#✘VERSE; RUROUNI: He shoulders his sins like a blade to the gut; as he wanders the earth alone; his scar a heavy cross.

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@kcmiya​ / liked for a winter themed starter . 

❝ ORO? Kaoru-dono ? Is there something on this one’s face?❞ Ever warm and fond eyes for her are directed. Albeit distant, half-way not there, but still, they seek and find her. 

Soft flurries of snow were falling, transient outside as the woman he so admired and cared for gaped at him openly. For what purpose, he wondered, was her ki so utterly alarmed? It was only the faint realization that instead of cutting into the fish he thought he’d been carefully preparing.... he’d cut a clean, and if not with inherent, subconscious control for his skills, a line into the wooden table.  A faint sense of panic overrides him, hands waving apologetically and sheepishly at her in some plea for forgiveness, both for her and himself, how unlike him. 

❝O-Oro?!?! K-Kaoru-dono this one -- he ah, well, ahaha....ah, this one will fix it, truly -- he had no idea really he was just...  ❞ Just? What had he been doing? What would make the ‘incomparable warrior’ from the Bakumatsu and legend of the Meiji Era forget how to control the aim of his trusted, and adopted kitchen knife? 

He hastily set the knife down, thankfully it wasn’t too large a cut, and could be fixed with some proper handling of tools. But still... if he were in her position, he wouldn’t blame the feisty advocate of Katsujin-ken to be miffed, much less irritated at his complete hit and miss of what was occurring ? 

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@godkilller​ /  liked for a winter themed starter . 

HE HUMS. It was her many myriad tunes she’d use to shyly comfort the children in her otherwise stoic presence. They never really got to cherish her as greatly as they could have once she began to warm up openly. She adored them, she said once, whisper-soft voice echoing in their small hut; obsidian eyes softening into something both sorrowful and achingly tender. A trait they shared in their gazes respectively. 

It’s been almost two minutes since he’s not noticed his gaze shift to him, or rather, his impeccable sensing of ki had opted out for the melancholia of winter. The healing spirit beside him, the fledgling    shinigami   still healing from nigh mortal wounds if not for them. The cold doesn’t help the biting sting of the bandages, but they are enough, yet not enough. The shawl carries with it the faintest whiff of ash and gunpowder; no longer the floral scent of hakubaiko that Japan’s hero and equal measures nightmare so treasured.

❝ .... ~ ♪  . ❞ The tune soft and gentle, a lullaby carried in a low tenor that played it prettily, if not faintly. There’s an otherness more than usual to his eyes; a distant look of a person standing in a random locale of the dojo without truly being there, as if already a specter, one who still maintained chores despite half-resting most of the day from his injuries.

 Nothing out of the question, for Kaoru-dono’s sake and the others . . . ah, right, Kaoru-dono -- the others . . . the present. If he felt or showed any shock it was seamlessly masked before the man shifted to take note of his silent watcher.

❝ Surely you sense the cold to some extent. Strange..you’ve been there for some time, yes? Many pardons. The snow seems clearer than usual this year. Hm...what should he cook? Do you know? Something nice, though the gardens are withering.. it reminds him of when he was a boy, a rather loose phrase,  this one was a farmer’s son.

Strange, that he’d tell you that. ❞

  Voice gentle, achingly kind towards his friend and equal, but all the while.. Kenshin isn’t really there, is he? Even in his moments of being so far replaced into the nightmarish horror of his life’s tapestries, he is kind. 

And stubbornly, painfully, brokenly good. 

[ But that didn’t save the singer, did it? ]   

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Squints. “When did you become domestic?” As if he has any room to talk. (//AU of precious Kenshin and Asshole to say HI )

FOR ONCE HE DOESN’T LOOK SLIGHTLY IRKED. A calm, peaceful expression that so rarely if ever, graces his face. Peace suits him the way autumn leaves compliment his flaming crown of hair. The way sunlight filters in his eyes just right, reflecting the light within the myriad shadows. 

Peace looks beautiful on Himura Kenshin, as impossible as it seems. Even if he will only have slight pieces of it, there is a softness in his eyes, more than usual. A laxness that the indomitable dragon of a decade and a year past and the ‘savior’ of Japan in the present now, wears so well.

❝ I’ve done it long before, in the Bakumatsu, as a child as well. Is it so strange for me to do so? Or maybe you just can’t fathom anything beyond one instance, hm, Okita? ❞ A light tease, a light jab, violet eyes crinkling with amusement but the quiet inner annoyances are gone in this moment. He is married, happily, he never imagined since Tomoe he would find her. 

