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"𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭"

inspired by the official art of isagi, rin, and kaiser from chapter 287 + ofc the song "killshot" by magdanela bay!

ft. yoichi isagi, rin itoshi, michael kaiser

a/n: takes place during the edo period! isagi has guns because he had connections to foreigners. additionally, i'm sorry that the header images are kinda blurry :(

tw: blood and killing.

𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

the village lay nestled between rolling green hills, where the scent of cherry blossoms and fresh tea leaves drifted in the air. life moved slowly here, untouched by the battles and bloodshed beyond its borders. it was in this quiet haven that a lone samurai arrived one evening, his presence sending ripples through the peaceful town.

samurai! isagi was infamous, a warrior whose name was spoken in hushed tones. a master of his craft, undefeated, unrelenting. his body bore the scars of countless battles, his guns hung at his side like an extension of his very soul. the villagers avoided his gaze, slipping behind doors and whispering as he passed.

all but one.

you, a young woman who worked at her family’s humble tea shop, did not cower or tremble at the sight of him. instead, you met his gaze with open curiosity, your eyes warm like golden sunlight filtering through the leaves.

that night, when he stepped into your shop, you greeted him with a small smile, unfazed by his reputation. you served him a cup of tea, your hands steady as you placed it before him. “it’s on the house,” you said simply.

samurai! isagi, accustomed to war and wary stares, found himself at a loss. he lifted the cup, inhaling the fragrant steam, and took a sip. the warmth seeped into his bones, something unfamiliar stirring in his chest.

he returned the next night. and the night after that.

at first, he told himself it was only the tea – how it soothed him, how it was unlike anything he had tasted before. but soon, he realized it was not the tea that drew him back. it was you.

he began to notice the way your lips curved when you smiled, the way your sleeves fluttered as you worked, the quiet hum of your voice when you thought no one was listening. he was a man who had lived by weapons, who had long accepted that love was not meant for men like him. yet, he found himself lingering in your presence, aching for every fleeting moment the two of you shared.

one evening, as the last lanterns flickered against the deep indigo sky, he found you outside the shop, gazing up at the cherry blossoms swaying in the breeze.

“the wind carries them away so easily,” he murmured, his voice quieter than he intended.

you turned to him, plucking a single petal from his shoulder. “some petals may be carried away,” you said, fingers brushing lightly against his clothes. “but others fall right where they belong.”

his breath caught.

for the first time in his life, he felt truly unarmed, not by steel, but by something much softer, much more dangerous. he reached for your hand, hesitated, then took it gently in his own. his fingers, rough and calloused from years of battle, trembled against your warmth.

“have i fallen here?” he asked, his voice raw with something unfamiliar.

you smiled, a quiet knowing in your gaze. “stay,” you whispered. “and you will know.”

and for the first time, samurai! isagi, who had spent his life wandering, finally found a reason to stop.

BONUS:

the nights grew longer, and so did his visits. it was no longer just the tea he came for, it was your laughter, the way your voice softened when you spoke his name, the way your presence filled the emptiness inside him.

one night, as rain drizzled gently against the rooftop, you invited him inside. not as a feared warrior. but simply as a man.

you led him to your room, where the candlelight cast golden hues against the wooden walls. he stood there, unsure, hesitant. no battlefield had ever made him feel so vulnerable. you stepped closer, your delicate fingers reaching for the ties of his upper garments.

“let me take this weight from you,” you whispered.

piece by piece, you unfastened the ties. beneath his uniform, his body was strong, marked with old wounds, scars that told stories of survival, pain, and solitude. you traced them with gentle fingers, your touch soft where the world had only been cruel.

his breath hitched as you pressed your palm to his bare chest, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart. no one had ever touched him like this, not with reverence, not with tenderness.

“you are beautiful,” you murmured, your eyes drinking him in.

his throat tightened. “i am not,” he said hoarsely. “i am only a man who has known war.”

