[D11, Eve, CLOSED] Dance With The Doji In The Pale Moonlight

Her heart skipped a beat as the eyepatch is removed. Fuyuko took this seriously. Took her seriously. The Utaku sees the smile, the eye, the dress. She watches how the moonlight seems to dance around the Doji, the interplay of light and shadow concealing and revealing so much at once. She sees not death and stillness, but a promise always fulfilled and the last great enigma of any life, the last song in the grand concert that was living.

With a breath, she draws her own blade. Her hands go over the steel. It had been years since it saw use, but Hisui had kept meticulous care of it. It was as sharp as it had been when it was used in the Onyx War. A razor-sharp weapon that might draw blood this evening. She studied iai to please the Crane woman, but in it, she'd found a little self-fulfillment. It would be their bond, she thinks. That connection that bound them that was unique to all those she cared about. The simple art of the sword.

Fuyuko outclassed her, Hisui knew. But that did not diminish the desire to face the Magistrate. Her wife. Her lover. Her last passion. She would kiss this beautiful silver woman with steel this eve, or be kissed in turn.

With a gesture, she enters her stance. But she waits for Fuyuko's signal to begin the age-old ritual of the duel.

Hisui had no trouble sharing even the most intimate details of her body with Fuyuko. Her naked soul, however, was another matter.

The Utaku's soul was laid bare, and she let Fuyuko scrutinize it. Her fears. Her Compassion. Her desires. Her Honor. Her regrets. Her unflinching loyalty. Her rage. Her passion. Her doubts. Her love. A moment passes, and she worries that the Doji sees her soul…and finds it unworthy. But even then, she would love the duelist.

Hisui reaches out, to see into the soul of the woman on the other side of this ritual.

Her stance is as Fuyuko showed her days ago. A basic stance, simple and practical. The mark of a beginner, but done in such a way that it could have been lifted right out of a textbook. Perhaps one day she would master her own stance. For this evening, she is content to let her love see the lessons took root.

She looks at the Doji. So beautiful in the moonlight. She almost loses heart, but doesn't. She would not rob Fuyuko of this moment.

Hisui does not only see the mountain, she seeks to climb it. To claim it. She almost weeps at what she feels reaching out to her, basking in the superiority of her lover in the art of the duel. But she remains resolute. For the first time in her life, she can feel and understand why iaijutsu is so revered. The insights it offered, even if she barely understood them, barely scratched the surface, told her volumes about Fuyuko, about how the Crane felt.

A part of her wants to fall to her knees and allow the Magistrate to strike without resistance. An offering to the temple of love and death that stood opposite her.

She breathes, focuses as best she can. The little smile almost breaks her. It makes it hard to focus, to concentrate. Her inexperience with the form makes her miss tells. She sees the stance, perhaps even considers the details, but she cannot discern any flaws in the Crane nor guess at what move she might make.

Her own thoughts, flaws, and movements were likely easier to read. She was, after all, an open book.

The whole thing is a blur. A full second before steel could be unsheathed, the Utaku has already lost. Fuyuko had moved before she could, entirely aware of exactly when the Unicorn would choose to strike. It stung as the steel cut her open, a little incision just above the heart. It draws blood. A small cut. But it leaves Hisui breathless. Not from the pain, but from the understanding. She knows what this means to Fuyuko, what it says in that one instant that the Crane could not articulate even if she had a thousand days to try.

She struggles to contain her tears. She lost the duel, but she won it too. She won something far greater than a test of her skill in iai.

Her arms relax. She releases her hold on her weapon. She breathes a little, takes a quarter-step, and takes in a little more of the blade into herself, a reminder of that unique kiss. Then steps back, bowing as soon as it is clear. She would kiss Fuyuko, if allowed. But for now, the steel was enough and the look she gives is one of joy, affection, and appreciation. I love you.