[It is a pretty outlandish story, and Souji still isn't sure what to think about it. Had the creature really just been an insane human, twisted by the need for revenge and turned into a monster by a child's imagination? But even discounting the childlike stature and the unnatural strength, he remembers that fixed grin and those eyes that seemed almost to glow in the gloom. No, he can't bring himself to believe it was a mere human being he faced back then.
He shakes his head, his expression distant, as he once again feels the jagged rocks shifting underneath his feet, the stickiness of blood drying on his skin, hears Hijikata's strained breathing and then, bursting out of his own throat like sickness from a wound, a thin and helpless wail of despair.]
No, we didn't. Before anyone else arrived, Hijikata-san... [He makes an embarrassed little sound, looking away awkwardly.] Well, he smashed the sword against a rock. Sorry. [It makes him wince, because it seems like a terrible thing to talk about with any sword spirit, let alone one that was shattered himself and still keenly feels the wound that left on him.] I think it's what my father wanted him to do right away back when he gave it to him. But Hijikata-san was a little boy who desperately dreamed of being a samurai even though he was a farmer's son, you know? How could he bring himself to break something so beautiful, something that was supposed to be forbidden for him but now was his? He couldn't do it. Not until breaking it meant he was keeping me safe.
...Anyway, in a sense, he found a new sword that day.
TW BREAKING SWORDS tbh
He shakes his head, his expression distant, as he once again feels the jagged rocks shifting underneath his feet, the stickiness of blood drying on his skin, hears Hijikata's strained breathing and then, bursting out of his own throat like sickness from a wound, a thin and helpless wail of despair.]
No, we didn't. Before anyone else arrived, Hijikata-san... [He makes an embarrassed little sound, looking away awkwardly.] Well, he smashed the sword against a rock. Sorry. [It makes him wince, because it seems like a terrible thing to talk about with any sword spirit, let alone one that was shattered himself and still keenly feels the wound that left on him.] I think it's what my father wanted him to do right away back when he gave it to him. But Hijikata-san was a little boy who desperately dreamed of being a samurai even though he was a farmer's son, you know? How could he bring himself to break something so beautiful, something that was supposed to be forbidden for him but now was his? He couldn't do it. Not until breaking it meant he was keeping me safe.
...Anyway, in a sense, he found a new sword that day.