Chasing Fireflies

As Chu Shihan reached this point, his tone abruptly rose, carrying an arrogance that allowed no one to profane it. "You say that only by severing these identities, casting aside all responsibility, and betraying the foundation of one's existence can one be worthy of this love? Absurd!"

He raised a hand, his five fingers resting steadily on his sword. The patterns on its hilt had long been worn smooth and warm by time—it was a sword his father had forged with his own hands, one his master had taught him to wield hand in hand, and every repair to its blade bore the painstaking efforts of his fellow disciples.

This sword was himself.

"I, Chu Shihan, have walked upright and sat straight all my life. Standing between Heaven and Earth, I have never betrayed my true heart; walking the righteous path, I have never disgraced my mission."

His voice lowered, yet grew even firmer. Rather than declaring it to the person before him, it sounded more like an oath sworn to his own heart.

"This love I bear for my junior brother was born in my heart. Then it should be open and aboveboard, without shame before Heaven and Earth, without shame before myself, and without shame before him." His fingertips lightly traced the patterns on the hilt, as though confirming his own roots.

"If, constrained by identity and burdened by duty, I must hide him in the darkness and demean it as filth unfit to see the light—then such a me was never worthy of speaking of love."

The night wind swept through the gaps in the forest, stirring fallen leaves and dust from the ground and lashing at the bloodstains still wet upon his robes. The dark-red stains gleamed coldly beneath the moonlight, yet they could not shake