trueblade

An RP blog for Hachisuka Kotetsu from touken ranbu. Affliated with Citta-Alveare.

[saintseiyasword]

nagagone:

    It stung.

Those insults he’d heard so many times before, his hand, the tears welling up in eyes glaring at him with such contempt. Instead of breaking down the walls forged between them, Nagasone had only built them higher with his foolish request. And like the battle just moments ago, none of the onlookers made a move to interrupt the two kotetsu in the midst of their spat. 

“Hachisuka… that wasn’t my intention.” Still, Nagasone couldn’t help the growing frown on his face nor the way he briefly glanced away, for as always, Hachisuka’s words rang true. Pierced deep. There was no point in trying to refute those accusations of his, for if Kondou Isami had known the truth all along, that he’d been lied to and the blade he’d been so proud of wasn’t actually a genuine article… – surely he would’ve been replaced. Discarded – and the clenched fist at his side became loose and lost as it sought to grasp tightly onto his pride.

But if hating him, if cursing and discarding his eldest brother at every turn would help Hachisuka grow in some way… – 

Then he’d carry that hatred with him forever.

He was rather robust for a fake, after all. 

Nagasone took a single heavy step towards the tip of Hachisuka’s weapon, a weak smile playing at the corners of his mouth – the smile of a man who’d so naively thought that just maybe if he’d bent the rules a bit, they could start over – as blood. As brothers. But perhaps they were more different than he’d originally thought, not just as one who was decorated and adored for generations, and one who was left behind in a turbulent era.

… – perhaps he’d just been foolish to think that a counterfeit blade like himself would ever be forgiven. 

“I know more than anyone… as a kotetsu,” And he forced his voice to remain steady, to enunciate the name that was bestowed upon him without breaking, “… as a counterfeit – I understand the position I’m in. So I know… of your strength. And I know that a genuine kotetsu such as yourself would never lose to trash like me, right? Hold on to that pride, Hachisuka. Don’t let it go.”

“Pride?...”

To everyone else was just word, quietly spoken. But saying that one word changed so much about the sword who had carried himself so gallantly only months ago. All the emotions he’d been feeling up until now welled up far too quickly for him to manage and set his body trembling. His sword rattled as Hachisuka stared at his brother through blurry eyes as hot tears he could barely feel started to run down his cheeks. But as they ran, he laughed--a hollow, broken sound that came from his throat and brought no joy to his face. It simply added to the crumbling image that stood in front of the other sword, another stroke on a pitiable canvas.

“You honestly believe someone like me has pride left? Perhaps there’s room for me on the stage, then. Or maybe you just choose to be blind to it all.”

“Tell me, Nagasone Kotetsu: what pride is it that I have to hold on to? That I’m a genuine blade? That I hold some bit of prowess? Do you think that’s a reason for me to hold my head up high when all of that--every bit of it--has been called into question?! How can I call myself genuine or skilled when I’m one of the ones left behind?!

“I’m not like you. I can’t simply stand there and just take everything someone heaps upon me with the same stoic look. I cannot pretend everything is fine when it very clearly isn’t! I may have been a decorated blade, but I was cherished! Appreciated! Loved! And now what am I?! Some forgotten... thing! Tossed aside and forgotten, left to live the rest of this godsforsaken life with no purpose, no master, nothing! Nothing but Urashima and...!”

The word caught in his throat and choked him so much that his sword fell from his hand and clattered unceremoniously to the floor. Only sheer will kept him from following suit. Instead, he stood there, weeping behind his hand instead of behind closed doors in the dark where no one could see as he’d done so many nights before, cursing nearly every gift he’d been given in this world.

If being human meant knowing this much humiliation and despair and pain and being forced to bear it all, he thought, maybe it wasn’t worth as much as he’d believed all this time.

[saintseiyasword]

hinkontana:

It must be sad that a genuine Kotetsu as beautiful as Hachisuka can’t even find himself a suitor. There’s no need to be jealous over a fake having one.

I hardly see a reason to be jealous over a fake thrown to the sea and a broken blade abandoned by his owner playing at having a fling.

[saintseiyasword]

wifeyzashi:

THIS IS MY HOUSE I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT WHEREVER I WANT

IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE THE RETAINER OF THIS CITADEL, ACT LIKE ONE AND SET A PROPER EXAMPLE, GODDAMMIT

[saintseiyasword]

wifeyzashi replied to your post: Save some room for your hilts over there.

