Windows of the Soul: Part Thirty-Six

"First, I am present."

Shizuru glanced at me, smiling slightly. She crouched, her katana slung almost casually through her obi. "It's a simple thing, really. If you aren't tightly focused on your surroundings, you'll miss important things, and endanger yourself somewhat." She slipped into seiza, tucking herself neatly into place. "Moving from introspection to focus is an art-form unto itself, especially for someone like me. As you've noted before, I let my mind move in strange and unusual ways."

I nodded quietly. "I see…"

Her left hand snapped up, gripping the sheath of her katana. Her right hand grabbed the hilt and drew her sword in one smooth motion. Her feet moved slightly, her grip shifted deftly, and her sword slashed horizontally towards me. Her eyes gazed over the edge of the blade, and met my own. Her sword shifted, coming up over her head and slashing down decisively. "The attack is sudden. I draw my sword and strike without hesitation."

Even though I was a good six feet from her, it was still somehow intimidating. There was a subtle play of light, in a dull way. No shine, but rather a sword that is not just ornamental but also dangerous. And of course, there are always those red eyes. Their focused intent was also terrifying. But most of all, she had been fast. I'd been waiting, but it was still impressive to see how decisively she could move a long blade.

"That's impressive," I said, sincerely.

"That was a little slow," Shizuru returned. "But good enough." Somehow, her voice was almost cold, as if I really was an enemy to her right now. Her sword was held at arm's length, without moving. A moment later, her left hand fell away from the hilt, gripping the sheath. Her katana flicked casually to the side, still controlled, then she sheathed it deftly. "Iaido's first kata. Of course, performing it with my Nihonto is a little careless. But a sword is made to be used."

"More lessons from old man Shinri?" I asked thoughtfully.

"In part. But this was taught to me by my old sensei. That was some years ago, when I was at home enough to justify the expense, of course." Shizuru watched me carefully, as if gauging my reaction. "In any case, the principle is to decisively react to any situation, without any kind of hesitation."

"Is that a life lesson, or something?"

"In part, though not one I was ever very good at taking to heart. But it's also, quite simply, a matter of the sword." Shizuru kept her voice very even. "Or, in other words, my art is that of saving your own life by taking that of another person in the most efficient way possible."

"So, basically, it's a martial art," I suggested. There was something queer about the look she gave me, and something altogether surreal about the whole situation. We were up ridiculously late at night, and Shizuru was demonstrating rudimentary swordplay. I would laugh, if it wasn't for the fact that her eyes were so very serious.

"Of course, you're right. And that also means that it's part of a broader framework, and has proper ways of doing things. The implication is that I am learning from my betters, and most likely that is true. There are eleven more kata, and various other ways to practise." Shizuru casually pulled the sheath of her sword out of her obi, moving it deftly and resting it over her left shoulder. "But none of that is part of how I fight when I must tie my training together in improvisational ways. That is, probably, where there's more meaning to the phrase that this sword, and my others, are my personal power, my honour, and my soul." She smiled at me. "Isn't that an anachronistic notion?"

I returned her smile. "Is that aimed at me? But, well, it is. Just a little."

Shizuru nodded.

A moment later, she drew her sword and slashed horizontally. This time, the strike was far higher, in line with her eyes, and ended with her sword held decisively to the side. A moment later, she stepped back, adjusting her grip and stabbing her sword decisively forwards. Her motion had been violent, but the sword was steady, pointed straight at my face. Her eyes ran down the edge of the blade and met my own, then she dropped her scabbard. It clattered as it hit the floor, point first, and Shizuru slashed again, diagonally upwards. Her left hand met the hilt as her blade was in motion, checking it then slashing down again, before following through with two more vicious cuts. She took a step back, her eyes burning.

It was striking, but not because this passion was new to me. Quite the opposite.

Shizuru moved her feet deftly, twisting her sword from position to position, blocking an invisible assailant. Each movement was decisive but controlled, snapping from position to position as if she was just barely reigning in and disciplining her own strength. It was a deceptive picture. Her body followed an almost wavelike motion, crashing from stance to stance with taunt passion. But her hands moved deftly about the hilt of her blade, shifting position and moderating her stance. Her left fingers slid up the blunt edge, steadying a shift to a horizontal block, then pushed off as she stepped back again. Her feet, too, moved with elegance and control. She stepped forwards, and back, and sideways, freely and smoothly. Never disturbing the tempo of her own attacks. And she was never, ever off-balance.

