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Entry tags:
voice testing!
White
Gold
Red
( It's a pretty normal day at the citadel until news breaks out that the saniwa has managed to summon a new spirit. Depending on who you've heard the news from, you may or may not have the name. Or maybe you've heard that the newcomer is supposed to be a beautiful sword dressed in white. Or that he's an imperial sword or some other vague but specific piece of information. Either way, it should be easy to find a new face here, right?
Just follow the sounds of one (1) distressed sounding Konnosuke and you'll see the newest addition to your rag tag sword army. He's picked up Konnosuke and has him on his back in front of him, rubbing at his belly. Konnosuke squirms to get free. )
A little fox! You remind me of someone. ( Konnosuke squirms in his hands, trying to get free. ("Tsurumaru-san, please, let me go! I'm a pipe fox spirit, not a common fox!" The new spirit laughs,). ) And you really talk! What a surprise!
( And he looks up to see you, who's arrived to crash his fun, )
Yo~ ( He'd salute in greeting but his hands are a little full, ) Are you surprised to see someone like me?
( SET KONNOSUKE FREE )
Gold
( Some time has passed since Tsurumaru Kuninaga arrived at the citadel and most people are used to his character by now. It's a cool fall day and you're out in the garden for whatever reason. Most of the trees are losing their leaves and can be found in collected piles here and there. There's one particularly large pile and when you walk past it... )
Waah!
( Tsurumaru jumps up, throwing the leaves in the air and at you. Standing straight, hands on his hips and still covered in ginkgo leaves, )
Ahahaha! Are you surprised?
( He's so proud. )
Red
( Returning from a mission, Tsurumaru laughs casually as the Konnosukes scurry towards the squad. The last mission had some unexpected turns and what was supposed to be an easy scouting mission turned into an unexpected battle. Even if they were able to handle themselves, they'd still come back with injuries.
As they run their scan on the returning touken danshi, Tsurumaru holds out his arms, revealing sleeves speckled with red. )
What do you think?
( He shows them off to someone nearby-- either a squad mate or a concerned passerby or some other sword that was sent to check on them. And he gives a little turn to show the rest of him, revealing more blood on the back and hood. Konnosuke chides him to stay still because he's disrupting the scan. )
It's too bad.
( The battle had been too short and easy. It wasn't enough to achieve his #aesthetic. )
A little more and I would really look like a crane.
( "Stay still!" Konnosuke snaps again. )
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(But he knows the answer for himself: Isn't it the same thing? There really aren't many people at the citadel he'd say he's close to but Mikazuki is certainly one of them. And if Mikazuki is hurt, then so is he. Perhaps, it might hurt even more if only because of how much longer Mikazuki has been around because like it or not, despite the darkness he's chosen to embrace, the distance he projects, the coldness he keeps around him... he's still a little hopeful. Like a little flame in the dark, kept low and inconspicuous. Any bigger and he might get burned.
And it would take more than a help token or the saniwa's magic to fix that sort of damage. It isn't even enough right now. Their magic is only good for steel. It can't fix the soul, especially one as old as theirs.
His hand moves to the door's handle, his other hand holding the token tightly.)
This is what you want, isn't it? The me that is white and clean instead of covered in red?
(The Tsurumaru that is good instead of a problem.)
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This time, the hold is just as gentle and strong as before, but it's also... more. Arms around his waist, pulling Tsurumaru back slightly into the other tachi's slightly bigger frame.
And given where the blood was on Tsurumaru's cloak, there is no way it is not staining the blue silk, a lot more than just his fingers earlier.
When Mikazuki speaks, his voice is a low whisper.]
How would you know what I want, Tsurumaru Kuninaga? You never even asked.
Are you that afraid of what I might answer?
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He stays still, careful not to dirty Mikazuki. Even if their height is practically the same, Tsurumaru's frame is still smaller. Like a crane, he is slim and seemingly delicate.
He's a twig. )You'll get dirty like this. ( He ignores his question. He never asked what Mikazuki thought and it'll take more than this to get him to.
