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Muichirou has had an issue with his reflection. For as long as he can remember—which admittedly isn’t long—he has had an issue. It dated back to soon after the incident, when he finally arose from his coma, bleary and trembling like a baby calf, he had first noticed the problem.
When Muichirou had noticed, he was in the process of regaining movement after 6 months of inactivity. He’d often drift through the halls of the Master’s manor like a yūrei to regain his dexterity. It was during one such traipse he had passed by a mirror along the walls of the affluent house.
The mirror wasn’t, on the surface, anything special to look at. It was silver-backed and much more than he could ever afford, sure, but not especially gaudy or eye catching. The contents of the mirror, however, cut through the fog in his mind like one would experience a sudden freefall after walking on a bridge—violent and unprepared.
Yet, to his confusion, it was not something worthy of a feeling he was experiencing. It was just his ordinary reflection; one he presumed he had his whole life. Yet, the longer he looked at his bandaged torso, to his busted lip, and finally his desaturated eyes the sicker he felt.
This feeling was overpowering; he couldn’t get over the sense of wrongness he felt. It was as though he was not the one in the reflection, as though his body wasn’t unique to him.
He had soon found he couldn’t handle the feeling and had to scramble off to vomit. One would assume he was merely sick that day, yet over and over every time he had to face his reflection, vomit would crawl in the back of his throat.
Muichirou did not spend particularly long on this issue, as he did not with most things. Indeed, when he’d spent his days roaming the halls of the master’s house felt like the most accurate representation of his person, a lost yūrei who had no recollection of what they were trapped in the mortal realm searching for.
Again, and again however, when he was faced with his reflection the feeling grew. Until, once he had finally decided to come to a solution. He grabbed a pair of scissors he would’ve traditionally used for origami and and paced to where a mirror laid, a gift from one of his fellow hashira.
He removed the sheet covering the mirror and sat face to face with his own scrunched visage. Running his fingers through his hair, Muichirou grabbed the midsection from where his hair sat streaming down the floor. Holding his scissors in his other hand, Muichirou prepared himself for the cut.
Perhaps, if he changed his appearance, he would feel as though his body belonged to himself — maybe even Muichirou would feel he wasn’t staring into the eyes of a stranger who was all too familiar.
Yet, the closer he guided the metal to his hair, the more he felt he could not bear it. He knew, if he cut off these memories he had grown, yet could no longer access, he would once again lose something precious to him, something sacred.
Finally giving in to frustration, Muichirou let out a small scream of frustration, and threw the scissors he carried straight towards the mirror; sending crack straight down the middle as it hit bullseye. The feelings he normally felt towards his reflection boiling over, he stood and marched towards the mirror.
He balled his fist and grabbed onto the mirror, using his other hand to strike the mirror. Hot blood burst from his fist—then onto the tatami mat—the sting mirroring the harsh burn of his tears as they streaked from his eyes.
Even so, Muichirou didn’t stop the assault until the mirror was merely shrapnel of wood and glass. His hands ran with streams of blood coating down to his elbow—littered with tiny specks of glass.
A hiccup left his mouth and soon sobs burst forth from him.
What he was doing right now was incredibly stupid, as he didn’t even know why he was upset. To be destroying a gift over a temper tantrum was the epitome of childishness.
Yet, he couldn’t help the boiling of emotions inside him, located in a deep forest in his mind; covered completely by fog. A wandering yūrei he truly was, one who never got laid to rest alongside their family.