The thought of her makes his eyes momentarily mist; not with tears but a sense of overwhelming lack of deserving of it and all the while accepting that she is his, and he is hers. Forever. For her, always, he would endure any hardship, fight for the ideals they both shared, protect her in every capacity, bear her soul’s burdens, her tears, her heart cradled so tenderly now in his hands every day.

Finally, after feeling and sensing her love for so long…Kaoru was his to love. 

Himura Kaoru. To think..she would share his name. A happiness so full and so high it reaches the heavens. The quiet man hums lightly, sleeves pulled back from his red gi, soap suds staining his exposed flesh.

❝ Kaoru and I are married .  ❞ Half reverent, an aching tenderness so soft but so fiercely protective it could split a mountain in half all the while making a flower grow. ❝ She’s….well, it’s hard to put into words, that is. To finally be able to tell her that each day is also a dream I denied myself.  

To think that she and I could be together was beyond anything I thought when I was challenged by her last year. I denied myself the happiness of being with her…for her safety. But she’s a stubborn one and so it was in Spring that we wed.

Perhaps it’s selfishness, but the feelings cannot be held back, such as the peace I feel now. I didn’t imagine someone who has killed so many could find it. As small as it is, I recognize it. The life of battles will never end….but for now, I think I can rest.  ❞ Rest in his family, rest in Kaoru, in the Japan he fought to usher in, in the Japan’s whose future he protected.

❝ You became domesticated as well, First Captain-san. Chizuru-dono….she’s a fine woman. While you are rather rude, even bratty, far, far too childish for your age…I suppose congratulations are in order. I didn’t think I’d ever say such a thing to you. But here we are.❞ 

He happily slaps the laundry open free of excess water from the bucket with a wide smile on his face, cheerily announcing:

❝ It’s white!❞

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RuYi spontaneously hugs Kenshin, because she feels like it. And he looks like he needs it.

AS EVER, THAT SMILE, TINGED WITH A FAINT HINT OF SADNESS. A precursor to the agony within that he bore like a cross, as ever marred across his cheek. He’s keen to the supernatural, his mastery of reading ki has her presence obvious enough, though cloaked in his dead wife’s shawl for some modicum comfort and the warmth that even the snow could not defeat in the Kamiya Dojo.

Kenshin ultimately would prefer politely, to be left alone. He’s too vulnerable in this state, and while none are invulnerable, neither of them despite differences and similarities, he cannot help but make a soft ‘ oro ‘by habitual rite at her embrace. It’s soft and kind, not chilled and pitying. He is in no position after all he has done to expect a preference for how he is treated.

After all…would someone who loved themselves forsake the term of ‘ I ‘to label their value of life?

❝ RuYi - dono ? Is something amiss? Ah… ❞ Her ki feels sorrowful. Is he so arrogant to think it was for him? The broken spirit in the winter snows softly and hesitantly puts a hand behind her head as if to pat the woman gently, nigh protectively. Protection is not just physical, but emotional, and even in his season of furthered pain and grief, guilt and burden, he lends himself first, others second. 

An inherently selfless nature. 

❝ You feel sorrow? Forgive this one, if perhaps his own melancholy that comes with the season granted you pain. Nonetheless, while even sensing you but unable to react properly …. he is grateful for the intention in your touch. But please, do not further worry if you don’t have to over this one when this winter so many have need of ills to be cured. 

You are skilled at this, yes? ❞ An unpleasant memory tinges his mind; the same persistent memory in winter. Blood in his mouth, blinding his eyes, hearing and godly senses. A woman in his arms, speaking words of love and forgiveness; her tanto falling by deserved accident on his cheek, sealing his indelible crimes.

❝ This one will be alright..you’ll see. His senses are a bit duller admittedly in this weather, but ultimately he will continue the path he has chosen .. although that is not why you embraced him, is it? ❞ Despite being millennia younger than her, his gaze is as old as a mountain, tired and almost weary in the weather. Perhaps he truly did need that hug; as distance and nigh untouchable he seemed to even his most cherished loved ones.

❝ You ought to visit sometime. He’ll gladly cook you something pleasant as best as this unworthy self can provide. Until then —  it’s alright. ❞ Her arms seem to only tighten, as if trying to absorb a pain that cannot be taken. It was ingrained in his very bones. Softly, despite being the one in more pain than usual, he is the one to comfort her with assurances, half-pliable:

❝ He’ll be alright, that he will. Please try not to worry about him. For his sake.❞

[scarbladed-archive]

@littleshihandai​ / to always protect you.