Of course, fighting an invisible enemy is easy enough. But the rapidity of her movement was real, and the weight of her sword was real, and her steady and unflinching grip was real. The same went for her intent; her tight lips and narrow, angry eyes radiated focus. Presence. In a way, it was a contradiction. Her whole body radiated a vicious forcefulness, but her every motion was tempered by a tight, unflinching discipline. It wasn't quite bezerk, and it wasn't quite rational. The overall result was terrifying, and beautiful to watch.

And, on another level, she was unconfined. Her steps had no pattern that I could discern, and while I could at least guess that the motions of her sword matched them- for she didn't stumble- they were also incomprehensible. She moved her sword through motion after motion, cuts and thrusts in every direction. And she turned, as well, or cut to her sides or over her shoulders. The overall impression was that she was fighting enemies on all sides, alone. I couldn't speak, and there was nothing to say anyway. I could just watch her.

And she had a rough, cruel beauty.

Her breath came fast as she continued to move, but she didn't let tiredness show on her face. Her kimono shifted about her, white flicking out as she turned, pale against her skin. And her hair spilled around her, untied- even though she knew she was doing this. It was the only splash of colour she possessed, save for her curt eyes, a striking crimson tracing her own sword. Sweat beaded her brow, visibly running down her face as she continued. It was strange, violent and uncoordinated as it seemed, but also haunting. For some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off her in that moment.

It's not that she was especially beautiful, in objective terms. Shizuru is always beautiful, and violent exertion did not allow her to maintain her normal presentation. And it wasn't sexual, either, because she always has a good body, and she can dress and act flatteringly. But it was also both those things, and something else. It was something close to how she was in the Carnival, but not quite that. Even though this was violent, it was also warmer. Her cold and broken sadism was completely absent. Rather, you could say she was furious, wrapped in a passion I couldn't see. Rather than being possessed by impossibly distant and forceful emotions, she was consumed from moment to moment by the moment itself. Or, at least, that was how it appeared to me.

I wonder what she's fighting.

It was also a little strange, and a little daring, and a little dangerous. All of those things, which tell of distinction from the norm, and the eroticism of treading on the edge of something, are also a part of it. Shizuru has always possessed those qualities, though, especially to my eye. She makes the ordinary plain, and is always unbounded by it. That's why she can do those in front of me at one in the morning, not why her doing this at one in the morning catches my eye.

There's one more thing, though, and that's the sheer, unreconstructed energy of the thing. Shizuru always acts as if she's half-asleep when she can, as a result of being fully awake. Gentle, lazy and soft are all words I'd associate with her ordinary self. The words tied to her by her own public image. But this brought her to life, from her kinetic actions to the passion in her eyes. I know it comes from pain and I know it comes from sadness. Even so, this is better than her throwing herself into cold light cold water. Right now, rudely and forcefully, she is alive, and forcing herself upon the world around her.

It reminds me of myself, or perhaps how she speaks of me. I must be a vain person, because I loved to see it in her. Even after our past. Even after our own pains. Even after being shot at and stabbed at and kicked and threatened and cursed and interrogated and troubled by so many things, and so many memories, she was still rudely alive. Even if she rarely shows it, she still possessed this kind of passion and strength inside.

So I watched her without interrupting. But of course, one of that changes the fact that she was tired, and still not a little ill. Even for Shizuru, anger and force of will have limits. As that weakened her, she slowed and softened rather than compromising her self-control. Exhaustion mellowed her quite visibly, her tiredness transmuting by dignity alone into her usual aristocratic reserve. And that was also Shizuru. She isn't a mystery or a matching set or anything else. The Shizuru who sat and smiled and the Shizuru who cursed herself and the world were one and the same. I had time for all of her and a marvel for her many faces. They're not just lies any more, either. She's made a habit of showing her sincere self to me.

One of the common threads is the Shizuru who always goes too far, whatever it is she is doing.

