corruption au meme

[kbcctv]

CORRUPTION AU MEME

The Sword Army pursues the Retrograding Army through history, encountering familiar settings and reliving old memories. Though strong, with every change in time and setting, the swords dread the old memories. As they fight to preserve history as it is meant to be, the Sword Army must steel their hearts and resist temptation lest they come to fight themselves…

A popular fan theory is that the enemy swords you fight are actually your swords from an alternate universe who wished to change history. For this meme, feel free to make up your own starters or use one of the prompts below. Remember to state if your character is corrupted, not, or if you have no preference.

PROMPT IDEAS 1. How could you let this happen? They wanted to be left alone, their mood was poor, and maybe you should have noticed the signs but now that you have, it’s too late. They can’t stop these thoughts in their head and something in their soul has turned dark and ugly. Is it too late? Maybe you can get through to them… if not, are you ready to draw your sword? 2. Possession. Even the smallest trace of doubt can attract them— evil spirits. Once the dark spirit has latched on to your soul, it takes over and consumes you. Maybe the possession is gradual or maybe it happens suddenly. All you know is that everyone has regrets and anyone can doubt… this could happen to anyone. 3. Cry Wolf. We fought the same battles and shared the same meals together so it was only natural that we would be considered allies and friends. The fateful moment approaches and suddenly it is revealed: One of you is not a true friend. There is a traitor among you. 4. Becoming your own enemy. Your mission is to go back in time and let things happen as they were meant to be but their fall into despair was never supposed to happen, right? And so you went back in time to prevent their misfortunes but you keep failing again and again until, this time, you think you’ve got it. This time, you’ll be able to save your friend - but will you be able to save yourself too? 5. Reborn again. When destroyed in battle, the sword disappears only to return again anew. You can’t choose the fate you’re born with though and this time, someone has returned… from the wrong side.

INSPIRATIONS There are some corruption fanart floating around Pixiv, as well as a FST made by Aki (fletrir). Other canons with similar themes to this meme are first and foremost Puella Magi Madoka Magica, as well as Shin Megami Tensei and other demonic-theme heavy series.

Original premise and coding was done by eskimo, image taken from here.

Comments

[havocking]

CRY WOLF - c̹͍̥͔̯ͧ̐o̴͙̗̮̹͊ͧ͘ͅr͙̜͎͎̣͎͛̀ͮͬ̄̃̊ͨ͆͡ͅŔ͉͙͓̤͙̯̠̍̀͂́͢͟u̴̮͍̫̱̼̲͈ͤ͂̄͆ͤ̚͡ͅP̵̻͇͈̺̰͔̫͎̅̍ͬͪ̈̉ͩ̕̕ͅT̛͈̠̮̳͚̙͙̩͛ͮ͊̀͊̈́̀͘ͅḛ̴͔̤͇͕̟̫̔̐̑̏͑d̵̜̮̺̰͉̮̽͒

[They've fought side by side for so long now that it almost feels as natural as breathing. Midare knows the formations they'll take, the strategies they'll use, and who will cover for whom if it seems like their foes are targeting any one of them in particular. He knows how the ebb and flow of battle will cause them to raise or lower their guard accordingly.

Right now, at this moment, they're about to win. The enemy leader is vulnerable - he can get his blade in just the right place for a fatal strike. He knows it. His comrades expect it.

He lunges, but not for the swords ahead of them. The tip of his blade is pointed straight at their party's leader and his eyes are wild with an unrestrained, manic glee.]

REBORN AGAIN - UNCORRUPTED
[It's almost always an exciting thing when their saniwa goes to the forges. It means new comrades (new people to do his work for him!), maybe even sometimes getting the chance to see another of his brothers, and it's another step forward on the path to putting things right. The stronger their forces become, the sooner they can put an end to all this.

It's painful, to think about the people who have strayed from their path. Once this war is over maybe they can be laid to rest.

But, for right now, the saniwa is finishing up in the forge. Midare is, of course, crowding around, ready to greet the newcomer with a cheerful smile.]

Hel—

[His eyes go wide when he sees exactly who the "newcomer" is. It's not a newcomer at all. It's someone who shouldn't have been here at all.

His hands are shaking, but his smile is frozen in place.]

You...

OTHER
[Something else you'd rather do? Hit me up!]

CRY WOLF

[newtimes]

( He'd always been rather fond of the tantou. It was easy to forget that they were all so much older than him but he really had liked to look out for them, especially as the party leader. The battle is almost over and there's plenty of energy to spare on his part. Soon, they'll be marching back to the citadel and he'll be yelling ahead for those other swords to get their meals ready.

At least, that's what he thinks until he sees a flash in the corner of his eye. Another enemy? No... Midare?! )

--the hell are ya doing!? ( He manages to step out of range but damn did that mess up his form. ) The enemy! Ya're supposed to be aiming for the enemy!

gently bodyslams into cry wolf

[adornmental]

[Kashuu's change when entering battle is nowhere near as pronounced as Yamato's, but there is certainly a difference between his usual relaxed gestures and his sharpness on the field. Because of that, Midare's sudden lunge is certainly a surprise - enough to catches him off guard - but not enough for it to become an immediately lethal break in concentration. The most inconvenient part about it is the fact that the enemy leader, teetering on the edge of defeat, has now been given a reprieve by one of their own men.

...Well. The battlefield is no place for panic, is it? After catching his stance again and moving reflexively into a more defensive posture (ah, there are a lot of things to keep an eye on now--), his attention shifts directly to the tantou.]

What do you think you're doing?

Reborn

[reprizesal]

[Standing right there in the middle of the forging room, barely several feet away from the hot flames that are dying down from another successful smith, was Sayo Samonji.

And the look in his eyes were the same as when "Sayo Samonji" strayed and fell in battle. He looked away from the saniwa to meet Midare's eyes.]

...Yes?

