I don't remember when I was born, the only semblance of memory I had of the moment was the heat and crackling of the fire. And that was all. In fact, I don't remember anything clearly. They're all fuzzy, shattered into millions of pieces and scattered throughout the endless void, forever unreachable by these hands of mind. But I don't really care anyway.
The only thing I remember was being in possession of that person, strapped on his waist, hidden under the sky blue haori, sleeves painted with white wave of mountains, 'Sincerity' etched on the back. That person was strong and strict but, at the same time, soft and kind. That person was my master.
Besides that person, there was someone else, and two other— they're similar to me, born out of flames and metal. They smile and laugh. They fight and cry. They came to me, introducing themselves and inviting me to go with them and play. Why? We're not humans. Why are you acting like them?
The sensation of cutting flesh and the spray of blood, staining both the assailant and victim in pure red, was all we needed. We are weapons. We are meant to take one's life, or used to protect another's. That's all we exist for. If not for this purpose, then why was I— why were we even created?
Forge another sword, that person had said. Have I become dull? Useless? Unusable? To the point that that person needed to forge another? To replace me? Have I lost my worth, my reason for existence?
… Similar to this one, that person had continued, as he removed me from his waist, handing me to another person.
Then it struck me. Similar… to me? That person had left after that, leaving me with the unfamiliar human, a swordsmith.
The heat of the forge was familiar, similar to the only piece of memory I have of my own time of creation. The smith examined every single detail of the metal that is my body, carefully replicating my patterns into the new, but still incomplete sword.
I wondered, as I watched the metal being folded, hear the strikes of metal on metal, feel the warmth of the blaze crackling in the forge. How would I face the newborn of my own kind, oblivious of what's to come? As I pondered, the process continued. And finally, I decided, as the smith breathes life to the new sword with a name, what I will do.
He was pure, and oblivious, as I had thought. His curiosity knows no bounds, as he tugged on my sleeve and asked me what something is. I reply, with a smile that I've practiced many times. Looking at him gives me a feeling I've never felt before.
Everything looked brighter with him. His smile shines brighter than the sun itself. He brings laughter and joy. But yet he also brings a sense of death, being a weapon meant to murder. It's an irony, the way he acted like a human, living amongst them, and at the same time, erases them from the living.
I can't understand it. That's all that ran through my mind, as I sat on the side and watched him with the two from before, running, playing, laughing, quarreling. He cried as he ran towards me, and I gave him a pat on the head, before telling the two off. He grinned at me as they scurried off, and I instinctively smiled at him.
Sometimes, I thought, as the strange feeling in my heart persists, that it would be nice that everything would stay as it is. But it's too much to ask for, isn't it?
Nighttime strikes, battle cries among clashing of swords. A piece of metal embedded onto the wood. Red falls, blue weeps, screaming and kicking, as he was pulled away, and sent off away from us.
Framing and Execution. Black was taken away. And now it's only the two of us left. He clinged to me and cried silently, sobs muffled by my sleeve he buried his face in. I closed my eyes, patting his head until his tears stopped.
I was naive to think that we would be safe. A war. That person had resolved himself, for his life to end. He was sent away, crying, screaming and kicking— a similar scene had happened before. (I wonder how _ is doing?)
I promised him that I'll be back, and that I'll join him there soon, and he finally calmed down, before giving me a crooked grin. He tried his best, but I know that as soon as I leave, he's going to cry again.
That promise was of course, a lie.
That person falls. The sound of gunshot was still ringing in my ears, as I lie beside that person's body, blood slowly pooling under it. I knew this would happen, but it still hurts.
The swaying of a boat, sounds of waves splashing onto wood. The sky above me, the sea below me. And then I fell down the bubbling surface, the light slowly became unreachable. Slowly sinking down to the bottom of the deep abyss accompanied by creatures living down in the pure darkness.
It's quiet. Without any sound. Dark. Without any semblance of light. Nothing. I felt nothing on the bottom, merely waiting for the day metal completely corrodes, ending my pitiful existence, before ever fulfilling the promise (lie).