His free hand rests lightly on one of Mikazuki's, his fingers tracing t he shape of his hand, a light trail of blood left behind, making a point. It's the opposite action of how he'd taken his blood back from him earlier. This red is his color but he'll share it this time. ) Red doesn't suit you the same way it does me.
( The red crowned crane is his aesthetic. )
Still, it isn't a bad color on you. Is it because you're Mikazuki Munechika?
( The most beautiful sword? Even more beautiful than Tsurumaru Kuninaga. Surely, Mikazuki would look beautiful in any color. )
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[Maybe not. These days, it feels like the blood of enemies doesn't even touch him anymore. He's been around long enough to level up quickly, and he just mows through enemies like they aren't even there at times.
Still, he has had his blade bathed in blood before. Before he was used more as something to treasure, some of his masters were pretty bloody people.
He actually walks a little closer so he can push the door of the repair room open and nudge Tsurumaru towards it.]
Go.
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( That Mikazuki is a sword? How he looks in those brief moments when he's covered in the blood of his enemies. It's beautiful.
When he's pushed forward, he moves easily, one step going in front of the other until he's taken his first step into the all too familiar room. )
Alright, alright~! ( He laughs, tossing his head back and walking the rest of the way into the room, taking a seat on a cushion and setting his sword down in front of him. ) I might be red and white now but staying like this for too long isn't much of a surprise!
( Because honestly, for all of his cold talk about looking like a crane and being beautiful like this.... he hates being dirty. )
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[As it goes, with the help token, Tsurumaru will probably be clean in no time, whereas Mikazuki will have to go change and then maybe find someone to wash the bloodstains out of the blue silk.
He'll have to do that before someone makes a fuss. He doesn't usually dislike people making a fuss over it, but there are times when he just isn't in the mood. For some reason, this often happens whenever he has to deal with some of the younger swords being unreasonable. There are a few of them that can be a headache and a half.
Some people expect Tsurumaru to be the most reasonable out of all of those because he's older, but Mikazuki knows better.
He makes sure to close the door firmly behind himself,and then shuffles back to his own room while avoiding others. At least the other Sanjou swords know better than to ask, although Imanotsurugi does exclaim a little at the bloodstains.
He changes into his lighter, work clothing, tracks Kasen down to give him the outer layer of the kariginu to wash, then settles down in one of the main room with tea, letting the clear voices of the tantou playing with Gokotai's tigers nearby wash over him.
He may or may not be keeping an eye out for a certain white crane who should not be taking so much time to come back out.]
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It really shouldn't take him so long to come by the main room but Mikazuki shouldn't expect him to come too soon either. For all of his acting, Tsurumaru Kuninaga does care about those around him and he wasn't the only one who'd come out of their most recent mission with injuries. He checks on his squad mates, surprising them mid-scan and check up, teasing at them to get better because they're too easy to surprise when they're like this. He's a little gentler with some of the more heavily injured ones.
As if that wasn't enough, it's only natural he becomes distracted when he passes by the tantou. Did he go out of his way to meet them? He's always drawn towards the sound of children and Mikazuki can probably hear them calling out to him. (Tsurumaru-san! Is it okay to be here? Weren't you hurt?) He just laughs in response to their questions, explaining things away with how strong he is and how the saniwa's magic can do anything. It's clearly a good enough answer for the more naive of the tantou spirits and if anyone knows better, they certainly don't say anything out loud. There's laughter and delighted screaming and it's obvious they're playing some sort of game outside before Tsurumaru loses (on purpose?) and excuses himself.
It's only then that he visits Mikazuki who is exactly where he expected him to be. Like him, he's also changed into his more casual clothes. His mood is much lighter than it had been before and the smile he gives him now is much more natural. He doesn't enter the room right away, instead, opting to lean against the doorway until he's invited in properly (is the younger spirit feeling a little guilty about acting up earlier? maybe.))
Here you are. (Of course.) Is there anymore tea?
(Because yes, after everything that has just happened, he can just casually expect tea and sweets?)