IT’S JUST A KISS YOU FUCKING PRUDE

DO THAT SHIT IN YOUR ROOM, YOU FUCKING FAKE

[saintseiyasword]

Save some room for your hilts over there.

[saintseiyasword]

tomokiri:

          ❝ I don’t know your story. ❞ It’s how he starts it, when he retrieves his hand from Hachisuka’s shoulder and looks at him with an expression not much different from the one he bore a minute or two ago. There is only a sigh, a soft exhale as the uchigatana denies help and is as stubborn as he would always be in the presence of the tachi; it’s understandable, truly. They had never quite gotten along, despite shared views here and there. Higekiri does not harbor any ill feelings towards a fellow brother in arms, despite how he knew Hachisuka felt.

          He found it curious– his desperation, his panic, his fear of being abandoned and left behind and made to believe he hadn’t fulfilled his role as his master’s sword.

          ( how much different was it from any other sword’s fears? they had all been made to serve and fight for those who wielded them. )

          ❝ And while neither you do mine, we are both swords. We both want to be useful and serve our master, and if we were simply to be abandoned without a word, wouldn’t we wonder where we go wrong? ❞ Though such thing had never truly happened to Higekiri ( lest he thinks it would ever; treasures were simply much better than normal swords, and the minamoto all had pride in the swords forged for them only ), he could easily imagine it. Suddenly being disposed, suddenly being thrown away as if he was no longer useful. In a way, it had happened– when the Minamoto fell, when swords eventually became a thing of the past.

          Though he no longer fought for a master, it took from him his own purpose. ❝ If you start doubting your origins, wouldn’t that make you closer to the brother you despise so much? You have always been told you were a real Kotetsu, Hachisuka, and your masters always judged you that way. Though Nagasone’s might have thought him to be a genuine Kotetsu, too, doesn’t the world know well he is but a fake? ❞ What would you know when you are a treasure yourself, made with iron and steel from the Gods, Higekiri almost could hear the uchigatana ask. He doesn’t truly understand, but he could nearly place himself in Hachisuka’s situation–

          When he remembers a certain crow, and how the Minamoto could have very well made a forgery out of him, it boils the tachi’s blood. ❝ No matter whether you are left behind or abandoned, at times you must remember you’re genuine, better than many others that would dream of being as talented a sword as you are. Sometimes, it’s the loss of the masters who decided to give us away, not to own and wield us. At the end of the day, perhaps, you never truly understood our Saniwa, did you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be asking such questions. You mustn’t forget either; it’s not our choice to stay or leave. Now that he is absent, shouldn’t you, a trusted and loyal sword of his, stay strong and remain composed in case he, one day, comes back to you? ❞

He hated listening to Higekiri speak more often than not, but this particular instance chafed him more than most. Not because of his tone or the words themselves that he spoke, but because there was so much truth behind them--or, at least, things Hachisuka himself believed to ring as such.

There was no love lost between them, to be certain. The two of them had crossed dark paths many a time in the past, mostly over the very person Hachisuka found himself at a loss about now. How many times had he come to defend his now-absent master? How often had he’d attempted to ward the tachi away from his sharp remarks and reproaches in places his master couldn’t hear and defend himself? Hachisuka couldn’t remember: all he could think on now was just how right Higekiri had been all this time.

He really had never understood just how their Saniwa’s mind had worked. That much was plain during that time they all teetered on the brink of fading from this world and their own, simply because he had decided to take all their lives into his own hands, even if it was for a relatively brief period of time. Hachisuka had never wanted to admit it out loud, but he had sometimes wondered about their place in his mind, or even if maybe their master had resented them to some degree. He couldn’t help but travel down that road again in his mind, but only for a brief moment. Wondering about the hows and whys of it all would do little to change the state of things.

All that was left was now was this place they called home and those of them that had been left behind.

The blade sat in silence for a few moments before he turned a tired and wary eye toward his unlikely confidant. Truthfully, he would have never considered this one of all people to play the voice of reason in the midst of all this, but there he was, speaking plainly and as though he were a friend. Hachisuka had never been one to easily let go of past grudges, but in the haze of the past few weeks and the wake of it all, his words had brought more comfort and clarity than most. His opinion of tachi hadn’t completely changed, but in that moment, it certainly wasn’t as disfavorable as it had been.

