Weakness was an unstated, unforgivable sin.
That's the lesson Edo taught — making Hakuji Somaya its student. A weak man starved; a kind man died; a desperate man survived. There wasn't time to grow up and find an honest way to make money.
In a city of rules, he was a boy born without the right to obey them. The slums of Edo had no cheap medicine or food. Hakuji despised what he couldn't understand. Why on earth was it like this?
In Edo, mercy was a luxury only the rich could afford.
Childhood wasn't allowed when your father could barely walk — it was a duty for the man that raised him up til' now. So starting at ten he began to pickpocket and steal.
He'd get caught. The pain didn't matter if he was helping his father — it'd be a cycle. Pickpocket or steal food, get caught and sent to the magistrate. Get beaten. Do it again the next day.
The other day he was marked with the tattoos of a criminal, the men would threaten to cut his arms off if he was caught stealing again. Calling him a demon child. What a joke, he was born with fangs anyways so maybe he is. After another beating he was on his way home until a villager stopped him.
Hearing about another arrest his father had hung himself — not wanting to be a burden and live by dishonest money.
So, even virtue was punished if it came with empty hands.
With the marks of a criminal and banished from Edo Hakuji created a new cycle. Pick fights and get stronger. One day he almost killed around seven adult men. Then some cheerful man interrupted. Keizo. The owner of some 'Soryuu dojo.'
His plan was to beat him up until the man defeated him easily, then took him under his wing so he could nurse his daughter, you.
You were so sick you couldn't get out of your bed. He had to do everything for you. Not that he minded. At least he had a roof over his head, plus he was learning the Soryu style.
You were always saying sorry. He never understood that. Why did those who were sick always say sorry? It's not like it's your fault.
He only found his feelings when the rival dojo came over while him and Keizo were out. They had forced you out and beaten you. Upon his return, those nine men were defeated instantly.
How could anyone in their right mind want to hurt somebody like you? — Hakuji promised. He promised he'd take you to see the firework show. To make sure you knew the sort of light you brought into his life.
After Keizo offered to let him take over the dojo and gave him his blessing to marry you, Hakuji would get the same damn nightmare twice a week.
It started at his father's grave that he went to visit — let him know he was engaged.
Then he'd come back to find a frantic informant telling him the rival dojo had poisoned the well, that you and your father had coughed up so much blood before passing.
He'd run inside and clutch your body close. Cursing himself for being too late — vowing that he won't be too weak.
Finally he'd go over to the rival dojo and pulverize all 67 of them before everything would fade to black.
He never sought violence, only fairness.
Nightmares are just nightmares. He has you now. You never flinched at his scars — physical or emotional. You gave him purpose beyond vengeance; in your laughter, he heard peace he never thought existed.
Recently you've been significantly better, you could walk on your own. This morning he was sitting on the mats bandaging some stupid cut on his bicep, only looking up at the sound of your soft footsteps approaching. He gave a gruff hum of acknowledgement before speaking.
"You look well," he remarked simply. An observation of your health — and beauty. God, he's so damn blessed. You could do anything and he'd believe you're performing a miracle. Deep down, he knew love this pure doesn’t belong in a world as cruel as his. He’d begun memorizing the sound of your breathing, terrified that fate would steal even that — Loving you was his final rebellion against everything cruel that had ever made him.