"In this world, the flesh of the weak is the food of the strong. The strong live, the weak die."
His eyes opened at the sound of the tinkling of the wind chime. He found himself wrapped with a blanket that gave off like an incense the scent of that girl, he breathed deeply while his mind drew her blue eyes like jasmine flowers occupying a space inside his being, engraving itself like ink on a papyrus.
It was early morning, he couldn't remember how long he had slept, he tried to sit up, but the stabbing pain in his abdomen prevented him from moving, he nimbly felt his bandages and as he turned his gaze to his palm and unfolded his bloody fingers, everything turned red.
"the scars of my past will determine my future."
Red, that was a color that was all too familiar to him. a color with which his path through these lands had been unjustly stained, his innocence sullied before the horror that no child should ever witness.
"close your eyes shinta, don't look."
The sweet gentle and humble voice of one who without being blood heritage had lent a hand to a child in times of hunger and pain, the warm smile that bathed his forsaken heart and filled his brief history with happiness. His voice and his bones were broken when the edge of a sword snatched away in an instant what he had once wished to call family, if it could ever be called that.
There was only fear and in his eyes, like a never ending horror story, the bodies that protected him were piling up one on top of the other and a drunken and mocking laughter made him understand how insignificant life was for those who desecrate it. With a determination skewed in fear, his trembling hands tighten against the cold handle of the sword that seconds ago had been the protagonist of his tragicomic story.
"other lives depend on me, my life is not mine alone."
Another palm rested holding his bloody one and with a cloth and water, just like that he wiped the red color on his hand, unexpectedly taking him out of those memories. Still surprised, he looked up to meet the depth of her gaze and the intoxicating smile.
"you can die at any moment, but to live requires courage."
And maybe, just maybe he had found that courage, there between the edge of her gaze, between the corners of her lips as she smiled. That jet-haired, jasmine-scented, blue-eyed girl patted his bandages, making her way without permission through his hakama, he heard her say softly that his bandages needed to be changed again, that the wounds had opened and he needed a doctor.
And he could tell, that every time she spoke to him her eyes did not look at him, and that her cheeks were tinged like cherry blossoms in spring with a faint pink color. he rested his hand on hers, forcing her to look him in the eye and she could there in that instant witness his darkness.
"you think I haven't seen that look before, but it's so hard not to cry."
His eyes were dark, cold, lacking in brightness. and they were also eyes of someone who had lost his way and his humanity. but they were big, round eyes like the eyes of a child, as if he was trapped somewhere in himself, waiting to be rescued from that infinite darkness, he wanted to cry.
the faint pink color of her cheeks disappeared, her stunned look at the touch of his hands disappeared, her eyes softened and giving him a smile again she said "everything will be alright" the wind beat again the bell over their heads, the warm breeze and the sound of the wind against the trees brought a little peace to a tormented heart, hunted by the past that until that instant was still his reality.
"what is your name?" she whispered softly, "I am kaoru, owner of this dojo and heiress of the hitten mitsurugi ryu style, nice to meet you."
"not even the greatest and cruelest of assassins can escape love."