estoria | ( OPEN )

[The atmosphere is definitely heavy and unpleasant now despite the fact that they're both valiantly trying to maintain the exterior of normalcy. Things aren't normal, though - that's the thing. Changes have happened, largely unpleasant, and there's just no sweeping some of them under the rug no matter how frantically they're both trying. He's not very good at hiding his feelings either, so the more stilted and stifled things get, the more discomforted he outwardly seems. He clears his throat once, lips pressing briefly into a thin line.]

Uhh— well, I don't think I've ever had that before so I dunno what goes well with it. One of our next-door neighbors is a bar tender, though. He'd probably know what tastes best.

[The silence that follows is almost tangible, and yet, Kashuu still doesn't leave. This is the perfect moment to do just that - to excuse himself, grab his jacket and free both of them from this awkward situation - but he continues to stand there instead, like he's waiting for something. Not even he knows what that something is and he hates it, he hates this inherent weakness that he can't shake. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, glancing back toward the kitchen.]

—Want me to get you some different types to try out?

Edited 2015-11-23 00:44 (UTC)

[It's the perfect moment for Kashuu to leave, and as it drags out and nothing happens, Souji is almost afraid that the sword can hear the mantra of don't leave don't leave please don't leave me. It's a silly way to feel about someone just walking out of a room and leaving someone else to learn how to get drunk on their own, isn't it?

(It's not just about Kashuu leaving the room. He's honestly afraid now, terrified, that Kashuu is going to backpedal out of the whole relationship which obviously is painful and awkward for him right now. His help and support has meant so much to Souji, and somehow he never realized how much he'd started to need it. Please don't leave.)

He's acting silly. This is silly.

(He's just Kashuu's former master, right?)

...Did Kashuu just say something?]

I- ah... Yes. Please. That would be very kind of you. Thank you. [So stilted, so free of the usual gushing and compliments because he's not sure that Kashuu wants them right now. That they wouldn't just make it worse.]

...It's the kind of thing you probably need to learn how to do eventually, huh?

[He's just Kashuu's former master.

That's the crux of the problem here, really. Souji is the former master who gave him everything he had ever wanted in that first chance at life, and that makes its ending even more painful to look back on. He'd been able to reforge a bond with this Souji in spite of that, perhaps because he's spent so long learning how to avoid looking back on those painful things, but they're impossible to ignore now. He's reminded of the fact that he never wanted to reforge that bond, that it had somehow happened right under his nose in spite of that, and it's honestly frightening.

So instead of addressing the elephant (with a sheet over it) in the room, he just nods and turns toward the door.]

Eh— What, mixing drinks? [His head cants to the side a little, but since the kitchen isn't that far away, he'll set off while he waits for Souji to answer. When he returns, he'll have a bottle of orange juice in one hand, cranberry in the other, and a little grapefruit juice carton wedged into the crook of one arm.]

[For a moment Souji painfully clutches his hands in his lap, pushes them down so they won't visibly shake as he allows Kashuu to leave the room for a moment. He's such a child about this, honestly. He always has been, always will be. He remembers his own lack of understanding as Yamanami had run away, how he'd childishly thought that he could just get him to come back and somehow that would fix everything. It's not made better by the fact that he still doesn't quite understand why it didn't work, why it couldn't be put together like a broken toy - fixed as easily as he had been fixed, once upon a time.

He can't just put this back together again either, no matter how much he wants to, and even though he still doesn't quite understand why.

Suddenly, it's as if he's aware all at once of how much older Kashuu is, and how young and frail he is by comparison. He's twenty-four soon, and back home he's probably never going to get older. It makes him feel small and insignificant - just a wink of existence next to Kashuu's, next to Yamato's. Not much compared to other human beings either.]

Mm, no. More like... getting drunk, you know? At home they said it was part of growing up, but I guess I never really did. [And now he's telling the truth even though he really, really shouldn't. Not even a small part. It's hard to bite down on the words and smile at the same time.] I've always been kind of childish in some ways.

[There's a period of silence then that stretches on long enough to be uncomfortable, most likely. Kashuu is taking those words into consideration and debating what to do next, because he's sometimes quite good at lying to himself, but never when it matters most. He knows that he wants to sit by Souji's side again here, even if remembering stings, even if he wants his distance back almost just as much.

It's because he's an impossibly weak existence that he does end up kneeling by Souji's side, though there's still an unusual gap between them. He doesn't even let his shoulder bump into Souji's, instead setting the bottles out on the table in a neat little line.]