If only I can have a second chance, I would definitely cherish him and protect him.
As if someone heard my wish, I felt a tug pulling me from the darkness into the light. Petals strewn about, and they stood in front of me. The first thing that comes out of my mouth was his name, but I apologized and introduced myself. They laughed, and explained why I'm currently here, and not on the bottom of the sea.
Is this a second chance? To fulfill the promise I made to him?
They are also here. Red, whom I thought had fallen. Blue, who was sent away. They were both here and they ran up to me, hugging me. I smiled— I was glad to see them.
They began telling me about what had occurred, about what they do in this place as they brought me around, checking the place I will soon call home. They laughed and bickered, just like they used to do. I smiled, instead of reprimanding them like I used to do.
And then they nudged me into a room, as I turned to look at them. They did not follow. I forgot how to breathe, as I stepped into the room. My throat feels constricted and I'm gasping for air, as if I'm still under the deep dark.
He was there. He looked different from what I remember, but I can recognize him. He looks at me, expression morphing into a mix of happiness, sadness, and shock. Tears threatened to leak from his eyes.
We ran up to each other, and he pulled me into an embrace. He's taller than me now… He used to be around my own height. He smiled, going on about how he's cool and fabulous. I laughed at him.
He pulled away and cocked his head to the side, telling me that there's something I should be saying before all this. I tilted my head at that, and he huffed in annoyance.
Welcome back, he said.
I'm back.
I smiled at him and he grinned. You've fulfilled your promise now, he continued. I hummed, my vision turning blurry, and he pulled me into his arms once again.
I promise, I'll be a better partner and assistant for you.
Having human bodies comes with a risk. Even more so when we put our lives on the line to protect history. He was hurt; it was instinct to jump in front of him and receive the blow meant for him.
He scolds me as we come back, telling me that it was close— that I was about to break. I shrug him off and merely smile. He leaves the room with a huff and I realize I'm not strong enough to protect him.
I need to be stronger, as his partner and assistant.
I went to their room, asking if I can leave the place for a while. I need to train, to become stronger. They gave permission, and a small party was held before my leave. He smiles at me and tells me good luck.
And so I left.
To that person's place, once again. Reliving the moments of the past, training both my body and soul. Time goes on and I return, a small party being held once again, celebrating the success of my training.
In the short time I was gone, something happened. He started going off alone and got along with others, laughing, grinning, bickering. I'm happy, but at the same time, something felt really off.
My heart hurts, whenever I see him close with someone else. I went to ask them, and they told me it was called jealousy. Am I really jealous? They laugh, saying that I'm probably in love, to be jealous of somebody being close to him.
But I told them, that I was only his partner and assistant, and that I can't be in love with him. They put a hand on my shoulder, and reassure me that it's okay to love. I left their quarters, pondering about it.
And I stumbled upon something horrifying.
He and someone else were under the tree, kissing. I could only watch in shock. They almost noticed me, but I took off far away. The scene was etched in my mind.
That left me pondering for a long while, hindering my prowess to the point that everyone is worried about me— including him— and asking about what's on my mind, to which I smile and brush them all off.
And then I start noticing more things. We share a room, but he's sleeping somewhere else. We used to sit next to each other in meal times, but now he sits somewhere else.
Is it really okay for me to feel jealous, when I'm merely his assistant?
He looks happy with his partner, far happier than he is with me. And that's fine. As long as he's happy, it's all fine. I just have to support him. If he loves them, then I'll support his love.
All of the feelings I have inside of me, I'll lock them, throw them away and destroy them.
There is no need for these feelings.
These feelings merely get in the way of my duty, my mission. It may only bring him down— a burden on both me and him, if it ever comes to light.
For him, I'll become his sword and his shield. I won't let anything hurt him. For the time he spent being alone due to the lie I had promised him. Because…
I am only his partner and assistant, nothing more, nothing less.