[ strange, how people seem to come and go so easily from this world. it's a matter of instabilities in the soul, they've said, providing little comfort when a traveler of signficance vanishes without warning. it's as if a sword has broken, all traces of their essence shattering and falling apart, but not even shards remain to mark their passing. there is simply nothing.
it's unnerving.
does that make it better or worse when one such disappearance appears to have been reversed? if ookurikara feels any relief at seeing it, he rejects it, and continues on his way. there are still missions to complete, and a troublesome crane to keep track of - plenty to keep him busy and focused on what matters.
then liyue's lantern rite festival arrives, and it feels... nostalgic. there are similar festivals back home, and date masamune is nothing if not a lover of culture. ever one to follow the whims of comforting memories, ookurikara is easier to find than usual while the festival runs, for once not actively avoiding contat with others but content to wander the streets, see the stalls, and watch the festivities.
that is how lutha will finally find him - leaning against a wall, eyes closed and posture as relaxed as ookurikara ever is, as a local musician plays nearby. there is almost a hint of a smile on his face, proof that he hasn't noticed anyone familiar nearby just yet. ]
[While he had been keeping his eye out for those familiar faces that had somehow shifted in what felt like a moment's time, Lutha can't feel entirely frustrated at missing Kara at first. Between the sheer amount of rain and the literal ocean they'd been up against after his return, he could barely keep his thoughts grounded in the present.
But he's still standing, ragged and somber and more than welcome for the break that the lantern rite preparations provide. He helps when he can, and retreats back into the space of the teapots when he can't - though his space is still sparse of much, it's a welcome quiet.
By the time of the festival, he's regathered his composure, enough to talk briefly to a certain irritating god and worm his way through the crowds. The small bundle of brown paper under one arm is cradled tightly against him, his normal bravado snuffed out as he mumbles his way past festival goers, an awkward lifting of a hand in a passing greeting to shopkeepers he'd worked with the past week, but not quite stopping.
Well. Not until he catches a certain someone in his eye, upon which he belatedly stops, whipping his head back to make sure his eyes were working correctly.
So the swordsman of few words was still around.
He nearly marches back up to him on the spot. But the weight of the item in his hand muddles the flare of frustration, pulls it back down to something more confusing and hard to define. Well, damn it. To trip all over himself in front of someone like Elliot or Ana was one thing, but...
Hmn. A short detour, then.
Kara will get a few more minutes of blessed ignorance before someone carefully shoves him with the back of their hand, a skewer of seasoned fish and vegetables being held near his shoulder like a dagger to the face even though Lutha's posture stays perfectly casual, if not slightly irritated in how his lips purse together.
[ while he's always just short of a true smile, it's the fact that, luckily for lutha, he hasn't left that gives him away. ookurikara is content to remain near the musicians and simply listen for now, and that is more than enough participation in the festival for him. kara has never needed to actively take part in the festivities to soak in the happiness of people around him.
...but what quiet pleasure he was enjoying is rudely interrupted by the shove. he hardly moves, but does frown as he opens his eyes, expecting to find tsurumaru demanding his presence at some stall, or maybe another traveler here to lecture him on getting along with the others.
lutha is not a face he'd expected to see, and it shows through the long pause as he stares at the young man. and he's offering ookurikara food...? his eyes narrow in confusion, but... slowly, as if expecting lutha to spring something else at him, he does take the skewer without a word, and makes no move to eat it. ]
His irritation deflates further when Kara doesn't even open his mouth to be contrary, the retort on Lutha's tongue fizzling out with little more than a confused exhale.]
You -- That's not -- [He rubs at his mouth with his hand as though that might get his words to reform.]
Look, just don't waste it. Give it to someone else if you don't want it.
[ the frown deepens, a little buzz of annoyance going through him as he replies. ]
I don't waste good food.
[ kara still doesn't eat, though, simply holding onto it as he turns back to watching the festival. it's as good a dismissal as any; he has no intention of listening if lutha is in fact here to lecture him, even if the subject matter isn't what he's become used to hearing. ]
Yeah, yeah, you made that clear before. [There's the response he'd expected. Blowing out an exhale, he grabs Kara's shoulder to twist him back.]
I'm not here to make you choke down trash, alright, so give me more than ten damn seconds of your existence for once so my own food doesn't go cold. [Because he absolutely has a second portion wrapped in paper and tucked against his arm along with his other package.
