want.
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At this point, he doesn't know what to believe — humans who constantly point blame towards the swords, then turn around on this day and claim that they're on the swords' side... It's all a mystery, honestly, and he's tired of listening to these lies, especially when his faith in humans has never been high to begin with.
When Kashuu turns around, it's an expression that Tsurumaru hasn't seen him wearing often; there's something quiet alight in his eyes, something nameless that burns and blazes. Instinctively, he takes a few steps back, figuring that giving Kashuu a large circle of personal space would be a solid idea...
With his hands now clasped behind his back, he'll respond, but with another question: ]
It's really an odd thing to ask! I know you were all in the Shinsengumi together, but you were probably usually with Yamato, so... Did you know Horikawa well?
no subject
But they're in the same boat once again with that, at least. Same as always, same as usual, same, the same - they're swords, so of course they're similar in the way they think and view the world. They are, right? There has to be similarity there, somewhere. If not here with other swords, then with what else? Nothing.
It's a good idea to take a few steps back though, probably. This time, Kashuu "literally glues himself to everyone" Kiyomitsu doesn't move to gap that distance himself. He appears to be giving the question some genuine thought, head canting a little to the side. Then:]
Horikawa Kunihiro is- [is] -a friend and a comrade, but... [How well did he know him? Not as well as Yasusada, who he knew like his own reflection.] I wouldn't say that I knew him like, really well, y'know? Not like Kanesada did.
[There's an unspoken "why?" there.]
1/2
Ah, I see.
[ But clearly, his answer is not the response that Tsurumaru is looking for; and so he continues, in his cheery, typical tone. ]
It seems that I knew him better than you.
2/2
Horikawa cried while I was cutting him open, you know? He was still alive and breathing. And crying, too, but those are just details. [ Casually, he waves a hand. ] If you want to know more details, like how I choked him to death, I'd be happy to provide them.
All of you were so insistent that a sword couldn't have possibly done that to Horikawa. You kept trusting the swords, as if the swords could do no wrong. Did you really think that a General wouldn't be among the swords?
That was a mistake, Kashuu.
[ He'll slowly point his blade at Kashuu, keeping his gaze locked on him all the while, for any sudden movements; undoubtedly, this will still take a while to sink in. ]
And it's the last mistake you'll ever make.
no subject
Ah.
Well.
Swords are like this too, aren't they? Comrades and brothers, but weapons designed to draw blood, to seek and destroy and kill. Protecting is only one side of the coin. It's something he understands, of course; and swords are pitted against each other by the whims of humans all of the time, aren't they? It isn't unreasonable. It's not impossible.
He's quiet a few seconds more, and then he manages to smile. ...Maybe it would be more accurate to say that he can't help it. He can't help but smile, and it's because he can't stop himself from laughing, either. It's a little huff at first, just an amused snort, but it progresses into bursts and bubbles that he can't hold back until he's laughing - laughing so loudly because he hasn't cried yet and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to now. There are no sudden movements from his end, at least; he doesn't even raise his hand to the hilt of his blade yet.]
Hahahaha—!! Nice, nice! You really got us all good, didn't you? Ah... Hey-- Hey, aren't you gonna say something like "did I surprise you"? Did you say that to Horikawa Kunihirooo, I wonder? Souza Samonji? Mi-tsu-ta-da?
shit . i unlocked the final circle of hell
Seeing the final strands of Kashuu's sanity snap is truly something interesting; the way he comes alive is something that Tsurumaru doesn't take his eyes off of; still, his grip on his own blade tightens, even as Kashuu doesn't reach for his own, nor Yamato. (What use would a broken wakizashi serve him now?) ]
I did, I did!! Every night we met, you had such faith in everyone — it was hard not to laugh. But then Urashima started going on about how his little lover's crush, and then nothing useful ever came up. Until last night, when Souza went on about his information, that was greaaaat — it went right to the other Generals. [ He lets out a laugh; it echoes in the stillness of the forest. ] But the best part? By the time Souza told us this, he was already dead! We'd killed him already! Woohoo! Isn't that just lucky?
