content warning for the Shimabara Rebellion: historical religious oppression, war crimes, samurai-typical violence, interrupted suicide
[ “In the time of your highness Taikou, Christians had much more freedom, didn’t they?” A man - you know him as Emosaku - in clothes tattered from battle parades around a town - among them farmers, peasants, civilians. Disgruntled from the life that they’ve been living, struggling for food, water, just the basic means to survive. You see it in their haggard faces, the way that they seem to perk up and listen at the idea of something better.
You turn to your companion, Hyuuga Masamune - after all, the two of you have been given this task together. Grow the numbers of the army, the Christians who are seeking to defy the rule of the Shogunate. Still, something feels off. You ask, “Was that really the case?”
Shaking his head, he says, “I don’t think so!”
Despite this, the crowd only grows. They’re drawn in by Emosaku’s words. The Christians are gathering to rise against their oppression. Your companion is painted as the grandson of Hideyoshi Toyotomi - the last great leader, in the eyes of these people. All their resentment, all their anger, gathers. Festers.
Hyuuga steps forward when asked to speak, and you see the way that his throat works over the emotion. This is history. You need to be convincing. An army must be raised - that’s all you know. Raising his voice, he announces to those gathered: “Paraiso! Our rallying cry is Paraiso. Our freedom - our rallying cry is Paraiso. Let us go and take it together. Let us go to Paraiso!”
Paraiso. Paradise. A salvation that will welcome them even if they fall.
“Hey, Emo-san.” You find yourself stomping over to the man who stirred this all up to begin with - the only one of you that belongs in this era. “Somehow, this all feels like a load of bogus. After all, this is just a downright lie.”
“It’s not a lie!” He argues back so fiercely the words sting. Looking back over the group - grown men kneeling, pleading for guidance, as though having met their savior, he speaks again, haunted: “This is our light… People long for the light!”
Human flesh cuts differently.
You know in your heart that this is the mission of what it means to be a Touken Danshi - a sword warrior. To ensure history as it already happened. However you’d always known your enemy as Historical Revisionists - ghostly, monstrous beings that can put up just as much of a fight against you, strong as they are. Everyone had thought the same thing–to protect history, you defeat the enemy.
Today, to protect history, you have to slaughter the humans who were fated to die.
Some of these faces are familiar. As they contort in pain when your blade slices across their skin, you think of how desperately they longed for the light. When their blood coats your sword, splatters against your clothes, you recognize that this is Christian blood you are spilling. These men are not trained soldiers - they are people desperate for a better life.
You recruited them into this war, and now you have to kill them.
That’s history. Though it’s not your history - lost blade that you are. All of this is familiar to you only in theory, an awareness of a time that you never truly belonged to. But you’re here for another reason besides protecting history. Where is it? Where is he?
Dozens fall to your blade, blood dyeing the dirt you run upon. The splatter and stench of death clings to you, stains you. This terrible new heart of yours twists, but you ignore it. This isn’t about you.
Further ahead in the clearing, you see him - Matsui Gou. Matsu. In this moment, he is surrounded. This is his battle, a history in which he was always so loath to face. He’d cut all these men before, wielded by the general leading the massacre, but now he’s forced to do it again. The weight of his sins seems to very nearly break him. You are swords who have strength to outmatch any human and yet -
His hand drops. One of the humans rises to kill him. The resignation on Matsui’s face is clear - he’ll let them. He’ll let them break him if it means atonement. He’s also looking for the light.
You can’t let him do it like this. Running as fast as the limits of your body will let you, you dash forward - you cut down the humans, doused in their blood, before they can cut the one dearest to you. The other humans flee, and something inside of your heart aches when you realize that Matsu is looking at you with surprise.
“Buzen, I…” he begins, voice shaking.
“You don’t have to say it.” You interrupt him, stern. When he looks at you, bewildered, you can only say, “Everyone has one or two things they can’t tell anyone about, right? You don’t have to force yourself to tell me.”
Already you begin to walk away, intent on finishing this battle - but you look back to him and decide you have to finish the sentiment. “But if it’s so heavy you can’t bear it yourself…. Tell me anytime. Here, my arms are wide open.”
Matsu isn’t at peace - you can tell from the way that he continues to stare at you, but he repeats your name one more time like he’s holding onto it as a lifeline. “Buzen…”
This is why you’re here. The two of you run ahead to the rest of the battlefield - because your work isn’t over. You’re not a blade meant for saving people. To protect the course of events, you know in your heart how this has to end. Of the 37,000 people recruited into this war, you have to help kill every last one. Men, women, children, civilians. Matsu had already done this once, and it haunts him.