[He sounds like Sayo, quiet and awkward, but it did little to shake off this uncertain atmosphere around him.]

cry wolf

[birthmarkless]

[ If he was going to say that he didn't expect Midare's sudden action, it's a lie. Ever since they went to this fight, he already noticed that there was something off with Midare. It was pretty easy to tell when you rode on the horse alone in the back, after all. Hence, he decided to put an extra attention to Midare's attention as they fought.

So when Midare finally pulls his 'prank', Ookurikara turns his sword to block it rather easily. He still doesn't sound too amused with whatever little game Midare have in his mind, however. ]

If you want me to beat you up, wait until we are back at the Citadel.

[timelesssurprises]

[There's a benefit to regularly pulling pranks. You're able to understand patterns, make plans and know how to go around undetected.

And you know the perfect time to strike.

He had to give points to Midare, this was a perfect opportunity. His blade meets his, though part of his sleeve tears.]

That's a nice surprise there. Why don't you go surprise the enemy leader over there instead?

[Tsurumaru knows where to draw the line.]

[oneblade]

[2 - corrupted yay]

[Ichigo never truly saw it coming in the end, had no idea that the small doubts in his mind would attract a spirit evil enough to sink it's claws into him. For the evil spirit it was almost easy in a way. The sword would sometimes think back to taller times, of what went on before Hideyoshi had reforged the blade not to make it stronger but to simply match his short stature. Not that it was a hassle, Ichigo knew that sometimes things happened and despite them being of a heinous nature sometimes they worked out for the better. Had he not been reforged he would not have found himself where he was now after all. Yet it was the odd occasion that would allow the evil spirit to latch on to Ichigo without the sword noticing, at most he would think it was a tired day if anything at all.

To Ichigo it had merely been a niggling sense of apprehension when they had neared Osaka Palace, enough that some others would be able to see a trace of it on his face. This was where the flames had consumed everything in it's path, destroying with ease those that it came across. This was something to brace himself against; the past was uncomfortable but it couldn't hurt him in the end right? Memories were just memories. And in that aspect Ichigo was right; it wasn't the past or the battle that allowed the spirit to well and truly twist him in the end. No, it was a nearby tantou caught up in the fray, not fast enough to avoid that final strike before shattering in front of Ichigo's eyes. The past would hurt but never as much as seeing a little brother fall on the battlefield and knowing he couldn't reach them in time to protect them was like a knife to the heart.

The tachi kneels where the tantou fell, dismay written across his face clear as day. That had been a little brother and now.... Swords could be reforged, but the grief was still suffocating, Ichigo suddenly unable to swallow around the lump in his throat as he inadvertently leaves himself wide open for the evil spirit to finally take its hold completely. Those closest will feel it first, almost as if the air pressure has doubled and suddenly become heavy enough for discomfort. And then the screaming starts, a sound full of rage and frustration as Ichigo starts to succumb to the possession that has slowly been taking over.]

[Wildcard]

[Feel free to throw anyone in this direction if they're corrupted or whatever you'd like.]

2

[newtimes]

Damn!

( They were in over their heads with this battle. They needed to retreat. They needed to get out of here before it was--

Too late.

There's a shatter and Mutsu turns on his heel gun raised to aim at an enemy that he knows is too close. A friend has fallen and he watches as Ichigo drops down to his knees where they had once been. Lingering nearby, the enemy remains, and Mutsu fires a round. He isn't going to let someone else fall on his watch and while the others are escaping, he runs back. Don't worry, he'll be the rear guard. )

Hey! ( He knows this is a shock and he knows he might want to grieve but now isn't the time. ) We gotta get out of here!

( He manages to slay the stray enemy. There's a brief reprieve and he thinks that, for a second at least, he can catch his breath but that's when he notices it. A sinister feeling in the air that already reeks of blood and death. Is there another enemy...? Not that he can see... but this force feels so close.

Too close... The screaming starts and he whips around. )

No way...! Hey, Ichigo-san! ( Not now, not here, not now when there are still enemies after them. Mutsu kneels down on the ground, gripping Ichigo's shoulders and giving him a strong shake. ) Ichigo-san! C'mon, ya gotta keep it together!

[havocking]

[Midare has just lost one brother. But there's no time to process it - they're on the battlefield - there are tears in his eyes but he's filled with more anger than sorrow; a burning rage that drives him to dart forward, heedless of the fact that the particular enemy he has set his sights on has just slain one of his kind. What's one more?

But he falters as he passes Ichigo. It's the change in the air that makes him realize something more might be wrong, and then the screaming that really pulls his attention to his big brother. He changes course, then, abandoning his pursuit of one enemy in order to fall to his knees and throw his arms around the tachi.

He probably shouldn't be here - not right now. Not like this. A stronger sword should take him in hand and they should retreat back to the Citadel where their saniwa and do something about this, but Ichigo is his brother and he doesn't want to lose another.]

Ichi-nii...

[He winces, trying to block out the screams and focus only on his brother. His brother, not whatever is forcing him to make that awful sound.]

slides in a saniwa gently

[thirdarrow]

He has had a feeling that this would otherwise be inevitable.

Takakage had been distracted putting seals up against a few of the other dark spirits lurking around the castle, so it is only when Ichigo screams that he notes - the youth turns on his heel quickly, robes flapping in the smoke of dying fires as he races across the battlefield. Kouraitsuru shadows him, as how the blade had accompanied his namesake so many years before - and both have equally grim expressions.

"Ichigo-san!"

He comes to a stop next to the tachi, breathes deeply - willing himself not to choke on the filthy air - before raising a hand. White light flares from his palms, generating lightning that pulls at the spirits around them. He could stall the infection with his saniwa magic, though whether it will work ultimately depended on Ichigo himself.

"Can you hear me? Please, look up!"

[adornmental]

1 (not corrupt)
["Is it too late" is probably a question that's gone through Kashuu's head more than a few times by now. Berating himself for not noticing just how deep a dark mood ran won't get him anywhere, and he's not usually inclined to self-flagellate over those types of things anyway... Still, there's some hesitation in him as he pads his way through the halls of their base, looking for one door in particular. Just how much had he missed? How long has it been going on? Maybe he's just being paranoid - it's been a while since he's been able to rest well, after all. He can be sensitive. It wouldn't be the first time he's been overly-attuned to snappishness.