A beat, and he exhales again, his voice quieting to something far more conscious of the crowd.]
[ obviously? raccoon boy needs to be told how this works?
ookurikara spares him only a glance from his peripherals before turning his gaze back to the festival and its patrons. whatever ideas lutha's gotten into his head are, apparently, not his concern. ]
["'If you don't want it to get cold~' --spirits, like that's the fucking point...",
He numbly mimics the sounds back under his breath, rolling his eyes before shoving at Kara's shoulder again.]
Bullshit. Forget you preferring to be alone -- the is the first time I've been able to actually get within eyeshot of you before you fucking vanish around a corner like you're some sort of scared animal.
If you don't want to have anything to do with me, at least have the spine to say it to my face.
[ do you think he doesn't notice that, binch! he does! but he elects to ignore it, instead nibbling on the skewer and deliberately keeping his eyes trained away as he tries not to remember. ]
Why should it matter what I think of you?
[ curious that it would matter at all, after their first meeting. it's not like they'd ever been friends, anyway - or anything as close to friends as ookurikara will allow. there is no reason for lutha to care about him, or his opinions, is there? ]
Because you have something I want to know, and I'm not about to torture it out of you. I'm not that twisted.
[He's still heavily irritated. But Kara's shoulder is let go as Lutha carefully slides his own skewer out from under its precarious hold.
Rather than eat directly off the stick, the redhead pulls off the top item of the skewer directly into his hand. He is not eating this off the ground for once in his life, thank you.]
I expected you to go running after I asked, not before. You have a fucking habit of running off, but hell, at least you give most people a second or two.
[He takes a second to take a bite, to savor, to swallow.]
That's what you did with that farmer back home, didn't you?
the words make ookurikara go comepletely still, eyes widening just a fraction before he recovers, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. the seasoning of the vegetables, however tasteful, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, as he imagines how gohei would rave about the flavor with all the excitement of a country man presented with a feast for the shogun.
he thought he'd escaped this conversation when lutha first disappeared from teyvat - not that he'd expected lutha to have experienced one of his own memories in return, but it's hardly surprising. still, of all the things, why was it...
he closes his eyes with a soft sigh of resignation. instead of addressing gohei, however, he dances around the subject. maybe, if he doesn't acknowledge it, he won't have to remember the pain. ]
Hard to do when I can't ever fucking find you. [There's little bite to the remark, surprisingly, far more a discontent grumbling of a child.
...
A beat. Lutha twists the skewer in his hand idly, focusing his eyes on that rather than on Kara.]
Here I figured you were just some... snooty rude vassal or something. You don't bother to talk, and you don't bother to be where you don't want to be. [A shrug, half hearted.] Not like it matters. It's fine. People can care about whatever they want.
But people also tend to change. You don't. [The ebb of time passing had been almost nauseous, to watch a boy become a man, a farmer to a soldier, and feel no change in one's self.
...]
Decades of life, and you still look like you're barely any older than me.
[ it is a relief, in a way, that the first question isn't about gohei. it's easier to address his nature than the feelings ookurikara still isn't certain that he understands, or the pain that dwells in a too-human heart. these are facts, even with low-impact barbs peppered in. they don't bother ookurikara, of course; he's never been one to care for someone else's opinion. the important thing is... whatever lutha has seen from his memories, it was enough to give him away.
what is he? out of habit, his free hand rests on the hilt of his sword as he mulls over how to answer. if he were any other sword, it would be a simple "older than i look," echoing their first conversation... but unfortunately kara has no sense of humor. while the other swords had a point in that knowing their nature likely wouldn't affect anything important in this world, it is still ingrained in him to sidestep this one truth. ]
Not human, [ is the answer he eventually settles for, confirming the obvious. he still isn't certain about revealing everything - the fact remains that he is not that familiar with lutha, so why should he? - but he can touch upon it. maybe that will be enough to satisfy the curiosity. and so, he continues, voice as plain and matter of fact as ever. ] I'm a spirit.
[ just him. not tsurumaru. it isn't his place to give away tsuru's secrets, too. ]
[It's a dry retort... that honestly lacks surprise, his features actually settling to something a little more comfortable. A spirit would make sense, after all, it was just a matter of what KIND of spirit was standing in front of him.]
Spirits don't usually have to answer to anyone, and they definitely don't manage physical forms without some damn work. So was that whole story about your master made up?
