Michael and Shiro found me in the backyard. I had been using the garden hose to remove the blood from my green shirt. My sash. My pants. I have never been queasy before….but oh God, there was soo much blood.
And from my hands.
I broke my oath.
That look of despair as the girl realized I had. I had. I...I..with my own hands. I
The garden hose became limp.
I looked around and saw Shiro by the hose 's faucet. He came closer.
No sword, tough.
-"First time?"
The bile raised and the grass tasted my 2 Michelin stars' breakfast.
-"Your mastery in the Art -"
-"His."
Michael's teacher took a seat in the bloodstained grass, lotus style.
"My lungs breathe. My feet smell. Good and bad, it is all part of me. Your mastery in the Art."
His voice acquired a weight. Gravitas.
"If those are your deaths, as your evident distress shows, then the skill to defeat superior numbers is yours."
I clasped my hands as shivers run down my skin.
-"Great Tiger is a monster. A monster that I willingly let out."
And that is why I'm a murderer. I looked to my hands, raw from wringing them under the hose.
Shiro hummed.
"That spirit bound in your flesh took down the weapon wielders. Or have you forgotten that the kid's room lies behind the hall."
My stomach heaved but there was nothing to give. "I ...I …..."
The venerable warrior came to his feet and clasped my arm.
"Mayhaps the philosophy of the tiger clashes against the ethos of a healer. But if you deny those deaths as yours, that means the spirit bound in your flesh deserves the praise."
He pointed with his hand towards the house. Across the window, Michel could be seen hugging his children.
Shiro looked at me, his eyes boring on me and I looked downwards. To avoid the soulgaze.
Yet I knew in my heart of hearts, it was due to shame.
"If he deserves the praise, then you don't need to beat yourself."
Answer me this. Do you claim this victory?
No, it's yours.
Then I will ask a favor in return.