As he finally reaches his destination, he puts those thoughts and concerns on hold with a somewhat pointed decisiveness. They have no place here yet. Instead, in his usual cavalier manner, he raises a hand and knocks against the wood beside the sliding door frame.]

Heeey, you still in there? Open up.

2 (corrupt)
[Dwelling on negativity isn't something that Kashuu usually does in a conscious way. It infiltrates his reasoning instead, coloring his day to day decisions and his reflection. Perhaps that's why he doesn't seem to notice this subtle shifting at first - it's a very soft difference. A little more agitation, a few seconds of dwelling, a number of "off" days in a row; not unusual, not unusual.

Some may disagree. For a change that seems to be growing more pronounced by the day, Kashuu will easily shake off concerns again and again. Just tired, y'know? It was a tough battle. Give him a sec and he'll be fine. At the same time, others may have noticed that there's a new and bizarre distance present, no matter how much his continued clinginess is kept up. A disconnect - something amiss.

Late in the evening, continuing that trend, Kashuu can be found in the courtyard by the still pond. He's unusually silent, but he's been like that for a while now, hasn't he?]

your pick
[Hit me with whatever you want!]

[newtimes]

( He'd noticed something was off but for a long time, he wondered if it was his place to say anything. Sure, he might have gotten along with Kashuu better than he did with the others but he was still one of those Shinsengumi swords. More likely than not, they were going to end up arguing if he tried to do something and that was the opposite of what he (and the others) wanted.

But after all of this time, he really couldn't just ignore it. Nothing ventured is nothing gained and maybe what Kashuu needed was a good fight. Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system. Well, if there was one thing he was good at, it was fighting with these Shinsengumi swords so Mutsu was more than glad to offer up this service.

After dinner, he pokes around the citadel until he finds Kashuu alone by the pond. )

Hey, ( Man, that was kind of weak. He clears his throat and tries again, ) Ya left dinner early again.

... And it wasn't even the old man cooking this time.

( It had actually been a pretty decent meal. )

[newtimes]

2. (Corrupted)
( The most likely to move forward, he seemed like the least likely to get stuck dwelling on the past and it was true. He was never one to get hung up on things that had already passed and was always one of the first to charge head first into a new time, a new age, a new life, new future, new future. His mind was sharp, his spirit was clean, and his heart was strong.

... But maybe not strong enough. When had it happened? Ah, perhaps when they went back to Kyoto... the night was dark, the quarters were closed, and for a moment he had faltered. The time was wrong but the conditions had been the same. He had been useless then, what if the same thing-- no, he would never let that happen to him again. The thought was quickly rid of but a door had been open, an invitation made. He'd gotten through that mission just fine, or so he had thought. He had only been a little tired but so had everyone else.

After that night, something had begun to change. His aim was off, there was something in his eye. He'd tried to focus on his sword skills instead but his eyes couldn't keep up with his opponents moves. Gradually, it became worse and until his losses began to outweigh his victories. Had he always this weak and useless...?

His spirit not yet broken, today he can be found in the practice hall, his blade drawn and practicing his swings. Shouldn't he be using one of the practice swords...? Hmm. When he senses that he isn't alone, he stops but doesn't turn to greet you. Instead, he demands flatly, )

Fight me.

Wildcard
( Write your own starter and I'll gladly have not!corrupt Mutsu give a genki shounen speech that will surely bring u back. )

2 hohoho

[adornmental]

[The punk peering into the training hall this time is Kashuu, who seems to at least have some sort of goal in mind, judging by how focused he is. Looking for something he left behind earlier, maybe? It wouldn't be the first time. He's about to give a lazy greeting in passing once he notices that Mutsu is there, but--

Well. There's an unpleasant hello.

His lips purse, but he doesn't snap back as he normally might, because things have been just a little off with Mutsu lately. He's not really one to pry into emotional things more directly, but despite that and despite how self-focused he often is, he's also attentive to the people he's near. He had done his best to support in indirect ways once he had first started to notice something amiss; helping with joint chores with minimal complaint, getting extra yams, keeping an eye out in sorties... And something really was wrong then, wasn't it? One loss, two, more, and none of that saturating strangeness had improved until this moment when even someone who barely knew Mutsu would be able to hear the divorce between his present self and the him of just a short while ago.

He shifts where he stands, setting a hand against his hip and willing his unease away.]

I'm just looking for my towel. [A beat. He eyes the sword in Mutsu's hand and then, tone still even:] How long've you been at it in here?

[fuumu]

1. - uncorrupted

[Something is wrong.

He doesn't think much on what is going on around him in this world, but sometimes, a sign happens. There are good signs like a breeze going through you to soothe your spirit or waking up in the morning feeling rejuvenated like a god. And then there are the bad signs. Ones that makes you feel tense, ones that show signs of pure despair and destruction in the air, a warning from the gods themselves.

It's a bad sign. There are bad signs around him.

Even if he always done his purification rituals throughout citadel every day, even if the Saniwa brought him here to help clear the impurities from this world, sometimes it wasn't enough to stop evil from slipping inside to corrupt around him. When it was enough to snap Taroutachi's attention, enough to make him worry and on-guard, that is a grave sign that is something is wrong. It's also a sign that could be dangerous, even making the blade of the gods' senses more aware. He walks through every hall, every passageway, looking for these evils. How dare they, attempting to corrupt his comrades or even corrupting them completely away from his sight. He is here on this earth to bring peace and being idle is not an option.

When he approaches you regardless of where you are around the base or on the field, he will keep his distance, but the grip on his blade is tight and his eyes look down on you with careful study.]

I need to speak with you.

wildcard.

[throw me anything and taroutachi is gonna purify the shit out of you if you need it. :')]

1.

[geishake]

[There is something wrong indeed.

