[ "if i can do something about it, i'm not gonna walk away from it", yes but, what can you do about a sword who obsessively spars to burn the violence and grief from his blood? what can anyone do about a sword who is still so in love with the memory of his old master that he still smiles his smile even when it doesn't reach his eyes, kind of like now? and what, really, should be done about a sword that insists on being so very sword-like down to the last fibre of his being? swords are meant to be swords, and swords are meant to do sword-like things. it stands to reason that yasusada doesn't consider any other way to spend his day off because there's no day off when it comes to being a sword.
kashuu may have his obsessions over his appearance. yasusada has his own, petty, deep-rooted obsessions. ones that he fully embraces and understands to be a part of him. he knows others worry, knows that swords look out of the corner of their eyes at him and see obsession, a mirror of a master long past, a linger ghost in the form of a sword with shisengumi colours like chains around his back. but that's not it at all, and he'd have thought that kashuu would've understood, of everyone -- but then again,
they've been apart for so long, haven't they? he laughs a little, a pleasant little thing, as though shy. ]
It's not like you, to be so altruistic. [ the laughter softens. he pinpoints what he feels on instinct, forming simple suspicions into words. hardly accusatory, statements of facts, curiosity. ] Did the Saniwa say something?
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kashuu may have his obsessions over his appearance. yasusada has his own, petty, deep-rooted obsessions. ones that he fully embraces and understands to be a part of him. he knows others worry, knows that swords look out of the corner of their eyes at him and see obsession, a mirror of a master long past, a linger ghost in the form of a sword with shisengumi colours like chains around his back. but that's not it at all, and he'd have thought that kashuu would've understood, of everyone -- but then again,
they've been apart for so long, haven't they? he laughs a little, a pleasant little thing, as though shy. ]
It's not like you, to be so altruistic. [ the laughter softens. he pinpoints what he feels on instinct, forming simple suspicions into words. hardly accusatory, statements of facts, curiosity. ] Did the Saniwa say something?