Now it’ll haunt you too. But this was a hell you chose. A promise you made: I’ll stain myself the same red as you. ]
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[ “In the time of your highness Taikou, Christians had much more freedom, didn’t they?” A man - you know him as Emosaku - in clothes tattered from battle parades around a town - among them farmers, peasants, civilians. Disgruntled from the life that they’ve been living, struggling for food, water, just the basic means to survive. You see it in their haggard faces, the way that they seem to perk up and listen at the idea of something better.
You turn to your companion, Hyuuga Masamune - after all, the two of you have been given this task together. Grow the numbers of the army, the Christians who are seeking to defy the rule of the Shogunate. Still, something feels off. You ask, “Was that really the case?”
Shaking his head, he says, “I don’t think so!”
Despite this, the crowd only grows. They’re drawn in by Emosaku’s words. The Christians are gathering to rise against their oppression. Your companion is painted as the grandson of Hideyoshi Toyotomi - the last great leader, in the eyes of these people. All their resentment, all their anger, gathers. Festers.
Hyuuga steps forward when asked to speak, and you see the way that his throat works over the emotion. This is history. You need to be convincing. An army must be raised - that’s all you know. Raising his voice, he announces to those gathered: “Paraiso! Our rallying cry is Paraiso. Our freedom - our rallying cry is Paraiso. Let us go and take it together. Let us go to Paraiso!”
Paraiso. Paradise. A salvation that will welcome them even if they fall.
“Hey, Emo-san.” You find yourself stomping over to the man who stirred this all up to begin with - the only one of you that belongs in this era. “Somehow, this all feels like a load of bogus. After all, this is just a downright lie.”
“It’s not a lie!” He argues back so fiercely the words sting. Looking back over the group - grown men kneeling, pleading for guidance, as though having met their savior, he speaks again, haunted: “This is our light… People long for the light!”
Human flesh cuts differently.
You know in your heart that this is the mission of what it means to be a Touken Danshi - a sword warrior. To ensure history as it already happened. However you’d always known your enemy as Historical Revisionists - ghostly, monstrous beings that can put up just as much of a fight against you, strong as they are. Everyone had thought the same thing–to protect history, you defeat the enemy.
Today, to protect history, you have to slaughter the humans who were fated to die.
Some of these faces are familiar. As they contort in pain when your blade slices across their skin, you think of how desperately they longed for the light. When their blood coats your sword, splatters against your clothes, you recognize that this is Christian blood you are spilling. These men are not trained soldiers - they are people desperate for a better life.
You recruited them into this war, and now you have to kill them.
That’s history. Though it’s not your history - lost blade that you are. All of this is familiar to you only in theory, an awareness of a time that you never truly belonged to. But you’re here for another reason besides protecting history. Where is it? Where is he?
Dozens fall to your blade, blood dyeing the dirt you run upon. The splatter and stench of death clings to you, stains you. This terrible new heart of yours twists, but you ignore it. This isn’t about you.
Further ahead in the clearing, you see him - Matsui Gou. Matsu. In this moment, he is surrounded. This is his battle, a history in which he was always so loath to face. He’d cut all these men before, wielded by the general leading the massacre, but now he’s forced to do it again. The weight of his sins seems to very nearly break him. You are swords who have strength to outmatch any human and yet -
His hand drops. One of the humans rises to kill him. The resignation on Matsui’s face is clear - he’ll let them. He’ll let them break him if it means atonement. He’s also looking for the light.
You can’t let him do it like this. Running as fast as the limits of your body will let you, you dash forward - you cut down the humans, doused in their blood, before they can cut the one dearest to you. The other humans flee, and something inside of your heart aches when you realize that Matsu is looking at you with surprise.
“Buzen, I…” he begins, voice shaking.
“You don’t have to say it.” You interrupt him, stern. When he looks at you, bewildered, you can only say, “Everyone has one or two things they can’t tell anyone about, right? You don’t have to force yourself to tell me.”
Already you begin to walk away, intent on finishing this battle - but you look back to him and decide you have to finish the sentiment. “But if it’s so heavy you can’t bear it yourself…. Tell me anytime. Here, my arms are wide open.”
Matsu isn’t at peace - you can tell from the way that he continues to stare at you, but he repeats your name one more time like he’s holding onto it as a lifeline. “Buzen…”
This is why you’re here. The two of you run ahead to the rest of the battlefield - because your work isn’t over. You’re not a blade meant for saving people. To protect the course of events, you know in your heart how this has to end. Of the 37,000 people recruited into this war, you have to help kill every last one. Men, women, children, civilians. Matsu had already done this once, and it haunts him.
Now it’ll haunt you too. But this was a hell you chose. A promise you made: I’ll stain myself the same red as you. ]