[ But regarding the other two swords, he shakes his head as best as he can, a muddled side-to-side motion. ] No, I didn't kill them. Someone else got to them before me — it's such a shame. I wanted to be the one to save them. Ah, haha, aha, isn't that sick? This is some twisted stuff, huh? Killing someone to save them? What kind of sick thoughts are these, is what you're probably thinking, right?
Ahaha, Kiyomitsu!! This little chat has been fun, but answer properly, and I'll spare you the end that Horikawa met.
[ The moon's light reflects off of the side of his pointed sword. ]
Are you going to give up here? Or will you submit to your fate?
IT'S TIME............
But it looks like that's what they're being reduced to here, anyway. If they had humanity at all, it's been stripped down, down to the barest metal that makes up their true bones and flesh and blood.]
You guys've deeefinitely had all the luck here! That's pretty unfair, isn't it? Hogging it all like that. Super, super unfair! Hahaha, but I guess you prooobably don't care about what is or isn't fair, right?
[He can't even process that - killing someone to save them? Save them from what? The only thing people need saving from here are these remorseless, ruthless killers who would strike down comrades and friends and strangers and humans with their entire lives ahead of them. Ah, it's just like it had been back home, isn't it? Sometimes you just have to do your worst to do your best.]
Well! That's not surprising, either. I mean, eeeveryone on this island wanted us dead for a while there, yeah? [His shoulders shrug. It's a sloping, almost lazy gesture.
And then he's drawing - Yasusada's blade, because it's on the left side of his body, and setting forward quickly with the intent to strike. That should answer Tsurumaru's question, at least.]
UGH KASHUU I'M SO TIRED... it's time for: dead comrades (dual wield)
[ When he sees steel flash, he dodges to the side, angling his blade in such a way that it would press against Kashuu's, before he jumps back, keeping his sword forward as he paces in a slow arc. There's the sound of fabric being torn, though, and it's clear that the uchigatana had connected with his jacket. Ugh, who wears poofy jackets to battles, he's tired. ]
I see, I see your answer. Do you want me to string your insides from branch to branch, Kashuu? Apparently, ripping them out while you're still alive really hurts, if Horikawa's reactions meant anything. [ There's a simper across his expression, and he chuckles. ] I think he broke, too! After a while, he just kind of went silent. Aah, it was really wonderful, you know — tachis aren't really used for this kind of thing, so it was a refreshing surprise!
[ Through what Kashuu says, it's apparent that the concept goes over his head, and thus, Tsurumaru doesn't elaborate on it. It's twisted and incomprehensible, after all. He shifts his footing suddenly, pushing himself forward, blade aiming for Kashuu's shoulder, a non-fatal spot.
It's good to toy with prey before killing it, no matter what certain others had told him. ]
UGH LOOK TSURU MAKES HIM TIRED TOO
Instead, he focuses on what's familiar to him. The sound of blades colliding, even though this is Yamato's body and he needs to take care of it, he has to take care, because the saniwa is going to have enough trouble bringing them back as things are. He can hear the sound of fabric ripping, but there's nothing satisfying in that. He's also a sword of Okita Souji, in the end.
Likewise, he doesn't respond to the baiting, though it's clear that he hears it. It's clear by the way his smile abruptly drops from his face, leaving only an insane amount of anger instead. Like, metaphorically insane but also literally insane because boy he's lost it. The sword that slices into his shoulder doesn't even earn Tsurumaru a reaction, since he's running on adrenaline, and he even takes the opportunity to jab his blade forward again. It's clear from his aim that he's definitely not planning on toying with anyone... Still, the sudden attack has thrown his footing off a little, his balance just a little awry--]
UGH I'M GONNA LAY KASHUU DOWN TO REST... in a gruesome way but
Yoohoo, Kiyomitsu! Up here.
[ It's then that he removes what he's been hiding against the opposite side of his jacket, next to Souza's vessel: a gun. ] Hate to break this to you, but you're not who we chose tonight. We've already finished that up!