[ there's no heat behind it. he twists the skewer in his hand, idly wondering how masamune would like this foreign food, for all he'd wanted to travel the world. what he think, if he knew the sword his family would treasure has traveled to a new world entirely?
ookurikara has no intention of defending himself or his past words. there would be no point to it, when he has nothing to prove.
still. ]
I have always had a master. This form is how the current one summoned me, that's all.
You carry a sword well enough. It's not like you look entirely uncomfortable.
[How he feels, though, is another question, given what little Lutha remembers from the memory, and he is so not ready to have that conversation just yet.
Just two grumps eating food by a harbor, nothing to see here.]
[ that's a relatively small matter, though, as far as ookurikara is concerned. now that he has this body, he has the freedom to make his own choices in how he is used, how he acts, and that is worth far more than whatever face comes with it. ]
This is the form I was summoned with, and it's the one I'll have until the war ends or until I break. As long as I can complete my missions, it doesn't matter what I look like.
[ which... explains pretty much nothing, huh. i hate kara. ]
["Break" sure is a dramatic word. But it doesn't ring all that out of place. Ookurikara does come across as the type to just go on unwaveringly until he either finished or dropped down dead, anyway.
[ oh, that name stings. just hearing it, knowing what that young man had gone through... remembering who had been at his side for years, and kept him going... there's a pain his chest that ookurikara dutifully tries to ignore.
(it's much harder than he wishes it would be, even now, decades later. even the small comfort that nobuyasu lives doesn't ease that discomfort.)
and yet, his voice remains steady, if a little tired. ]
Our mission is to protect history. Matsudaira Nobuyasu is a notable person in the history of our country, so he became a part of that mission.
It strikes a bit ironic, given the situation they're now under with Forneus. But more importantly, something doesn't add up if that's all there is to it.
History was a larger picture, after all. A single person, though? A child wanting to take up the sword surrounded by strangers? A poor man begging to learn despite his own fear?
A dead man under a stone too early, what should just be a nameless smudge amongst thousands?
...]
Why would you bother protecting something that's already happened? Important or not, history is just what it is. You can't really change it.
[ why do you think he hates forneus so much lmao ]
History is fluid in my world, and there are those who actively seek to change it. My job is to prevent it, or to at least follow it closely enough that the timeline won't fray.
[ choice... as much as ookurikara would like to agree with lutha, there's been hardly a moment where he's stopped thinking about the things forneus had said. the god's insistence that they had, in fact, agreed to help him change this world to suit his own desires, against everything the touken danshi stand for. it brings a familiar anger to a boil in the pit of his stomach, twisting and wrestling with uncertainty and confusion and a simple desire to fulfill his mission.
he takes a long, slow breath, and pushes those feelings away. a festival is the wrong place for this. masamune, mitsutada, sadamune, tsurumaru - they would all say that they should simply enjoy the night. ]
Changing history rarely goes the way they want it to, [ is what he says instead, as a musician begins to pluck at the strings again. the plan forneus had outlined is reckless as best - at worst, it could have implications for all of their worlds, and all of their timelines. ] There's no point in getting broken for something like that.
[ a mission you don't even support. it's too risky, and for no worthy reward, as far as he can tell. ]
"Breaking" is a strong way to put it, but... It's not even that it ends at that. A lot of people end up suffering even if people like us get lost.
[It feels like too simple a point to repeat. But he has his own beef with Forneus' plan, one that digs at the idealistic wishes he knows are probably not obtainable in his own land.
Maybe, at least, they could not repeat it here.
He lets the music start to settle in the air, observing what was left of the food in his hand, of the color still vibrant from the surroundings that coated everything with warmth.]
My land completely changed when a god was killed. It was a long time ago, and maybe nothing as drastic as time or anything. But a god is a god, and it was still just as big a part of how the world works. If you mess with that...
[...
He sniffs with a clearing of his throat.]
A lot of history was lost, and what was left was hidden or rewritten, or just weakened as older generations started dying out. There's an entire world out there that's disintegrating underneath the water, and a whole lot of life being lost, because some mortal power decided to mess with something outside of their control.
[A beat, before he takes a second to shove his collar up against his neck and face.]
I'd rather not see us doing something idiotic like that to a place like this. No matter what Forneus says or thinks.
