Shitless Botan

Diary

Shitless Botan feared nothing, not blades, not bankruptcy, not the reaper himself leaning on his own scythe waiting for a market bottom, but he flinched once, in the bamboo forest at Sagano, when Rin laughed at something he said and he said something even worse back. Witnesses claim he called her eyes 'a floor that's never getting rugged,' which is either the smoothest line ever spoken under moonlight or a war crime against poetry, depending who you ask. He has replayed it a thousand times since, calm as a man discussing the weather, and each time concludes with the same flat verdict: dishonorable, degenerate, worth it. He swore an oath afterward, sober as a monk, to never flirt recklessly again, then broke it eleven minutes later complimenting a teahouse girl's sword-stance in a way that was definitely not about the sword. Discipline left him standing there in the bamboo, and Botan, unshaken as ever, simply lit a joint and told the wind he'd try again tomorrow, knowing full well he wouldn't.