“and now,” you whispered, guiding his hand to your own racing heartbeat, “you will know something else.”

your lips met his, soft and seeking. he immediately melted into you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. you fit so perfectly against his body, as if you had been waiting for him all along. his hands traced the curve of your back, memorizing every inch, every breath, every sigh that escaped your lips.

you led him down, onto the futon, where the world outside ceased to exist. here, there was no war or bloodshed, only the warmth of your skin beneath his fingers, the way your body welcomed him, the way you whispered his name as if it were something sacred.

for the first time, he was not a warrior, nor a legend whispered in fear. he was simply a man, undone by love.

and beneath the sound of the rain and the scent of falling cherry blossoms, samurai! isagi knew… he had finally found a place to belong.

𝐫𝐢𝐧

the streets of edo were never quiet. even at night, the city pulsed with life. paper lanterns swayed in the breeze, the scent of grilled fish and incense mingled in the air, and laughter spilled from sake houses.

but in the narrow alleys beyond the main roads, in the places where the light barely reached, death walked unseen.

assassin! rin was known only as the destroyer. an assassin without mercy. his katana was swift, his presence fleeting. he came and went like a shadow, leaving nothing but silence in his wake. no one sought him out. no one dared to.

except you.

you were a florist’s daughter, tending to your father’s tiny shop at the edge of the yoshiwara district. a place where courtesans laughed behind painted fans, where samurai shed their honor for a night of pleasure. yet, among the fleeting indulgences of men, your flowers remained constant – simple, beautiful, untouched by the chaos around them.

assassin! rin first saw you one evening, just before the rain. he had finished a job, blood still cooling on his blade. as he slipped through the streets unseen, he caught sight of you arranging delicate plum blossoms outside the shop.

your hands moved with quiet precision, handling each petal with care, as if they were something precious. something fragile.

he should have kept walking. he always did. but that night, as the rain began to fall, he lingered under the shop’s awning. you looked up, surprised to see a lone figure standing there, his hood drawn low, his eyes unreadable.

“you’ll get sick,” you said gently.

he did not answer. he never spoke to strangers.

but then, you turned, stepped inside, and returned with a simple gesture – a small, pale blue flower, held out to him in your open palm.

“for you,” you said, smiling.

he stared at the flower. then at you.

people feared him. they avoided him, as they should. yet here you were, offering something soft, something kind.

he didn’t take it. instead, he turned and disappeared into the rain.

and yet, the next night, assassin! rin returned.

at first, he told himself it was a mistake. he was a man of cold steel and darker deeds. but you were different, never pushing, never prying. you greeted him the same way every night, even if he never spoke, even if he only stood in the shadows.

sometimes, you would leave a flower on the shop’s wooden ledge before going inside, knowing he would see it. a silent gift, expecting nothing in return.

one evening, after a job that left his sleeve torn and blood staining his hands, he arrived as always. you said nothing about the wound, nothing about the red that streaked his fingers. you only looked at him, then quietly poured a cup of tea, setting it beside a fresh white camellia.

“a flower of longing,” you whispered.

he finally spoke. “and what does that mean?”

you blinked, startled by the sound of his voice, rough from years of silence. then you smiled.

“it means someone is waiting for you.”

something in his chest twisted.

he did not belong in the warmth of your world. he knew that. but when you reached for his hand, your fingers brushing against his, he did not pull away.

perhaps, for once, he could let himself be seen.

perhaps, even a ghost could learn to bloom.

BONUS:

the night was humid, heavy with the scent of summer rain. assassin! rin had returned from another job, the taste of blood still thick in his mind, but instead of vanishing into the shadows, his feet led him to you.

the flower shop was still open, its doors swaying slightly in the warm breeze. inside, you were alone, seated on the floor, your kimono loose at the collar, your hair slightly undone from a long day’s work. a single candle flickered beside you, casting golden light across your skin.

you looked up, unsurprised to see him.

