"you are so damaged that when someone tries to give you what you deserve you don't know how to react."
The determination of a life as small as mine that was cut short with the edge of a sword and rivers of blood found its destiny between life and death. That small trail of energy that ignited the desire to never ever see those who once protected me die, that extreme urgency to be strong at all costs was what led me to a path that mistakenly ended in a dead end.
I twisted the teachings that my master tried to instill in me, to use them in a world where they could not be imposed, because that wisdom was only to save my own soul and not that of others.
And I wanted to save people, and to save them I had to take their lives as well. Kaoru knew well the legends that carried my ancient name and that dyed my hands and my hair with blood, if there was anyone in this world who knew the deaths on my back it was her.
And still she looked at me with love, still she took my hand and warmly welcomed me to this place in her heart.
"The art of victory is only learned from defeat.
and what greater and unimaginable defeat than the one inflicted by a being you love, her eyes that lovingly hid the sharpest dagger was the one that truncated not only my sad fate, but hers. her eyes closed to the light, and with a mark on her cheek she gave death to the murderer.
Her arms hung from her body and her last breath dyed the snow around her red, the one I loved had been used as a puppet, she was not the one who should die, that death was for me and yet the irony of life wanted it otherwise, death for the one who loves life and life for the one who only pretends to die.
That mountain will always keep those secrets that each of us carry inside, and that only belong to us.
the great weight that comes with wielding a sword can be as immense as life itself, every time you take it in your hands, you can see the deaths behind that edge as if you were going back to the same instant in which they happened.
But every time I turn the blade of the sabakatou those memories automatically disappear and the weight is relieved, for it is no longer wielded to serve death, but life.
"She belonged to him, not because she was demanded by him, but rather because he was something she could not avoid."
And like a madman I lost myself in the thick of the woods, among the endless wars, among the sound of metal, among the bullets and the screams of horror. and perhaps that was the only way to escape that which when they saw me, they called destiny.
A murderous teenager looking for death on purpose without succeeding, because the skill of the edge of my sword was always more effective, the perfect weapon handled by the right hands would have achieved blissful accomplishments.
And every time her fingers touch my body, I wake up again, like a newborn baby opening its eyes for the first time, and I see her, who with her warm smile comforts all the rottenness that lies within me and turns it into fertilizer for her splendorous garden of jasmines that bathe her whole being, intoxicating me.
her touch bristles even the tiniest cell of my body and creating fires that i cannot extinguish she is how she traps me. and i wonder if this is what they really call love, when you materialize something that has no existence in reality and that no one but yourself can understand and feel.
"her smile hides battles that you can never know about".
"her soul searches for me the way flowers search for the sun."
I never told her about the countless battles, but she kissed every last one of my scars and embraced my past without even knowing it, and she never even asked. And whenever she saw me looking a little melancholic, she would sit next to me and offer me some tea.
Her eyes after a couple of years no longer shied away from mine and she would let my fingers tangle with hers from time to time. we had a code of love that only she and I knew and even after so many years she still blushed like a teenager.
who else but her could lighten the weight of this big back, she who kept extending her hand to me with a smile every time I arrived at the dojo, she who looked at me as if there was still life in me, and yes there was, she had lit with her smile a flame that I had tried to extinguish with all my strength.
She wrapped her delicate arms around my fears and, humming lullabies in front of the sunset, she cradled my body scourged by the past. she bristled each and every one of my senses, intoxicated me with her perfume and melted the pain into cherry petals.
her eyes reflecting in mine the eternal and surrendered fidelity, the force that kept driving me came from that mysterious place, between her heart and mine. and even if the killer arose again when I heard her voice calling me "kenshin" I found my way back to her and to our home.
I can see no other destination but to return to her, no other place but the paths that lead me back to the path of cherry trees on the banks of the great river where the foundations of the hitten mitsurugi were laid, where you can hear the sound of bamboo tapping over and over again, the dojo.
"We have survived so many fires that we can no longer tell if we are alive or just burning."
The tranquility of her company, which though invisible to me was not, when I found myself watching her out of the corner of my eye as she so elegantly poured the tea and her blue pupil found mine slipping through her most unknowable thoughts. and her cheeks were tinged with pink, like the cherry blossoms that surrounded the dojo in spring.
and my hands found asylum in hers, my fingers pressed against hers, but her icy hands reminded me of the cold of winter, and the snow brought crimson memories to my memory. memories that she ignored perhaps, memories that in her universe were no more than trails of smoke, fog.
But to me they were the memories that kept the scar on my cheek from healing and disappearing. There was no kindness or words of love that could make amends for that horrible memory reliving itself over and over again in my pupil every winter.
and every winter brought snow, and the snow for me became red like spilled blood, and on those days beautiful for some, terrible for me, when my feet sank into the thicket and between my hands the white flakes became rows of blood running through my whole being, the smile and perfume of kaoru flooded all around and when I opened my eyes with the melancholy of yesterday, and found the universe hidden between her hands and a smile curving her lips all that had gone before disappeared.
The lines of blood that ran through my body returned to be just snowflakes and the memories returned to be just that, memories. Because in front of me was this woman smiling at me, holding a cup of tea in her hands and telling me that it was too cold.
kaoru never asked about my past, nor about the memories that tormented my days and nights, until a vivid memory of that yesterday attacked everything she had built with me. it was then that I was forced to reveal the reality.
the mark on the door of the dojo clouded my judgment, kaoru saw me wandering around the dojo aimlessly with a line of blood covering my face. she sat next to me, silently sutured the wound and without asking any questions i just watched her put away the bandages, i caught her hands before she left the room, i didn't want her to go away.
She turned to me with tears in her eyes, and I cursed myself for being the cause of those tears. my tender fingers caressed her cheek, kaoru closed her eyes, rested her hands on mine, and kissed my palm.
I knew she had questions I couldn't ask, and when her hand tried to find my cheek I managed to steal a kiss, one of those that only happen between two people who are hurt.
I separated a little from her and wrapped my arms around her and we stayed like that for a moment, until I found the courage to tell her that the ghosts of the past had found a way to return and that her safety was now compromised because of me.
It was not easy to start a new story by pronouncing the name of the one I once loved, "Tomoe had a brother, and that brother kept such a powerful and intense love for her, Tomoe Himura was the first woman I loved and I snatched the love of her life, she and her love are the mark of resentment that I carry on my cheek ... the circumstances of her life and her death are exactly the same... me".
"there is beauty in the ashes of a heart that burned for what it loved."