63 The past

Warning for those who want action and don't like a bit of dramatic romance ... this is not for you.

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(3rd Person POV)

„Senunaru? … no way you're that little girl I met in the Runongai district all these years ago? Oh wow how the times have changed … you grew strong I see", Hades said.

„I took your advice too seriously and carried it inside my heart all these years. I hoped to one day see you again.", Senjumaru said.

„I'm glad it worked out … how were you all these years?", Hades asked her.

"I was good. I worked my way up to where I am right now, thanks to you and it seems the Shinigami like my products. I love my work and I love to come up with new ideas on what to do.", Senjumaru said with a smile.

The two quickly forgot that Yamamoto was in the room. They were in their own world right now. Yamamoto could activate his Bankai and they wouldn't care ... 

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(Yamamoto POV)

After a moment of contemplation, I had the decency of excusing myself and leaving the two alone. I had never seen sensei like this. Usually, Gojo-sensei was a calm, calculated and powerful mountain that I never could quite understand or hope to climb.

Gojo-sensei told me at the beginning of my training that I should use him as a whetstone and see myself as a sword. I was supposed to sharpen myself by fighting with him or him training me. 

He was always that immovable object and I usually felt so small next to him. But he was never trying to intimidate me or punch down on me. On the contrary. Gojo-sensei helped a ton of people who were in need. 

He had helpers that seemed to take care of things for him. They never showed themselves but I am sure that it has something to do with his shadow. It always seems to ... move on its own and I feel ... watched. 

It is hard to describe but even after so many years of training under Gojo-sensei, I have no hope of ever defeating him. 

I am still struggling with the 8th Mannequin in both the Zanjutsu section as well as the Hakuda section. Sensei told me that this was more than impressive ... but I was not satisfied. 

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Lately, Sensei gave me more freedom to do what I wished. He said that my training in the basics with him was over. And should I wish I was always welcome to train in the training grounds but it was no longer necessary to follow his training plan.

I took this chance to gain experience as Sensei said I still lacked that. And it was true. My fighting skills were against the Mannequins, but they were human-shaped. 

So fighting against Hollows was different.

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I still destroyed them all though. Training under Gojo-sensei put me in another league of power. I also knew that my growth was not finished. I could feel that the more I trained, the closer I got to perfecting my Shikai. 

I didn't know what my Bankai was, but according to Gojo-sensei's guess ... it was a powerful one. This meant that if I was weak, I couldn't handle my own Bankai and that was unacceptable. 

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(3rd Person POV)

In the house of Senjumaru, she and Hades were still talking. The atmosphere turned ... pink after Yamamoto left and they weren't even talking that much. It was more of a staring contest. 

"How about we go somewhere to talk? I know a place", Hades said.

„Gladly", Senjumaru smiled. 

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Hades took Senjumaru to a place where he had planted some trees and a ton of flowers. It was like his personal garden that he took care of. He had far too much time on his hands. 

They sat on the grass field and watched the view together without saying anything. Hades was the one to break the comfortable silence.

"Tell me about yourself ... Senjumaru.", Hades said. It was not an order. It was not spoken loudly, but softly and as a request.

"Ok."

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(Senjumaru POV)

My past is a mixture of warmth and tragedy. I was raised by my mother. She was a very pretty woman in my eyes. There was no one in the wide world that came close to her in terms of beauty. 

But it was not just her appearance that made her so beautiful for me. It was her character. In the quiet moments when I reflect on her, a kaleidoscope of memories and emotions paints the canvas of my mind. 

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Mom had a lot of humour and care for me as her daughter. Her laughter and warm words had been the source of warmth in our humble abode, which was nothing more than a wooden, one-room, shack.

The scent of comforting meals and the soothing sound of mom's voice were like threads woven into the very fabric of my soul and when I close my eyes on silent nights, I can still hear her speaking to me about the truths of the world.

I remember the way Mom's nimble fingers danced with the needle across the clothes or garments, effortlessly creating attires that mirrored her grace. The gentle encouragement that accompanied every stitch formed the foundation of my love for sewing, a skill that would later serve as both a lifeline and a battlefield in my life.

Yet, amidst the laughter and shared moments, there lingered the unspoken pain. I could see it clearly. It was a pain seemingly etched into Mom's eyes when memories of her past clouded the present. It was a pain I saw and sensed but couldn't fully grasp back then. I was still a small child and was unable to shoulder Mom's pain for her. 

This was my life, our life ... until destiny wove its tragic cloth, leaving me alone with only the echo of my mother's wisdom. 

The teachings, the laughter, and the pain became an inseparable part of my essence. 

