[Another unfortunate shared trait, then - the fear of that underlying ugliness, the rot that they both try to shove away because it's something no one else should see. No one else should have to see it. Kashuu in particular doesn't want anyone to see it, because it's far from the beauty he strives for and he simply can't have that, not at all.
That's why he never goes in depth when he discusses his past. He mentions his origins, of course, because that can simply be read in a history book and it would look weak and awful if someone found out he was hiding that. They would know it bothered him, then. But if he owns it, announces it proudly, casually says things like I'm a child of the river, you know, no one would ever be able to tell. It's why he doesn't say anything directly now either, even though he can't stop the way his eyes dart to the side when Souji lifts his chin and examines him like one might do with his vessel. He's suddenly afraid that a close look will reveal too much of that stain, the stigma of kegare that sticks to everything from the dry riverbeds, and he very nearly pulls away.]
...They weren't really wrong to warn you.
[Souji's words are kind, though, and his hand is warm as ever. Kashuu's eyes flit back to his face without any coaxing needed. ...Normally, he shies away from everything having to do with these topics, but that would seem almost insulting after everything Souji had just said, so:]
I mean, a whooole bunch of samurai tested me out. My smith wasn't bad even if he lived in that place, so a lot of people wanted his swords, but not just anyone who's swung a blade before could wield me right. He'd tell everyone but- [A sloping shrug.] -no one really listened. "This blade is hard to wield, but has great payoff", things like that. And then they wouldn't even be able to cut through one straw dummy with me and they'd get so mad, and they would blame it on him, see? Because of course some dirty hinin smith would only be able to craft a sword that can't cut.
[And that's the way things had always been, as Kashuu remembers them. The people he had grown into conscious being with were extreme outcasts. Though Kiyomitsu managed to make a name for himself, Kashuu still remembers seeing people from their village walking through the streets on errands and normal citizens parting like the sea for them, as though they were diseased, spoiled, tainted. He glances away again.]
...So when you picked me up that first time, I wasn't really expecting much. But— but it was you, you know? It was only you. In all those years, you were the only one who was ever able to wield me properly. I didn't know where you came from or why you were looking for a sword or who you were fighting with or what you were fighting for, and I didn't care because you were the only one. So... if they were telling you not to try and you did anyway, I need to thank you.
[Because up to that point, Souji was the best thing he had in his life.]
its what theyre stuck with anyway...
That's why he never goes in depth when he discusses his past. He mentions his origins, of course, because that can simply be read in a history book and it would look weak and awful if someone found out he was hiding that. They would know it bothered him, then. But if he owns it, announces it proudly, casually says things like I'm a child of the river, you know, no one would ever be able to tell. It's why he doesn't say anything directly now either, even though he can't stop the way his eyes dart to the side when Souji lifts his chin and examines him like one might do with his vessel. He's suddenly afraid that a close look will reveal too much of that stain, the stigma of kegare that sticks to everything from the dry riverbeds, and he very nearly pulls away.]
...They weren't really wrong to warn you.
[Souji's words are kind, though, and his hand is warm as ever. Kashuu's eyes flit back to his face without any coaxing needed. ...Normally, he shies away from everything having to do with these topics, but that would seem almost insulting after everything Souji had just said, so:]
I mean, a whooole bunch of samurai tested me out. My smith wasn't bad even if he lived in that place, so a lot of people wanted his swords, but not just anyone who's swung a blade before could wield me right. He'd tell everyone but- [A sloping shrug.] -no one really listened. "This blade is hard to wield, but has great payoff", things like that. And then they wouldn't even be able to cut through one straw dummy with me and they'd get so mad, and they would blame it on him, see? Because of course some dirty hinin smith would only be able to craft a sword that can't cut.
[And that's the way things had always been, as Kashuu remembers them. The people he had grown into conscious being with were extreme outcasts. Though Kiyomitsu managed to make a name for himself, Kashuu still remembers seeing people from their village walking through the streets on errands and normal citizens parting like the sea for them, as though they were diseased, spoiled, tainted. He glances away again.]
...So when you picked me up that first time, I wasn't really expecting much. But— but it was you, you know? It was only you. In all those years, you were the only one who was ever able to wield me properly. I didn't know where you came from or why you were looking for a sword or who you were fighting with or what you were fighting for, and I didn't care because you were the only one. So... if they were telling you not to try and you did anyway, I need to thank you.
[Because up to that point, Souji was the best thing he had in his life.]