Her knees folded under her, only partly voluntarily, and she crouched, half-supporting herself on her katana. "Damn," she murmured quietly. She leaned forwards, taking heavy breaths and supporting herself with her left hand. Her right moved, laying her sword down gently. "I guess this is all I can do, right now…"

I scrambled up, running to help her. Shizuru pushed herself up, managing to turn her breathless crouch into seiza. And she looked up at me, smiling thinly. "I'm sorry, Natsuki. Though it was a little different from the usual, I still had to be very… unsightly…"

"It suits you," I replied, offering her my hand. "You shouldn't be ashamed of it."

"Do you think?" Shizuru asked, sounding a little off-guard. She breathed deeply, while trying to hide that fact, then started to cough. "Damn. I just need to collect my sword-"

"I'll do that," I replied, leaning down and grabbing her by the arm. "You should just rest, and wait for me."

"I'll do what I can," Shizuru replied, sounding almost sleepy. She followed me without offering further resistance, sitting on one of the cushions at the edge of the dojo and hugging her knees childishly. "Thank you for everything, Natsuki."

"This is nothing," I replied sincerely, crossing the room and picking up the scabbard where she'd let it fall.

"Whatever you say, it's still rather strange, isn't it?" Shizuru asked pointedly. "I can't imagine you've ever done anything so vulgar yourself."

"That's not true," I replied absently, gingerly taking her katana and trying to slide it into the sheath. Just how did she make it look so easy, anyway? It was annoying. "It's a pretty simple thing, but sometimes you just want to smash something. That's only human."

"I think, that doesn't mean it isn't vulgar," Shizuru said doubtfully.

"It's vulgar but healthy, unlike you and your habit of repressing everything," I replied, turning and walking back. "You know, you really should do this more often. It could help you cheer up and stop blaming yourself for everything all the time."

Shizuru coughed again, restraining herself as best she could. "I wonder. I don't think my problems are that simple…"

"It's better than self-harm, anyway," I said firmly, sitting next to her and handing her the sword. "There isn't anything to be ashamed of, either. In case you haven't noticed, we are on your side."

"I know." Shizuru closed her eyes, rubbing her hot cheeks. "But sometimes I wonder whether I am on my side."

I chuckled at that, smirking slightly. "You know, me too. But it's probably fine, just as long as you considerately remember us as well."

"But isn't a pain, and something troublesome?" Shizuru asked, glancing at me. Her eyes had shadows, but they were still lively. "I remember you saying that a lot."

"Just because you annoy someone a little, that doesn't mean the end of the world," I reminded her. "Besides, that's only one part of you. I care for the whole… and even that one small part of you, as illogical as it may seem. That's why you shouldn't punish yourself for punishing yourself, at least." I leaned back, resting my head against the dojo wall. "That would just be silly."

"I suppose so," Shizuru conceded. She rested her sword on her lap, touching the sheath gently. And for a few moments, she didn't say anything. When I glanced sidelong at her, she was just looking down thoughtfully, quiet and contained. "You know, I do genuinely believe in that," she said eventually. "Even though this world is rather different from the one where all those traditions lie… and even they're a family matter, rather than something sincerely for me alone… there's something fundamental about my sword. Your weapons would be the same, but…" Shizuru stopped and sighed. "It's probably too late at night for philosophy. I can't think straight."

"That's fine. I know what you mean. But I'm not particularly complicated about it, either." I glanced sidelong at her. "You know, Shizuru. You looked pretty cool."

Shizuru flushed slightly, looking away. "You flatter me too much…"

"You know, you're surprisingly bad at taking compliments, from time to time," I noted, sounding a little surprised. "Isn't that against type?"

"Natsuki is different," Shizuru replied, giving me a small smile. "You always have been."

"I'll bear that in mind. It could be useful."

"I hope you aren't plotting against me. My dignity is important." Shizuru made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a yawn, before leaning back. Her head touched the wall behind her, and then she shifted, propping herself up against it. "Such as I have."

"Do you want to go to bed?" I suggested, glancing at her.

Shizuru glanced sidelong at me, her face wearing a curious expression. "Not yet, I don't think." Her right hand ran up the length of her sword's sheath. "Being here, is a little more restful. But I can't know how long you intend to humour me."

I smirked. "Tonight? Or generally?"