How many gunshots do you think it'll take to kill you? Everyone had one, but Souza had two. But... [ Observing the machinery, he pulls something back with his thumb; it clicks, and he points it at Kashuu. ] I don't think two's enough. That's too kind, too quick. No suffering? I'm not on board with that.
[ He looks back down at Kashuu, his eyes extraordinarily bright. ]
I want to see how much pain that your human body can endure before it gives out.
TSURUMARU ugh at least hes having a good time murdering his friends
His grip on Yamato's vessel doesn't budge at all, though. He still holds it tightly, even with the foot on his wrist. His other hand moves toward the hilt of his own vessel, but he already knows he wouldn't be able to draw it with Tsurumaru's other foot on his chest. A cross-draw like that would have been nice, if he could pull it off.
The kick doesn't seem to surprise him, doesn't seem to phase him much. Likewise, the gun... actually doesn't seem to surprise him, either. He doesn't feel afraid even when the gun is pointed at him, even so - just looks steely and full of some hard-to-pinpoint emotion. What does he feel? It's not something he can answer. It's a feeling that goes beyond betrayal and anger, something much deeper, something much more consumptive.]
Hah... I wonder how long you were waiting to play cat and mouse? I guess a sword that attracts death like you do can only keep attracting death in the end, huh?
ugh he's had such a good time honestly HIS TRAITOR HEART
It plays on Tsurumaru's greatest insecurity, the reason behind the void of love in his life, and he grits his teeth; everything surfaces now, the centuries that he's seen fly by with the death stigma attached to his name, of people who wanted to own him, only to give him away before his sword's supposed effect could come into play. It makes sense, after all; he's an object, and nothing more, and after more centuries of trying to believe that this kind of treatment was unjustified, that he deserved something more, there's a part of him that's already given up.
If this is what fate had decided for him, he accepts it fully, with both arms.
The first time he pulls the trigger, it startles even him (who gives these swords guns, honestly? they're not mutsu), and he jumps, but he's quick on regaining his composure, shifting his footing downwards to be able to aim for Kashuu's chest, now — but deliberately away from his heart. Click, bang, click, bang, and each time, he feels Kashuu flinch underneath his foot (each time, it's fainter); soon, there's a dark pool forming beneath his body. ]
You're right, you're right. That's all I'm good for — for killing humans. Everywhere I go, people die. In this case, it's a good thing, isn't it? You're human.
[ A sad smile tugs at the corners of his lips; and for once, it's oddly human, as the movements of his index finger come to a halt. (Had he tried again, it would have been out of bullets, anyway.) ]
I'm human. Longevity never suited me, anyway.
[ He puts the gun back in his belt loop; it's useless, now. He'll pick up his own sword, left to the side of Kashuu's body, resheathing it against his side. ]
Say, Kiyomitsu... After you're dead, do you think I can die, too? Even as a sword, I always felt this way: living is a curse.
YAMATO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE TRAITOR but no he was just the scapegoat!!!!
—And then, a click. Despite himself, he chokes on a noise of startled pain at the first bullet. Ah. So that's what it's like to be shot, huh? He realizes in a distant sort of way that none of the adrenaline of dodging enemy bullets from afar is present when you're in point-blank range; there's no chance of it missing its mark here, that's why. None of the thrill of potential escape. Only the certainty of death.
(...Is he really going to die again? Is he really so incapable?)
The first sound is the only one he makes, since the rest die in his throat, die with the convulsions of his body as it's pierced by bullet after bullet. The pain, at least, bleeds into numbness eventually, his very human form starting to slip into shock. Still...]
We're not— [Not human, he understands that now. He understands even though he can't feel a connection to his vessel, even though it's his human body that's been shot. But more importantly:] --And you won't.
[Hatred is a really suffocating thing, isn't it? Almost as heavy as the unshakable weight of grief, but it burns differently, it consumes in a different way. His eyes are still fever-bright, and he's careful to enunciate every word just so, even though his lungs are struggling to expand, like he's sharpening them to use as a sword. His free hand raises (the other is still somehow holding onto Yamato's vessel tightly, protectively) and he grabs for Tsurumaru's ankle.]