That's fine, isn't it? There's nothing wrong with being a little childish. [Especially for humans, who are so young and die so soon.]

Buuut if you really wanna try, there are better ways to do it than just downing a whole glass of gross stuff in one go, too. Here- [He'll push the little carton of grapefruit juice over first.]

[What he wants to do more than anything is lean in and drape all over Kashuu, cling to him, hold on physically because he doesn't know which words that will bridge the gap between them. The way he curls up instead only makes him look and feel even smaller where he sits, even more like the child crying in the forest because he's done something he cannot undo. Even more like the grown man feeling the same way every time life doesn't go the way he wants it to, and he doesn't know how to stop things going wrong.]

Most of the time there's nothing wrong with it. But sometimes it's less like you feel like you're playing, and more like feeling like a small kid who lost their parents at a festival.

[He pours the juice into the glass with the alcohol, and then - to shut himself up as much as anything - he downs it all in one go, despite what Kashuu just said.

It honestly almost comes up immediately again. Between the unfamiliar burn of the liquor and the sourness of the grapefruit juice, it's a miracle that he manages to hold it down, and only has to choke down another minor coughing fit.]

...I'm not sure how, but I think I'm acting even more like a kid now.

[He makes a little noise of distress when Souji starts coughing, reaching out automatically and placing a palm against his back. It's just a featherlight touch, though, and it doesn't linger.]

Hey— If you aren't used to drinking, don't drink so much! [Though he knows there's a reason for that too, of course, even if he doesn't want to think about what it may be. He doesn't want to ask. He doesn't want to know, even though his heart squeezes painfully in his chest. This sort of vulnerability is difficult to watch; it would be even if things weren't currently a hot mess, but the state of things just makes it harder to swallow because he both does and doesn't want to help soothe that pain.]

...Geez. [He really does seem like a lost kid at a festival, absolutely more childish in this moment than Kashuu's ever seen. He resists the temptation to reach out and touch Souji's hand, placing his own on the glass instead.] Maybe you should try a different alcohol. Or, y'know, you could just have the juice by itself, or some tea with honey or something.

[It's just a light, noncommittal touch... and it's not enough. Souji feels like he's about to snap into a thousand pieces, like somehow a crack is going to run through him like it had through Kashuu and break him just as easily. He should have a real body made of metal too, because somehow he can't live without someone telling him what to do, wielding him.

It's not enough, and though he knows that it still won't fix anything, that he can't hold the world together with his hands alone, he still falls for it. Like he'd gone to the smithy to get Kashuu put back together even though he'd known that there was no way of doing it. Like he'd run after Yamanami. Like he'd begged Hijikata not to look, as if it wouldn't be real as long as he didn't see.

That's what he manages to think before his forehead is against Kashuu's shoulder and his hands are closed in frantic fists around the front of his shirt. A sharp smell of alcohol tells him he's knocked over the bottle, and he doesn't care. He holds on, terrified of the moment when he'll be asked to let go, but nonetheless not regretting giving in for a moment. He needs to hold on. What else can he do?]

I'm sorry. I'm- I'm just... I just- [-need you.]

[The sound of the bottle hitting the table and rolling away is somehow still muted in comparison to the rustle of fabric, the brittleness beneath Souji's words, the painful trill that's sewn through everything left unspoken between them. That doesn't matter much, anyway. He understands even the words that aren't said, and isn't that also part of the problem?

Souji's hands are always warm. He can feel it through his shirt where they grasp so tightly, like he's afraid Kashuu will drift off if he doesn't hold him still (and isn't that exactly what he's trying to do?). He can feel the warmth from his forehead against his shoulder too, just a little clammy, always a step away from fevered - or so it seems at times. It's still not unpleasant, though. Even now, it's like slipping beneath the fluffy comforter draped over a kotatsu and falling asleep in the little cove of warmth beneath the table. Souji's hands are always warm, and they always feel like home.]

Hey... [There's hesitation - one, two beats - but Kashuu isn't a strong sword. It's hard for him to turn people away most times, and it's even harder to turn away someone who's seeking him out first. He wants to, he really wants to, but--

In the end, he can't push those familiar hands away and deny the promise of a person relying on him. His own reach up, tentative and cautious in a way he hasn't been in months, and gently cradle the back of Souji's head.]

It's okay. You don't have anything to apologize for.

[He's not pushed away.

