Of Swords and Words
"I hate you!"
Three words.
How could they hurt so?
But they did.
A mother's tears.
For a child who had spat the words out.
For a love that had vanished.
Where was the child that had once been held in her arms?
Where was the child that had come running toward her, arms outstretched?
Gone.
In its place stood a young man.
Wrathful and angry.
How his words cut her so.
How they hurt her.
She had given up the years of her prime to bear him, take care of him.
She had given up her time of solitude and quietness to raise him.
She had loved him, kissed his scarred hands when he fell, comforted him after a nightmare.
She knelt down, in tears.
As her son, she could not think of him other than being her son, walked out.
--xxx---
Minutes later, another person walked in.
Not, stormed in.
Battousai.
He had killed her husband, out in the fields.
It was her turn.
The woman, a spy for the Shinsengumi, met her fate.
Without resistance, despite having her katana at hand beside her.
For the blows of the sword would hurt her less than her son's cruel words.
She knew it.
And knew that the coming death would bring reprieve.
Reprieve from the pain in her heart.
Her life was a small price to pay for peace.
Battousai's katana came slicing down.
Blood splattered.
There was silence.
Her face was the last thing the hitokiri saw as he left the house.
Her upturned face.
Battousai would later recall that hers was the most peaceful face he had ever seen on a person he had killed.
~ Owari
--xxx--
Author's Notes:
Sometimes, words can hurt more than the blade of a sword can.
Think about it.
"I hate you!"
Three words.
How could they hurt so?
But they did.
A mother's tears.
For a child who had spat the words out.
For a love that had vanished.
Where was the child that had once been held in her arms?
Where was the child that had come running toward her, arms outstretched?
Gone.
In its place stood a young man.
Wrathful and angry.
How his words cut her so.
How they hurt her.
She had given up the years of her prime to bear him, take care of him.
She had given up her time of solitude and quietness to raise him.
She had loved him, kissed his scarred hands when he fell, comforted him after a nightmare.
She knelt down, in tears.
As her son, she could not think of him other than being her son, walked out.
--xxx---
Minutes later, another person walked in.
Not, stormed in.
Battousai.
He had killed her husband, out in the fields.
It was her turn.
The woman, a spy for the Shinsengumi, met her fate.
Without resistance, despite having her katana at hand beside her.
For the blows of the sword would hurt her less than her son's cruel words.
She knew it.
And knew that the coming death would bring reprieve.
Reprieve from the pain in her heart.
Her life was a small price to pay for peace.
Battousai's katana came slicing down.
Blood splattered.
There was silence.
Her face was the last thing the hitokiri saw as he left the house.
Her upturned face.
Battousai would later recall that hers was the most peaceful face he had ever seen on a person he had killed.
~ Owari
--xxx--
Author's Notes:
Sometimes, words can hurt more than the blade of a sword can.
Think about it.