"My thought was tonight," Shizuru replied. "But either works, I suppose." She closed her eyes and took a breath.

I shifted backwards myself, imitating her posture. It was surprisingly comfortable, at least at first. And we were very close together, with just a few inches separating our shoulders. I glanced sidelong at her, focusing on the crimson eyes through the tangled curtain of her hair. They, too, were very close, as were her face. There was proximity, and a comfort in proximity. "You put yourself down too easily. It's a little depressing."

"Sorry."

"See? You're doing it again!"

Shizuru smiled at me, in such a way that I was almost sure that was intentional. "Putting that aside, though, I have been worrying you. I'm sorry for that. But, with my memories." She stopped abruptly. "Or, to put it another way…"

"You know, you don't have to explain yourself," I said, trying my best to look and sound encouraging. "I already know, pretty much. When the past, and what it represents to you, and world itself all conspire… there's a lot of frustration." I turned away, allowing myself to frown. "You remember things, especially when you are alone. And it isn't easy to bear."

"You were always alone, weren't you?" Shizuru asked quietly. "And because of that, you were so sad."

"I'm not really, talking about myself," I replied loosely. "But just that part of myself which relates to you. My worries about the past, are also my past, now. I've given up on that, and moved on."

"That past, certainly. That's because you're a strong person." Shizuru kept her voice very quiet indeed. "But I can't help but feel that your more recent and more unpleasant past… that isn't something you could just forget. The nature of my sin-"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said shortly.

"Of course," Shizuru replied instantly. "I'm sorry."

I tilted my head slightly, looking up at the ceiling. "But not for the reasons you think."

Shizuru didn't say anything in reply, though I have a feeling that she watched me for a moment.

"Because, you always those words. Sin, crime, something unforgivable… it's too celestial for someone like me. I don't like it." I was speaking without much thought involved. It was too early in the morning for complex thoughts and worries. "What you did, you did for people. And it's people who will judge you, as well. If there's another judge to come after, that's fine, but irrelevant as well." I closed my eyes. "Some people won't ever forgive you, yeah. But that isn't the same as something being unforgivable. Some people forgive you, so it's fine, isn't it?"

"I know your kindness, and I know you are kind," Shizuru replied. "And I know there are other kind people in the world, as well. People who know and forgive me, and people who might forgive me if they knew, in time. The world has many people. But, I am not such a forgiving person myself-"

"And if I had raped you?" I asked bluntly. And those words echoed heavily.

Shizuru turned her head away. Even so, she didn't try to move away, or leave. When I glanced at her, worried that I'd gone too far, her neck was tense. But she replied, anyway. "You would never do that-"

"Wrong. Because, you know, I never considered you someone capable of doing that to me, either. That didn't even touch my image of you in any way. And that betrayal hurt, rather more than whatever it is you physically did to me. You know that already, though." I reached for her shoulder, then stopped. Right now, she wouldn't want that. I wouldn't want that. "If it was me, you wouldn't expect it or comprehend it either. But, I could do it."

Shizuru shook her head. "No. I'm different from you, Natsuki… you're a more noble and a better person. That's what the Carnival showed, in the end, in our different roles."

"Kind. You call me kind a lot. And noble and better, now." I frowned at her. "I don't like that either, because it isn't true. Whatever your image of me, I'm not really a good person."

"That's not true," Shizuru said quietly.

"That's true. I'm selfish, and violent, and from the beginning I used people when I could and otherwise ignored them. That Natsuki wouldn't help anyone, even if they were dying, if she had something better to do. And she was a murderer."

"You've changed, though," Shizuru replied. "That isn't fair."

"And why did I change?" I asked rhetorically.

Shizuru returned my gaze. "That was, because of Mai-chan… principally."

I snorted softly. "Mai helped, a lot. Even so, everything began with you. To some degree, everything was for you, because you were a person I respected and liked. And when you reached out for me, and worked so hard for me, wasn't that a selfless and good action?"

"That was-"

"My selfish feelings," I finished spontaneously. "Or something to that effect?"

Shizuru looked down at the floor, face heavy.

