Bamboo

Shinomori Aoshi breathes deep and drinks in the bamboo forest. It is dark, misty, and cool. His fingers form a bowl and his eyes close.

Meditation is an art, and there is no way to rush a muse.

He enjoys the silence and barely remembers not to strain his ears for the voices of his dead comrades. His demons have been put to rest; that's the reason why he's hidden behind the bamboo now, not the temple. The peace of being away from memories... It's intoxicating.

Now, perhaps he can let himself smile.

From behind him, the sun rises.