It had started with the trickle of a whisper. Nothing more than the innocent question Hey, what if...? Jiroutachi isn't the first sword to wonder about the possibilities their mission holds, about chances to save and change and make things better.

It should have stayed at that. It should have stayed an innocent question followed by acceptance before being put to rest completely. Buried beneath a thousand thoughts and regrets which aren't really his except that they are. And that's where the trouble begins, isn't it? The questions.

And the What if? had quietly, slowly evolved into a Why not? It would be so, so easy. Just a little nudge into the right direction. A deflected blow or a deft slash. The offering of the tiniest chance. And that would make everything better, no more being locked aw-

The voice sounds a little too far away and suddenly, Jiroutachi realizes that his fingernails are digging into his forearm. His hand is shaking, fingers crooked, stiff and ugly looking. He's slightly twitchy, small tremors running up and down his spine which he wasn't even aware of.

He turns, his usually playful smile tight around the corners.]

What is it, Aniki? You look a little bit tense there!

OTA, corrupted

[candlecutterpikachu]

It's not easy to focus when there's a flower coming out of your eye.

He knows what they are. Higanbana, flowers of the beyond - red spider lilies, symbols of death. And it disturbs him, how they just manage to appear in the fields during sorties, dancing in the iron-tinged breeze. There were never many of them, perhaps just a single bloom amongst a sea of green, but still there nevertheless.

(Who knows? They might be alive, too - spirits of the dead shadowing his every move, red as the blood of iron in his veins and the blood of humans on his hands. He would believe it, for he is no different - a being borne of an object infused with the hopes and thoughts of man.)

The humans said that if these flowers bloom along the road, you would meet someone that would be parted from you for ever. And he's wondered why, of who he would lose - but things seemed to be fine, were fine, would be fine. Everyone was happy, or as happy as they could be. Many of them carried emotional weight of their own, but the sword spirits had each other. Old comrades, new friends, support. Happiness. Until he realizes that they were not the ones he would lose. The one that would be lost... was himself.

Why else would he be given a second life in an imperfect form? The right side of his vision was darkened for ever, a maligned scar in its place. He had thought little of it, pushing it aside to devote himself to duty. An eye is a small price to pay for a second life, after all - but Death is a stern gatekeeper, especially if your kind has been cheating him out of his pay. Even demons have souls.

He doesn't even notice it, actually, not when he intentionally hides his scars. So it is only when the lily blooms that he is forced to take note - because the blackened half of his sight is now interspersed with red streaks. Is it a day off? Perhaps, most likely, because it's what he had written on the planner pinned to his wall. One stroke of luck, then, as he raises one hand to his face, feeling the sickeningly soft petals of treachery.

You might come to his room asking for him, because it's already nine in the morning and nothing has been done - a swift sign that something is definitely wrong. Or you may come across the trail of blood left across wooden floors, leading out from the swords' quarters and out into the fields. The bloodstains only get larger, because a sword is capable of bleeding far, far more than a human can. It ends only at the river that curves past the Citadel, where a certain familiar form can be seen, a red spider lily drenched in blood and tossed carelessly into the grass beside him.

(You can't see his face.)

> Approach?

[birthmarkless]

Something was off from Mitsutada. So damn off. A lot of them would probably say the same thing. Although not a single one of them confronted the said tachi directly to ask him that. That was, fortunately, not Ookurikara's modus operandi. He hated beating around the bush. There was literally no point in doing so. He was always blunt and harshly straightforward when it came to those who he paid attention for; Saniwa, Tsurumaru, and of course, Shokudaikiri Mitsutada. Today is not going to be any different.

And that's why the first thing in the morning, Ookurikara is going to visit his best friend's room. As he slides the door open, he is still able to see him sitting there, his back against him. Figures.

However, the aura around Mitsutada is already making him cautious enough to not to make another step inside the room. Usually, Mitsutada would still give the friendly vibe even in the darkest mood. Usually. At least until yesterday. Because right now, Mitsutada is giving one of the venomous atmosphere that he have ever come against. 'Something off' will not cut it out anymore, that is the understatement of the century. Crossing his arms, he leans warily around the door, watching the other Date sword for any sign of movement.

"Who are you and what have you done to-" There's no one around and such, there's no need to set the bar low. "-my friend Shokudaikiri Mitsutada?"

When Ookurikara puts 'friend' with a full name, you know that he's actually worried sick.

[reprizesal]

Corruption - Best Served Cold
[Small, quiet Sayo never really talked about his past, but both the Saniwa and perhaps most swords would be aware of it. The tale of his old, old master's slow, waiting revenge that granted him both fame and a lord's attention. He spoke little of his past, only referencing it in his quiet and confused talks with the Saniwa.

But in the army, this army, Sayo seemed to be doing well. He have a purpose and although the Saniwa doesn't have anyone he wish to have revenge on, Sayo can fight and go on expeditions. The army have enough resources, thus there was no fear of him being sold off (again) for money.

Small and quiet Sayo was not that talkative, the small and subtle changes can be hard to detect. But after they're sent to their latest mission--preventing the Retrograding Army from stalling Mitsunari Ishida at Osaka Castle--that Sayo's darkened mood seems to be...more noticeable.

And attempted to break away from the group to go towards the castle, uncaring if his short blade cut others by accident.]

Is It Too Late? [Uncorrupted]
[Sayo knew he's inept at social cues and tact. Yet, the dark and heavy atmosphere in the air was noticeable to him. The darkness that lies in one's spirit is familiar to him and sometimes, he wonders if he's mistaken. Seeing things, but no one seems to be saying anything.

He quietly approached them, to the sword who felt as dark as him. Are they haunted by the voices of the past as well? Sayo was silent, before he spoke.]

...Is something...bothering you...?

WILD CARD
[Give me your best shot!]

[thirdarrow]

"Sayo? Where are you going?"

It isn't the saniwa who notices first, but Kouraitsuru Mitsutada - Takakage's bodyguard of sorts, since the tsurugi had served their saniwa's namesake so many years ago. The two of them make a startlingly similar pair, magic sword and magical owner - so it is two sets of grey eyes which turn to watch the tantou. The rest of their team had fanned out, so it was only the three of them.

