[ spit ] your muse making mine spit blood.
VIOLENCE SENTENCE STARTERS - accepting.
before his senior his knees quiver, not merely out of fear, but also exhaustion. the grip on his bokken grows weaker with every passing second and his breath haggard, showing multiple symptoms of being completely and utterly worn out. truthfully, his “limit” was hit hours ago, but given his lazy track record ( as he rudely refers to it ), that apparently wasn’t going to cut it. the two successors kept training until the sun sets low in the sky, filling the room with calming orange and yellow hues. though, this scenario was anything but tranquil. no matter how much the younger begged all his “excuses” fell on deaf ears in the training hall. even their own master knew when he was fibbing or not, and he was one to push people past their limits. ruthlessly stubborn, set in his ways, however not merciless. that was the key difference between their master and kaigaku. unfortunately, zenitsu had a hunch this was nothing more than cruel revenge. his senior wants to see him break. zenitsu isn’t a good actor to begin with, he’s not sure if he can continue to play again and duke it out with no steam left. no, he knows that he can’t anymore.
feeling his knees buckle zenitsu lowers his weapon, showing full signs of surrender. then taking in a huge gulp of air he looks over at him, almost as if he’s pleading silently with his eyes ( currently filled to the brim with tears ) for them to put an end to this hellish training session. ❝ p-please we… w-we have to stop — i-i need a b-break. i really c-can’t d-do this anymore. pl-please, kai — ❞ before he can finish, suddenly, a sharp pain takes all his words away. it pulses throughout his entire stomach and before he can register what’s happening he flies backward, falling down to the ground with a loud thud. every muscle that grew numb over past few hours suddenly screams out in pain. zenitsu, left breathless, tries to get up from the floor but all he can do is peer upward, vision blurred heavily, but he knows that tall figure anywhere.
threateningly it looms over him, a constant reminder of the weakness that keeps him glued to the very ground. he feels so small, helpless, just like countless instances before. then a cold voice hits his ears, only making him shudder more.
“ we’re done when i say we’re done! ”
once again zenitsu tries to stand though its futile, another harsh blow to his stomach ( a kick this time, he thinks ) stuns him, sending him back to the ground, this time a much weaker thud heard between them. his ears ring, but he hears something crack inside of him. desperately he opens his mouth to speak, utter a sound, anything. instead, he hacks so violently that he starts seeing stars. dots of black and blue appear, and all he can do is watch as they distort the colors of the sunset filled room. it spins and spins until all he sees is a splash of red cover the floor. once finished, his bare chin hits the wooden floor, sore, sticky, and wet. nothing like lying in your own blood. gross.
hesitantly ( with what little strength he has left ) zenitsu cranes his neck to look up. but instead of his senior, all he sees are a pair of bokkens lying on the floor. it’s owner, kaigaku conveniently nowhere to been seen. well, looks like they were finally done. perhaps, that’s for the best. although for some reason, one he cannot explain, it hurts more than all the injuries he’s sustained this evening. one could say it even stings. silently he rests his cheek against the cold floor, riddled with his own filthy blood. pathetic. pathetic. he curses himself out in his mind until eventually passing out from the pain, toppled with unfathomable exhaustion.
well, at least he got the break he wanted.
