She was Kinumi, that's all one could really say about her. Kinumi was Kinumi, that was the only description, the only fitting word. She was hard to describe, to pin trifle and overused adjectives to. One could try, many had, but they always failed. One could say her hair glimmered like the sun upon the freshly fallen snow, but that didn't paint into picture how pristinely white it was, how silky soft it was, and just how much it matched her. One could speak of her maroon colored lips as the lips of a siren, but that did them not justice. It couldn't describe the small quirk to them as she wryly sneered at her fearful victim, how the corners pulled downwards as she heard another of her husband's silly "good deeds". You could not describe Kinumi with the same power and elegance that she embodied, so the only fitting word for her was Kinumi.
Her husband was another story. Ishin was easy to describe, there was not a single word that couldn't capture his bumbling idiocy and awkward foolery. He was such a stark difference to his wife. He smiled and he laughed, but not at the pain of others but instead at stupid jokes that tumbled from his chapped lips. His hair was white like hers, but it was nothing special, no luster nor shine. It was rough beneath one's fingers, just like his calloused from the years of sword work which he to this day had never excelled at. Ishin was not Ishin like Kinumi was Kinumi; Ishin was just a fool.
When Kinumi walked into a room, every stopped. Their breathing stilled, their words halted, and their hands paused mid-air in their gestures. All eyes one on her, from red eyes to green, from small beady eyes to large and endearing eyes. Everyone looked, everyone gaped, everyone admired. She commanded the room, her wry smile, her piercing eyes, her cold demeanor. She was proud and haughty, and they loved her for it because she told them to love her.
In behind her would come her husband though, slinking behind his wife like a shadow. He was the one in charge by technicalities, but his wife was the one that made the decisions. She was the one that sat on the throne, and he was the one that sat beside her watching the walls and the flies buzzing about. He was the weak one, the subordinate in the relationship. He took the orders, he bowed to his wife. He was not powerful and glorious like she was; he was just a lucky fool who, if he was good, got to bed the most magnificent woman to ever walk.
Many despised him. He was boring and replaceable, yet he was the one who had the most beautiful woman, or she had him. Honestly, if you were to be the lover of Kinumi, you were hers. You were her possession, her toy, her bitch. They understood that, every single man who lay awake at night with images of her ethereal beauty naked on top of him, and they desired it. They didn't understand why he got it and they didn't.
It was very hard to understand why he got her and they did not. Many of them were stronger, handsomer, better at everything than he was. They could kill with a single blow of the sword while he would dance for hours as he tried to talk his enemy of fighting. Why was he there, why was he hers? Why not them? There were reasons though, reasons buried with in little crevices of history hidden and draped in shadows. The truth, the reason, it existed but clouded and abandoned. Kinumi did never discuss it, embarrassed by his empathy and weakness, and he never did in fear of losing the only thing that ever made him worthy of any sort of notice.
But this tale is not here to share how they came to be. Save that for another day; a day when there are more words to share the beauty and the complexity of that story. Here we are to observe, to note her and her splendor and he and his timidity.
There was a poet once, who likened Kinumi and Ishin to the moon and the sun. She was the moon, he was the sun. The words are false though, another case of trying to catch the nuances and failing spectacularly. She was a moon, her pale and solemn beauty, fickle to a point but taunting at another. She was bigger than the moon though, her grandeur reached farther and wider, and her light, and darkness, shone brighter than any more there ever was. He was not a sun though, he didn't radiate anything. He was weak and shameful, docile in his ways. He did not bare down with a muddle of harsh brutality and saving kindness. He did not shine so blazingly nor so vastly, he was not a fixture so at place in the sky or in that court. He did not belong, he was not the sun.
It was hard to say though, what made their dynamic so different. There were plenty of pairs where the woman was domineering and the man was adherent. This one stood out though, ascended above the others to stand on the loftiest peak. They commanded people's attention, tore their eyes away from their papers and knit-work to watch in awe. There was something about her, so magnificent and so lofty in her power. And there was something about him, so pathetic, like a weed that needed to be cut but wasn't since it disguised itself as a flower. At the same time, he was genius because he had managed to become something from her, went down in history as great and terrible at the same time. He was more than just another demon, because he held onto her and pulled himself up, then let himself fall for the sake of a human woman. Again though, another story for another day.
My words do them no righteousness, I'm aware. There greatness was so great, it is impossible to catch in words. I've stated that. I've used every adjective I can, every illustrious word I can to describe them and still I find myself at a loss. How do I imprint them in your minds? They are so… Kinumi and Ishin. While I still hold to it that Kinumi is Kinumi and Ishin is just a fool, I will admit that together, they are simply Kinumi and Ishin. They used each other, they were polar opposites. I'll throw every cliché I can at you about them, but there is simply not a cliché, metaphor, or word that will do them the justice they deserve. I tried and I failed, I expected nothing more and nothing less, but at least I brought their story to another generation of urchins so for that, I shall be contented. As long as the world knows of Kinumi and Ishin, then it is a complete world.