Hey... Hey, don't you know? You should know. If living's your curse, you should know how it goes, right? The way it always goes. [There's a little sound that might be a laugh, might be a cough.]
You think a thousand years is bad? This is just the start. That's how your luck is, isn't it? Ah... You're gonna find lots of places and lots of people that you love, and you're gonna love them with everything you have, so much that it hurts, and they'll aaall leave before you. You'll live for-ev-er, Tsurumaru Kuninaga. You're gonna live forever.
[Because he understands that pain now. He understands how very, very painful it is, how lonely it is, to be left behind. Maybe that's why he feels a little spark of relief at the idea of not being the one finding bodies tomorrow - again - even if he can hardly admit it to himself. Selfish, selfish...
It's been a long two days.]
*wakes up* i'm ready to sin
But as soon as he sees that pure white that sticks out so much in the dark jungle, Kasen remembers. Tsurumaru had been second to be executed today. They claimed he had a gun, and though Kasen had thought since the beginning that one of them was a traitor—
Kasen's rage has always burned especially hot, truth be told. It was the sort of thing that new swords tended to have to be warned about, because for all Kasen's love and adherence to ideals of elegance and grace, he had inherited his most notorious master's temper just as much as his love of the arts. It was written in between the lines of his name, a terrible implication by the number thirty-six, even though Kasen would always delicately try to push people towards the prettier origin of his name over the more gruesome one. Really, they were inexorably tied together. ]
Kuninaga—!!
[ Though the gunfire had hidden the sounds of most of Kasen's approach, but the shout comes once Tsurumaru has sheathed his own sword. It's not an unfair thing to have sheathed it, really. Who would expect that Kashuu and Kasen would have headed out into the jungle on their own mission tonight? But that, as well as emptying the gun into Kashuu, would prove to be Tsurumaru's mistake.
Kasen's run forward is quick by the time he yells, only barely enough time for Tsurumaru to turn. It doesn't particularly matter if he turns or not, though. That distance is closed quickly, and it's clear that Kasen has every intention of delivering Tsurumaru his wish, though perhaps a little earlier than he had been expecting. His sword pushes through Tsurumaru's stomach, and there's a mild impact as their two bodies briefly collide, but Kasen is out for blood. He's not sadistic like some of the swords, but he is ruthless.
The sword turns in Tsurumaru's gut, and Kasen cuts to the side enough that there's no mistaking that this will be a fatal injury. He pulls back as soon as he's cut to the side a satisfactory amount, and since he's not sure whether that gun is still loaded or not, he kicks to both help pull Tsurumaru off his sword and to throw him off balance.
It'd be ironic if he were to fall next to Kashuu. But Kasen's too blinded by anger for that to quite be his intention. ]
*wakes up* i'm ready to be killed UGH WHO KEEPS GIVING SWORDS GUNS
It takes a while for everything to sink in — at first, aside from the vivid flash of pain, he's silent, looking back down at the sword, unmoving halfway into his gut, then at Kasen, his eyes asking the question that doesn't make it to his lips. Yet, above everything, Tsurumaru can sense that it hurts, in a way that leaves him speechless and his head spinning, and there's little else that could make him happier. It worsens when Kasen twists the blade, cutting to the side; whether his screams come from how he can hear that human thing — his blood pounding in his ears, the adrenaline rush that comes with having his death wish granted so ruthlessly, or from how there's an irreparable, mind-numbingly searing pain inside of him that he can't get out, even if he claws into himself, or both, is a complete mystery.
(He breathes; there's a painful fire at the pit of his stomach that he wants to continue burning.) ]
Kiyomitsu, Kiyomitsu, hey, Kiyomitsu! [ Tsurumaru is still staring at Kasen, but he knows that Kashuu will hear him, with what little life he has left against the floor. ] What was that, about me living forever? I've already lived forever! I've already had the people I loved with all of my heart leave me! Why do you think I'd do this so easily to all of you? People die. Comrades die. If I hadn't done this, all of you would have died anyway, and I would have been alone again. That's scary! That's scaaaaary, Kiyomitsu!! How can I care for any of you, knowing that all of you would die?