“...you make a point and I cannot deny it. As right as you may be, though, it doesn’t take away from the pain of it. How was it for you when Hizamaru left your side before? I’m certain your heart may as well have been ripped from your chest. Perhaps what I am feeling now is not nearly as painful as that, but the emptiness you may have felt thereafter... if you recall that, then perhaps you can fathom what it is that plagues me now. How is one to stand strong in the wake of that?”

[saintseiyasword]

nagagone:

@saintseiyasword

     There’d only been one way to get Hachisuka to comply.

Real steel on wood, he’d demanded. Nagasone, of course, had accepted the terms readily and without argument. He’d probably never get another window in to test the decorated blade’s sword arm – not when he regarded him with so much venom, so much distaste. When the two of them finally gathered together with their blades raised, others paused their own duels and watched on in silence. There was no missing it. Not an event like this.

It was hard to interrupt combat between two kotetsu, for theirs was the aura of a hurricane – fast-striking, no visible openings left untouched – even if one was of tarnished steel and the other a mere gilded light. The air about them was electric and heavy, filled with the sound of grunts whenever armor and blades clashed so roughly. 

There was red on his cheek and red on the floor, but Nagasone saw no reason to back down. He could handle the stinging wound, could repair it in due time  – for he was built for battle, to be scuffed and torn. The only thing he could ever claim to be good about his circumstances. Hachisuka had earned that opening with skill and killing intent, and Nagasone soon returned the favor with brute strength and an unsightly shove from the shoulder. There came the heavy clatter of wood and steel against the floor, the soft thud of a body.

“Hachisuka.” His voice was heavy, but not harsh – as steady as it ever was – but that resolute tone couldn’t betray such a weighted look in heavy-lidded eyes, couldn’t erase a frown that wanted to say more, yet didn’t. “Is something up? Otherwise, you’d… ” Always holding back in some way, always acting like the eldest of the three without needing to, and surely it’s unfair. 

It’s always unfair.

He bent over, ignoring his wound to extend a warm, open hand to help the fallen. “You’re stronger than this, aren’t you? Here, up.”

All throughout the duel, Hachisuka had fought like a man out of his head.

Every stroke was practiced and polished and nearly perfect--but only nearly. Every opening had been acted upon, but it could have been done faster. The glancing cut he’d landed could have gone much deeper if he’d have wanted it to, duel or not. Everything he’d done during the fight was more than he’d done in a long time, even before he’d come back to this city yet again. To anyone else watching, the swordplay of this pair of blades would have been nothing less than stunning.

But to Hachisuka, it wasn’t enough. His performance wasn’t that of someone that could rightly be called a genuine Kotetsu blade, a fact made all to real when he found himself sprawled on the floor after that unsightly counter, ungraceful and undignified and his sword an unforgivable distance from his hand.

And then, to be criticized by him on top of it all...

“How dare you!...”

The sound of the slap as he knocked the offered hand away was enough to make everyone in the room flinch. With as much broken pride as he could muster, he got to his feet under his own power and collected his sword, trembling as he took hold of the hilt again. A loss was a loss to him normally, but here? Now? This was insult after injury. And Nagasone’s words--plainly spoken out of concern--was just more salt rubbed into the many wounds Hachisuka had endured as of late. 

It was too much.

In a flash, his sword sped out from his side, the tip of it not close enough to do any harm, but pointed at the other’s throat all the same. The look in Hachisuka’s eyes was all too familiar--full of hatred and venom--but this time, they betrayed him, too. Behind that wall of ice was so much more--confusion, frustration, self-loathing, and so much more. He was fortunate, though: he couldn’t see how much they shined with unshed tears. Otherwise, he would have run from it all then and there.

“Do not think just because you laid me low that I am weak.”

Though perhaps I am.

“You have no right to question my skill!”

Only I do.

“Do not forget your place: you are nothing but a counterfeit. If times hadn’t been desperate, you would never have been called on at all!”

But if I was called on only to be left behind, then I’m even more worthless than you.

[cittavision]

Migration 001: Pokémon

[hahaha-its-jiji-blog]

cittavision:

Hello, Cittazens! We here at Citta Alveare are very excited to announce the details of our first Migration, Pokémon!

More information on qualifications and mechanics are under the cut.

