MOEYO KEN.

the blue of her eyes cuts through the night like a hot knife, meeting the crimson of her adversary head on — his face is nothing but two bleeding crescents in the dark, frenzied. evanthe’s demeanor has begun to slip from statuesque stoicism into blatant annoyance; not half bad is an understatement, this man ( akin to herself ) is a monster. she could fight from dusk until dawn if he so desired, but she would rather end this here and now.

the frost of her irises follows his fiery gaze upward, settling upon what she’s certain must be a camera — the realization paints a scowl across her features and her head aches from an earlier impact. “ here,  let me get that for you. ” it takes only a brief moment to both retrieve a dagger from her boot and thrust it directly at their newfound intruder. she hits her target dead on and the crow crashes against the hardwood floor with a loud, mechanical thud. “ I don’t like to be manipulated… answer honestly and I’ll do the same: were you hired to kill me? ”

            “  Y E S.  ”   minced and clear cut. what little humor budded from his voice earlier went up in flames. there is rage in his composed voice. hot blooded violence that sits on his tongue, swallows up his teeth and rises in smoke through his eyes. no ounce of dishonesty permeated from him. he gives her the answer she needed to hear, seeing through the uncanniness of this farce. he can easily guess:  “  were you hired to kill me, too?  ” 

she’ll  release  a  huff,     in  disbelief  but  also  (  if  not  mostly  )  in  growing  amusement.     his  honesty  was  a  thing  to  be  astound  by,     and  value.     she  has  always  felt  safest  in  the  company  of  those  who  respected  her  enough  to  be  blunt  in  thought  and  delivery.     nothing  upset  the  royal  more  than  feigned  flattery,     agreeing  with  her  simply  because  she  held  power.     things  might  not  get  better,     it  was  a  reality  she  had  to  hear  every  now  and  then  to  set  her  mindset  straight.     to  prioritize  duties  over  fantasies.     maybe  in  another  life,     she’d  tell  herself.

❝     yes,     exactly…     ❞          even  in  heavy  topics,     a  smile  would  eventually  always  grace  the  canvas  of  her  countenance,     especially  when  in  his  company.          ❝     aside  from  looking  after  the  people  of  this  nation,     i  must  also  ensure  you  always  have  a  place  here.     if  i  were  to  abandon  my  obligations,     i’m  afraid  of  what  might  become  of  you.     besides,     i  happen  to  enjoy  having  you  around  and  wouldn’t  wish  to  do  anything  that  would  ever  jeopardize  our  time  together.     ❞          when  weighing  the  pros  and  cons,     this  wasn’t  such  a  terrible  life  to  have…

              “  your majesty, you endorse me so much.  ”   a faint hush of tone but it wasn’t so quiet she wouldn’t hear. inwardly sheepish, her genuine kindness knows no bound. a ‘demon’ like him felt it; he thinks himself undeserving of it. that otherworldly nature of his that which carries ire sweltering in his chests and lungs, ready to combust at the first drop of blood upon steel —— his ruthlessness knows no bounds but his heart is kind. tender underneath the harsher demeanors and realities of what he has done and is.       

hijikata looks to the splendor of a vibrant bustling day. colors, colors all around and they were unlike the grays and reds and abhorred dark of war. a momentary peace and he is fortunate a malaise hasn’t sunk in his bones. hasn’t made him hunger for adrenaline, an abundance of anger to expel from his steel and bullets. maybe that is because he has her to protect, a reminiscent of the bygone days in which he and his comrades had drawn out their swords to protect the people who roamed the city streets, to the emperor, to the shogun, to their country.

For a moment, the decision was overwhelming. Usually, Joan either encountered corpses that provided evidence or, if the victims survived their ordeal, she had enough time to question them. She didn’t know how soon another horde would attack and speaking to the children would delay the villagers’ movement to a safer location.

“No, let the children be and pray they recover one day.” Joan said.

Then, a distant roar echoed through the church walls. Low like thunder warning of an approaching storm in the distance. Joan tensed before turning to the priest, her eyes narrowing.

“That is your signal to leave this village. Get those who remain to safety.” She commanded.

The priest’s eyes were wide upon hearing the roar. He nodded before hurrying out of the room. Joan gestured to Toshizō.

