saburai | ♟ memory 018.

Memory regained: Significant Negative - Cutting those who should be cut (pre-game; headcanon)
Date: Day 79
Game won: Anagram's game

Memory:

You are eleven years old, and you can't sleep.

You're not really sure why you're not asleep, anyway; by now it's the dead of night, long after children your age should be resting. The young master went to bed hours ago, after all, and there's only a few months' difference between the two of you.

It's when you're lying on your back, staring at the ceiling and willing sleep to come, that you hear it. It's faint - but it's discernibly the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and that's enough to have her on her feet. This hallway is reserved for the Master's family and the tools that serve them, so even if it weren't an odd hour of the night it would be uncommon for anyone to be in this area of the mansion.

It's as you're reaching for your sword that you see the shadow fall across the floor under your door before disappearing - and that's enough to spring you into action. The young master is fast asleep across the hall, vulnerable without your protection. If it's a friendly face, then you can apologize later...but his life isn't something you can get back.

You slide open the shoji door as quietly as you can, and peek your head out. It's as you feared, someone unrecognizable in the hallway...carrying a large knife. He's outside of the young master's room, sliding the door open to peek in or sneak in, and fear races through your veins.

It's the fear, more than anything, that propels you into action. You've been trained what to do, in this situation, and by focusing on the alternative - what could happen if you don't act, how the young master could be killed - it allows you not to think about what happens next.

You sneak out, quietly, sword at the ready. And then, as you've been trained to do (on dummies), you bring your sword up toward his neck...and across.

There's a lot more blood, is the first thing that hits you. Your katana, your kimono, your hands are covered in it...you've never realized how much blood there is in the human body. The thud of the head hitting the ground jerks you out of your reverie, and you flinch away as you see the assassin's dead, empty eyes.

Suddenly, it hits you - this is different from practice, from chopping the heads off of stuffed dummies in order to perfect your swing. This is...this is a real person. You've killed someone. It's enough to make you sick - dizzy - you can't breathe--

"...Is someone out there?"

Oh, no. It's the young master's voice, laden with sleep...you can't let him see this. He's still a child.

"...It is only me, young master. Do not be alarmed. I simply tripped. Please, go back to bed."

You're lucky; he's still half-asleep, so he buys it and goes back to bed. And you just wait there, the guard outside his door - until the other thugs come and dispose of the body.

What was learned:
→ ...
→ ...
→ I hated it...at least there's that.

Effects:
+100 uncertainty