[ Talking that much is a mistake, as Tsurumaru soon discovers; as he speaks, he feels something come forward, trails of red from the corners of his mouth, and he spits on the ground between himself and Kasen. Still, even he knows when he's lost, and even keeping himself upright is an effort, with the strength from his legs slowly fading; ironically, had it not been for the blade in him, he would have collapsed entirely.
Really, it's as if Kasen is granting all of his wishes today: when he's kicked aside, he decides that he doesn't want to move anymore, curling up against the grassy floor several feet away from Kashuu's dying body. His gaze rests somewhere unseeing in the jungle shadows; the foliage blurs together, and he presses a hand against his stomach — something warm runs over his fingers, and he figures that in his search for happiness, he's finally found it. ]
Did you... trust all of us as blindly as he did?
[ He tries to laugh, but only coughs up something dark, instead. From his side, he dislodges Souza's sword while he can, clumsily pushing the blade forward on the ground. It doesn't get too far, but his meaning is clear. If not tonight, then tomorrow. ]
When I'm found tomorrow, take him. Take Mitsutada. When you find him, take Kashuu. Yamato... Horikawa. Take yourself. Protect Urashima. Urashima... isn't your enemy. If you make it out of here alive, don't take me. I don't deserve it.
[ And with what he has left, he smiles. ] Thank you, Kasen.
Will you tell me that I look like a crane, like this?
*wakes up* *puts on my painpong uniform and grabs a racket* IT'S TIME
Probably.
But he's not at all inclined to be merciful right now, either, with his soaked back to the jungle floor and a traitor just narrowly being cut down. He loves people with all of his heart, of course, but that means he hates with just as much energy and passion. Even if it's usually a fleeting thing for him - he's an optimist no matter how much he tries to shake it - he can certainly hold onto burning grudges like a champion, too. Especially now, when he has nothing else to hold on to. His last desperate hope will still be carried by Kasen, and that's all. There's nothing left but all of the mistakes he's made leading up to this final one.
That's why he saves his breath. He knows he's running out of time, and he doesn't want to waste it on Tsurumaru Kuninaga. He hears those final words to Kasen too, naturally, with Tsurumaru having fallen so close, but not a shred of mercy or forgiveness graces him. Hearing him talk like that just makes Kashuu angrier. Talking of who is and isn't the enemy, asking about trust when he'd broken it from the start; he's a very loyal sword and betrayal is more cutting than any blade to him. As far as actual blades go, he knows that Kasen will take Tsurumaru's along with him regardless of what he says, but a childish and spiteful part of him wishes he wouldn't. Not that he'll remember any of this after he's re-summoned, but...
...Well. If nothing else, this serves to eclipse the growing disdain he's felt toward humans. Their betrayal had been hard to stomach, but he doesn't want them to live onward into infinity with nothing but loneliness for a companion, either. (Maybe he's a little angry at Kasen for that reason, even if he's also grateful that he won't have to wait to be avenged. Spirits born from grudges aren't very cute at all, are they?)
Since he's saving his words for Kasen but still feels consumed by those dark and unpleasant feelings, he pettily turns his head to the side and spits in Tsurumaru's direction - mostly a mouthful of blood by now. It'll probably fall shy since Tsurumaru is still a distance away, but the intent is clear.]
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When Tsurumaru collapses, all he can think about is how elegant it looks. There's beauty in blood that both of them can appreciate, but while Tsurumaru thinks of cranes, Kasen thinks of the whiteness of frost and how this night deepens with that pure white being overtaken by lifeblood instead. It's something broken and beautiful, and like the poem he's thinking of, it too comes with a deep pang of something. He's still too angry, too hurt to think of what it could be, but later, he'll know it's loneliness too.