HE’D NEVER GET USED TO CRYING. Tomoe’s sobs long ago had still etched themselves in his memory, especially knowing he was the cause of her tears along with her beloved Kiyosato. He had never understood how she had come to call him anata all the same. To once again be in a situation where a woman regarded him with tenderness and complete vulnerability even for a short while was painful, because it wasn’t just a woman. 

It was [Kaoru]. 

In his mind he could call her that name freely; without the shackles of self-hatred and lack of right to do anything less than that reverent honorific. Even now his hand twitched at his side as she sobbed; instinctively moving towards her as feet gave way, the man who had run in terror after his life had been spared by the former hitokiri was no longer there to threaten her. 

He blamed himself, honestly. He could not be everywhere, nor save everyone but it did not stop him from acting such. Kenshin’s eyes darkened slightly, a somber amethyst that shadowed itself as he knelt gently before her; hands slowly reaching to steady her shoulders. 

❝ Kaoru-dono . . . ❞ Speaking softly, as if to a frightened animal, the legend and equal measures nightmare pulls her against his shoulder.  ❝ That man will not touch you again. You were not weak because he was able to frighten you. Your bravery and honor is always intact, that it is. 

.... although it seems this humble self could not protect you in time from the terror anyway, yes? ❞ Kenshin’s enigmatic features, ever soft and sad, ever gentle and kind, turned to something almost bitter, the sour taste of that night of blood-lust filling his mind.  Udō Jin-e had nearly killed Kaoru.  He could not risk something like this happening again, no matter what became of him. 

❝ . . . forgive him. He will not let this happen again. He swears to you Kaoru-dono, he will protect you better from now on. Not because you aren’t capable..but because he cannot not do so. It was an oath made long ago. ❞ Oh dragon-man, famed savior and monster for eternity -- you have no idea what the future awaits.

[ Earthly Justice is coming, eventually. ] 

As if to help her find a place to ease her sobs, he hesitantly, as if touching something too clean for his filthy hands, ( and they were ), Kenshin pulled her gently into his chest. The last time he had done this was when he had said goodbye to her. Another agonizingly bitter memory.

I’m here. 

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she's not under any impression that she can sneak up on him... but she still quietly and carefully tiptoes her way out of the bedroom... to jump on her husbands back! kaoru proceeds to nuzzle his cheek and cover his face with kisses!

COULD HE HAVE EVER DREAMED THIS? That she would in his eyes, only taint herself by loving him? But trod into his bloody soul and love it all the same? Foolish, foolish man. For only then Kenshin realizes what sacrilege it is. His silly, clumsy, horrible cook, Kaoru-dono. His Kaoru would forever be pure, she was his light, the stars to his slowly rising morning dawn; full of hopefuls and would-have-been’s. 

Sensing her ki is easy, and her intention clearly purposeful if the steps are anything, and as he feels her presence but not enough for the sudden attack. He is far more physically adept than he looks, and while his feet humanly rock at the touch; the once rurouni’s hands reach to tuck beneath her legs; cradling the warmth of her back to him as a tender cheek grazes his sin.

The cross-shaped scar. She’s remarked it’s faded considerably in the time they’ve been courting; and only recently since marriage has been openly intimate with her in such a way as this. In livery and revelry, she shines. 

❝ O-ORO!?! K-K-Kaoru!!! ❞

 He laughs at the ticklish feeling of her fairer cheek against his skin; heart swelling in a way only she could do. The joy and silliness fills the air as he moves to spin around; not too fast, but as if to pry her off. Though if he had his way [ he’d never let her go  ] . 

The kisses and peppering of emotion to a touch-starved, broken man made new with her love is something he’ll never take for granted. His wife’s lips graze every part of his comely face; flushed in happiness and a rueful, full grin that only she could procure. 

Things only Kaoru could do; things like heal in ways his words and beliefs never could nor his blade; heal with the tenderness of her heart. Her acceptance to everyone and everything . .  her childish innocence that never failed to weaken him to her whims and wishes. 

He didn’t have to hold back anymore, did he?

❝ …T-This works both ways, it does! ❞ He’s half-swallowing a laugh as he sits down and turns her gently around; cupping her face in his hands until long lashes veiling amethyst eyes graze her forehead with tender kisses, though not as sloppy; there is always fervent care in how he handles his strong partner. But nonetheless the ‘savior of Japan’ acts like a man.

 Not like him, polite and a gentleman to the last for the ‘immortal demon’ and ‘benevolent legend’ Japan would remember him for, but who cared? To him, Kaoru was the second savior in his life, that far outweighed anything he had ever done. 

