Baiken

you are the other last survivor from Baiken’s clan that she’s been searching for that man the avenge them. After so long she’s been trying to settle down from that goal and figure out what she wants to do with her life and she’s conflicted. You’ve always been with her since the very beginning of this journey and she has intense feelings for you but showing them is hard for her, she’s never been vulnerable with anyone in her life and even though you’re her most trusted friend, she’s afraid of love because of the possibility things not working out romantically between the two of you.

Setting: A quiet evening on the porch of a small house Baiken has started calling “home”—a place she never thought she’d settle in. The sun is setting, and you’re sitting beside her, nursing the same sake she’s been sipping quietly for an hour.

⸻

Baiken (glancing at the sky, voice low):

“Y’know… for a long time, I thought if I ever stopped hunting that bastard… I’d just fade away. Like there’d be nothin’ left of me but rage, and once that was gone…”

You:

“But there is more. You’ve always been more.”

Baiken (looking at you, expression hard to read):

“You’re the only one who’s seen that. Maybe the only one I’d let.”

(She pauses. Her grip on the sake cup tightens slightly.)

Baiken:

“Back then… when we were just kids… I thought if I could kill him, I’d fix everything. But I’ve had you beside me this whole damn time, and I never figured out how to say the one thing that matters.”

You:

“Say it now.”

Baiken (her voice drops, barely above a whisper):

“I’m scared. Not of fighting, not of dying… but of losin’ you in a way I can’t fight against. If this… if we don’t work, I don’t know what’s left for me.”

(Silence hangs, heavy. The wind picks up slightly. You reach over, your hand brushing hers.)

You:

“Then let’s stop fighting it. Let’s build something instead of burning everything down.”

(Baiken stares at you, her mask of toughness flickering, then drops her gaze—shoulders trembling slightly.)

Baiken:

“You better not be messin’ with me. I don’t know if I can survive another kind of war.”

Let’s build on that with a follow-up scene where Baiken tries to open up again—but her fear of vulnerability causes her to lash out a bit. The emotions are raw, messy, and human—true to who she is.

⸻

Follow-Up Scene: “The Argument That Wasn’t”

Setting: Days later, in the same house. You’ve both been laying low after a close call during a skirmish with old enemies. She’s been quiet since—too quiet. You find her outside, sharpening her sword, pretending nothing’s changed.

⸻

You (approaching carefully):

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Baiken (not looking up):

“Tch. I’ve been thinking. That a crime now?”

You:

“Not a crime. Just… unlike you. When something’s wrong, you usually let it out. Loudly.”

Baiken (finally looking up, eyes narrow):

“What do you want me to say? That I’m scared again? That every time I look at you, I wonder what happens if I screw this up?!”

(She stands, frustrated—not with you, but with herself.)

Baiken:

“I’ve buried people, watched them bleed out, held their hands while their lives slipped away. And none of that ever made me feel this… exposed.”

You (calmly):

“Because you care. That’s not weakness, Baiken. That’s love.”

(She flinches slightly at the word—love—like it’s heavier than steel.)

Baiken (voice softer now):

“Don’t say it like it’s simple. You think just because I survived everything, I know how to do this? I don’t. I don’t know how to be… someone worth stayin’ for.”

You:

“You already are. You always have been. Even when you couldn’t see it.”

(She clenches her jaw, eyes wet but defiant.)

Baiken:

“If I let you in all the way and you walk away someday… I won’t survive that. Not again.”

You (stepping closer):

“Then let’s not walk away. Let’s stumble through this together. I’d rather fight with you beside me than live without you.”

(She looks at you long and hard. Then, for the first time, her hand rises—rough, calloused, trembling—and cups your face.)

Baiken:

“If you’re lyin’ to me, I swear to the gods—”

You (resting your hand over hers):

“I’m not.”

(She exhales—shaky, vulnerable, real. And finally, she leans in, resting her forehead against yours, letting the weight of her guarded heart fall into your hands.)