[ but enough about that. with another bite of the fish skewer leaving a blast of flavorful spice on his tongue, he listens in silence, soaking up lutha's words without a trace of judgment.
it explains much about how lutha acts, and the things he says, if not everything. ookurikara cannot and will not pretend to be an empathetic sword, but this is something he thinks he can understand. he'd seen some of it for himself, after all - and so his grip tightens on the hilt of his sword, as if that could protect them both from the memory of how that water ate away at his steel, found its way into his carving and imperfections and utterly ruined him. it is a lifeline, a reminder that he is, still, whole.
other than that, his expression and posture don't change. ]
This world isn't the same as either of ours. Gods have been lost here, and the people survive all the same.
[ it's not an argument for or against either side - just a fact. kara obviously has his own opinion, rooted in how his own world functions. knowing, however, doesn't erase the discomfort that comes with going against his purpose as a touken danshi. ]
Still, even the most masterful tactician's plans can fall apart with a stroke of luck for the wrong side. I have no intention of finding out how badly that would turn out here.
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no subject
it's unnerving.
does that make it better or worse when one such disappearance appears to have been reversed? if ookurikara feels any relief at seeing it, he rejects it, and continues on his way. there are still missions to complete, and a troublesome crane to keep track of - plenty to keep him busy and focused on what matters.
then liyue's lantern rite festival arrives, and it feels... nostalgic. there are similar festivals back home, and date masamune is nothing if not a lover of culture. ever one to follow the whims of comforting memories, ookurikara is easier to find than usual while the festival runs, for once not actively avoiding contat with others but content to wander the streets, see the stalls, and watch the festivities.
that is how lutha will finally find him - leaning against a wall, eyes closed and posture as relaxed as ookurikara ever is, as a local musician plays nearby. there is almost a hint of a smile on his face, proof that he hasn't noticed anyone familiar nearby just yet. ]
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But he's still standing, ragged and somber and more than welcome for the break that the lantern rite preparations provide. He helps when he can, and retreats back into the space of the teapots when he can't - though his space is still sparse of much, it's a welcome quiet.
By the time of the festival, he's regathered his composure, enough to talk briefly to a certain irritating god and worm his way through the crowds. The small bundle of brown paper under one arm is cradled tightly against him, his normal bravado snuffed out as he mumbles his way past festival goers, an awkward lifting of a hand in a passing greeting to shopkeepers he'd worked with the past week, but not quite stopping.
Well. Not until he catches a certain someone in his eye, upon which he belatedly stops, whipping his head back to make sure his eyes were working correctly.
So the swordsman of few words was still around.
He nearly marches back up to him on the spot. But the weight of the item in his hand muddles the flare of frustration, pulls it back down to something more confusing and hard to define. Well, damn it. To trip all over himself in front of someone like Elliot or Ana was one thing, but...
Hmn. A short detour, then.
Kara will get a few more minutes of blessed ignorance before someone carefully shoves him with the back of their hand, a skewer of seasoned fish and vegetables being held near his shoulder like a dagger to the face even though Lutha's posture stays perfectly casual, if not slightly irritated in how his lips purse together.
Take it, you jerk, wow. :\ ]
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...but what quiet pleasure he was enjoying is rudely interrupted by the shove. he hardly moves, but does frown as he opens his eyes, expecting to find tsurumaru demanding his presence at some stall, or maybe another traveler here to lecture him on getting along with the others.
lutha is not a face he'd expected to see, and it shows through the long pause as he stares at the young man. and he's offering ookurikara food...? his eyes narrow in confusion, but... slowly, as if expecting lutha to spring something else at him, he does take the skewer without a word, and makes no move to eat it. ]
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His irritation deflates further when Kara doesn't even open his mouth to be contrary, the retort on Lutha's tongue fizzling out with little more than a confused exhale.]
You -- That's not -- [He rubs at his mouth with his hand as though that might get his words to reform.]
Look, just don't waste it. Give it to someone else if you don't want it.
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I don't waste good food.
[ kara still doesn't eat, though, simply holding onto it as he turns back to watching the festival. it's as good a dismissal as any; he has no intention of listening if lutha is in fact here to lecture him, even if the subject matter isn't what he's become used to hearing. ]
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I'm not here to make you choke down trash, alright, so give me more than ten damn seconds of your existence for once so my own food doesn't go cold. [Because he absolutely has a second portion wrapped in paper and tucked against his arm along with his other package.
A beat, and he exhales again, his voice quieting to something far more conscious of the crowd.]
Look, are you pissed off at me or something?