“That sounded like an armored beast. Likely a scout. If we can kill it, that should delay the next horde long enough to allow the villagers to reach the order’s stronghold.” Joan readied her whip of alchemy.

                     fingers curl around the hilt of his sword. faint scent of wet iron wafts beneath his nose, clanking and quivering armor resound in his ears. heightened senses lend themselves graciously to him. toshizō eyes her from the side with irises glowing dimly, popping reds that leave trails of red light when he nods to her and motions forth. the tail and sleeves of his black coat follow him in the wind as raised death flags.

he treads under the starless night sky, a moon hanging and looming and weeping on petrified grounds. like a bloodhound he trusts in his nose following the putrid scent of the unnatural. violence tremors through the air and he redirects his reddening darts through and past the remaining half-rotted corpses of mangled creatures the villagers had abandoned to make haste for safety. 

once more the roar thunders, bellowing from within the belly of a beast so full of bloodlust and hunger for carnage. toshizō spits huskily,  “  there. beyond the thickets by the gates.  ”   trusting she’d pursue as easily, berserker glides as a phantom towards the direction. past the gates he leaps through the thickets, propelling up and grabbing the branch of the tallest tree and whirling himself up to perch on its thicker branch. 

he undoes his rifle from the white holster, aiming it in the dark as he prunes through the shadows and obscurities of the forestry and shrubbery the armored beast may have hoped to sleuth through. the glow of his eyes emit a greater light, allowing hawk-like surveying to penetrate the obstacles that may hinder a mundane human. finger taut on the trigger, he stills his breath. brows knit tighter and eyes widen horrifically —— BANG!  fire shot!  bullet pierces through the armor letting out a bright spark that is put out by a gush of blood welling up from the beast’s jugular. 

rain streaks down the windows, neon lights painting their cadence in bright streaks of red and blue. beyond the violent ringing of her ears, she can hear music — feel the notes pulsate beneath her feet in rhythmic fashion. the palm of her right hand is soaked with blood, which drips idly from curled fingertips. in her left hand is a blade, its sharpened point glinting in the lowlight. evanthe takes aim at her current target, who seems to be working equally as hard ( if not harder ) to kill her. regardless, she takes the momentary reprieve to catch her breath. it’s been a long time since she had to work this much at anything.

“ you’re not bad, you know? — it almost seems like you’re the one trying to kill me. ” a laugh, surprisingly girlish — but lacking in mirth and joy; hollow and empty like the rest of her. fingers run the course of her blouse, black fabric greedily soaking up the crimson. “ but this is getting old. stand down and I’ll make it quick, scouts honor. ” /  @miburoni​.

        he is in fucking glee. intangible to the eye surely but no doubt the demon’s hawk eyes stole the show. red so vivid and bright, it makes the neon glows complete and utter jokes. underneath stoic ferocity, snarling maw and pinched, rigid skin, he was for once grateful to taken this hit job because he found a worthy challenger. 

he spits out blood, smiling rigidly with bloody teeth. “  can’t do, kid. you’re trying to kill me too and i just can’t have that. ”  a raspy, slow gurgling of words. sharper than their swords. he has his rifle pointed at her, his sword over his back. the black suit and trench coat he took to blend in all tore up and blood. electric red pulsating from the ravishing wounds; what doesn’t kill him makes him stronger. a lot of anger, lot of viciousness and bite, enough to tear up their surroundings and ruining the pavement like he had demolished a garden. wind blows, candy wrappers dance with it and thrown articles tumbling across them. 

   “ Generosity is a human trait, my dear. We both know I am far from such a thing. You can call this… assistance in return of some fun.” Lust spoke, but as it appeared that he had no desire, she would simply put such desire aside. She may be a monster of the lascivious nature, but when one does not feel true need, then they were simply another being to Lust. [ She is a beast that works upon one’s darkest wishes, fuels it until it devours them whole like a snake would a rat! ] Her aide always came with a price, bargaining with the Devil was never ideal thing.

   Luckily for him, she feels no need to antagonize him. He’s well behaved & mannered; Making it obvious that he was not an obstacle or threat at the current time. His words of the ones he hunted caught her attention right away, brushing back hair as she gives an amused nod in return to his little warning.