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But it's clear he was expecting Tsurumaru. There is a second, upside down cup on the tray, and Mikazuki answers that more genuine smile with one of his own.]
Come in, come in!
[He is going to go and get to pouring the second cup and setting it up on the table nicely.
And not comment on whether Tsurumaru looks better like this. That is a matter of opinion after all.]
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His mood has lightened, the edge from the earlier battle has softened, and he's able to wear his usual mask now that he is clean and refreshed. But their earlier conversation had happened and not even that long ago. That's the thing witht his mask he wears. Once it slips, the face beneath it can't be completely unseen or forgotten.
He reaches for the cup, taking it in both of his hand. It's warm in his hands, reminding him of how cold he'd been (or how cold that he still is). )
Were you waiting for me? ( A rhetorical question. Of course he was. Why else would there be another cup ready for him? ) Haha, sorry!
( For taking his time. )
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I have time.
[Time is something he has no short supply of indeed. So much time.
As he moves things around on the table, puts down the teapot, pushes the plate with the teacakes towards Tsurumaru, something becomes visible under his arm warmers, on his hand.
A brown stain. Blood, dried and flaking. The blood Tsurumaru rubbed on his hand earlier and that he didn't bother to clean.]
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( Of course he has time. Time is one of those constant things in their lives. On it's own, it's boring to deal with which is why he tries to shake it up-- make all the time they have all the more interesting for himself.
He's beginning to settle behind this mask again, wondering if Mikazuki is going to do the same. Are they going to carry on like nothing happened? Pretend as if everything was left behind the moment they changed into fresh new clothes? Well, he won't complain.
It's while watching Mikazuki, trying to get a proper read on the air around them, that he sees the mark. He knows exactly what it is, considering he's the one who'd marked him and without hesitation, his hand reaches to grab Mikazuki's, stopping whatever it is he's moving around on their table.
There's no way he missed this. He left it there deliberately. He frowns, realizing this. So their conversation isn't over after all, )
You missed a spot. ( On purpose. He shakes his other hand, trying to bring the sleeve of his kimono down so he can clean it. It'll take a few seconds so Mikazuki can stop him easily enough if he wanted to. But unless he's stopped, he'll wipe at it with the edge of his sleeve. ) How careless.
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Not everything can be wiped away with a sleeve or a repair token, Tsurumaru.]
No, I did not miss it.
[Which just cements the fact that yes, he did leave it there on purpose. Which he did.
Tsurumaru Kuninaga is free to try and appear flippant with the other people in his life. But he should know better than to try and do so to Mikazuki Munechika. The older sword will only allow it up to a certain point.]
Does it bother you?
[And if it does, why does it bother you so much?]
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It isn't fun being in trouble. Waiting to be scolded is uneventfully long and he already doesn't like this. He's like a child beginning to sulk before a lecture and he tries to not look too bothered. )
It's dirty.
( And he hates that. But more than that, he knows he's crossed a line and is going to pay for it. Well, it was fun being spoiled while it lasted, being able to see how far he could push things. )
It doesn't suit you at all.
( It stands out more because it's on him. So yes, it does bother him. )
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[Is there really a need to scold him? It's not like Tsurumaru doesn't know that he crossed the line, so making him squirm in anticipation for a scolding that Mikazuki doesn't feel like giving because, well, how many times has he said the exact same things before, maybe that's punishment enough.
Maybe they can just continue their earlier conversation instead. Mikazuki is much more interested in that than in why Tsurumaru insists on coming home covered in his own blood or that of his comrades. It doesn't take a genius to understand that, after all. but what is an expression of? That's much more challenging.]
Why does it bother you to see it on me when you find it beautiful on yourself? Besides, you put it there yourself.
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(Brown and flaking, no different from mud or dirt. As for putting it there himself... Well, Mikazuki hadn't minded getting it on him first.)
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But it's interesting to hear your take on this Tsurumaru. So it's only okay when it's red and dripping, not when it's faded to brown and flaking? It's only okay when whoever got cut still can feel the blood dripping out, when the blood is still warm and alive?