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[ obviously? raccoon boy needs to be told how this works?
ookurikara spares him only a glance from his peripherals before turning his gaze back to the festival and its patrons. whatever ideas lutha's gotten into his head are, apparently, not his concern. ]
No.
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He numbly mimics the sounds back under his breath, rolling his eyes before shoving at Kara's shoulder again.]
Bullshit. Forget you preferring to be alone -- the is the first time I've been able to actually get within eyeshot of you before you fucking vanish around a corner like you're some sort of scared animal.
If you don't want to have anything to do with me, at least have the spine to say it to my face.
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Why should it matter what I think of you?
[ curious that it would matter at all, after their first meeting. it's not like they'd ever been friends, anyway - or anything as close to friends as ookurikara will allow. there is no reason for lutha to care about him, or his opinions, is there? ]
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[He's still heavily irritated. But Kara's shoulder is let go as Lutha carefully slides his own skewer out from under its precarious hold.
Rather than eat directly off the stick, the redhead pulls off the top item of the skewer directly into his hand. He is not eating this off the ground for once in his life, thank you.]
I expected you to go running after I asked, not before. You have a fucking habit of running off, but hell, at least you give most people a second or two.
[He takes a second to take a bite, to savor, to swallow.]
That's what you did with that farmer back home, didn't you?
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the words make ookurikara go comepletely still, eyes widening just a fraction before he recovers, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. the seasoning of the vegetables, however tasteful, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, as he imagines how gohei would rave about the flavor with all the excitement of a country man presented with a feast for the shogun.
he thought he'd escaped this conversation when lutha first disappeared from teyvat - not that he'd expected lutha to have experienced one of his own memories in return, but it's hardly surprising. still, of all the things, why was it...
he closes his eyes with a soft sigh of resignation. instead of addressing gohei, however, he dances around the subject. maybe, if he doesn't acknowledge it, he won't have to remember the pain. ]
If you have something to ask, then ask.
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...
A beat. Lutha twists the skewer in his hand idly, focusing his eyes on that rather than on Kara.]
Here I figured you were just some... snooty rude vassal or something. You don't bother to talk, and you don't bother to be where you don't want to be. [A shrug, half hearted.] Not like it matters. It's fine. People can care about whatever they want.
But people also tend to change. You don't. [The ebb of time passing had been almost nauseous, to watch a boy become a man, a farmer to a soldier, and feel no change in one's self.
...]
Decades of life, and you still look like you're barely any older than me.
So what the hell are you?
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what is he? out of habit, his free hand rests on the hilt of his sword as he mulls over how to answer. if he were any other sword, it would be a simple "older than i look," echoing their first conversation... but unfortunately kara has no sense of humor. while the other swords had a point in that knowing their nature likely wouldn't affect anything important in this world, it is still ingrained in him to sidestep this one truth. ]
Not human, [ is the answer he eventually settles for, confirming the obvious. he still isn't certain about revealing everything - the fact remains that he is not that familiar with lutha, so why should he? - but he can touch upon it. maybe that will be enough to satisfy the curiosity. and so, he continues, voice as plain and matter of fact as ever. ] I'm a spirit.
[ just him. not tsurumaru. it isn't his place to give away tsuru's secrets, too. ]
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[It's a dry retort... that honestly lacks surprise, his features actually settling to something a little more comfortable. A spirit would make sense, after all, it was just a matter of what KIND of spirit was standing in front of him.]
Spirits don't usually have to answer to anyone, and they definitely don't manage physical forms without some damn work. So was that whole story about your master made up?
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[ there's no heat behind it. he twists the skewer in his hand, idly wondering how masamune would like this foreign food, for all he'd wanted to travel the world. what he think, if he knew the sword his family would treasure has traveled to a new world entirely?
ookurikara has no intention of defending himself or his past words. there would be no point to it, when he has nothing to prove.
still. ]
I have always had a master. This form is how the current one summoned me, that's all.
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[Fair enough, given that most spirits are barely corporeal to begin with, but...]
Why bother keeping that form if your master isn't even here?
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It isn't like I have control over it.
[ and he's back to nibbling on the food, with the slightest furrow of his brow. ]
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You carry a sword well enough. It's not like you look entirely uncomfortable.
[How he feels, though, is another question, given what little Lutha remembers from the memory, and he is so not ready to have that conversation just yet.
Just two grumps eating food by a harbor, nothing to see here.]
