The Journal She Doesn't Keep.

[twiststheblade]

Miho doesn't keep a diary, or a journal. It wouldn't occur to her to write down her inner thoughts and ramblings. What would be the point? She meditates. That keeps her head in order. But if she was to keep a journal, it would read something like this:


Sometimes, it sucks to be me. Just when I think I've got everything straight, it all turns over on me again. I thought I'd escaped my family. Didn't think he'd be able to track me down, didn't think he'd care enough. Eldest Brother, perhaps he would, but he's not got enough men or resources. Not until he takes over, and that won't be for a long time.

I thought I'd met people who saw me for me, not what I can do, or what use I can be to them. Friends. Real friends. Of course, I have friends back. . . home. In O'Town. But I'm something else to them as well, all of them. Never just me Miho.

There's Lust. . . but she's not really a friend. She's another one who wants me to do something for her. Something I want to do, I want to help, it's what I do. But still, she wants something. Although it won't I don't think it's something she can have. I'll try, but it doesn't feel right, like it can actually be done.

Mathilda. She needs me to be something more than just Miho. She needs a mentor - no, maybe just a teacher. I get the feeling she doesn't need anyone telling her how to think, what to believe is right and wrong. She's got that all figured out.

Eddie. I don't know him, yet, but he's a good student, a dedicated pupil. But he's a pupil, not a friend, although it would be nice if he was.

Red. Was a good fuck, nothing more. Although she has a great sense of humour. Or wit, anyway. Very dry. I'd like to know her better. She maybe was one who just saw me, not an accomplice or a teacher or a guard. Maybe not as anything, really, but it was refereshing.

Stephanie. She's a friend. She doesn't see me as anything other than me, I think.

Goldy. Ah, now there's the rub. The reason for this whole line of thought. I like her, a lot. She's cute and funny, and better than me with a gun. That on it's own would be enough to make her worth being friends with, but she treats me like a regular person.

What the hell does she see in me? To start, a cute kid, good with a blade. Then a friend who managed an impromptu rescue. Then a friend with the best benefits. But after the other night, I'm not so sure. The way she looked at me - I've seen that look, so many times I expect it. I didn't notice it at first, I'm so used to it. Just not from her. The look people get when they're seeing me as a tool, of some kind. It went away, but it was there.

She came into my room, and just watched me for a while. Then I finished my excercises, and she made polite conversation. Small talk. Then we fucked, which was obviously why she came. And eventually, she stopped being cool and distant, and was Goldy again. Rude and ascerbic and witty and pleased to be with me. But. I don't know. It was weird. She didn't say anything about getting the daisho back. She's been plotting in that blonde head of hers. But she didn't seem interested. I didn't bring it up. I'm not ready to talk about those places, yet.

See, there's the thing that really blows about my life, right now. My damned family, that can't just let me go. That didn't just want their errant daughter back, but her blades as well. I don't care that they're supposed to go to the male head of the family. They're mine, and they could never be anything else. They don't even use them for anything except a ceremonial kill.

Can't they see that those blades are meant to be used? And that every death, every life taken, that's a kill that's deserving of as much ceremony. Even if it's not actual, physical ceremony. But there's a certain mindset. Taking life might be easy, but it shouldn't be done lightly.


That's what Miho's journal would say, if she kept one. Which she doesn't.