   “ It appears you’ve gotten soft as well. Nevertheless, I have met countless zealots & believers — Killing them will be no struggle. I do hope they live up to the high expectations I am expecting. ” Lust moved along ahead of him, watching the tall area around them in the dark of night; Perfect hunting grounds for the beast & the harlot. “ I rather not get bored. It is such a pain to find good fun nowadays, don’t you agree? ”

                a one man army. the burdens of everything are his to covet and bare alone; he is a selfishly selfless thing that likes to keep his ire buried and sate it by his own terms. but he was far from perfect.  “ next time i’ll take on your deal. maybe i have gotten too soft.  ”  a wry smile carves itself. he still thinks he is above meddling with mortals who have no chance against him. mortals who think what they are doing is right. 

but still, regardless of their intentions, if they tend to stand in his way they will end up like all else that does: carnage.  “ i think they will entertain you. these knights possess special equipment and talents to purge heresies. if they take notice of you, they will come. ”  he and her —— they share being things that go against the law of nature. the law of their god and more. 

hijikata tucks his hand over his cheek, letting out an elongated and quiet breath. he admits the lack of challenge and cemented purpose brings a malaise to his bones.  “ i do. patrolling the streets and battling here and there is nothing compared to war. ”  he ought to be thankful there is peace, but a warrior is no warrior without conflict. he is a protector but he is also a fighter, the instincts burn within him. berserker can only bask the rays of the sun, the fragrances of spring and autumn and the chilling beauty of winter for so long. 

    Normally baking is fine. Great even, because there’s the obvious upside of something sweet to enjoy after the fact. But she can only eat so many of her feelings after stuffing them into things like petit fours and religieuses.  “Not really,” she hums at length, popping another of the fried desserts in her mouth. She chews slowly, eyeballing the fridge and considering a drink. “I mean- no offense, Toshi but we ain’t…” Friends? Close? She’s not which is more accurate. “Well, point bein’, I don’t really… talk about that kinda stuff with folks I ain’t close t’.”

         on the table he sets the cobbler and a bottle of chilled alcohol. a fork and two glasses are then set two, one glass close to her. hijikata takes a bite of the cobbler. nice, cool and sweet, soothes his tongue and mouth of the spice and it goes down easy. regardless of her response, he seems pretty accepting of her decision. 

           “  out on business. it’s nothing new.  ”  albeit as monotonous as always, some bewilderment can be picked a part from hijikata’s voice. he angles his head, begins again firmer than former,  “  prickly today, ah? something got under your nerves?  ”

“ you … really want to know? ” teeth sink into the soft flesh of her inner cheek, pondering his offer. an age old question: does curiousity trump caution? perhaps in her early days, yes. naivete and intrigue; she’d lost that innocence to blades and hellfire and very sharp teeth. now it frightens her … the idea of him knowing her beyond the bubblegum hair and baby blue eyes. “ it’s not what you’re thinking; I’m not that special. in fact, I’m very dangerous, ” fingers are held out in silent examination, their ashen tips a stark reminder of her own vulnerability, “ lets just say I keep the gods well. any malady they may endure, I take it from them. ”

             it was a wonder as to why the small nobus were acting all erratic and leaping all over him earlier. more than typically to say the least; his first thought would’ve been the fool of owari was up to something, his sword and gun ready to unleash hell had she the audacity to rob the shinsengumi of what little funds they had left. but he comes to find a sight he surmises he shouldn’t been witnessing unfold before him. 

huh, santa claus is from the counter force. he kept cheeky tongue in check. despite his brusque mannerisms, the vice commander can tell this was embarrassing for the other. spare him the humiliation and simply accept the gifts with a look as dead as the other’s tone. though this was all unnecessary, berserker comprehended the act of giving on this merry holiday. he nods, the scent of pickled radish enlightening him in small, happy bursts and ignoring the mayonnaise ( oh, the mayonnaise, how that one anime has deluded all ).

lips twitched into a harmless smirk, scoffing then cooly as he drawls out the season greeting, “ merry christmas, santa claus.  ”

        It’s all Tsukiko could do but helplessly shrug, finding it difficult to deny the truth as she was only helping him hash out speculations of “what could be” and the “what if’s” of what any sort of political agenda would want. After all, the Shinsengumi is, UNFORTUNATELY, just that—a militarized political piece on the metaphorical game board of who would win in this game of “power” in the changing times of Japan meeting with the growing influence of the West. Manipulation of the media, of the people’s hearts sway with the tide of what their fickle beliefs are at the time they receive the news. It leaves her in the middle, where she hears both sides and it’s left her with a curious and broadened understanding of the stakes, though questionable they may be.

        And the Shinsengumi are hated for their belief in what they think is true, then they are DAMNED.

        There’s not much else to say to his words, knowing full well that he’s merely venting at this point. But, Tsukiko turns her head to watch as Toshizou makes his way over to the veranda, the words lingering that rings again his long hardened RESOLVE and promise. To protect and serve is their mantra and somehow, as her starry gaze lifts to his back, she has a FEELING that it will be all he does until he takes his last breath. Always going forward and never quite looking back at those who would follow him. He will, but it’s not in the way that she wants. Her fingers would only graze his back, GHOSTING over the surface before he takes a few more steps ahead of her that he becomes out of reach.