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[ that's a relatively small matter, though, as far as ookurikara is concerned. now that he has this body, he has the freedom to make his own choices in how he is used, how he acts, and that is worth far more than whatever face comes with it. ]
This is the form I was summoned with, and it's the one I'll have until the war ends or until I break. As long as I can complete my missions, it doesn't matter what I look like.
[ which... explains pretty much nothing, huh. i hate kara. ]
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...
Strangely, he hesitates.]
What does that make Nobuyasu, then?
Some sort of mission? Or just a part of your war?
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(it's much harder than he wishes it would be, even now, decades later. even the small comfort that nobuyasu lives doesn't ease that discomfort.)
and yet, his voice remains steady, if a little tired. ]
Our mission is to protect history. Matsudaira Nobuyasu is a notable person in the history of our country, so he became a part of that mission.
[ he won't admit to more than that. he can't. ]
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Hmn.
It strikes a bit ironic, given the situation they're now under with Forneus. But more importantly, something doesn't add up if that's all there is to it.
History was a larger picture, after all. A single person, though? A child wanting to take up the sword surrounded by strangers? A poor man begging to learn despite his own fear?
A dead man under a stone too early, what should just be a nameless smudge amongst thousands?
...]
Why would you bother protecting something that's already happened? Important or not, history is just what it is. You can't really change it.
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History is fluid in my world, and there are those who actively seek to change it. My job is to prevent it, or to at least follow it closely enough that the timeline won't fray.
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I'd take it that you'd rather see people like our gracious time host dunked into the ocean, if that's the case.
[he can't help himself he is not fond of forneus either]
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I see no reason to help someone like him.
[ ...that's a yes, of course. ]
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congrats??]
Can't really say we were given much of a choice to begin with, so I figured.
[He carefully plucks off another piece of his skewer, a vegetable, very delicately taking it apart bite by bite as though it's a fragile delicacy.]
Gods like him are too dangerous. Both to have around, and for the damn vacuum they leave behind if they die. No one wins.
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he takes a long, slow breath, and pushes those feelings away. a festival is the wrong place for this. masamune, mitsutada, sadamune, tsurumaru - they would all say that they should simply enjoy the night. ]
Changing history rarely goes the way they want it to, [ is what he says instead, as a musician begins to pluck at the strings again. the plan forneus had outlined is reckless as best - at worst, it could have implications for all of their worlds, and all of their timelines. ] There's no point in getting broken for something like that.
[ a mission you don't even support. it's too risky, and for no worthy reward, as far as he can tell. ]
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[It feels like too simple a point to repeat. But he has his own beef with Forneus' plan, one that digs at the idealistic wishes he knows are probably not obtainable in his own land.
Maybe, at least, they could not repeat it here.
He lets the music start to settle in the air, observing what was left of the food in his hand, of the color still vibrant from the surroundings that coated everything with warmth.]
My land completely changed when a god was killed. It was a long time ago, and maybe nothing as drastic as time or anything. But a god is a god, and it was still just as big a part of how the world works. If you mess with that...
[...
He sniffs with a clearing of his throat.]
A lot of history was lost, and what was left was hidden or rewritten, or just weakened as older generations started dying out. There's an entire world out there that's disintegrating underneath the water, and a whole lot of life being lost, because some mortal power decided to mess with something outside of their control.
[A beat, before he takes a second to shove his collar up against his neck and face.]
I'd rather not see us doing something idiotic like that to a place like this. No matter what Forneus says or thinks.
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[ but enough about that. with another bite of the fish skewer leaving a blast of flavorful spice on his tongue, he listens in silence, soaking up lutha's words without a trace of judgment.
it explains much about how lutha acts, and the things he says, if not everything. ookurikara cannot and will not pretend to be an empathetic sword, but this is something he thinks he can understand. he'd seen some of it for himself, after all - and so his grip tightens on the hilt of his sword, as if that could protect them both from the memory of how that water ate away at his steel, found its way into his carving and imperfections and utterly ruined him. it is a lifeline, a reminder that he is, still, whole.
other than that, his expression and posture don't change. ]
This world isn't the same as either of ours. Gods have been lost here, and the people survive all the same.
[ it's not an argument for or against either side - just a fact. kara obviously has his own opinion, rooted in how his own world functions. knowing, however, doesn't erase the discomfort that comes with going against his purpose as a touken danshi. ]
Still, even the most masterful tactician's plans can fall apart with a stroke of luck for the wrong side. I have no intention of finding out how badly that would turn out here.