Post by Kakita Meta on Apr 8, 2018 15:52:17 GMT -5
Through the woods of the school grounds, beyond the hot springs and hidden by the bamboo and tree trunks, rests a bisento who's blade is plunged into the earth. The ruins of a shrine and the marks of a battlefield lay all around the area, untouched for more than two decades. A battle long past and left otherwise unknown but by a select few. Their deeds were silent and mostly forgotten though their actions had done much for generations that would come after them.
Meta recalled the memories of those moments, vivid as the day they happened and without a single detail spared. Of the man who had helped them and later on died for them. The wind kicked up and pulled the Kenshinzen from the past and brought him back to what mattered most. He had come here for reasons after all and there was little to do beyond carrying them out. He stepped forward and moved into the clearing, every footfall banishing away anything that might linger in malice, lest it pull upon the devil of a man's fury that it would dare to enter such a sacred place. This was after all the grave of a true warrior. The grave of Yoji, a monk and sohei.
The crane pulled out the small bottle of sake and twisted the cap, the crack of the seal snapping as it twisted open. "It has been some time, Yoji-san. Apologies. I've brought a new sake for you though. It should treat you as well as the last," Meta spoke as he tipped the bottle and let the rice wine flow out and down the shaft of the polearm. The liquid spiraled about the weapon taking the easiest path down until the earth supped on a spirit worth more than a few koku. Meta tilted the mouth of the bottle away quietly moved to seiza before the grave, setting the now empty bottle on the other side of the weapon. "Kanpai, old friend."
Meta recalled the memories of those moments, vivid as the day they happened and without a single detail spared. Of the man who had helped them and later on died for them. The wind kicked up and pulled the Kenshinzen from the past and brought him back to what mattered most. He had come here for reasons after all and there was little to do beyond carrying them out. He stepped forward and moved into the clearing, every footfall banishing away anything that might linger in malice, lest it pull upon the devil of a man's fury that it would dare to enter such a sacred place. This was after all the grave of a true warrior. The grave of Yoji, a monk and sohei.
The crane pulled out the small bottle of sake and twisted the cap, the crack of the seal snapping as it twisted open. "It has been some time, Yoji-san. Apologies. I've brought a new sake for you though. It should treat you as well as the last," Meta spoke as he tipped the bottle and let the rice wine flow out and down the shaft of the polearm. The liquid spiraled about the weapon taking the easiest path down until the earth supped on a spirit worth more than a few koku. Meta tilted the mouth of the bottle away quietly moved to seiza before the grave, setting the now empty bottle on the other side of the weapon. "Kanpai, old friend."