"We aren't finished yet."

Takakage is quiet, but perceptive, and his gaze sharper than usual.

THE ENEMY IS AT-

[heiancrescent]

Cry Wolf. (Uncorrupted)

To live for centuries is to see ages go by. To see today's banners fall tomorrow and new ones springing up in their place like grass. To see children take on the seat of honour in the council rooms behind the family crest until their last breath is stolen by illness or blade. It's surprisingly fast, how fire can turn ornate gold-leaf paintings and wooden foundations to ashes. How Sanjou Munechika places his body in the water and smiles, and just like water, years flow like river water.

He is born again from the fires, and the saniwa smiles. He is looked upon as a sword, one of the most beautiful, but still a weapon.

It was how the saniwa saw the rest as well. A zealous person dedicated to fighting the war of time. Mikazuki's comrades never forgot the fact that they were fighting a war, as per the words of the one that gave them life.

When squads of six left, it was not often when four or three would return. Repairing was a necessity, rather than affection. The same faces would die and are remade fast, and only a few figures amongst the squads know the cycle.

The few figures dwindle, when one of the few would turn against their master. One-man rebellions start and end fast and violently, like a bolt of lightning. They would see a monster, and a few slashes turns steel bone to dust.

The next sortie was to Atsukashiyama. Only the most experienced were chosen, and Mikazuki is prepared. Advice saying that it was too risky was ignored, and his fellow squad members were prepared to bid farewell to their friends in the citadel.

That's when he realizes his mind had managed to stay somewhat sharp with time. A single unthinkable idea comes to his head. Being the leader, he arranges the time for a war council. An hour after the saniwa sleeps.

You can find him on the porch, looking up at a sharp crescent moon.

WILD CARD

Hit me with anything!

[havocking]

Against all odds, Midare hasn't broken once since being forged for the first time by their master. It's mostly luck (though he would say it's skill), but he's lasted long enough and proven himself good enough at scouting without being detected that to his surprise, the saniwa chooses for him to go on this particular mission.

(There's a nagging sort of doubt - is he trying to get him killed? He can be reforged, but will it really be him when that happens? He's seen his brothers come, and go, and come again. He doesn't want to forget everything that's happened up until now.)

But dwelling on it isn't going to do anything to quell the butterflies in his stomach, and so when the arranged time comes, he seeks Mikazuki out.

"It's unusual for us to stay up so late before a sortie." That's his greeting, and he smiles a little as he takes a seat on the couch next to him. "So what you have to say... it must be very important, huh?"

[giftedbythunder]

1: uncorrupted

It might have been slow, but Futsu-no-Mitama's finding himself starting to open up to everyone here. While he'd never call himself the most socially adept of them all, he's at least savvy enough to notice the change in the atmosphere around someone.
And he's worried. These are the first beings he'd ever been able to call true friends and allies, and who saw him as one right back... He cares for them, wanting to protect each and every one.

So: here's a big, rough odachi, giving a friendly smile -

"Hey, man. Ya doin' okay?"


2: corrupted

The thoughts trickle in slowly, working their insidious way through his mind. His own impulses, or some outside influence, he could never tell.

What's he even doing here? Among - among these mundane blades, crafted by human hand alone (never mind the time he'd spent in the forges himself, that doesn't count...) No. He doesn't belong among them, obeying the orders of some lowly sage. He should be by an Emperor's side, if not a god's, if not his creator's...

But how can he even leave this place? Is he truly as trapped here as he was in the shrine's vaults?

Futsu-no-Mitama paces the citadel's hallways, tense, looking around at this beautiful prison with a frown.

No. He has to find a way to be free - truly free, for once.
He won't be held back.

3: wildcard?

2 - offers au saniwa

[thirdarrow]

"Futsu-san. May I have a word?"

Their saniwa is a quiet one, startlingly frail compared to the swords at large. A youth of about twenty, descended from one of the samurai clans of old, and in possession of the same magic that his namesake once wielded. He isn't armed now, given that the blade he would otherwise inherit has also become sentient - but the book clutched against his chest is definitely arcane in nature.

Takakage offers the older sword a slight bow, as befitting status.

"I have some tea ready too, if you are partial to that."

[appraisals]

2. - yeah he's corrupted as fuck.

[For someone who goes on and on about his blacksmith along with ranting about the counterfeit swords that dare to share his name, Hachisuka does his best to move forward towards a better future. He is a legitimate blade of the Hachisuka family, who ruled the Tokushima domain and was passed down from lord to lord. He was kept in private collections, he bares the actual signature of Kotetsu on him. He never cared for rumors, but whispers became clearer in his mind. Lately, when he passes by certain people, they usually have their back turns and generally ignore him. That is usually nothing, but are they talking about him? How his ego brags that he is one of the few real Kotetsu blades and not a mere copy? Are they calling him fake when all he is doing is that he is telling the truth? Are they calling him a fool for choosing not to associate anyone that shares his name without appropriate appraisal that they are actually family? They dare to call him a fake?

What nonsense! Of course he's real!

He is real. He is real. He is r̵͎̮͍̞̫͓̳̭͕̳̳̱̥̓̃ͭ̈́̍e̾ͧͦ̓ͯ̇̉ͯ̄̚̕҉̦̪̺̗̼͉ȧ̡̹̻̖͍̹̯̤̦͎̣̱̓ͣ̏̆͂ͤͮ̓̌͂͠ͅl̫͚͎͈̯͓͚̲̟̫͓͉̯͇͇̖ͤͤ̒ͧͪ̀͝

He paces back and forth in his room, blade in hand as he studies every single inch of it while mumbling words underneath his breath. The quality, the handle, the detail, everything is real, he is real, and people dare call him fake behind his back?!

It hits him. He needs to go back to stop those smiths who dare copy his good name, ruin it with giving him false brothers. But first, his blade. He continues to study it, sometimes a quick "practice" strike in the air. He doesn't care who can hear him. He's set.]

wildcard.