        And it’s when he does that, she will be left behind. The thought is enough to cause a dull, throbbing ACHE in her chest, and she looks away. Because somehow, she knows that he will not look back and he would NEVER look back for her. No matter how splendid or faithful it may be that she wants to follow him for his dreams, Tsukiko has her own dreams and her own goals that, much like him, she will not sacrifice anything for.

        Suddenly, she’s grateful that he’s turned to face the veranda for a bit of air, even if it’s happenstance rather than his choice to do so. It’s too late now, she thinks, for her and for whatever this emotion is. She briefly closes her eyes when he speaks again, willing away the moment of WEAKNESS. Tsukiko knows better; it is something that will never come to pass and has long since accepted it. However, she often forgets how often and how quick her heart yearns for it.

        ❝I would like to find a time where money did not speak of what influence it has for a voice,❞ she says, taking a deep breath as she returns to her task. Her hands are kept busy now, tying the bag neatly and setting it into the bowl filled with her surgical utensils. ❝Powered by that wealth, their ego is continuously fed by that very thing they desire that the cycle only continues until they are left eating themselves, all consumed in their desire of their own personal interest that they forget. They forget until your strength and success comes and it only repeats itself.❞ And that wealth is what has divided their country. Decades and decades of peace shattered at the prospect of wealth and a power that taunts those who do not know. Tsukiko only idly wonders how that self-interest in the name of Japan will fare at the end of all of this.

        The room now cleaned and all of her tools put away into the bowl in her hands, she leans it against her hip, debating on setting it aside to listen to Toshi’s frustrations or to continue and find the next person who’s in need of treatment. In the end, she decides to focus on cleaning her surgical equipment and stowing them back in the slotted bag that she will end up reusing for her next patient.

        So when he says his initial no, she pauses, lifting her gaze from her work to meet his gaze, his hand REFLEXIVELY poised and gripping his sword.

        Ah.

        Well, that would be a problem, wouldn’t it?

        She stands upright, using the back of her hand to brush aside some of her hair that has fallen in front of her face. ❝Yes, and wouldn’t that mean we are back to where we’ve started, in some ways more than one?❞ Tsukiko says with a bitter smile. ❝Powered by their own self-interest and the never-ending desire for more wealth, on top of that.❞ She gives a resigned shake of her head, realizing that this conversation comes down once more to the political agenda between the bakufu and the imperial court. What do they each want? The desire to welcome the west while to remain the same and unyielding to the foreigners. And there’s always pros and cons to each side, if there’s anything that she’s learned from her education. 

        ❝Have you told Kondou-san about this? I’m sure there’s something he could do if you find out what’s going on with the higher-ups now and what their plans are.❞ Especially since it would fall in line into making him a daimyō. Well, furthering the proper agendas and all.

        ❝I don’t think either of us would ever truly understand what goes through their minds.❞ She turns her gaze away from him, focusing on cleaning her tools. There’s only a small few now since Toshizou, thankfully, only needed stitches. Finished quickly, she stores them into her pouch. ❝It seems you have no choice but to wait it out and bear with the frustration until new orders are given.❞ A seemingly bitter pill to swallow, it seems.

        With that, she needs to do her rounds and give Toshizou his medication before she can let him go. Frustration aside, Tsukiko points to a chair in the room.

        ❝In the meantime, sit,❞ she orders. ❝I have some herbal tea I want to give you before you go since I’ve finished treating you.❞ Because how else is she going to get him to relax for five minutes than for forced social obligations at the clinic? ❝I’ll be right back and gods forgive me if I don’t find you because I’ll rip you a new one.❞ She gives him a pointed glare.

                 you don’t think about how much of a shit show this side of the grass really is until after you made it there, mud crusting beneath the soles of your sandals because those samurai born like keeping the drier, greener earth to themselves. history continues to repeat itself ever so fervently; always twisting, forming newer layers of flesh and muscle and take on myriads of names one right after the other. peace is temporary, the breakage of it is inevitable as long as they maintain free will and minds of their own. but they were going to make it. one way or another, toshizō would be sure of it. 

they were going to make history. leave their mark on this era. leave proof of their life behind. the future generations will sing songs of their glory; actors on stage re-enacting their triumphant memoirs. the road to that will be perilous, many lives will be lost and many will try and try again to hold them down. lapdogs of the shogun —— though degrading insults tend to fall on deaf ears, toshizō knows. he wills it that they are more, so much more, wolves tamed by no one but themselves and their codes of honor, their sincerities. the shogun cannot ever change that. he rather protect what is right in front of him than some unreachable lord in the clouds. 

