I do think... I enjoy that myth better. [He'd be hypocritical to deny it.] I wonder sometimes... [He shakes his head, his half of a smile wry.] I wonder if it is really okay to make things a little happier.
Do you think... the ones who seemed to have been here before us, if they are trying to make it a little happier for us, too...?
[But before he can even glance up for any answer, they're hit again gently from his side.
Higekiri remembers this feeling, no, this being. Cold all around, but not a harsh or angry cold. A respectable, elegant cold, like the cold of steel. Because that's what Higekiri is again, nothing except well-crafted, regal steel, a blade.
Inside, though, there is a spirit, burning fiercely. It's somewhat quiet, a timid one with a fortitude waiting to be rallied. A demure one that sometimes aches near the tip when the weather is bad.
And somewhere close by is another spirit, a familiar one to Higekiri. It's proud and beautiful, honored to be given as a gift after cutting the neck of a criminal so well. And there's a man, perhaps no more than one just out of boyhood with them both. It's good. How Higekiri feels is... satisfied, safe, as if this is belonging.
But the man is giving the other spirit away, and Higekiri can feel the uncertainty and the fear rise up inside. It's a very honorable thing, being gifted away to a new master. It should be. Yet a hint of protectiveness, of worry flutters all about the spirit inside Higekiri. The other spirit soon feels so far away, out of reach, so much colder, and then it is gone.
And Higekiri feels lonesome and unsure, a little lost. He wonders if he had done something wrong, if there was a better chance at saying goodbye. He wonders if there is somehow a way they will one day meet again.
He can't think of a name for it then since perhaps there hadn't been one. It whispers in his spirit now, however, Anija, Anija, very quietly.]
no subject
Do you think... the ones who seemed to have been here before us, if they are trying to make it a little happier for us, too...?
[But before he can even glance up for any answer, they're hit again gently from his side.
Higekiri remembers this feeling, no, this being. Cold all around, but not a harsh or angry cold. A respectable, elegant cold, like the cold of steel. Because that's what Higekiri is again, nothing except well-crafted, regal steel, a blade.
Inside, though, there is a spirit, burning fiercely. It's somewhat quiet, a timid one with a fortitude waiting to be rallied. A demure one that sometimes aches near the tip when the weather is bad.
And somewhere close by is another spirit, a familiar one to Higekiri. It's proud and beautiful, honored to be given as a gift after cutting the neck of a criminal so well. And there's a man, perhaps no more than one just out of boyhood with them both. It's good. How Higekiri feels is... satisfied, safe, as if this is belonging.
But the man is giving the other spirit away, and Higekiri can feel the uncertainty and the fear rise up inside. It's a very honorable thing, being gifted away to a new master. It should be. Yet a hint of protectiveness, of worry flutters all about the spirit inside Higekiri. The other spirit soon feels so far away, out of reach, so much colder, and then it is gone.
And Higekiri feels lonesome and unsure, a little lost. He wonders if he had done something wrong, if there was a better chance at saying goodbye. He wonders if there is somehow a way they will one day meet again.
He can't think of a name for it then since perhaps there hadn't been one. It whispers in his spirit now, however, Anija, Anija, very quietly.]