At first, that is all that he really manages to register as his heart clenches and he feels like his fingers might crumble from the sheer tension. Kashuu isn't pushing him away, or telling him it can't be like this again, or withdrawing in any way. He's hesitant and awkward, as if all it took to raze their carefully built comfort and reliance was the reminder that in some ways Souji will always be too little, too late, but... does it matter? When all Souji really wanted was his acceptance, his acknowledgement, can it really matter?

It's what he always wants. Kashuu is just another one to add to the list. Tell me I'm a good teacher. Tell me I'm a good warrior, a good soldier. Tell me I'm a good little brother. Tell me I have done what you wanted.

Tell me I was a good master. Tell me I won't be forgotten.]

Thank you. [Maybe it's a pretty pathetic thing to say, but he can't help himself. And he keeps his head ducked and squeezes his eyes shut and thinks that he made the promise about Kondou and Hijikata anyway. A couple of tears that no one sees isn't a worse weakness than anything else.

Heaven help him, he'd worried so much about Kashuu recently, and still somehow he ends up being the one needing reassurance.]

I- I understand. I do understand. It's just that... I'm not a very strong person, right?

[Sometimes he wonders if the cracks that split his real body to pieces were ever truly mended - if the metal that was folded into his blade was enough to patch him back up. He wonders that now, when the gaps feel wide and open, when thank you whistles through like wind, leaving him stinging. Those cracks cleave down to his bones and Souji slips in snugly, worming his way past all of Kashuu's pitiful attempts at raising his guard, like rain water or the incoming tide lapping at the shore.

Souji talks about not being very strong, but doesn't the true weakness here lie with Kashuu? He had been able to manage well enough when he was given space, since the temptation to give in hadn't been present. Now it's here for the first time in days, and he can't even stand his ground against it for a full five minutes. He just can't will himself away, can't force the frigidity back into himself when he can't turn his eyes away or empty his arms again or pretend he doesn't feel wet teardrops against his shoulder. He holds Souji like he's made of glass, but his hands can't keep still forever either. That's too much like keeping him at arm's length, and now that contact has been reestablished, Kashuu is hungry for more.]

Don't say stuff like that. [So he speaks softly and his fingers start to thread through Souji's hair, gentle as a spider's weaving. He's quiet after that for a long while, struggling with something unseen, and then:]

D'you wanna talk?

[Communication - it's something that they had promised to work on together, isn't it? He's already crumbling. If he can't push Souji away, this is fine.]

Edited 2015-11-23 05:03 (UTC)

[Souji laughs a bit damply - more than just a bit helplessly - against Kashuu's shoulder. Unseen, his expression softens, becomes more relaxed as Kashuu's hands wander through his hair, little by little releasing the tension that days of separation has built up.]

But it's true, you know? I was never a very strong master, and even now... even now when you have a new master- [A better master, because Haru is nothing as secretly selfish and needy, he's sure.] -I'm still causing you trouble.

[Breathe in, breathe out. His throat feels thick with emotion still, as if breathing isn't treacherous enough already, and so Souji tries to focus on keeping it smooth and untroubled. He'd like to focus on nothing else, simply resting here for as long as he needs to, but Kashuu asks him if he wants to talk. He's not sure about that, but somehow he feels like he at the very least owes some sort of explanation.]

It's just... well, I miss home, you know? I miss everyone there. But... even if I was to go home, I'm no use to anyone there, and I'm just going to become even more of a burden to everyone, and then- [Then they'll leave him behind.]

I just couldn't stand- I didn't...

[A small sigh, and his voice shrinks.]

I don't want you to leave me behind as well. And that's unfair, I know. [Because Kashuu had probably already worked so hard to leave him behind once, he's pretty sure. And now here is Souji, making everything difficult again.]

[Kashuu is outwardly silent, and an awful, rotten part of him thinks yes, it's unfair. It's unfair to be afraid of that when you left me behind first. He doesn't blame Souji. Not really. That doesn't mean he can't be resentful, though; he is even now, even after reluctantly mending some of the bridges that he had intentionally burned, even after building some of that trust and affection back when he had tried to bury it all. It's a lingering note of bitterness that he's normally quite good at shelving, but it resurfaces sometimes.

In the way he refused to so much as say Okita's name aloud, or his rejection of the blues that most of his comrades had been summoned with.

In Ikedaya, walking through those familiar halls with Nagasone. The person with the right to say that is the Kashuu Kiyomitsu of this time, he'll say, but could he ever really mean it?