[obvious wildcard options for both corrupted and non-corrupted, go nuts.]

2.. double the corruption, because why not

[havocking]

[It's never mattered to Midare whether the swords he fought alongside were fake or real. Differences are just that - differences. His appearance doesn't make him any less a Toushirou, even if his brothers all look different; he can cut as well as any of them. Better, in some cases.

What does bother him is how after their saniwa had started to amass a collection of much stronger swords, he and his brothers were left to the wayside except for when their keen eyes were needed at night. That's not fair, is it? He doesn't have as long a reach as some, but if he can get in close he's just as deadly as anyone. Is he being passed over because he's small? Is that it?

Thoughts like this swarm over and over, until his mind is no longer as sharp as his blade. If he's too small, then he'll have to - do something about it. Go back and make his blacksmith forge him in a different way? Maybe Ichi-nii was the first of his kind, but he shouldn't have to have been the last.

That, or do something about the original forging of the blades that his master has ignored him in favor of...

He's passing by Hachisuka's door on his way to do just that, and the mumbling and the sound of the blade cutting through his air catches his attention. Without even asking, he opens the door and peers inside, a smile that is not quite as bright as usual tugging at his lips.]

So dedicated... practicing even in the privacy of your own room. But what are you practicing for?

uses a nice icon for the wrong context

[occasion]

POSSESSION

[Aizen couldn't have pinpointed exactly when it happened. He's not normally someone who could waver so easily. A bright tanto who always says he is blessed by Aizen Myou'ou, a deity of wisdom and passion. An old soul who acts the age he looks because there's so much to look forward to. He constantly asks for festivals for this reason too.

But then it happened. And at first it didn't feel like anything, but a heaviness in his very self. And after each grueling battle, he wondered if it would ever end (would it ever end? Did Aizen even question this in the beginning? He used to take it all by stride). The more he wondered, the more he despaired. There's so much that needed to be done, and they kept fighting but nothing is changing and--

This world is ugly, it is not worth celebrating.

He could fix it.

And then one day, drags a beaten and bloody body (who is it? No one will know) and drops it where he stands). The first one. He is Aizen Kunitoshi, the sword bearing the mark of Aizen Myou'ou. He will impart the wisdom of old and make everyone despair so that they will learn to love life passionately.]

I'll start it, alright? I'll start this festival.

[havocking]

[Midare thinks he might be sick.

It hadn't been noticeable at first. Not to him, and certainly not to Midare, who isn't as familiar with him as he is with some of the others. But when he compares this Aizen to the Aizen that had wandered the halls of the Citadel and fought in this war alongside him, the difference is so stark that he can't help but wonder how he ever missed it.

His gaze lingers on that bloodied body for a moment or two too long, and Midare swallows hard.]

...what kind of a festival is this supposed to be? [His hand comes to his waist, and he tightly grips the hilt of his blade, but doesn't draw.]

be gentle...i'm new...

[helmsplitter]

2 - Possession
[At first, nothing seemed wrong. It wasn't wrong in the way that the others who had been taken before him went wrong. The others had begun to slink off by themselves, their moods seemed to change like a dark veil had been pulled over their souls. Dotanuki should have recognized the signs himself, but with the battles growing harder and fewer of his comrades coming back, the blood frenzy made the changes easy to explain away.

The lightness in his step and the way he started to see all the other swords as opponents was only because they were in battle so often. Sometimes it was difficult to switch between the two, especially for a sword that was made for hardship but grew up surrounded by peace. These battles, the blood, the action - it was what he had always craved and now it lay in his lap every time he set foot out of the citadel.

Besides, it was natural to smile every so often at seeing another sword come back limping, bandages wrapped tight around their wounds, wasn't it? It was just proof that they had done their job. They were tools of war and what good was a tool if it wasn't used to the point of breaking? The idle glee at seeing fellow swords dancing with the death as they were meant to do was normal, right? It wasn't strange for him to greet the others as they came back, delighting in proof of their barely won battles. The doubts he'd had before about their ability to save history felt like they belonged to someone else. It was beautiful they way everyone bled.

Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to make them bleed a little more. A simple training exercise gone wrong - no one would blame him or even think twice. He was, after all, a war machine.]

Hey. Spar with me.

[wildcard]
[Dotanuki can't purify, but he'll train you so hard that the demon will give up and leave to escape his crazy.]

2

[havocking]

[Midare is exhausted - the kind of exhaustion that comes from not just narrowly escaping being broken in battle, but witnessing the destruction of others who weren't so lucky. His brothers. Two of his brothers. In the blink of an eye - they were gone.

It wouldn't be so bad to change the past, would it? Just in a simple way. Something like this wouldn't be so bad. If the saniwa is going to go to the forge and emerge with his brothers again, the same was they were but with no recollection of the battles they fought, why not just go back to the start of that battle and change it? Why not go back and send someone else - anyone else?

The demand for sparring draws him out of those thoughts, though. The look in Midare's eyes when he glances up is dull and lifeless.]

I can't do something like that.

[Not here. Not now.]

cautiously dips toes in

[foreshortened]

Becoming Your Own Enemy/How Could You Let This Happen Combo (Corrupt)

It's their duty, isn't it? To keep fighting, to keep going back, to stop the Retrograde Army from changing everything, to make sure that the flow and ebb of history stays as it's supposed to. Imanotsurugi has been there since the beginning, fighting and jumping and destroying the enemy, again and again. It's been a long time, a long fight and he's never seemed to flag before now, no matter how arduous the task or how long it's taken (well, there's been some good-natured complaints from time to time, but that's totally his right).

But now he's finally become tired. A little listless. He's spent some of his time hanging around the citadel, just watching the world go by. He's been a bit slower on the field of battle and even his sparring matches haven't been all that enthusiastic. He hasn't even bothered playing all that much, which is unusual for the normally cheerful and active tantou. It's his own fault, really. He keeps thinking too much.