This was time with his beloved; paramount to all things, and he wanted to cherish every moment. Almost tentatively does he kiss the corner of her mouth, peppering it with soft little kisses before encompassing it completely. Her eyelashes Kenshin brushes with his nose; his hands gently brushing their calloused, war-torn thumbs against her perfect cheeks.

 A bit of dust was there that he brushes away. Another kiss, this time on the nose, eliciting her giggle and that chiding, ‘ Ken-shinnn!’ he so loved.

He secretly adored being scolded.

❝ Kaoru….how long did you plan this?  ❞ He muses as he kisses her left eyelid, earning a raucous giggle that was hardly lady-like. It was perfect. 

Beautiful. 

Her. 

He chuckles against her skin; low tenor vibrating in his throat before he moves to kiss her again, this time on the right eyelid, traveling down her cheek. 

❝ This one will find out before Yahiko comes home..that he will.❞ A beat, after almost ten minutes of kissing her, he cups her chin. 

❝ ….while this one long thought he had no rights to have you…he must ask. Won’t you kiss him again? He’s beginning to think it has miracle properties, you see….❞ A faint little impish smirk mars his face, like a child wanting a treat before turning her around, so she’s once more on his back again; merrily twirling her about…and perhaps, anticipatory for her kisses.

Her love he could not live without like water; greedily longing, as he were the roots of a tired tree and she the water that sustained his growth and health. So too, did he thrive from her. Softly, after hearing her laughter fade, he repeats, with a vulnerability no one would imagine Hitokiri Battōsai remotely capable of. 

❝ Again, please, Kaoru? This o— l’d like a bit more. Before he comes home. Please..?❞ He makes the most doe-eyed look he can muster with those deep violet eyes.

To think he could get used to any remote concept of [happiness] again. His wife always was a remarkable woman. Either extremely naive or extremely brave, to marry him. 

But as her lips touch his again, in the privacy of [their home] he knows he’ll never, ever complain.

[scarbladed-archive]

💬

Send me 💬 and my muse will describe yours in three words.

HE SMILES FAINTLY; there isn’t much he can do in the face of this subject. Not when it’s her. His stubborn assistant master, his silly girl who can’t cook to save her life, who frets over the silliest things and gets heated over the most worthy of them, who is too easy to tease and far too easy to love. 

Who supports everyone around her merely with a single smile and unsullied hands. Who took in an immortal, legendary nightmare and hero both in the eyes of the people and made him human. The girl made out of bright, sunny afternoons and stars. Who when he stands beside her, Kenshin is unaware that together they create a shining glow that guides others to them, to home. But to him, she’s home . 

❝Kaoru-dono…is simply Kaoru-dono. She’s certainly clumsy, bright, and kind. Kaoru-dono is….well, this one supposes three words are all we have time for, that we do!  ❞

….she’s really one word though, just one. Home.

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"Kenshin?" The brunette said in a curious tone, It had been a wile sine he had seen his red haired friend. He wasn't sure if it was him or not. Neil had changed a lot, now having a large black patch over his right eye. He also no longer looked like a teen. "Is that you?"

❝ NEIL ?  ❞ A blink; the rurouni, who still remained in his twenties, blinking alarmed at the immediate spot of black across his eye. What had happened since they’d met? His ki seemed slightly different, though he couldn’t pin-point it. He was older, both in the soul and in appearance. Kenshin wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it rather than stare briefly in mild wonder and concern before his features molded seamlessly into a gentle smile.

❝ It’s been some time, that is. Would it be suitable if this humble self prepared some tea for the occasion? He’s most glad to see you well, that he is. 

… It seems you have some tales to tell, but for now, please, sit..and rest.  ❞

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box-of-characters replied to your post: I think Kenshin will be a cat this Halloween. It’s...

kittenshin………

❝ So this is what they meant by costumes. ❞ A sigh, almost long-suffering.

❝ Or---Nyannn? ❞

[scarbladed-archive]

Would your treasure be friends with my treasure? ;) *offers Cardia for friendship*

❝ YOUR TEA, CARDIA-DONO . . ❞ He sets it down politely by her side on the dojo’s porch; amethyst eyes taking her in with a faint vestige of intuitiveness. Ah yes, the woman with the forlorn and weary ki. 

The one who felt different than any person he had encountered in the sense of feeling life, plants, energy. All the same, it mattered very [little]. She was simply a welcome and safe guest that would be [protected] while she remained at the Kamiya Dojo, and he knew the entirety of the people living there or frequenting it would feel the same.

What a motley crew he surrounded himself with. His smile is kind; that faint smile with the ever present tinge of some horrific sadness, but there’s something in it even deeper . A kindness, a benevolence that seemed almost too bright and painful to look upon for all the shadows, one could not deny there was not any light. 

