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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. ]
*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. ]
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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...?
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[ 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. ]