“  you can’t have one without trading in another.  ”   toshizō exhales, half groaning under his breath. a sweet breeze blows, whisking fallen petals into the wind’s cradle. the very wind that forebodes war and blood, the wind they will ride into a new future, however that may look. however many may be left.  “  we scorn the west and wish to expel it, but we can’t do that without embracing their own inventions and ideologies.  ”   he gives her a dry smile, swallowing down his laughter towards the irony. it trickles in between his words as airy mirth.  “  rather than leeching us, we leech off of them. you heard word of illegal weaponry smugglers, eh?  ”

he is deliberately careful with what he tells her. hand softening its grip around his sword, being more gentle and kind, like he was caressing something he may eventually part ways with.  “  the weapons they got their hands on are supposedly more advanced ones from the west. the very men who viciously rally behind the sonnōn jōi philosophy and to expel the foreigners are partaking in those very western technologies.  ”   by his voice alone, it was clear he could not blame them. the shinsengumi have long ago incorporated artillery and firearms into their training regimen. this was an arm’s race of sorts, but the shinsengumi weren’t swimming in cash. 

“  kondou is more than aware of how they’re like.  ”   toshizō says airily, glancing to her and then proceeding to shuffle to the mat where she told him to sit.  “  he had a taste of that first hand when he went to the choshu domain as an envoy with itou; problem is kondou is loyal to a fault.  ”   a dry smirk curls slightly at that whilst his brows knitted tiredly. he couldn’t hold kondou harshly. he knows where that loyalty comes ---- not for the bakufu but to his word as a samurai. once the word is given, he’d choose to see it through regardless of how he may feel. that is their sincerity.   

BLACK TOURMALINE

you have a strength to you that has been hard earned. you don't hesitate to cut out the parts of you you despise, you're unafraid to call out others. your bluntness can off-put people at times, but you're unwilling to compromise your personal code. once your loyalty has been earned it is not easily shaken. you're a protector and you purge away anything you believe could harm you or those you love. when was the last time you relaxed, though? when was the last time you let down your guard? there is just as much strength in vulnerability.

           his blood wells up. blooming between her teeth and sticking as vibrant, crimson petals branching into the creases that mark her lips. a guttural wolf hums in his throat; not in pain but irritation. she’s undying and that’s a nuisance, always trying to crawl underneath his skin.  “   where did you learn your manners? from ogres?  ”  sword is readied to slice off her head if that jaw didn’t unhinge right then and there. 

𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓.     she’s  asked  herself  the  same  thing  over  and  over  from  time - to - time,     just  before  a  twinge  of  guilt  strikes  like  a  knife  to  the  heart.     after  all,     what  reason  had  she  to  even  question  her  life  when  she  lived  a  privileged  one.     it  was  certainly  far  greater  than  most  could  say.     yet  even  knowing  this,     the  thought  would  come  back  to  her  time  and  time  again.     it  infuriates  her  as  it  did  sadden  her.

shifting  glance  at  a  mother  and  child  not  too  far  in  the  distance,     eyes  soften  with  a  hint  of  envy.     of  sorrow.          ❝     perhaps  i  might’ve…     ❞          an  honest  answer  offered  with  utmost  sincerity.          ❝     isn’t  that  how  it  usually  goes,     however  ?     humans  tend  to  desire  the  things  they  don’t  have  ?     i  might  wish  for  a  life  of  normalcy,     to  find  love  and  grow  old  in  peace.     to  wake  up  each  morning  and  not  worry  about  things  like  politics…     ❞          a  painful  smile,          ❝     but  i’ve  grown  to  accept  what  i’ve  been  born  into.     but  i  am  fortunate  ━━━  truly.     i  am.     ❞          these  were  mere  thoughts  to  entertain,     nothing  more.     𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓.

            “  you are not wrong.  ”   a breath with a half-smile. to desire things they don’t have. he remembers that feeling a little too well. of a past beyond him, born a peasant who desired to be a warrior when the time forbade it; forbade it in name that is because they could never extinguish his spirit, his dreams. he held his blade and will always hold it. he wasn’t the luckiest, but he was luckier than most.