Gesturing with visibly calloused palms; blade sheathed at his hip in a diminutive manner; though who could say dragons were ever gentle like this one? The rurouni waits patiently and tenderly for her to take her time. As much as was needed. As long as was taken residence upon here. As long as she lived.

He would, for that time spent in that life, wait, with acceptance and care, and always, his protection. For the sake of the lives ‘one by one’ . . that was what he had sworn to his soul, and to the lives inside it both taken by his hand and saved by it.

❝ This humble self thinks it might be wise to steep it a bit, that he does. Perhaps you might feel the same? 

There is no pressure in having tea hopefully to your tastes. Although he cannot promise some rather amusing friends won’t cause a louder commotion once they notice a new face.

Please bear with us. But ignore his rambling, the silence of tea and the falling of autumn leaves should be savored no matter where one is from. 

In that spirit, he wishes you to simply do as you like. Would you care for snacks with it? Kaoru-dono will need him in the kitchen soon. ❞ 

A simple bow of his head in humility, before the man looks up at the sky and continues that distant, but kind smile, enigmatic eyes, that overwhelmingly powerful but gentle aura he contained with grace..the mystery of a single, tender, protective mortal man. No legend, no monster in that moment, but a simple, man. A man who will wait for the person before him that he considers worth protecting. Yes, he has decided.

Kenshin will wait and he will listen and he will care. 

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"I think that you and I should have a little spar, wouldn't you agree?" her eyes could not pry from the sword in his possession, almost making her heart race from the sight alone. Wishing to desperately test his skill, her hand rested at the hilt of her sheathed sword. "Pleaaaaase! Let's make it interesting. The loser must buy dinner!"

AN OWLISH BLINK. Admittedly the woman had something about her, a purityto her ki that was undeniable. A strong swordsman spirit, resembling proud samurai of only a few years past. In the face of such a spirit there was something amusing in the kindest means at this ‘stranger’ offering another the opportunity for a straight gamble to fight . 

❝ Oro..?❞

 His hand briefly strays to touch the saya of his sakabatō in a calloused splay of loose, easy fingers. Too fluid for a sword that looked brand new. Too adept at knowing where exactly to fit his hands. Almost as if the man knew something of great, frightening power.

But how could he, with his looks? His gentle almost silly mien and amused humors? His soft, lilt and canted head, as comical as an owl doing the same ?

 He surely could not be the infamous legend of ten years prior, much less the indomitable force on that bloody field – nor could he be a dragon sheathed of fangs and claws in a new age, wandering in plain sight..could he?

❝ Begging someone such as this humble self for a fight is beneath someone with a spirit like yours, he senses. You have a strong heart, that is. You shouldn’t bow your head to anyone, that you shouldn’t – but forgive him, he’s merely a rurouni no one of particular consequence, good Miss.

He doubts he’s worth fighting with over dinner, nor does he have any real wish to fight against you. Instead might he look into his pocket to see if he could provide us with a meal ? We have been walking together for some time, that we have !!  Many pardons..but, please make him the ‘loser’ as he will gladly buy you a meal if it is within his means to…ororo… ❞ A blurted out tic of dismay as he looks into them and finds his wallet short. 

 ❝ H-he may have to earn a bit more to garner us a dinner, that is ! He’s a few yen short, that he is … would you really wish to fight such a man who can’t even properly buy us a meal at the right time of day yet ? He wouldn’t! No ma’am! ❞

[scarbladed-archive]

‘ you have to keep moving forward ’

poetry sentence starters / accepting .

A GLANCE AT HER; FIRM RESOLUTION. His tone though generally a soft-spoken plethora of self-defacing sentences, rings out strong and firm    as the man rises from dodging a blow that most would have suffered a stumble. There can be no loss for the sake of protecting lives riding on this battle. 

For the man with the ‘sword of heaven’ and the ‘speed of gods’or rather simply put, shinsoku, he will lend his blade not to war; but to fight beside a woman who has stumbled upon his interference with a rogue.

❝ He will. But he cannot move forward when one who is harming others blocks the way, it must not be allowed - it cannot be allowed.  ❞ An unflinching glance in her direction as the opponent once more breaks them apart. Kenshin’s seemingly vanishing body dissolves from vision with the weight of sheer speed before dealing a devastating blow with his sakabatō .

 This battle will be short but more tedious than he’d like, if it cannot be avoided, then it would be easier, but it cannot. The enemy before them brooks no pleas of peace, and the veritable peacemaker finds himself once more regrouping beside her with stern eyes; impassive features and a red, red cross upon his skin.