It's an easy swing of his arm to throw some of the blood off his blade, but once that's done, Kasen steps closer to both of them. His eyes fall to Kashuu first with a deep apology in his eyes, but he's quick to turn his attention back to Tsurumaru when he asks his first question. He laughs, harsh and unforgiving, but most of all, unhinged. Tsurumaru isn't the first person he's killed tonight. He won't be the last, either. ]
No. I didn't. I said it on the first night we were all together, didn't I? One of us had to be a traitor. And so truly, you're lucky that I'm the one that will take your life tonight, Kuninaga. This is a mercy you don't deserve.
[ And for the second question...
His expression softens. It's less harsh and angry, and instead shows a resolved sorrow. He'd called them all brothers only a few hours earlier, and the thought burns. He had been the one to see everyone arrive at the Citadel, seen swords fall and be repaired, and some be broken completely, but he'd never been the one to strike that killing blow. They were all like his family, at least so much as a sword could understand it.
So most of what Tsurumaru says, he doesn't acknowledge. He doesn't bat an eye as Tsurumaru asks Kasen to take the rest and leave Tsurumaru behind. Instead, he only answers that second question. ]
...Like the most graceful one I could imagine. Even a great poet could not capture this sort of elegance.
[ It's not forgiveness. He's not able to do that, not now, perhaps not ever. But it's acceptance. Kasen raises his blade above his head, and his voice shifts once more, away from those softer words, and back to the harsher tone that marks the fact that he's not so much of a sword of the arts as he would claim. ]
Present your neck to me, Tsurumaru.
[ But he doesn't actually wait for Tsurumaru to do so. Lying as prone as he is, there's little need. Kasen swings his blade down with the great strength and precision he had talked about only a few days ago, and it hits cleanly. Perhaps Tsurumaru deserved a slow, painful death for what he'd done to the rest of them. But Kasen's mercy is shown by cutting off his head to make it quick. ]
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Personally, Tsurumaru doesn't like this one bit. As Kasen rambles on about how merciful this is, Tsurumaru thinks it the opposite; he wants to bleed out, until he's delirious and stuck at the final threshold point between life and death. Tsurumaru is fond of pain: others' pain, as well as his own, as long as it dyes him red. But Kasen's mercy is still fitting, in this situation — Tsurumaru figures that he really doesn't deserve to get what he wants.
It hurts, everything hurts. He wants to remember how it hurts, how he feels life bleeding out from beneath him in the slow seconds that tick by. Still, before he gets the chance to comply with Kasen's request, there's a figure hovering over him already, and a blade at his neck. Kasen's frame cuts a silhouette against the moonlight; Tsurumaru can't see his face, but that's alright.
This is alright.
Even if he dies here, everything will turn out alright.
He'll close his eyes one last time, before the world goes dark. ]
no subject
But he doesn't feel satisfaction. He doesn't feel relief. Seeing Tsurumaru die first doesn't do anything to ease the gnawing in his chest, the ache of anger and loss and misery that's rooted itself there. It's only been two days but he thinks he's starting to forget what it feels like to be happy, and that's awful, awful, awful.
...He must really be a rotten existence, then, if his only source of comfort in any of this is drawn from the fact that he'll soon be able to leave all of those heavy weights behind. "Maybe it's better that way", Souza had said just a night ago, when they had talked about the lost swords being reforged and re-summoned anew. Maybe it's better - and he had looked so peaceful when they found his body. Maybe it is better to forget. Maybe it isn't, but Kashuu can't help but grasp wildly for that last spider's thread of hope. It'll be over soon, and he can rest.
For now, he-- tries to sit up, but bullets actually do quite a number on a human body, as it turns out. He can't move his torso, even though shock has stifled the pain. He can, at least, still move his free hand. He extends it in Kasen's direction, slow and careful, and speaks even more carefully. His words are soft around the blood in his mouth, and now that Tsurumaru is dead, his spike of bitter anger is starting to bleed out like the rest of him, leaving behind only exhaustion.]
Kasen...?
no subject
[ Kasen breathes out a harsh breath first, since there's part exertion and part mental exhaustion behind that noise. It's familiar, too familiar, but it's an old memory that brought his name. He thinks of one body, then five, then twenty, then thirty six, and that's how his name came to be. He was an offering to the arts, but his own poem was written in blood. He thinks of that when he looks at Tsurumaru with a more wild gaze, but the movement in the periphery of his vision catches his attention instead.