Mikazuki looks at the trace on his hand, then brings said hand to his mouth and starts licking it clean.
It's a strangely... animalistic thing, unlike the usually refined elegance he shows in everything. Almost jarringly so. Then again, most people who end up fighting alongisde him in battle do come out of the experience a little shaken, especially if they've only seen him around the citadel before.]
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Right now, his eyes are focused on Mikazuki. Where there is usually a distantness and where there had been a coldness, his eyes meet Mikazuki's directly. Pale goldseems brighter and more vivid and there's something burning there-- that light he usually keeps guarded and covered, that flame that might burn him. As for his grip, it's firm and strong, the type of hold that won't let go easily. The only distance between them right now is the little that is literally, physically between them. )
Stop that.
( They're close. Closer than he wants to admit, closer than he really likes to be because it betrays a spirit under all of his masks. The spirit that wants to be close, that actually cares. A sensitive Tsurumaru Kuninaga that has been hurt enough and wants to be better if he won't be let to rest. )
Say what you want already.
( This long suspense, it's killing his heart slowly. )
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It can be hard work, making Tsurumaru come towards him. Most of the time, when one tries, the crane just dances away. The smiles and jokes give an illusion of closeness, but he is closed, guarded, cold, distant. Some people stop at that. Others know better, but they don't know how to get past the masks to the glimpses of the true heart they've seen under it.
Mikazuki Munechika is relentless, though. Maybe he has been around too long. Maybe this, at least, is something that he feels he can do for others. Espacially for the ones like Tsurumaru Kuninaga.]
Why do you keep trying to hide from me?
[Don't you know that it's useless, Tsurumaru? He has seen you without all those layers before. He knows what's inside.]
Are you scared of me?
[It wouldn't be unthinkable. Mikazuki is a congenial sword most of the time. He is genuinely nice to his fellow swords, and he does care, as Tsurumaru was quick to notice. He has spent too long in the company of men not to.
But he is also very, very old. Maybe more aware than some other of what he is. A blade, made to kill.]
It was your blood... Why is it so scary to you to see it on me? Why does it bother you so much?
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Who's hiding?
( Despite everything, there's an edge to his voice, something cocky and challenging. He's still a proud spirit, after all. He's always in sight. He has no problem with letting others see him. It's the closeness that makes him step back. He won't hide but he'll always take steps away, dodge things, move out of range, remaining ever out of grasp when others reach, )
... Do you ever think of our master? ( Is he avoiding the question all together or answering it indirectly, ) Of course you do.
You must think of what could happen to him. Things are well now but who knows what surprises are ahead of him? Betrayed, cut down, without honor, losing all of his possessions, all of that care and attention you've invested... gone. You're old too, Mikazuki Munechika, so surely you know this could happen sooner than later. Even with this renowned army, with all of this strength, and power...
( He presses back against Mikazuki, )
Life is full of surprises.
( If he expects the worst, he won't be surprised. If he embraces them, he might even be pleased. )
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Although, of course, when Tsurumaru asks him 'Do you ever think of our master?', he has to bite back his own reflexive answer.
'Which one?'
He's had so many masters, some of them are merely blurs in his memories. There are a few that stands out, for good or bad reasons. Some he remembers fondly, others that he is indifferent to, others yet that he doesn't even remember at all, beyond the knowledge that he belonged to them at one time.
He has watched so many things happened to his masters. The lucky ones died in their beds, many in battle, some others assassinated or from illness... he has seen up close every single thing that can befalls humans as they lose their lives. he is not jaded to him, simply, he is a sword and this does not concern him. He needs to protect his master for as long as said master needs him. Anything apart from that is not something he needs to bother himself with.
Well, that is what he tells himself while maneuvering in the shadows during missions so things get done one way or another. Aruji has many things to do and many swords to take care of, so if he can lighten their load, even just a little, he will be content enough. Until he dies, and the next master comes along and it starts all over again.]
Aruji is human, Tsurumaru Kuninaga. And humans die. There is nothing we can do about it.