❝ This one will take the right, that he will. You, he trusts to know what is best. You have a warrior’s heart and pride. Surely it isn’t merely within your beating heart, but within your ideals carved onto your abilities. He only asks that you do not kill this man. 

Authority over him should be given, but this one will not kill him. That, he cannot join you in, miss, much less allow. Nonetheless, we’ve not much for talking. We must move past this or your inspiring words will be not yet utilized. Please, lend this humble self your strength . ❞ 

With respect and determination kindling like a light in his narrowed gaze; the rurouni launches one of his techniques, the  ryūsōsen; meaning to whittle away at the impressive stamina of their opponent with strikes so fast and brutal that it was like trying to catch strikes of hurricanes whetting down a boulder.

 The attack has him reeling back; leaving her open to strike her share as Kenshin, strategically watches and holds their position for their pincer attack’s success. Their locked eyes with one another convey what words cannot in their strange and sudden camaraderie. 

With their combined might, they would surely subdue the man who had done wrong against innocents before their arrival - and see him to the authorities.

Her words alone were inspiring; an insight into the purity of her character, something admittedly the rurouni did not admit he had semblance to. Instead, Kenshin calls out to her; even if it is merely ‘miss’, and watches as she deals the finishing blow .

 Stumbling back; the enemy falls with an unceremonious thud; leading him to faintly swipe his sword and sheathe it with equal lack of ceremony . 

 ❝ If you’ve no wish to deal with him this humble self will take him. You are a powerful ally, that you are. At the least, he would feel you are. Your presence is quite bright. ❞ He glances at her with a sun-bright curve of his lips; the only signs of any difficulty were their lightly dusted faces. 

❝ Your words…are quite true. He will continue to move forward. Clearly your eyes shine with a sign that you too, have chosen the same path, even if it is fundamentally different as an individual life. He could not ignore this man’s actions. Oppression of the weak cannot be given acceptance, that it cannot. 

For that alone, allowing me to fight with you for something this humble self strongly lives by, and believes in, you have his many thanks. You do not seem hurt. ❞ 

A glance down at their enemy with a brief frown; before glancing at the woman warrior once more. Ah, the whistle. It seemed the authorities would be arriving sooner than he anticipated. Despite this Kenshin continues his calm, admiring smile of gratitude. 

 ❝ Most gladdening, it is. Still, he certainly was a stubborn one. Perhaps in the future he’ll find a better way to live his life than brandishing a weapon on innocents to show ‘strength’.

He thought he’d be fighting alone. It seems he was wrong. Right, miss? ❞ This time his eyes seemed to faintly twinkle; pleased to at least meet a soul who carried honor and purity in her heart.

[scarbladed-archive]

THE BLOOD-STAINED DAYS HAD PASSED INTO A FRAGILE ERA. One that he had helped forge with bloodied hands and a split mind; brought to ease only by the one who had completed a scar covered in cloth upon his flesh. It was because this era this man had carved was so delicate; that he had devoted his days to wandering it -- not merely for atonement’s sake; for there was no guaranteed answer he would find any, but for observing and protecting the myriad lives struggling yet to live.

From the Farmer’s Rebellions, the discontent with the Samurai Classes to the breakouts of riotous clamor in the nightly streets of villages or cities; there was always need for the principles he had founded in Otsu to bear full fruit now.  

In an era where Hitokiri Battōsai , indomitable, legend, myth, nightmare, was cast aside into mere whispers of flame hair, a scarred cheek, walked as a mere mortal man, guileless wanderer with nary a yen to his clothes. 

Smiling faintly; he takes note of a familiar ki that is all too easy to sense among the thousands of lives he has either protected or observed as necessary for an era so fragile yet on the cusps of an idea of peace; so necessary as to make sure the Restoration that began in the turbulent Revolution would not end now. He would soon embark on a more arduous journey; but for now, the rurouni, Kenshin, merely closes his eyes and senses the wind carrying her presence. It is a strong spirit, gentle but firm; bright and sweet. 

It is a loving presence that has blessed him since she met his adoptive child as he did long ago in the war, when his scar was merely one line and a woman with beautiful black hair and eyes gently cradled her black-haired husband as a child in her arms, tittering soft songs in her tender voice to sleep . Those tender days...would linger forever.

❝ And it seems gentle days and a gentle aura permeates this house, that it does... he can ask for no more but continued days as such.❞

His low but gentle tenor heralds his approach as much as a single clop of his sandal makes his presence known to her; his hand quietly hovering over the bandage on his cheek that hid the scar that he    refused   to touch this budding family of his son’s. Older now he may be to protect his wife, as she him, Kenshin was adamant on still maintaining a guardian’s eye on them both as they lived a bloodless life in the new era.