“you always come late,” you said softly.

he stepped inside without a word.

you gestured for him to sit, and to his own surprise, he did. he had never stayed this long. never let himself linger. but tonight, something felt different.

you poured tea, the quiet sound filling the space between them. he watched you, taking in the delicate movements of your hands, the curve of your throat as you sipped. you were untouched by the world he lived in. and yet, you had let him in, if only just a little. “your hands,” you murmured.

he glanced down. blood had dried under his fingernails, invisible under the dim candlelight, but you still saw it.

without a word, you reached for a damp cloth and took his hand in yours.

assassin! rin stiffened. he had killed with these hands. broken men. ended lives. and yet, you touched them as if they weren’t stained, as if there was still something human beneath the callouses.

you wiped gently, your fingers cool against his skin. he could have pulled away. he should have. but he didn’t.

instead, he let himself feel.

the warmth of your hands. the way you smoothed over old scars with quiet reverence. he had never known softness like this.

slowly, hesitantly, he reached up. his fingers brushed the loose strand of hair at your cheek, tucking it behind your ear. you stilled, your breath catching.

then, with careful slowness, you leaned forward.

his lips met yours in the flickering candlelight, the taste of tea lingering between the two of you. it was not desperate, not hurried, just a quiet surrender. a moment stolen from a life that had never belonged to him.

you did not ask him to stay. you did not beg for words he did not know how to give.

but when he deepened the kiss, when his hands found the curve of your waist, when you whispered his name for the first time, he knew he was no longer just a shadow.

for the first time, assassin! rin did not disappear before dawn.

𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫

the small village by the river had never seen the likes of him.

soldier! kaiser, a foreigner, far from his homeland, wearing a heavy military coat that seemed out of place in the humid warmth of the japanese summer. his tall frame, adorned with a strange combination of leather and metal, and his sword – an odd, long-bladed weapon – drew the eyes of every passerby. but it was the gun slung across his back that truly made the villagers uneasy.

you, however, were not easily unnerved.

the village’s lantern festival was approaching, a time when the streets would glow with paper lanterns, each one carrying wishes for the coming year. you had grown up making them, painting delicate flowers on their surfaces and attaching intricate paper strings. your family’s shop, where lanterns were sold, would be bustling with activity soon.

that’s when you first saw him.

soldier! kaiser had come to the shop, drawn by the bright lanterns hanging in the windows. he didn’t speak at first, just standing at the counter, staring at the rows of vibrant, colorful lanterns. his presence felt heavy in the room, like the air before a storm.

you watched him silently. you had never seen someone like him, so foreign, so different. he seemed lost, out of place, and yet there was something almost childlike in the way his eyes lingered on the delicate paper.

“you’re looking for something?” you asked, finally breaking the silence.

he blinked, as though startled from a trance. then, he gave a small nod.

“i want one,” he said in broken japanese, his voice deep and rough. “a pretty one.”

you tilted your head, considering him.

“i can make you a lantern,” you said, smiling. “i promise it will be beautiful.”

he seemed to hesitate for a moment, then took off his coat, revealing a simple vest beneath. it was clear he was not accustomed to the customs of this village, everything about him screamed of a life lived in other lands, far from the peaceful simplicity of a place like this.

but still, you worked with your hands, as you always did. you knew how to make things beautiful.

and so, over the next few days, you saw him every morning. he would arrive before sunrise, watching you work as you painted and folded the lanterns. sometimes he’d sit quietly, observing, and other times he’d ask you questions, simple ones, like what each flower on the lantern symbolized or why the colors of the paper mattered. you spoke to him slowly, teaching him the meanings behind the designs, the significance of the festival, of the hopes each lantern carried.

though his words were few, his attention was constant. you found yourself looking forward to his visits, even though you didn’t quite understand why. there was something in the way he listened, the way he focused, like he wanted to understand this quiet village, wanted to learn the things he could never have in his home.

one afternoon, as the sun dipped low and painted the sky with hues of red and orange, you finished the lantern. you handed it to him, a tall, white lantern with a red crane painted across its surface, symbolizing strength and hope for a prosperous future.

he took it carefully, as though it were fragile, and held it up to the fading sunlight.

“this is... beautiful,” he murmured. his voice was quieter now, softer. “i don’t know if i deserve it.”

you raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sorrow in his words.

“you deserve it as much as anyone,” you said gently. “this lantern is for you. to carry your hopes.”

for the first time, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. it wasn’t wide, but it was there, subtle, warm.

“i’ve never had something like this before,” he admitted. “where i come from, in germany, there’s only war, only fighting. things like this...” he paused, shaking his head. “they don’t exist there.”

your heart tightened at his words. you could see the weight he carried, the scars that were invisible to the eye. the soldier who had fought in faraway lands, a stranger in this peaceful village, trying to find something that would allow him to live without his past.

without thinking, you stepped closer. you took his hand, careful, tentative, and placed the lantern back in his grasp.