Mostly he thinks about his old master. Revisiting the old battlefields has started to get to him - the people who slew his master (who forced him to kill Yoshitune) are dead. But - why are they here? Why are they enforcing this version of events? Why can't he go back and change it - make sure that his master lives, that Yoshitune's life is longer and happier? They're not supposed to, he knows. But that doesn't make any sense. At least not right now. Nothing bad can happen if they change things for the better. Right?

Imanotsurugi frowns and cups his chin in his hands, staring out over the citadel grounds. Maybe he shouldn't be thinking about this - he flops onto his back with a little sigh and shuts his eyes.

"But - it would be nice to see him again..."

Wildcard!

Choose your own adventure, etc.

[havocking]

"When you say "him," you mean "me," right? Don't worry, I'm right here!"

Imanotsurugi may not be expecting an answer, but he gets one from Midare, who has come up behind him with the quiet footsteps that make him so adept at hiding and advancing stealthily when it's scary.

And it is scary, to hear something like that - because he's teasing, but he knows that the other tantou has someone else in mind when he says he wants to see "him" again. He knows that, as people who go into the past to prevent the past from being changed, they walk a thin line between their righteous goal and the twisted goals of their enemies. It's all too easy to stick a toe or even a whole foot over the line.

So he has to deflect it. He has to do his best to make sure none of his comrades dwell on it enough to actually act on it, and if that means acting the fool, then so be it.

I'm new please be kind

[bunkei]

(2 - Of course he got corrupted over poems)

[It could happen to anyone. Kasen has long since burned the shape of the enemy armies into his eyes - it was simple enough to do for one so inundated with their elegances, poems and stories and tea ceremonies keeping his mind sharp as his blade, but even he would admit this fact isn't one you need those things to understand. All of them, from himself to the lowliest member of their army, know perfectly well what could become of them. It only takes the smallest doubt, an ounce of desire lighter than a breeze... but even knowing he is at risk as they all are, Kasen feels safe. He neither mourns nor resents his master, and in this citadel, surrounded by the glory of spring and (fortunately, it seems like the Saniwa knows what's good for them) barred from horsekeeping duty, he is at peace.

However.

However, glorious or no, this spring has gone on too long. Kasen Kanesada has exhausted every poem in his mind, every word at his fingertips, and it is infuriating. What he needs, even more than Tadaoki, even more than to save any person, is a new subject. He thinks little intrusive thoughts sometimes, of how the ribs of the chest might resemble a flower if allowed to bloom like one, or how the spine was nothing but a stem for the brain. The body is so charmingly organic. The urgency in his own voice when these thoughts rise to the surface disturbs him more than the thoughts themselves, but he knows better than to force them from his mind. It is healthier this way, he thinks, for his hands and ink and paper, if not for him.

But it isn't enough. He locks himself away in his room to remove the excess stimuli, but it isn't enough. He's quieter on the battlefield, more methodical, watching intently the spatter of blood and the way they cut their swaths through the Retrograding Army, but it isn't enough. The image in his mind isn't vivid enough. He needs more.

The idea improves the longer he allows it to sit. The Saniwa will fix them even if he breaks them, and the cause was so just. He is, for once, not immediately concerned with cleaning himself upon arriving home. Instead he turns to whoever is closest, sword or Saniwa (the thought of who will fix the Saniwa when he breaks them is lost to him now), with his usual smile.]

Excuse me.

(Wildcard)

[Uh. ANYTHING ELSE YOU'D LIKE TO DO goes here.]

HELLO FELLOW HOSOKAWA SWORD

[reprizesal]

[The one Kasen turned to is Sayo himself. The sortie have ended without a casualty for them, only injuries inflicted onto their corporal bodies by the enemies. Sayo was intending on going to get himself repaired at the infirmary - after all, he would be of no use if he keep his injuries and risk being broken. But Kasen's voice caught his attention.

With a blink, Sayo gazes up at Kasen without a word and tilt his head.]

...Yes, Kasen-san?

[He finally speaks, both as a response and as a mostly unspoken question. Did Kasen need something, or have something to say to him? His first assumption is, almost predictably, wondering if Kasen wish to have revenge. His second assumption is that maybe it's related to this war across time they're having with the Retrograding Army. It could be about anything, but Sayo is quiet.

Waiting for Kasen to continue to speak.]

otaaa!!

[yaniwa]

STARE INTO THE ABYSS aka the corruption process

[ Darkness changes all it touches, why should the swords brought back by one with demon blood, half or not, be any different? It's unexpected--Yua was an orphan, but unmistakably the child of an onmyouji bloodline. Hidden beneath the gentle spiritual aura that permeated the citadel as she grew into her powers was a dark aura that quietly whispered and called out to the darkest depths of every single inhabitant. The question of falling, and spiralling into an ultimately unreturnable state is not a question of how, but when.

Yua's never had a family, so she thinks of the swords as hers. Older brother, younger brothers, a motherlike figure, a grandfatherlike one--so this is what having a family is like. This is what happiness is like. She's happy to have chosen to come here, but.

But she knows things have to end. Things always have to end. When it ends...she'll be alone again. She doesn't want to be alone again.

The despair and negativity she hides only increases the pressure of muted dark energy already inside the citadel. It doesn't take long before she notices a subtle change in some of her swords. They act strangely, but claim not to be any different, leaving others to agree or disagree with her observations.

It's strange. Yua doesn't understand it, but she sees no reason to distrust her family. She continues to smile at her swords in spite of their behaviours, repairing, cleaning, welcoming them home...never once considering that the mindset of her swords might have changed. ]

AND IT STARES BACK aka corruption is not an end, but a new beginning

[ She doesn't want to say goodbye.

The Retrograding Army is weakening. The Kebbishi are losing. They're winning, for the sake of humanity, for the sake of the world.

Yua knows she should be happy, but she can't be, not when she knows everything will be over soon. Returning to her everyday life, without the family she's grown to know and love...She doesn't want this.

Rather than say goodbye...she wants to end it all.

It's with this simple thought she smiles so sweetly, looking no different, at the sword standing in front of her. ]

I have a request... Will you listen to it?