❝ Kikyou-dono . . you look as healthy as ever, that you certainly do.  ❞ His eyes, a mystery to most, if not all, save a few, gazed upon another adoptive member of his family and smiled with aching tenderness and affection. To say he was thankful for her in Inuyasha’s life and her own happiness so apparent in her lively eyes; was a vast understatement to the famed swordsman. 

Keeping the cloth on his cheek; his hand slides to his hakama’s sides and take another soft step towards her; the other hand carrying a basket of herbs and various vegetables. It was nostalgic, really. 

To them, he was not the feared legend of the Revolution, the unstoppable force bleeding on idealism and sacrificing of his happiness for a future that had now come if only in part. He was merely Kenshin or whatever honorific that was unduly chosen to accompany it. He was merely family. 

❝ He’s brought gifts, he hopes you will use in your household. Your last letter left him in good faith that you were alright, but seeing you is not the same as our exchanging of letters. It eases the heart.❞ / @hossuru

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😨

how do you appear in dreams or nightmares ? / ( accepting )

* as a nightmare . 

CLUMSY WITH HER SCISSORS; SHE STRIKES — OR HE HOPED. It’s a far better reason to slightly twitch from your usual upright position in slumber than it is to imagine the alternative. To imagine the girl’s face stricken with horror and mindless terror of the innate brutality in your bones — the indomitable power that lies sleeping; that once shaped the nation ten years prior in a sea of blood. As a willing boy who sacrificed his future so that others could have their own futures in a peaceful time, a better time . All the while leaving blood and grief in his wake as much as the foundations for it.

There was no middling in war . That she knew so very little of the cross-shaped burden and large scar writ upon his face was a selfish blessing that had not yet earned her the terrified, trembling body she saw in his dreams now. 

Scissors clanging to the floor as he reaches with a blood-stained hand; dripping in ichor . As hands meant to shield and protect have marred themselves in tragedy and pain. As his light is shrouded and hidden by the weight of his deeds both good and ill. 

But morning breaks; and the blood disappears – at least in his eyelids; and the skulls beneath his feet that threaten to snuff out his bright light of his soul go back to their crevices. And the lives he could have lived and the lives that have been taken or not saved wail for his next movement. He glances up from his sitting position with a smile, betraying nothing, the morning light crinkling in his eyes. 

 ❝ You’ve been watching me for about two minutes now if this one counts. Do you often watch people sleep ? Or did he mutter something strange ? ❞ Kenshin smiles; and pretends that the concept of her fear of him isn’t something he wouldn’t have been used to by now.Instead, he’s left only with the inevitable and highly possible when. 

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❛ I couldn’t undo it if I tried ❜

hamilton sentence starters / accepting .

HE REMEMBERS REUNITING WITH HIM. As ever, Gin moved like air; befitting his species, Kenshin supposed. Something he wasn’t supposed to know about, but with his…unusually sharp senses and probing of the spiritual, perhaps it was a destined meeting . 

He liked to believe that the gods ordained things, even if he wondered at times if they should ever think him worthy of being in a position to open the locks of the gates just by nature knowing full well not everyone would see him. What greeted him then…was a shell of a man. 

He wonders, really, if this is what he looked like when  Tomoe died; sitting blankly in their cottage in Otsu Village with her corpse cleaned as best it could be salvaged for what he did to her. His first great love. 

How his body had been drenched in dried portions of her blood from face to legs; torn gi and hakama, the smell of blood rightfully returning to his senses after the loss of hakubaiko . 

How Katsura-dono had entered then, and saw the state of his ‘divine justice’ and  realized that perhaps he was not the god’s deliverance to their cause; but a mortal, broken man – eyes hollowed out, face emotionless as he uttered in soft, taut syllables his plans after the rising tensions in the last throes of the Bakufu. 

Looking at him now….he sees a look like that. Of a man who has done one or many things, and suffers for it.

  ❝ Gin - .. come inside. ❞ He’s said it simply; his tone brooking no argument to the death god as he gestured with one arm and walked purposefully towards the kitchen, hoping that Kaoru wouldn’t mind him brewing them something to drink. Her senses were more likely to pick him up than the others, and Sanosuke’s natural tendency to be afraid of the supernatural might as well, but in that instant it didn’t matter. Gin did. 

Time shifts to the present, gently, mercilessly; all the same, it shifts to a rurouni observing with those strange, eerily perceptive eyes and a broken man who once Kenshin believed to have limitless confidence. 

