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Fingers tipped downwards, following a petite jawline. For once, these fingers were gentle despite the long nails that grazed horrifically just over the woman’s throat. If his wrist flicked too hard, he would have slit her neck right there and added to the growing display of corpses that followed him. It wouldn’t do, however, to rip open a gaping hole in the throat of someone who shared his blood. He could tell as she stood still, wispy hair of ink washing upwards and her white eyes watching him with a rather solemn gaze.
Despite all of the generations morphing her face, her eyes were familiar. There was a rage similar to his own welling up deeply to form her tears. She was shaking and, just like his own father, stood in front of him. She stood there, head on, confronting him among the bamboo and the reeds.
His voice, as deep as the hum of a gong, carried over her tiny body.
“誰ですか?” Who are you?
She took several moments to answer. He could see her pale, blue lips pinching tightly, her white irises latched onto him. Her voice, in comparison to his own, glittered sweetly and echoed like that of a lonely onryou’s.
“リン。やまおかリン。” Rin. Yamaoka Rin.
Fingers twitched beneath her chin and then pulled away. He watched her shoulders relax and the softest sigh bleed from her pursed lips before she righted herself.
She was his kin. In this place of murder and haunting whispers, she seemed to suffer just as much as he was. The way her face was tear-streaked, the way glass ate away at her bandaged body- He almost mourned for her there as she stood in silence, suffering mutely with uncertain posture and her blade technique uncertain.
His masked face dipped down.
“このような。” Like this.
The man walked to her side slowly. She did not flinch nor run but, instead, stared at him with a steady gaze as he began to slowly push and pull on both the fingers and the katana she held in her right hand.
How cold her skin was. It was the opposite of his, where he was fueled with primal rage and unbridled hate. Tears and fury cascaded over her petite corpse. Her body was on the sweet verge of death and her eyes, his father’s eyes, were watching him again. He would not let his father’s soul drown him now. This was his chance to help the bloodline, to expand it and to show that she, too, could rule with an iron fist and that he was able to be redeemed in his father’s eyes.
As she gripped the sword firmly and rolled her wrist slowly, the man nodded.
“さあ。。。 行こう。" So... Let's go.
Rin watched him, uncertain. “でも、誰ですか?” But who are you ?
She came to him eventually as he looked at her, letting her lead the way slowly through her side of the Yamaoka Estate.
“私わカザン。やまおかカザン。” I am Kazan. Yamaoka Kazan.
Her shocked expression… why did it hurt so much?