...Ah, right. There was another to add to that number.
Kasen's grip on his sword tightens briefly, almost shaking, but he just takes another deep breath to compose himself before he turns to Kashuu once more. It only takes a half-step to come to Kashuu's side, and rather than staying ready to strike him down, Kasen instead kneels at his side and sets his sword on the ground next to him. There's no more threat here, and so he doesn't need it, though his hand still itches to hold it.
But instead, he reaches out to hold Kashuu's hand instead. His grip is firm, just to make sure that Kashuu feels it and knows that someone is here beside him. It's not the first time that a comrade has broken (—died, wasn't it?) before him, so he knew this well enough. As they died, it was harder for them to realize they weren't alone, and for Kashuu, he knew enough of him that it was especially important. His voice is still serious and still carries the adrenaline and edge from moments before, but he's trying to soften it. That tone isn't for Kashuu, but for how poetically tragic this whole situation is. Yet this time, he can't admire it. ]
I'm here, Kashuu.
[ That's the most important thing to say. But he pauses, looks at the wounds in Kashuu's torso, then back to him as he gives another firm squeeze of his hand. ]
...I'm sorry I didn't make it sooner.
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"I'm here" is nice. Kasen's presence is nice. He doesn't think he could handle being left behind alone to die again - he really doesn't think he could, so he's endlessly grateful and just shakes his head in response to the apology. It's— it's not fine, but he can't blame Kasen for it, either. Kasen is holding his hand and that's enough for him. His palm is clammy and he tries to laugh, but it catches in his throat like his breath.]
That's my line. You're-- gonna have to carry a lot of weight now, right? M'sorry. Really, really sorry... I wanted to help you. I wanted to help them get home. I wanted to keep all of my promises...
[His promise to Clarine to go shopping, to Urashima that he would try to get home, to Pearl that he would be there to support her. It seems like he doesn't notice, but he's finally, finally begun to cry. The night air is cool and his body temperature is decreasing, so the tears feel hot on his face - but he doesn't seem to notice.]
Hey... Kasen? [His voice is very small, and it's not entirely because of his wounds.] I don't wanna die like this, Kasen...
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Please, Kashuu. You did help me! Why, from when we first arrived and made a suitable place to rest to tonight when we tried to even things out a bit... Well, of course that's a great help. I made a promise too, didn't I?
[ That's all light-hearted and gentle, because he doesn't want Kashuu to be afraid when he goes. He doesn't want him to feel alone, and so he shifts his uses his other hand to shift Kashuu's hand slightly so that he can lock their pinkies together. It's a reminder of his promise, and he still has every intention to keep it. It's why even with this— He won't be done yet. He won't stop until there's a way home for him or he fights until his very last. It's what the gesture is meant to convey, since he knows he might not have time for the swords themselves.
His eyes flicker up to Kashuu's, and they linger on his tears for a moment, but then his own expression softens. It's fond and gentle, but there's no mistaking the mourning written in his features. Even as a tool of death, or maybe especially as a tool of death, he finds it hard to see those tears. But he nods, even as his chest tightens for seeing them. ]
...You've fought hard, Kashuu. I don't want to see you die like this either. So will you meet my blade for the end?
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When his hand is shifted and his final pinky promise is made, it's accompanied by a choking noise. His emotions are often too much for him, and they're rising to stick in his throat, making it even harder to talk. He tries to lock his pinky tightly, but it's feeble, and so is the shake that follows. Still-- he's trying to return that affirmation. He can't go on or help out anymore, but Kasen is still here, carrying that weight alone. He has to keep going forward, forward, until there's no one else left or until he hits his limit. It's going to be hard, and he's sorry, truly sorry that he won't be there as support. At the very least, he can convey that - and convey that Kasen's message has been received loud and clear.]
...Don't forget about the food either, okay? I wanna eat hotpot with everyone again... when we go home.