[He can almost feel the tremors in Tsurumaru, that instinct to pull away even as he presses further. That need to guard himself even as he desperately craves the closeness.]
The truth is, you hate surprises, don't you, Tsurumaru? You would much rather spend a quiet life, each day the same as the one before, unchanging. But you can't have that. So you would rather create the surprises yourself, because at least ten, you know what they are. And they can't hurt you.
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Another nail right on the head though he's quick to object all the same, )
Life is a nothing without surprises. ( He loves them. When something becomes a coping mechanism for centuries, it becomes a truth with time. But it's true. If he expects the surprises, he can't be unpleasantly surprised. If he embraces tragedy as a surprise, it hurts less. ) If everything is the same, the heart wastes away.
( This is his truth now. )
I don't have to make all of my surprises either. For example... ( His fingers trace the stain on Mikazuki's hand, ) Imagine my surprise the first time I bled like this.
( The thrill he felt seeing that color coming from him and all of the possibilities it painted. Experiencing pain with this new body. Brought down closer to the humans he'd kept away for so long. )
We're swords but when our master gave us these bodies, we became a little more human.
( That die. That can't be repaired. That are fleeting.
And that's scary. Seeing his friends covered in blood, the spirits he thought that would never leave him suddenly a little more mortal... Getting hurt himself, being told he could break, this freedom that comes at a price they can now pay with their own hands... )
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[They became a bit more human able to experience so many things for the first time. Even for one as old as Mikazuki it was eye-opening. A time of many firsts, and he did enjoy it when it happened. Discovering taste, touch,...
But not feelings. They are blades, yes, but they are more than that. Tsukumogami, a soul born from the passion of the men who used them. So feelings is something they know well. All sorts of feeling. Love, hate, fear, affection, sadness...
But here in these new bodies those feelings translate to something different. Eyes widen, cheeks blush, hearts start beating faster, stomachs give funny little twists...]
There is something about human bodies, though. They are warm.
[And even the crane sword, in all his icy whiteness, has become warm alongside them. Although Mikazuki probably shouldn't criticize his appearance. His own white skin and dark hair and the shimmering dark blue silk he normally wears make him appear very much like the cold moon in the night sky.
But Mikazuki never pretends to be cold. He definitely does not show all of his cards, and it can be hard to get him to admit to anything straight, but Tsurumaru is right. He cares. And he cares enough to do certain things that others would balk at.
Like making Tsurumaru as supremely uncomfortable as he can just so he can hear some true words come out of his mouth.]
And thanks to that body, I can touch you like this. And I can feel how warm you are. I have always known you were, but now I can feel it.
And you can feel it in others too. Do not shy away from them.
Do not run away from me. Please.
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He frowns at Mikazuki, eyes watching him with quiet sadness before letting go and moving away. Getting up onto his feet, he crosses the tatami, heading towards the door wordlessly. He stops just short of the doors, touching the side of his face for a moment as if bracing himself to go back out into the world beyond this room. He has to make sure his mask is on, after all.
But he isn't gone for very long because in a minute or two, he's back with a towel so he can clean the mess he'd made earlier when his tea spilled. Some of it has already soaked into the tatami by now but it's better than leaving it all together. When he's finished, he holds out his hand to Mikazuki, )
Give me your hand.
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No, on some day, his very existence is enough.
This time he doesn't protest and holds out his hand when asked. He will allow himself to be cleaned, restored to unflawed beauty for now.
And when the previously spilled cup is righted, he will pointedly pour some more tea in it.]
Can you at least try to be more careful for Aruji's sake if not for mine?
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Will he be more careful? He considers it and he leans against Mikazuki. He's an old spirit, a lot more tired than he lets on. He doesn't answer directly, instead, humming thoughtfully. The right answer is easy enough to say but he won't make fleeting promises. )
... I'll consider it.
( A begrudging promise but only because Mikazuki asked. To make that point, he'll reach to take Mikazuki's hand too, fingers light like feathers, touch cold but warm. )
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