"It's not so simple," I replied, trying to smile. "I don't know why you think I'm always so kind to you, as you put it… but it's not because I'm a kind person. I didn't forgive anyone for ten years of my life. And your feelings made you do selfless and kind things for me. And between them, that's the same feeling. It's not something you can hypocritically call kind in one case or disgusting in the other. I'm selfish, too. You're kind, too. It's the same."

"But, even if you say that, it's not the same," Shizuru said heavily, looking at me. And there was something almost spiteful, in her tone and in her expression. "In so many ways."

My stomach lurched. It is, after all, difficult for me to justify the things I'm saying, at times. Because-

I chuckled, and Shizuru blinked at me. "You know, you're right, in a way," I replied. "As I am now, and where I stand now… I might not have the right to say that, after all."

Shizuru looked at me curiously.

"But, I want to say it," I continued. "And I want you to listen, and believe. If that's possible. I want you to smile, but for myself as well as you… that makes me say selfish things, not kind ones."

Shizuru smiled slightly, again. "Perhaps. This is very complex. But I shouldn't react in an impolite way."

"You should read the mood," I retorted. "Being polite would the height of discourtesy in this situation."

Shizuru giggled slightly, and tried to control the sound. Perhaps she thought it was inappropriate.

"But, you know," I stopped, and sighed. "It looks like I've completely lost the thread of what I'm saying, after all. I guess it just was that there are always good things and bad things, whenever something really matters. And you can hate the bad things, but that doesn't mean you should hate the importance itself… that can make people happy, as well."

"If that's the case, I should just judge my nature and my bonds by the results they bring others," Shizuru replied. "And, even then, the result would be the same. I've caused you too much pain and sadness, and betrayed you in too many ways, for me to forgive myself. That can't be outweighed by my small and selfish kindness."

"That's a little arrogant," I retorted softly. "It's not for you to judge, Shizuru. I'm the one who should say things like that. But, for me, it's not true. Though you made me suffer as well, even so." I reached out gently, touching her cheek. "I'm still glad I met you. And if you've done terrible things, that just shows all the more how all your gestures, and words, and sacrifices, and everything you are, mean to me. Those precious things."

Shizuru gave me a look that was almost trapped and afraid. It was reminiscent, in a way, of my look when she said and did something to dominate a situation. Evoking memories with cruel worlds… in the same way, she was cornered. By her own dignity, though, not her fear. Or, if this was her fear, it was complex and dark, and tied to her self-hate. Her fear of genuine affection, for all she talks of my kind words.

"You know, you're a little selfish," I observed honestly, dwelling on that in my head. "You talk a lot about my kind words, but really, you want them to be tokenistic and cold. A measure of my saintly personality, but you don't like genuine warmth… that's all I really have though, clumsy and unsubtle and," I cut myself off abruptly, staring into her eyes. "Well, you're still stubborn. But you know, this isn't something you can dismiss with an excuse about kindness. I'm not kind; I just feel this way about you. That's all there is."

Shizuru blinked, looking as if she was trying to come up with a rationalisation. Some way to dismiss what I'd said, or moderate it. She's a little cowardly at times, especially about being brave enough to forgive herself.

I leaned forwards slightly, coming dangerously close to her cheek. I slipped my head sideways, my mouth coming close to her ear. "Shizuru," I whispered. "I can see clearly now, more than before."

I wrapped my arms around her, just as I had before. It was uncomfortable in a way, because the weight of her head pushed my arm up against the wall, and I had to lean forwards awkwardly to reach her. But it was also warm, and comforting. I could feel her body very close to mine, and feel her breath, on my cheek, and in the subtle movements of her body. It was an abstraction that totally focused on her.

"But even if you still care about me, that doesn't change what I've done," Shizuru began again. "Even if you can forgive me, I'm still such a horrible person, the worst kind of person. That's who I am, so-"

"I must have really bad taste," I remarked quietly. "Just shut up and hug me, already."

To my surprise, Shizuru tentatively put her arms around me. Her arms were shaking, perhaps with tiredness, perhaps with fear. As if her or I would break, if we held onto each other. But it didn't feel like that. It didn't feel like that at all, not for me.

"You know, you should be more honest," I said, when I pulled away slightly and let her go. This time, I was turned and facing her, and she was facing me. There was even less distance between us. "When you put yourself down, you're also calling me an idiot. If you really were completely disgusting, then I really am an idiot. Somehow blind, certainly foolish… a strange person who has a horrible, selfish, self-destructive girl for her most important person. And that's true, whether you tell me that, or keep it inside your head."

