[ on the other hand, maybe tsurumaru wants hijikata to hurt him — as if he's mocking his own inability to die somehow. his blood could stain the soil a dark red, and yet, death isn't kind; but if it doesn't want to take him, then he has to force it to take him, somehow. and if not him, then it can, at the very least, claim the life of this human beneath his feet.

so when hijikata unsheathes his blade — the kanesada one, judging by its length — tsurumaru doesn't flinch, instead digging his heel into hijikata's leg even further. after all, the last words of a man that was stabbed are what are you going to do, stab me? ]

If I die, I can't be stolen and polished and sold — that's why no one wants me to die. A strong desire to live? Don't make me laugh. After they — [ his people, his clan, the people dying in the mirrors. ] — died, humans only cared about how much I was worth, and how much I could be sold for.

That's how cruel humans are. You're human, too, but you're also kind — so there's no need to be with any of this cruelty for longer than you have to.

[ he'll keep pressing down with the bottom of his platform, and given that they're three, solid inches of... the Tough Stuff that tsukumogami shoes are made out of, it's bound to hurt, and with enough weight, there's the first, tiny snap of something that's probably kind of vital. ]

You shouldn't run, you know. If you struggle even more, I'll have to hurt you further.