[ ezo — it raises rin's brows as she tries to recall where that is for the briefest moment while her ears still listen to her grandfather's words.
so this is the hidden story of their family. the parts that disappear in pieces throughout history from each person within their bloodline. already she wonders what else there is about the legendary renjiro that her father hasn't mentioned to her before — what else is there to tell her when her father has drilled everything he knew in her mind since she was a young girl? the reason why she has to learn the art of the sword even when she didn't?
(right, ezo is hokkaido.)
there's a smile on rin's face with how she imagines the great renjiro rise from rags to riches. how amazing he must have been have made their family famous back in the day — and how clear it is that he loves his family as well. so kazan gains a wonderful childhood, and surely that means he's given his family that as well.
they are yamaokas however, and life is not always beautiful even if they value their family.
had rin been human, her face would have gone pale as kazan's story takes a darker turn. pretenders? the need to purge them — murder. when she looks at her hand, the sheathe of her sword, the source of constant pain and reminder that she made a contract with the entity... this is the same sword that her ancestor used to kill them all?
she takes in a sharp inhale as fingers curl up into her palm so tightly. ]
... so it's you who ended my my mother's life.
[ when the story is over, rin stays silent until she breaks it with words from her heart that's laced with the cursed rage within her blood. it may have been her father who sliced her into pieces, but if it weren't for the man in front of her — ]
If it wasn't for you, then my father may not have hurt us.... [ right? wouldn't they have been happy? ] Your pride influenced him like it did me when I relished the violence.
[ the boys that fought her on the street after school. their taunts, the fury she unleashed — and it felt good. as though she let the souls of her ancestors guide her movements and deal with her terrors. this time, however, she knows better. this time it's her own words and thoughts despite being laced with the curse.
her scarred hand — the sheathe of her shattered sword — raises over her dead heart. there are no beats and yet she takes in deeper, harsher breaths as though she had a living heart that races. nails dig into her cold skin before she glares at him with those glowing white pupils of hers. ]
You — this is all your fault... your selfishness. Your desire for blood that you disguise as justice... [ she takes in a sharp, shaky breath. ] IF IT WASN'T FOR YOU I WOULDN'T BE HERE!
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so this is the hidden story of their family. the parts that disappear in pieces throughout history from each person within their bloodline. already she wonders what else there is about the legendary renjiro that her father hasn't mentioned to her before — what else is there to tell her when her father has drilled everything he knew in her mind since she was a young girl? the reason why she has to learn the art of the sword even when she didn't?
(right, ezo is hokkaido.)
there's a smile on rin's face with how she imagines the great renjiro rise from rags to riches. how amazing he must have been have made their family famous back in the day — and how clear it is that he loves his family as well. so kazan gains a wonderful childhood, and surely that means he's given his family that as well.
they are yamaokas however, and life is not always beautiful even if they value their family.
had rin been human, her face would have gone pale as kazan's story takes a darker turn. pretenders? the need to purge them — murder. when she looks at her hand, the sheathe of her sword, the source of constant pain and reminder that she made a contract with the entity... this is the same sword that her ancestor used to kill them all?
she takes in a sharp inhale as fingers curl up into her palm so tightly. ]
... so it's you who ended my my mother's life.
[ when the story is over, rin stays silent until she breaks it with words from her heart that's laced with the cursed rage within her blood. it may have been her father who sliced her into pieces, but if it weren't for the man in front of her — ]
If it wasn't for you, then my father may not have hurt us.... [ right? wouldn't they have been happy? ] Your pride influenced him like it did me when I relished the violence.
[ the boys that fought her on the street after school. their taunts, the fury she unleashed — and it felt good. as though she let the souls of her ancestors guide her movements and deal with her terrors. this time, however, she knows better. this time it's her own words and thoughts despite being laced with the curse.
her scarred hand — the sheathe of her shattered sword — raises over her dead heart. there are no beats and yet she takes in deeper, harsher breaths as though she had a living heart that races. nails dig into her cold skin before she glares at him with those glowing white pupils of hers. ]
You — this is all your fault... your selfishness. Your desire for blood that you disguise as justice... [ she takes in a sharp, shaky breath. ] IF IT WASN'T FOR YOU I WOULDN'T BE HERE!