Shizuru didn't say anything for a moment. Then she smiled a little wryly, looking down at the narrow space of floor between us. "You know, this is unpleasantly like being cornered, after all."

Some part of me was twisted up and pained, but even so, I didn't relent. I was too caught up in the moment. And maybe, just maybe, that was the right idea. I had to break down something hard and twisted in her, before she could genuinely smile again.

"But I don't think you're any of those things, even though you've betrayed my trust in a lot of ways, and hurt me in a lot of ways," I said urgently. "They're part of you, and I'm not absolving you of responsibility. Even so, you are better than that… I don't have to hate you just for that. You're still funny, and kind, and beautiful, and interesting. You still look after me, and look out for me, and protect me. I still care for you, and you're still Shizuru."

"And I suppose my self-hate is one of my selfish feelings, to you," Shizuru replied quietly. "I know I'm troubling you, but I can't just let that go."

"Of course. You should be a little guilty. I'm a little guilty, as well, because I'm no saint, and I have bad memories of myself. But, you know, you shouldn't eat your own life up with a big, scary obsession." I smiled weakly at her. "Whether it's love or hate, passions are fine. The Shizuru I know is passionate, in a quiet way. But you're a lot better to me when you're a little mellow, and more than one thing. Complex, and human, and-" I stopped talking abruptly, looking down. Even now, I didn't intend to cry for her.

Knowing her, she'd only say it was proof that she'd hurt me.

"And those emotions are the same, in that respect," Shizuru said quietly. "Well, if you insist it's that way, I certainly feel like something of an idiot."

"We match," I said thickly, still struggling to keep my voice even. "I'll forgive you."

"I still don't deserve to hear you say that, over and over," Shizuru replied quietly.

"That's fine. I didn't ask for permission to forgive you." I steadied myself, and looked into her eyes again. "So, would you be able to forgive me, if I ever raped you?"

Shizuru winced and froze, with an expression that was too calculating to be truly shocked. "I probably wouldn't be able to forgive you-"

"Is that your real answer?" I asked thoughtfully. "Or is that the option with what you regard as the least bad implication for me?"

"You ask very awkward questions," Shizuru replied uneasily, glancing honestly back at me.

"Well, you don't have to reply," I said. "You can't really know, until you've experienced it. I won't do that, of course, but… you probably have a feeling, even now, that may or may not have anything to do with principle." I smiled awkwardly. "Feelings are like that, aren't they? They really aren't rational, after all. Especially the strong ones."

"My feeling… would be that I'd forgive you," Shizuru replied. "But my emotions have always been twisted and self-sacrificial, so that's not general, and-"

"That's fine. Considering I really have forgiven you, you're really insulting me again." I smiled at her expression. "But that's an aside. You're still going to continue, right? You'll still have guilt and doubt and regret. You're human, which is also good."

Shizuru nodded. "Natsuki is so understanding. Or, rather, you understand that as well. I hope you won't worry or concern yourself with that part of me, because I don't want to trouble you."

"Of course I'll be troubled. But, that's why you're going be honest from now on." I smiled at her. "We'll do it together, and I'll watch you again. If you want to cry, or scream, I'll hold you. Even if you have to hurt yourself, I'll see that too, and protect you if I can. I won't be disgusted, either. Because, really, I don't intend to stop you from feeling what you truly want to feel."

Shizuru giggled quietly, which annoyed me a little. I was rather proud of finding a way to slip that in.

I offered her my hand. "That is also a promise."

She took it, nodding. And she pointedly, desperately, did not cry, until she turned her head away.

Shizuru's violence. Her sadness. Her kindness. Her cruelty. Her crimes and her regrets. Her pride and her self-hate, and her gentle stubbornness, and her quiet assertiveness, and her courageous cowardice… she's a lot of things, contradictions, juxtapositions, not a neat person, not easy. But I don't think I am any different in that respect, and it may be true of all people. There's still room in my head, though, for her and all of her. It may just be as simple as that.

I'm something of an idiot for her, all told. But that also feels fine.