/jp/ - Otaku Culture

The thing is a beautiful family heirloom.

Its handle is about 11 inches long, the blade length is exactly 26 inches from the hand guard to the tip. The Hieda clan crest adorns the habaki and, like the whole of the steel, is a hallowed war steel forged in the Dragon God's fire. My father taught me how to use this weapon because, one day, I'd teach the same to the next clan head… Akyuu never had the upper-body strength to swing it for longer than a minute. It was okay; I'd never blame my daughter for something she's born with—and it made me happy rather than forcing herself to wield it, changing who she was; Akyuu'd write haikus about its beauty, how it whirled like wind when I'd train katas in front of her and her mother and about the pain the bamboo would feel with each of my strikes. Her thoughtful words made me develop a new stance, and in a delightful show of this world's cyclic nature, I too found myself writing haikus about the sword, which Akyuu would then read.

Never used to its intended purpose by my frail daughter, but still thoroughly appreciated was this katana…

… What'd you write now, Akyuu, as I hold it above my head and stare at the kneeling man—a man that was sometimes your bodyguard, caretaker—patiently waiting for him to cut his belly open with the wakizashi, his thorax bare and doused in water, his eyes closed? Some servants are watching, some lowly crying and others looking haunted—it has been decades since a Hieda samurai committed harakiri—, but you wouldn't mind; you'd have your notebook out nonetheless and would write down your feelings… This man, whom I once thought loyal and stood by me as I entered that witch's cove, has begun questioning our ways and ideals; yet he doesn't see the problem with the things Keine is doing, but he does indeed see many, many with my attempts at protecting the village.

He questioned me as I sent him and other samurai to patrol with orders to beat the senseless ideas of anyone that dare show them; to surround Keine's house but don't attack, or else the other monster, Mokou, would attack back. He has been questioning a lot for the past two days of the actions that were forced on me by novelty-stricken fools…

And then, it was reported the way he’d longly look at one of those youkai that Keine walks with around the village.

Those eyes would take you to write a haiku of love.

… He's dangerous to the ideals we live by and, therefore, must be cut off—but to let him live would be giving the witch fuel to increase her fight against me, right? This is the only way to carry things out. You would understand, you would, my daughter.

Yet, all I can imagine you writing is a sad haiku.

Why are you sad, Akyuu? It cannot be for him; he's a traitor and—

It is as unexpected as the breath of life.

The man releases a gurgling 'hmpf!', sinking the sharp blade into his stomach, cheeks puffing as his eyes frown in a futile war against the ways of life itself. My pulse was steadfast, my heart quickened, and despite my ashen hair, the shout I released carried out as much Ki as the ones I'd let loose when you were just that small, wide-eyed child.

One swift motion, and his head rolls; then the body falls flat against the flooring.

The sound of weeping is loud in the background, but I ignore it as I honor his years of labor, marred by the seduction of sin, by curving myself. “Clean and prepare his body for funeral—we'll bury him when our problems are solved.” I order as I clean the blade from blood and sheathe it, pacing out of the room, followed by two of my most trusted samurai, who do their best to fake being unaffected by what had just happened. “… Those are the consequences of following a silver tongue and not having the mental fortitude to see the hidden knife. The woman thinks she's capable of dividing us, but the Hieda Clan has not survived so long by letting infections like hers spread.” They yell—because of course they yell—, 'Hai, Hieda-sama!', words that bring at most surface-level joy as we leave the main house.

The only way to treat an infection is seen all around the gardens: men and women running around with barrels of ammo for the rifles and pistols and wheel-mounted Gatling guns, balls of dry leaves and sticks bundled and then dowsed in oil, the beautiful garden and its many flowers—Akyuu used to tenderly and arduously take care of them in her spare time…—stomped and cleared to make space for preparations for war. Eighty years of collected weaponry…

For outside standards, this is about as outdated as the gramophone, but if it repelled insurgents then it'll do just fine now.

Your haiku of sadness would become one of rage…

It bothers me so much I cannot make you understand it all, even in this mind of mine… That woman's words have even tarnished the you I treasure in my mind. You'd never stand against your father or against our ideals.

You wouldn't be there with her.

You'd be by my side, ready for the good fight…

… Wouldn't you, my dear Akyuu?

>>43146656
It's obviously just a fox pretending to be Akyuu to infiltrate the village and undermine Akyuu's hard work.
Fortunately, she has a solution to this problem.

>>41904817
How compelling.
Now put on your chastity belt.