“you don’t have to fight anymore,” you whispered. “you can start fresh. here.”

for a moment, there was only silence between you. the lantern’s soft glow seemed to illuminate his face, casting shadows and light over the hard lines that marked his years. then, slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet yours.

“i’m... sorry,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t know what to do. but you… this... it feels like peace.”

you smiled, squeezing his hand.

“i’ll help you find it,” you promised. “one step at a time.”

the festival came, and the streets were filled with families, children laughing as they carried their lanterns, each light a wish floating toward the heavens. you stood among them, watching as people set their lanterns afloat on the river, the tiny lights drifting gently in the current.

and when the last lantern was released, you turned to find soldier! kaiser standing beside you, the red crane lantern still in his hands. his expression was no longer heavy, no longer burdened by the shadows of his past.

for the first time, he was free.

and you, standing beside him, knew that he had found the peace he had long sought, here, in the quiet beauty of a village, with a lantern that carried his future.

BONUS:

the night had grown still, and the lanterns were long extinguished, their soft glow only a memory in the now-darkened village. you stood by the riverbank, watching the ripples of the water catch the fading moonlight.

it was late, and the village was asleep, but you knew soldier! kaiser would come. he always did, after everyone had gone to bed, when the world was quiet and it felt like only the two of you existed.

when you heard the familiar sound of footsteps behind you, you didn’t turn around.

“i thought you might be here,” he said, his voice low and comforting in the silence.

you smiled softly, letting the cool breeze sweep past you. “i come here to think... to let everything settle.”

he stepped closer, his shadow falling next to yours. he didn’t speak right away, and for a long while, you simply stood there together, two strangers finding solace in each other’s presence. the weight of the world seemed to fall away whenever he was near, and in his silence, you found peace.

finally, he spoke again.

“i’ve never had a place like this. a place where i can just... be. no orders, no fighting, no war.” his voice cracked slightly, though he quickly masked it with a soft sigh. “i don’t know what to do with it.”

you turned to face him then, your heart heavy with empathy. the soldier you had come to know was not the same one who first walked into your shop. he had changed, and you knew it wasn’t just the lanterns or the village, it was something inside of him, something he had buried deep.

“i think you’ve forgotten how to live without the noise,” you said gently, your voice soft as you closed the distance between you. “it’s okay to be still. to find peace in the quiet.”

his gaze softened, but there was still uncertainty in his eyes. “i’m not sure i know how anymore.”

without thinking, you reached up to touch his cheek. his skin was rough, worn by the trials he had faced, but there was warmth beneath it, a warmth you had come to recognize.

“maybe i can help you remember,” you whispered.

he stared down at you, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. his gaze flickered from your lips to your eyes, and you could feel his hesitation. but then, as though the silence was too much to bear, he leaned down slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a delicate, tentative kiss.

the kiss could have even passed as urgent, as if the years of loneliness, of fighting, had led him here. to this moment. to you.

your hands found their way to his shoulders, and he wrapped one arm around you, pulling you closer. the kiss deepened, and the world around you seemed to disappear. there was no war, no distance, no past, only the two of you, lost in the warmth of each other’s embrace.

his other hand slid down to your waist, fingers brushing the fabric of your kimono. you shivered at the touch, but it was not out of fear. it was the realization that this… this tenderness, this softness… was something you both had been yearning for.

when he pulled away, breathless, he placed his forehead gently against yours. his hand remained at your waist, holding you firmly as if afraid to let go.

“i never thought i would find peace like this,” he confessed, his voice hushed. “not in a place like this. not with someone like you.”

you smiled, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “you’re not alone anymore.”

he kissed you again, this time with a quiet intensity, his hands pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. you responded with the same fervor, your heart racing, your body warm against his.

the night seemed to stretch on forever, but in his arms, you knew the world was exactly as it should be: silent, still, and full of love. the two of you, finally together, finding what you both had been missing all along: a love built not on words or promises, but on the quiet understanding that, for once, you didn’t have to fight.

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