She often told me: "In the darkest corners of your heart, you'll find a spark. No matter how cruel and dark the situation seems, nurture it, my love. Nurture it and let it be the light that guides you. Take the needle in your hand Senju ... and through every stitch, sew your destiny with the threads of your own brightness that comes from that spark in your heart. And one day, you maybe will find something or ... someone that will be that spark for you." 

These words became a mantra for me. I lived by them. Back then I believed the spark to stand for my love for her and her love for me as well as my passion for sewing... But I was wrong. The sparks that came from those things, did not survive the storms that came after. 

My mother's presence, now a distant memory that my heart tells me from time to time, fueled the flames of resilience within me. 

In the darkest moments, it was the memory of my mother's strength and the picture of her smile that became the guiding light, the flame that she told me about, which I refused to extinguish... but eventually did.

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Alone in the vastness of the Rukongai, I navigated the harsh reality of orphanhood like a small sapling trying to push through cracks in the pavement. It worked ... but it was not truly living. The daily struggle for survival reflected the harsh and dangerous nature of the district.

I found refuge in the shadowed areas of forgotten alleyways between run-down or abandoned houses. I scavenged for food and warmth. Hunger became the only constant in my life.

Sleep and comfort were a luxury as my nights were spent cuddled against the cold night in loneliness. The danger that the Rukongai held was very real and it forced me to develop vigilance and maturity beyond my years.

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The only thing that kept me going back then was my memories and the small needle that accompanied me everywhere. These chunks of happiness were the weak threads that allowed me to keep my sanity in those times of loneliness.

I tried to hold on to those sparks that Mother told me about. I tried to nurture them and have them warm me ... but the cold and ruthless reality blew them out.

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(Flashback)

Senjumaru slowly walked through the Rukongai aimlessly. Each step is hard and doesn't serve to bring her anywhere, but only so that she has something to do. 

Dry tears ran down her cheek and as if that wasn't enough a group of bullies surrounded her and made fun of her and her growling tummy. They pushed her to the ground and pressed her face into the dirt. 

She was an outcast due to her high Spiritual pressure. But right at the moment when Senjumaru was about to lose her sanity and break ... something happened. A bright light emerged from the darkness, offering not only food but also hope. 

The man was ... beautiful. Senjumaru had never seen someone this pretty before, except her mother. She was not in any position to fight back when he picked her up and carried her somewhere. The man didn't say much ... only one thing: "I will help you, child."

It wasn't profound or inspiring ... but it was enough. Senjumaru lost consciousness due to hunger and woke up in a ... bed!!!

Senjumaru was surprised and far too shocked to do what her instincts told her and run away. But strangely ... this time, her instincts didn't tell her that. 

The aroma of a warm meal filled the air and in Senjumaru's eyes, there was now finally a new glimmer of hope. The flame which had been put out was reignited by an unexpected act of kindness.

(Flashback end)

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Hades ... that was the name he gave her. But he said that his friends called him Eimin, Eimin Gojo.

I still remember how shocked I was that I didn't say anything and only looked at him and listened to his words. He had something that was very soothing but also dangerous. I knew to trust my instincts after surviving so long in the Rukongai. And Eimn was dangerous. But he didn't have any bad thoughts. 

Eimin, with his quiet attitude, guided me to a modest dwelling, a sanctuary so to speak. Food, clothes, and a lot of fabric became the foundation upon which I could rebuild my life. Eimin gifted me with a new home and enough food and water as well as materials for working.

I don't know, to this day, how it always refilled. 

Eimin told me that I could live there for as long as I wished. He was also the one to compliment my work. I lost myself in his smile when he saw my work. I was not as good as Mom used to be but I was getting better. 

I also remember his words when I showed him my needle. 

"Senjumaru, the needle in your hand is not just for stitching fabric; it's a tool and also your best friend. You can use it to sew the fabric of your destiny. Imagine Strength as the needle, and resilience as the thread. And now stitch by stitch, weave the tapestry that represents your life. Because only the strong are truly free."

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As I fell asleep that day, Eimin quietly departed, leaving behind not just material possessions but a challenge to use my talent and weave a destiny for myself. The next morning, I woke up a new person. I had made my choice then and there.

I got determined by Eimin's words and started to sew not just clothes but myself anew. I had finally understood what Mother meant when she told me about the spark and the strength and warmth that I could get out of it. Eimin became that spark and it made me push through and also grow more powerful. 

I clung to the memory of Eimin and the kindness he had shown me. It wasn't much for anyone else, but it was for me. I knew that someday ... I would meet you again and I wanted to be able to stand before him as an equal, a woman who had sewn her own destiny with my threads.

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I used up all the drama I could stomach in this chapter. I believe the backstory I made up wasn't that bad. It just goes to show that the 'meeting' they had wasn't that one-time thing like in a Twilight story.