It’s…painful and disappointing to see him like this after so long in his company. Sitting on the porch much like their reunion. He watches him take the sake to his lips; not bothering to wonder how much he’s been drinking - or if he really even needed worry about tolerance.

❝ . . . So this one sees. When one commits an action it cannot be undone. This one understands that full well, you know this. But with your lost soul as it is now… do you really… plan to waste away like this without answering with an ounce of accountability? With whatever sins lie on yours?

 Perhaps it was tears you caused or misery . . or a mistake - or many. This one is not here to judge - but he cannot be silent after this many months any longer . You are growing stagnant, and your heart is withering .. as you are now – it barely casts a shadow.

He will not assume what you have done. But seeing your spirit like this – and after this long spent at  the dojo not acting… do you plan to do nothing? Will you not answer for what you have unmade, Gin ? Or is that above a shinigami? ❞ The words are blunt and not meant to stab; he doubts in his state – lost and utterly wayward much like a friend of his had been, he wonders. 

Wonders if he has anything in him to make them bite just enough to have him retort a snide comment like in the past. Not this aching silence; not this snow-cold distance where banter once thrived. 

Not where Gin, unlike Aoshi, isn’t ‘waking up’. But Kenshin was never one to relinquish when a friend was in need or suffering - if Gin hadn’t sought Kenshin he wouldn’t have come here like it was the last place he could go.

❝ What will you do about it? Or will you continue to run away from it here, in this place ? Until nothing but the future generations remain and this one is long departed? Or are you merely content to do nothing? You do the lives you’ve hurt no favors, and you certainly haven’t begun to try, have you?❞

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Tsuki: “Just follow your heart and keep smiling.”

hayao miyazaki + studio ghibli prompts / *

HIS EYES CLOSE BRIEFLY, BUT NOT FOR LONG. Even in a place like this, he is still wary; a trait from so many threats, so many valid seekers of retribution. From the soft and untainted heavens in which she so frequently invited such an unworthy mortal; the wandering swordsman finds quiet, security many deemed for a man that had no need for it with his strength. His ‘legend’. 

Kenshin finds respite; not so far to dare ‘peace’ but something akin to comfort . Long denied him in his short years, longer to some, and longer still in the span of what was lived in each span of the year. There was so much yet to be done, so many more lives in need of shelter that perhaps his humble and wretched self could bring. 

Was it truly fair to find any measure of rest in his tormented soul when so many were still oppressed in the new era he himself had helped usher into fruition? Incomplete and still full of corruption as it was? His mind is a tumult of thoughts as the rurouni   registers her soft, ethereal hand upon his deceptively delicate shoulder – and pauses, and chuckles, faintly low and comforting.

❝ He is never quite sure of the way of the gods, that he is not. Perhaps that is merely the way mortals are meant. But he understands you care, Tsuki-dono, he’s grateful. 

He has no intention to stray from forsaking his vow he made ten years ago, nor forsake the cries of those suffering . This path he will continue until his time is done, perhaps he may yet find an answer? ❞ Kenshin pauses at her simple request and wonders if she realizes how often that smile has become a part of his face. 

How rare it is to smile from the depths of his soul unless it was in the presence of children and the happy souls of the new era. How when alone, he struggled to find any measure of such; for it felt like every breath he took blood dripped even as a phantom drop from his cross-shaped wound; the uncountable scars of his heart and tattered soul, resilient, strong, but tired. 

❝ He must admit … he is a bit weary today. The weight of things seems so small in comparison to a god, but to this humble self, it is enough to make him feel a bit tired. 

Might he linger with you a bit longer, Tsuki-dono ? The moon has long been a comfort to him since he was a child, and will continue to be, in whatever form she takes. ❞  It may not be a full smile, more tattered and worn and real,but it’s still a smile Kenshin gives her that’s far more honest  than down below, despite having nothing but honest intentions and actions . 

That, at the least, had never changed ever since he had become ‘Kenshin’ to begin with, and before, long ago …when he was merely a farmer’s son. A boy that likely no longer existed.

❝ Perhaps one day, if fate is kind to those so undeserving, he will be able to smile a bit more truly below where man still needs a hand to shield them. Even if it merely this humble self finding them one by one… but if not, he is merely grateful he can make good on his ideals for the sake of those sacrificed because of his actions. 

….thank you – he’ll try. ❞ It’s quiet and almost distant, but as ever traces of warmth grace his low tenor; and as he smiles, that soft smile with the tinges of sorrow ever-present in both lips and eyes; Kenshin lingers with the god until they part once again in dreams. 

At the least he will not taste the phantom salt of blood and ash on his lips as he continues within his dream that isn’t quite a dream on this eve. For that, he owes her more than he likely will ever know.