(WE ALL FALL DOWN) (it's time to end it all)

[ How many swords have fallen, how many swords have broken? Yua stands barefooted on the side of the Retrograding Army, irises once a gentle brown now a harsh blood red, clothes once clean now ragged and torn. How many of her family has she brought to her side, how many of them has she lost?

It seems, for a moment, that her mind returns when she faces the last of her Sword Army. ...Her Sword Army. Hers. Despair grips her, shakes her, but darkness is still in control.

Please, her lips barely move as she mouths the words, kill me. ]

WILDCARD

[ Write me anything! Or leave me a prompt & I can start something! ]

saniwaaaa

[reprizesal]

[The saniwa have been corrupted.

It's the most surprising fact of it all. Sayo knew there's the risk of them being possessed and corrupted by evil spirits, being tempted to stray from their path to preserve history. Some of the swords have been diligent, to keep watch to ensure the Citadel stay safe and free from evil.

But none of them expected their master to fall into darkness. Kind, smiling master, who watched over them and tend to their needs. Who Sayo found himself slowly trusting as a master again, when his previous ones made him distrustful to her at first.

Because of that, he never thought he would face her in battle on opposite sides. His true form's held tightly in his hands as he stares at her and sees her lips move.]

Master...

[He knows what to do if a sword get corrupted. And they discussed what to do if they ever see the saniwa again. But it doesn't mean he's fine with it. Even when he's familiar with taking a human's life.]

[heiwana]

Possession

[ This world could not be saved. It could not be filled with peace or lack of fighting. He could not save it and it was this regret that made him turn, made his soul weaken and blacken from the very first day. If he could not save it he would destroy it. Destroy it to save it from itself and everything that was wrong with it. Too many times he has seen his fellow swords hurt and in agony, fighting a useless war that would only end in bloodshed. And what were they saving it for? He has seen the suffering his two brothers faced at the hands of their "masters" did they really warrant saving after all that?

Blood. Blood. That is all he can see now. Nothing was ever good enough, was it? Nothing ever would be so why bother anymore? The freedom he felt by giving in felt amazing. It was truly something he should have done long ago. Now he could act instead of sitting idly by with his grievances and half hearted ideals. He was done talking and trying to be the one who strayed from the fight.

He will be walking the halls at some point. Sword brandished and at his side, his usual impassive face remains the same mostly. But there's a cold, harsh, wickedness in his eyes that wasn't there before. ]

[reprizesal]

[Sayo had just return from being repaired. His troops had bore the brunt of the enemies attack, he received enough injuries to require going for repairs. He doesn't mind. To be repaired means he can return to fighting that much sooner and do more work.

While walking away from the infirmary, he comes across one of his older brothers. He blinks and looks up at Kousetsu with a stare.

...That look in his brother's eyes. Cold, harsh and wicked, something is wrong.]

[kokaji]

ii - possession

[It was like a tiny thread in the beginning. Something loose on his sleeve, something which only required a little tugging at. Something to be picked up and discarded, maybe mended if the thread was too long.

Instead, it felt as if the thread had snagged, caught on something and slowly, steadily, everything was beginning to unravel. It was as if a caterpillar had crawled under his own skin and was beginning to transform, using all sense, reason and rational thought to turn it into something else.

Making space for everything irrational.

There were little hitches. Staring at another sword's back, idly thinking about how easy it would be to stab them and part their soft flesh and tear the sword body apart. To take those shards and squeeze them until they were part of his flesh and bones because sometimes, Kogitsunemaru feels hungry.

So very, very hungry.

And even when he digs his sharp canines into his lower lip to struggle and fight for rationality, it doesn't fill the pit in his stomach or stop the monster eating away at his brain.

Lately, his hands don't feel like his own. It feels normal now, to curl them slightly, the sharp nails ready to rake at anyone who approaches. Something else is beginning to move down his arms, guide them. But isn't it really him who is moving his arms and his legs?

Those are his thoughts except they are not. Except when they are and when the monster is whispering into his ear and covering Kogitsunemaru's eyes so there is nothing he can hear but the words-

The other day, he caught himself laughing like the enemies they fight, a mad little sound that was more like a wailing screech.

And today, he sits in the darkness of his room, his sword body resting on his knees, unsheathed.

The blade is dark and looks like it is rusting, rotting away.

There is no fixing this.

He is a monster.]


- wildcard -

[Or come up with you own prompt!]

here we go

[uchinoke]

[ Mikazuki could feel it, too. It started off as small voice in the back of his head, something he could easily brush aside and disregard as pure rubbish. But the voice never backed down, and never truly left. It was never forceful and the suggestions it gave- oh how sweet sounding they were- left the sword with constant chills up his arms and the back of his neck.

Nights recently had been exceptionally hard on the tachi. He would constantly toss and turn in his sleep, unable to put his thoughts to rest. And more times than most wake up in a violent and cold sweat. Thoughts of their battles, of the bloodshed, and constant anxiety for the future. Was what they were doing really alright? Could they really change the future? What if they failed?

What if they abandoned him?

Yet as morning came along he would bear the same smile he always did, even while he could feel his insides ripping themselves apart. He knew he had to fight this, but some part in the back of his mind was telling him just to give up. What harm would it cause, anyway? These people, these weapons, he was better off without them.

It was with these thoughts that Mikazuki had kept an unreachable hold on the hilt of his sword body. One part of his mind wished to unsheathe it and let loose on the entire Citadel, while the other held the sword in attempts to keep it in place.

... But how long would that hold? ]

Kogitsunemaru-san...? [ It was by his wandering through the area that he had stumbled upon a cracked door, and through it's small opening could see a faint outline of the fox.

The words came out like a whisper, almost as if felt like he was intruding on something very important. Yet the more he watches, the more his dark colored eyes fazed over the kneeling figure. Mikazuki began to slowly take notice of the sword that had been placed by his side.

So... he was not the only one, it would seem. ]

May I light a lantern? It is far too dark to see anything in here...