Keep reading

[utilfredse-blog]

      There was nothing he could do to stop it.

– nor did he even deserve to, really. And sadly, he’d long grown used to the venom in his brother’s voice. That he was a counterfeit blade, a mere fake – that fact alone would never change, would never bring down the icy wall of disdain that Hachisuka Kotetsu so aggressively shielded himself with whenever their paths crossed. No matter how close they were, the distance always remained the same.

Perhaps that, too, would never change. 

“Hah… you’re the same as ever.” 

It’s always like this, and he’d greet Hachisuka the same as ever – tired, but warm, with a light chuckle and a half-smile. His feet drug heavy across the courtyard.

“If it’s going to be that much of a problem…” And he stopped, just inches from giving the other a pat on the shoulder – purely out of reflex. Even now, with words choked dead between the two of them, he was glad to see his brother well. Slowly, he drew his hand back. “Then I suppose I won’t trespass for as long as I can help it. My boys are here, you see. It’d be nice to have a roof over my head for a while.” – especially when they missed him so.

[saintseiyasword]

After all this time, his routine was the same, as though nothing had changed. But he knew better now, at least. That his hand, once welcomed a familiar source of comfort so long ago, was no longer allowed to touch him. That his presence was pestilence like one could only hope to be rid of sooner rather than later.

If there was one credit Hachisuka could give to this individual so many considered his brother, it was that he could learn. But, he considered, if anything, a forgery had to be good at that, at the very least.

“If that’s the excuse you’re giving for making yourself known on these grounds, then so be it. The last thing I need is to hear Kashuu Kiyomitsu’s sniping over having heard you were here and he hadn’t the chance to see you.” He put more distance between them, stepping as lightly as ever away from that aura of his. It had always been so heavy, like a winter blanket. Now, it was just stifling. “But I will warn you against looking for the Saniwa in these walls. They have gone, and I doubt they shall return. Though I suppose being without a master is something you and yours are accustomed to.”

[tomokiri-archive]

          When you’re unattached, things hurt less.

          When you’re a sword, things shouldn’t hurt at all.

          When you’re both, you become stronger.

          He hadn’t meant to intrude as much as he had found some sort of satisfaction in the words that left Hachisuka Kotetsu’s mouth. It had been case in point with the absence of Issei, swords that once belonged to him and remained in the city found it weird to deal with something that for long they had been blessed and spoiled with both. He hadn’t asked Iwatooshi, hadn’t really cared as much since something similar had happened months prior. With Hachisuka, however, he had always been interested.

          But to think he had been abandoned, which Higekiri doesn’t think as much as his master didn’t quite have a say in it– he finds it overjoying. Finds it to be a weakness of the uchigatana, thinks he’s showing a side of him that many wouldn’t imagine it would even exist. But he finds it pitiful, too; to even come to doubt his origin, come to doubt whether he was truly a real Kotetsu or not– how low the absence of a master he had grown so attached to, a master he would kiss his feet if ordered and commit seppuku for if asked… How low had Hachisuka Kotetsu reached, for a master that little told him, little trusted him, and much lied to him?

          ❝ Hachisuka. ❞ His voice is ever so soft, and he means no harm this time. Though Higekiri knows well his space should be minded, there is a comforting ( that is what he was aiming for, after all ) hand on the uchigatana’s shoulder, and he rubs it once or twice. He should act like he sympathizes, like he understands–

          But not all a sword that has never accepted his Saniwa as master would. ❝ Did you truly get this much attached to our Saniwa? Should you, an authentic Kotetsu, really weep at the thought of being abandoned? I didn’t come to mock or laugh at you, lest to wound you any further. I wish to talk, and to help, if you would allow me to. ❞

[saintseiyasword]

It was an embarrassment, not only to be caught like this, but to be caught by him.

How many times had the two of them argued and bickered because of their former Saniwa? How many times had Hachisuka attempted to defend his master’s honor and speak to his benevolence--to how much he’d believed in his ability?

In all honesty, Higekiri had every right to gloat and lord the facts of the matter over him. Part of him fully expected it, in some capacity. After all, their bitterness had never completely subsided, even if he had gone and come back. They had hardly had a word exchanged between them since the uchigatana had returned and Hachisuka had preferred it that way. So here and now, to be offered a comforting hand on his shoulder and gentle words from Higekiri--the blade known to so many as Tomokiri--it was unsettling, to say the least.