[Still holding on to any spark of normalcy even now - of course he is. Well, he's a pretty hopeless sword in the end. Even after Shijima, after Tsurumaru, he's simple in his desires. He always wants the same things, always strives for the hope that they'll still be around even in hopeless situations.
He can't bring himself to smile any more than he can stop crying, but he feels... a little less afraid, maybe? (When did he start feeling fear on top of everything else?) Still upset, still hurt, still angry, but this will have to be enough. He gives Kasen's pinky another squeeze.]
...Yeah. Yeah, I will. ["Sorry", he almost says. "Sorry for leaving this on your shoulders, too". Instead, he only says:] Thank you.
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I won't forget. Think of that as another promise, hm?
[ Kasen gives Kashuu's hand another squeeze, then shifts to grab his own vessel once more. He stands, and he's surprised at how steady his legs are despite the fact that there are two comrades lying at his feet, and he'll be responsible for both of their deaths. What a tragic thing.
He holds up his sword, but he doesn't pull it above his head as he had for Tsurumaru. He doesn't plan to cut off Kashuu's head, since that's a punishment for a traitor, for someone that's done wrong. For a comrade, then he'll deliver an honorable death as any sword would be happier to receive. It's still quick, though not as quick, because there's value written in a death that comes with pain. That's the way of a sword, certainly. Kasen grips his sword in both hands, and the point of the blade is poised over Kashuu's human heart. ]
Think about that hotpot for now. When you wake, it'll be the most wonderful one you've ever tasted.
[ Kasen takes a deep breath for himself, since this requires enough force to do it correctly and without more pain than necessary, but he brings his arms up to raise his sword just a little higher before he slams it down. The blade slips between ribs, since of course a sword knows where best to strike, and it pierces Kashuu's heart perfectly. Kasen doesn't hesitate at all, because once he feels that contact, he twists the sword as well to expedite his death.
It'll be painful. But only for a moment, Kasen sincerely hopes. ]
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But he can still hear what matters. Another promise, huh... Well, he'll have faith in this one, too. Even if promises are as fragile as trust, as fragile as loyalty, he'll still have faith.]
'Kay. [It's all he can really force out now, since talking is too hard even for a chatty sword like him. He conveys his belief in that one word - it's okay, it'll be okay. It'll be fine.
So he thinks of the hotpot.
He thinks of fighting with Yasusada for the best piece of meat, of Horikawa hastily cleaning up after Kanesada, of Souza sitting with his brothers and Urashima talking to his own, of Tsurumaru adding chili to some hapless soul's dish - a loud are you surprised? surely to follow. Kasen and Mitsutada would make sure everyone got their fair share, whacking away greedy hands with ladles, and the meal would surely taste extraordinary.
There isn't enough strength in his body to do more than weakly jerk when the blade plunges into his chest. With precision like that, the pain is very short indeed. Kashuu dies quickly.]
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He tries to think of a poem— Something about the night sky, the trees around him, anything but the warm, wet feeling of blood on the leaves and grass under his feet. Kasen closes his eyes tightly, then exhales a heavy breath that's a harsh, emotional sound. It's all he can allow himself. He's made a promise many times over, and he won't make Urashima carry this weight by failing now. He opens his eyes again as he looks up, and then laughs, because— ]
Ha ha... It's raining?
[ There's no reason to say it, because there's no one to hear it, but he can't admit or accept the small tears that come forth. He can't accept that he's so upset, because then he'd falter.
So he doesn't.
It's just rain, so Kasen walks calmly over to a grassy area to clean his blade, which he then sheathes properly at his waist again. He looks back at the two laying on the ground, but really, his eyes fall to the swords at their waists. He walks back, then half-kneels to take the swords from their waists, since he has to protect them. Even Tsurumaru, though he'd insisted otherwise. But he pulls his hand back, because just as he's about to take the swords from their waists, he realizes that he has to be less impulsive then that. He has to win now, so he can't disturb these bodies. It could get him killed tomorrow.
He draws himself up again, murmuring a soft "Don't worry," but then turns away to leave.
He has to win.
So they're not going to be the last to die by his hand tonight. ]