Now, as his grip tightens, fingers still wound into Souji's hair. It's a gesture that bridges between agitated and possessive, and if his former master is bad for being so in need of other people, Kashuu shares that guilt. After all, it's why he can't push Souji away now that he's heard all of that. It strikes an unpleasantly familiar chord in him; he rests his cheek against Souji's head like that might alleviate his discomfort, folding him up into his arms as best he can.]

Hey... I didn't leave, see? [Not fully, anyway. He was pulled back before he had the chance to do that.] ...But I'm sorry. Even after all we said about talking more, I didn't really wanna talk at all. I thought it'd help, but it didn't make me feel any better, and I made you sad too. I reminded you of some bad stuff, so-- so, I'm sorry.

[His grip relaxes, but he stays curled close. ...Maybe that rottenness runs a little deeper in him than he acknowledges. Maybe that ugly part enjoys the fact that Souji is so reliant on him. Actively making him miserable is certainly not something he'd ever aim for, but-- it's nice, isn't it? It's reassuring, to know that he's become something close to irreplaceable - that his brief absence had been upsetting.

That's what he wanted most, after all.]

[He doesn't deserve this. He knows he doesn't deserve this. Begging Kashuu not to leave him behind, when he knows he'd left both of his swords behind him, abandoned them because he wasn't strong enough? Selfish, that's what he is. Always asking for love and admiration and then failing to pay back what he's owed.

But those are black and ugly thoughts, too much like self-pity for Souji's liking, and so he swallows them down with the ever-present taste of blood. Deserved or not, Kashuu seems to be giving him a second chance even now, and Souji just has to do his very best to make it worth it.

Leaning back a little bit, he fusses for a moment with Kashuu's hair, which had gotten a bit mussed as Souji had clung to him. It's really just an excuse to touch that he doesn't really need, and it soon turns into slim fingers gently tracing the contours of the other's face - as if a short period of relative separation has him afraid that maybe he'll forget about them. Finally, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to Kashuu's cheek, breathing out a little bit more tension against his skin.]

I'm sorry, too. I wish I knew how to help. It must be... hard, getting reminders of it all thrown in your face like that. [One hand goes to Kashuu's neck, resting there as if Souji wants to keep him from fracturing once more.] I don't want to make it any harder for you, see? It's just... I've come to rely on your strength for so much. If it wasn't for you, I don't know what this place would've done to me by now.

[Kashuu sits almost placidly as Souji works his hair straight again, leaning without thought into his touch when he walks paths along his cheek with his fingers-- and then flinches, just a little, when his neck is touched. It's always been a delicate area for him, after Ikedaya. All the talk of reminders and how difficult things are only make that discomfort stand out more, and it's his starvation for contact that keeps him in place rather than the fact that he knows it would hurt Souji more if he broke it.

He supposes this works out well enough for the both of them in the end, though.]

Don't you think you're being a liiittle too hard on yourself? [His former master is an unbearably strong person, after all - (while he may not hero-worship like Yamato, that doesn't mean he's not blind in similar areas) - and he'd gotten along well enough without him before.

...But it's still nice to be needed. It means he won't be discarded again, right? It means he won't have to add any more bitterness to what he's already got. His hand raises, fingertips touching the back of the hand resting at his neck.]

—Anyway! You can rely on me if you need to. As long as I'm here, you won't have to face anything by yourself if you don't want to, okay?

[Souji reacts a bit belatedly to that flinch, already too emotionally overwhelmed to properly process it for a moment or two. Then he hurriedly relocates his hand to the back of Kashuu's head, a look of acute contrition crossing his face. He's never been all that good at making his face and body tell lies, never been able to hide things as well as he wants to, and right now everything stands out in such a painfully obvious way. He's no better, huh? He keeps reminding Kashuu of painful things too, just like the others.

(He wants to be better than them. He wants Kashuu to think that he is.)

He shakes his head a little bit, a not entirely happy smile pulling on his lips.]

Not really. I'm not used to being on my own, you see? I'm not used to- to not having something to live for. But they're not here now, so...

[So if Kashuu hadn't turned up, if he hadn't made sure Souji had some kind of home away from home at his side, with the other swords... then it's very true that Souji wouldn't have known what to do with himself in the long run. It would've driven him to self-loathing and loneliness a lot faster even than his sickness can.

Another small headshake, bordering on an outright shudder.]