“How would you ‘help’, if that is truly what you hope to accomplish? What words can you deign to offer me besides ‘I told you so’?” The hem of his sleeve cut angrily across his eyes as he turned his face away from the tachi. He may have heard him weep, but he wouldn’t see it, if it could be helped. “All of us have heard your crowing about being a treasured blade of your clan. What would you know of what I’m going through?”

[saintseiyasword]

He had never let on to anyone just how much he was bothered by their master’s disappearance.

When he had first arrived, he didn’t believe when the others told him the young man had simply vanished without a trace. Though Tsurumaru Kuninaga was nowhere to be found, he thought it had been some terrible prank at his expense. But the hours turned to days and the days turned to a week and the week turned into another and there was still not sight of him to be found. He had gone.

They were alone.

No matter how vigilantly Hachisuka Kotetsu stood guard over their Citadel, eyes sharp on the gate awaiting for that familiar silhouette to return, he knew it would never come to pass again. But it didn’t help him understand why. 

Why had they been left behind? Hadn’t they been strong enough? Hadn’t they been loyal? Hadn’t they been true? Hachisuka had turned those questions over and over again in his mind so much that it sounded like some haunting chant to him now, taunting him and raising concerns he would have never dared to even consider before.

Were they not worthy of his attentions? Were they not who they thought they were? Were they not... real?

The mere notion of it made him sick to his stomach. That couldn’t be the case. He was the spirit of the Hachisuka Kotetsu. There could be no other. 

‘But the one everyone looks to as your brother is a fake,’ said the voice in his mind. ‘What makes you above such a thing? Would a genuine article be left to rust as you have? Would it be forgotten as you have?’

“No!... I am Hachisuka Kotetsu. I am genuine! I am real!.... aren’t I?...”

The room full of things his master left behind gave no answer, but he still asked, still needed an answer.

“Milord... why have you left me?”

[psychop0mp]

      Ok but I’m still cute, is my point. And you’re jeakous. :p

[saintseiyasword]

Jealous of what, exactly.

[psychop0mp]

      So jealous and lacking taste. Hmmph, good to see how much faith you have in Kasen’s preferences.

[saintseiyasword]

I don’t want to hear about lack of taste from you, especially! And do not try to paint me as the bad one here when you’re the one laying out your intentions like some sort of banquet!

[psychop0mp]

      You wanna go pal?

[saintseiyasword]

How can my best friend like someone this uncute.

[psychop0mp]

      “Speaking of thirst…” She pulls out her phone. 

          “Perhaps Kasen will indulge me with a drink.” Aradia, please. 

[saintseiyasword]

He’s not judging from afar. Not at all.

[tottozashi-blog]

The explanation, plain as it was, went a little farther over Urashima’s head than it probably should have. Still, it made enough sense for him to nod along. The main point was that they had no real control over it–so there was no point in worrying. For now, that was good enough for him.

“You mean it it? Anything I want?” Urashima tapped a finger to his chin to consider, but almost just as quickly, he jerked it away again. A lightbulb had flared up in his head.

“I have a better idea!” One that had him excited enough to bounce on his feet before elaborating, “how about we cook something together!?”

[saintseiyasword]

Watching his brother bounce like a child a fraction of his age only made the smile on Hachisuka’s face widen. He had genuinely missed being around his brother’s infectious joyful energy: few others could put him in a good mood so easily as him. He already could barely tell the smaller blade no on a normal basis--seeing him like this just made the uchigatana want to give him the world on a golden plate.

“If that’s what you wish, then that’s what we’ll do. I believe the kitchen was restocked today, so we can create something wonderful, I’m sure.” He took his younger brother by the hand and started to lead him down the hall, a noticeable lightness in his step. “You can tell me all about what’s happened in our Citadel since I’ve been away as we work.”

[saintseiyasword]

♣ ⦂

♣ are their veins particularly visible when they’re angry/upset/sad?

Yes, actually. When Hachisuka gets angry, the veins in his neck get really pronounced, mostly because he clenches his jaw without realizing it. He’d probably be even more angry about how unpretty he looked in that state, haha.

⦂ what clothes do they sleep in?

A gold-tone silk sleeping robe. He won’t sleep in anything less, really. He needs something that smooth on his skin or else he has restless fits at night.