#doujigiri

Since I redesigned her I wanted to see if her clothes works or I did something weird so here are the morning routine of a mom preparing for work.  

The sketch from the other day liked me so much I decided to clean it up a little and color it. 

Hesitation weighs down her footsteps as she approaches him, bronze eyes scan the silhouette of his toned frame against the open window and the anticipation makes her heart race. This isn’t the first time she’s stood so closely beside him, but now she has to balls her hands into fists, trying to control the thrills that trip over her heart. Can he hear how quickly it drums against her chest? She hopes he does, she hopes he doesn’t. “Kazama-san,” she bites her lip, “You keep saying that I’m your bride…but all this time… you haven’t even kissed me—“

Reluctance presses her pout into a thin line, “—is this am I what you really want?”

Welcome home, Doujigiri!!!

Douji waking up for the first time in the test tube, empty and aimless and all he sees is blue.

Douji waking up for the second time, people staring at him, talking to themselves but he can't hear them. He's numbed and hollowed out.

Douji waking up again with Oboro staring in at him. He's a little less numb, but he still feels so empty.

Douji manifested, summoned before the saniwa. His skin is too hot outside of the test tube, no viscous fluid to keep him safe. His senses are on fire. It's too noisy, the sound of battle ringing in his ears, even when there are no swords clashing near him. He can smell death and decay but no matter how hard he tries to turn away from it, it follows him.

Douji who greets the Saniwa stiffly, limbs like a marionette, an unknown master pulling his strings, as the Saniwa nods and welcomes him.

Douji whose thoughts play over and over again 'I'm not him I'm not him I'm not him'.

Douji who hears 'incomplete', 'not ready', from everyone who looks at him and sees someone else. Who expects something different.

Douji who can't say the name he was given because he isn't him. He's not right. He's broken.

Douji who scrubs his skin when he gets the first chance but the smell Mikazuki Munechika mentioned will not leave him. It hurts, and it stings and he rubs it raw, scrubs at the metal shards and the wires still under his skin. At all his scars as though they hold the rot.

Douji who tries to hold his sword but his grip is weak and his limbs aren't solid, and he stumbles and trembles and cannot do it right.

Douji who sees other Touken Danshi who can. Why is he so different?

Douji who avoids seeing visiting time govt officials, because he cannot stop thinking of lab coats and clipboards and scalpels.

Douji who can't sleep because he dreams of drowning.

Douji who can't introduce himself, can't offer his name, because it feels like a lie to speak it.

Douji who aches inside when he turns away or cannot match someone who knows 'him'. Like he's betraying them.

Douji who waits for the saniwa to be disappointed in him, in his failure, in his broken form, in his scarred body.

Douji who looks at the HRA and can't quite see an enemy.

Douji who repeats the mantra embedded in him because it's all he says. Protect history.

Douji who feels like a shadow of a person, reminding himself how to breathe, to eat, to speak, to walk.

Douji who wonders if breaking is the only option for a pale imitation.

❝I do not believe in demons.❞

she speaks with conviction. there are no lies hidden within her words. no secrets to hide beneath the sharpness of her gaze. it is clear she is growing tired of such a foolish game. speaking of fantasy as if it would come to life && strike her with a blade. she had no interest in it all. the men may call her what they will, but how she wished they would leave the general public out of such nonsensical babble such as this. now even strangers mocked her upon the streets with which they patrol! 

❝do not think to waste my TIME.❞

she attempts to bypass the other, the man of foreign hair && questionable tastes. her blade is still drawn--- fresh crimson slithering down it’s surface at a sickening pace. soaking the earth in the life of another MORTAL man. the tea house had quickly turned into a battlefront for the infamous vice-commander. && just as swiftly--she was confident--it would end.