So... thank you. I don't know if there's anything I can do to repay you, not for everything you've done for me, but I'm very grateful.

Edited 2015-12-06 00:36 (UTC)

[Considering his competition, he won't have to worry about that, at least... He holds a certain fondness for each Souji in a way, but neither of the others are held as close to his heart as this one, who's been here with him from the very start. The hands that he's held by may not be the exact same as the one who initially wielded him back in his own world, but they carry the same familiarity and warmth, and he finds himself seeking it out even if it does hurt sometimes.

Like now, where it's far too easy to let himself tilt his head against Souji's hand even though he hadn't even wanted to share the same room until a few minutes ago. The fact that he's conscientious enough to move it at all is good enough for him, even if it's a belated reaction, and he feels a little guilty for the contrition on his face. He reaches forward after a second, fingers resting against the side of Souji's face.]

...Just stay, okay? [Even though he knows no one has control over their coming and going, and it's a cruel thing to ask--] If you're not used to being on your own, that's fine. I'll stay with you too, so you don't have to be.

[It's not pretty, but there is a part of Souji that would be unable to stifle a sense of triumph if he only knew that. All he has ever wanted in life is to be important to people, to matter, to be sure at the end, there would be someone left that wouldn't throw him aside. So even if he's not necessarily an openly competitive person, the fact remains that he's always desperate to prove that no one can replace him, no one, no one...

He relaxes against Kashuu now, eyes closing at the gentle touch of his fingers, a soft smile making his face look less marked by disease for a moment, younger somehow. Not quite as young as the man, barely out of boyhood, who had first picked up this sword in fingers trembling with excitement, but perhaps there's a shadow of him there for a moment.]

I'll stay. [A small sigh. He will be truthful to his sword. He must be.] I don't know how much there is left for me to do at home, or if I'm needed at all anymore, so... I'll stay with you. For as long as I can, okay? I promise.

[It's kind of enchanting to see his expression shift like that, to see it turn up into a youthful smile. Souji isn't exactly old, not really, but his face wears the exhaustion that only someone with tuberculosis could have, and the same deep-set weariness of a warrior battling an entire era of change.

That's something he'll remember, he thinks - that look. It's one more point of endearment in the same way that his smile always is, or his honesty, or the fact that he can promise these things and it's enough for Kashuu to feel more at ease. Like this, he thinks that it might be worth the discomfort of having to face down his past every day. It's not so bad.]

Then I'll promise the same thing. [He can't do anything about Souji's home life or what he's undoubtedly going to return to - days and days of wasting away in bed until he can't even lift Yamato anymore, let alone wield him - but he can at least promise to stay by his side as long as they're both here. His hand drops down from Souji's cheek, and he holds his pinky out.]

Here!

[In so many ways, Kashuu represents everything in his own life before it started turning truly bad, before he knew he was going to lose so much more than he ever would've imagined. He also represents that moment of first horror when he knew that his own death was inevitable, that he was going to crack under the pressure of days and disease just like his sword, and thrown away to burn and be lost in the same way. But he refuses to let the shadow this throws between them hold them apart, because he wants to hold on to the person he was back then, the strength of faith he used to have.

He wants to live up to everything Kashuu saw in him back then, and grow stronger through him.

Holding out his hand, he wraps his pinky around Kashuu's, humming softly under his breath. ...whoever lies has to swallow thousand needles, huh? In the end, maybe that is what the oni in his chest represents. But it's worth it, worth it for the people he loves.]

It's a promise. Now we both can't go back, I guess. [And nothing could make him happier.]

( OPEN )

right back at you demon???

why do we do this to ourselves

bc we're gluttons for punishment i guess...

we just want to watch the world (and ourselves) burn

MOSTLY OURSELVES APPARENTLY

JUST GONNA STAND THERE AND WATCH ME BURN

but thats alright bc u like the way it hurts u do-m

it's true... hangs head admits to everything

ugh sprinkles u with holy water

father forgive me for I have sinned... and so have you, u fiend

MY HANDS ARE CLEAN

THEY HAVE NEVER BEEN CLEAN

WHY U GOTTA BE SO RUDE

WHY U GOTTA BE THE WORST

YOU STARTED THIS!!

...WELL YES BUT YOU SEE. YOU DESERVE IT.

WOW what the heck someone save me from emi the demon

https://youtu.be/dWfc7odGOzo

throws u overboard goodbye

drags u down under with me <3