Chapter Text
The first sword they give you is broken, and you guess that it is because it would be no loss to them if something went wrong.
You sit in the centre of the room, legs folded beneath you and hands wringing slowly in your lap. The more you look at the people surrounding you, the greater in number they seem to become, all dressed in the same dark uniform with the same white logo on the shoulders. A few had arrived when you had, stepping into that seemingly endless tunnel of light behind you. Most were already here when you first breathed the air of this time. It is hard to remember who fit where when it comes to that.
Your mind reels when the box is set in front of you. You clench your hands into fists, fists which are rapidly becoming far too warm and clammy with each passing heartbeat. Memories of the past day feel like they have actually stretched across a whole lifetime; this fresh countryside you have suddenly found yourself in is all new and fresh and very, very big. It really is hard to think that you had woken up this morning two hundred years in the future.
They'd burst into your house when the sun was still rising, pushing your mother out of the way and ignoring her cries of both pain and surprise as they marched up the stairs and straight into your room. You were sitting up at this point, duvet gathering around your knees, but spilling onto the floor as they picked you up and pulled you away. There was no time to get dressed, and the most vivid memory of the morning was the small but freezing journey between the front door and the car that had appeared outside.
Your mother came with you, pushed in to the seat beside you with her food-stained apron still tied around her waist, and after half an hour of screaming and struggles, the men in glasses darker than that of the tinted windows finally began to explain.
Research had concluded that you were what they called a saniwa. You had some kind of ability of which the mechanics and understanding had gone completely over your head, and these 'agents' had arrived with a warrant issued by the government themselves to remove you from your house and send you to the past (this part was a part you had completely refused to believe until you had reached it) through any means necessary. You remained silent, fuming that their idea of any means involed nothing akin to civil conversation. Although, if someone had shown up casually and told you that information before doing anything else, they wouldn't have been off to a convincing start. At least dragging you into their car while still in your pyjamas had shown you that, even if they were lying, they were serious.
You couldn't see the building you got to after that journey either - it was in one door, out the other - and the next hours after that were spent in a blindingly white room full of people in blindingly white clothes, having your body probed and pricked and filled with a frightening amount of pills and vaccines. It took a monumentous effort not to have some kind of breakdown, and you found comfort in a small but thick book one of the scientists had placed in your hands, along with a pen. It was a clean notepad, the cover barely decorated, pages crisp and white as the room. But this white felt more like privacy and less like an invasion of it, and when the woman had confirmed you were able to keep this for a diary, something that had been pulled tight inside you had begun to relax with the breath you let out.
It wasn't long after that that you found yourself in the past.
And now a sword is in front of you, in this non-descript box you have just opened. You pull it out slowly, gasping at the weight it sets in your hands. They all watch you as you run your fingers along the shinogi, all the way along the blade until it comes to an abrupt finish. The tip had broken off.
Frowning slightly, you lean forward and peer into the box it had just come from. No, the rest of the uchigatana (as they had so informed you that it was) is not inside. Your eyes fall to stare at the blade again. Even incomplete, it is still beautiful.
"Come on," one of those loathsome scientists say in a harsh whisper, "get it over with. We paid millions to retrieve this sword, and even more to get you both here together in the same room."
Both. They spoke of you and this sword like you were equals, this simple reminder sending a chill running along your skin. It had been explained to you by the slightly nicer scientist woman in more detail before you were pulled from your time; the saniwa had the power to bring inanimate things to life, and being one of them, it had become your duty to do so.
You bring the uchigatana closer to your face, your breath condensing on the metal. Grumbles fill the air as they all become ever more impatient, and you feel the growing urge to tell them to shut up, because you really don't have any idea what you're supposed to be doing at all and they aren't helping you work it out with their complaints.
But you don't have time to because the blade in your hands starts to glow.
Thinking back, you realise as the light builds that you never really understood what they meant by bring to life. What would this power of yours create? Images of a sword with a mouth and eyes fill your mind for a moment before white completely engulfs your vision. The weight in your hands suddenly grows infinitely heavier, and you find your hands are trapped underneath, unable to be used to shield yourself from the glare.
After from what have could have been anything from mere seconds to full minutes, the light begins to fade. Your eyes are squeezed shut, frightened by this new warmth covering your hands and arms, but the whooping and cheering of the people around you all but force them open, and you find yourself looking down at a... person.
He is naked, dark hair unbound and gathering on the floor, and he is blinking slowly, wine-coloured eyes focused solely on yours. He can't be much older that yourself.
You're utterfly frozen, mouth open but no words to come out of it, as you do nothing but stare at the person in your arms. He was undeniably there because of you - you, with this apparent power of yours had brought him here, from...
Your eyes travel to the sword. It's still there, resting on the floor beside you, but at the same time you know that it is still the sword that is now this person is on your lap, staring at you and breathing and alive. You brought something to life, just like they had all said. A strange feeling has settled in the very pits of your stomach when you realise he seems to know this (whether he knows anything more than this is unclear), showing it by how he ignores the others that are slowly creeping towards you both.
His gaze is still locked with yours as someone slowly sits him up on the tatami mats in front of you, covering him in a white gown. The sword remains untouched. You bite your lip and reach for it.
He flinches when your fingertips come into contact with the blade, and this is the first time he looks at something that isn't you. Instead, he is looking at the blade, watching wordlessly and motionlessly as you go to lift it and set it on his lap. And then, it's back at you again.
And then you wonder if he can actually speak at all.
The next voice you hear is not his, but just one of the others. At least it's calm, albeit a little wavering.
"Your name is Kashuu Kiyomitsu," she says to him, and you find yourself rembering that that was the name given to you when you were handed him for the first time, "our saniwa has given you life with the intent that you fight alongside us and help us in our campaign."
Kashuu does not look away towards the voice when she speaks, but he does react, nodding slowly. The action is almost robotic, but then he begins to do it more, lifting arms and turning his head and blinking and bringing his right hand to his chest. You watch as he appears to be feeling his heartbeat, breath heavy as it escapes his parted lips. It seems to have filled him, under that silent layer. Some kind of wonder, that is, and you inch towards him with your own feeling that you can't describe. But you know that, whatever it is, it could never be anything like the sensation of suddenly being brought to life, as he is feeling.
You settle your hand on his.
"Hello," you say softly, slightly unsure as you push away the hair that had gathered in front of his face, and you tell him your name.
"This must be very odd for you," you add when he doesn't reply.
More silence.
Again, you try, this time with an encouraging, "how are you feeling?" This duty of the saniwa, or whatever it is, has apparently got to you somehow. You feel a strong sense of something towards him, an attatchment like a mother to her child but at the same time absolutely nothing like that. It swells and fills your body in time with his heartbeat.
A heartbeat that you made, you remind yourself.
"I'm feeling... awake." your whole body jerks when he speaks. And he blinks at you with a small smile.
At that moment, you smile back, big and hard and wide, and he appears to fall from whatever trance he had been in. His whole body seems to shift forward, like it had been frozen in time before.
"I am Kashuu Kiyomitsu," he confirms, and his voice is so bright and confident you forget to breathe for a few seconds, "the child beneath the river, the child of the river banks, I suppose."
He looks down, and you suddenly realise just how close you are to him. "I may be hard to handle," he continues with a grin, "but my ability is top notch. I am always looking for people who can use me well, shower me with affection, and dress me beautifully."
"Well," a light flush has spread across your face, and you gently squeeze his hand, "it's wonderful to meet you."
He nods.
He is yours.