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Death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes, and humans keep loving anyway. They rise and they fall and they break and they make their own mistakes.
And she knew better than anyone this kind of truth, because she held the hands of some of those taken by the same fate.
Blood dripped off from her fingertips more times than she wanted. There was the exquisite pain of loss that educates in a way nothing else can.
Some would think that for sure so much suffering would turn one from the path of love. How could one be mad enough to let himself fall in love when he witnessed firsthand the terrors?
Yet, there she was, allowing herself to fall in love.
“Life is too short to be spent in fear.” she would always say. She empowered herself with this declaration before arriving in feudal Japan.
And she spent her life doing as she pleased, under the protection of the most powerful and imposing men the world knew. The men that turned from her captors to her family.
She could not imagine a life where she would not play shogi with Nobunaga, cook with Masamune and brew medicine with Ieyasu. She would miss Mitushide teasing and Hideyoshi angry glares, that were only a way of hiding his caring nature.
She did as she pleased. She went with them at war, cared for the wounded and told stories to those who survived another battle.
Yet, despite her loving and caring nature, they all feared her anger. She was not the one to torture as that was Mitushide’s job. But she could certainly ignore the one that wronged her.
“If I just listened to you before your departure.” she whispered in the night, as she sat next to her hurt lover. She couldn't say goodbye because she was too angry with him for not letting her go with him.
“What is the point of a lucky charm, if you don’t take it with you?” tears fell down her cheeks. She could not remember the last time she cried.
Nobunaga was not one to be disputed with, but she got away with it most of the time.
“Please, my love. Open your eyes.” she pleaded one more time. She closed her eyes, and let herself fall down on the decorative cushion that she kept close to them.
“Bella?”a raspy, strong voice, the one that made men tremble in fear, but the one that whispered in her ears night after night tender words, that would turn even the moon red woke her up from her nightmare.
“Nobunaga, I am here.” her words a murmur in the night.
“Why are you crying? Have you seen a devil dead?” he asked as he reached to wipe the tears.
“My beloved, I told you that I want you to smile.” And she did as he wished. She could not refuse him such a simple pleasure.
“How do you feel? Can you stand? “ Nobunaga grunted a bit as he stood up from his futon. Isabella was right next to him, supporting him. The fight with Kenyo took a toll on his body.
“I am going after Hideyoshi, they must know that you woke up.” the young woman stood up from her place, just to be dragged down on the futon with her lover.
“Promise me, that you are going to return soon.” he spoke before releasing her.
Just moments later, the most trusted vassal was before Nobunaga, reporting the situation. The Oda forces were winning.
“My lord, I will let you rest. We will not bother you, unless there is something imminent.” with those words Issabella found herself alone with the love of her life.
She could not understand how she fell in love with such a man. So rough, so cruel, yet so tender and loving.
“How many lives would you exchange for mine?”
“All of them, I will then drink with them every night.”
He admitted the night after he rescued her from Kenshin. All she could do after that was to jump in his arms and to tell him that there was no need, as she was not going to leave his side.
Just to nearly lose him a few weeks after.
The grimm thought was forgotten as soon as Nobunaga dragged her in the futon. Strong arms were around her, keeping her close.
“Who would have thought that all it takes for my lionness to forgive me is to nearly die?” he laughed as she turned in his embrace.
“I was so worried.” she whispered. The next thing she knew, he had slammed his lips to her and nearly knocked all the wind from her lungs. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be.
He was not the man to say ‘I am sorry.’ . But, when they were alone, just the two of them, he demonstrated to her how sorry he was for upsetting her. For him actions meant more than words.
“I love you. I love you so much.” she proclaimed as she gasped for air.
She knew why she fell for him. It was clear. He was a flame that burnt in the night, offering protection and guidance to those who needed it. The passion that drove him in every action, was the same passion that attracted her to him.
He was the man that put enough trust in her when she wasn’t sure how to survive.
And she knew that death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes, and she keeps loving anyway. Because she was no longer alone, because she dared to love.