[ hijikata's blade manages to pierce through the many layers that is tsurumaru's clothing — through the thick fabric of his white overcoat, through the dark blue cloth wrapped thinly around his back, and through the white pseudo-kimono beneath (pseudo, because apparently, this kimono comes with pants). it takes a while for it to register — a turn of his head has him staring at the sword buried in his shoulder.
and then, he moves his shoulder an inch; it burns, but he grits his teeth and winces, placing his free hand on hijikata's arm — and instead of trying to shove him aside, he tries to drive the blade further into his skin, further towards the center of his chest, further towards something vital. ]
Oh, don't worry. If I knew how to send people to hell, I'd have already sent myself.
[ woah, just as edgy back! except clearly, tsurumaru's death-seeking masochism wins this time. the question does surprise him, though, but his eyes are bright with anger and pain and something else, and he sounds as if he's shouting. if he could pass his sleeve over his eyes, he would — but he can't, and he narrows his eyes, trying to hide how his vision is slowly blurring over, because he doesn't want to cry in front of hijikata?? (yet??) how embarrassing of him!! ]
What, about how my clan was massacred before my eyes, and how I couldn't do anything? How I couldn't just pick up a sword like them and protect them, because I'm a spirit?
Or, do you want to hear about how I was buried with them afterwards, and how the only thing that I could do for them was to hold them, as they started decaying beneath the ground, because I was terrified that they'd leave me if I didn't do my best to hold their bodies together? I couldn't even see them, and when I talked to them, about how much I missed them, about how badly I wanted to die and join them and be with them, they didn't talk back.
Of course they didn't, right? Talking to hundreds of dead bodies, as if they were still alive — if you think that I'm out of my mind, for doing something like that, I wouldn't blame you for it.
no subject
and then, he moves his shoulder an inch; it burns, but he grits his teeth and winces, placing his free hand on hijikata's arm — and instead of trying to shove him aside, he tries to drive the blade further into his skin, further towards the center of his chest, further towards something vital. ]
Oh, don't worry. If I knew how to send people to hell, I'd have already sent myself.
[ woah, just as edgy back! except clearly, tsurumaru's death-seeking masochism wins this time. the question does surprise him, though, but his eyes are bright with anger and pain and something else, and he sounds as if he's shouting. if he could pass his sleeve over his eyes, he would — but he can't, and he narrows his eyes, trying to hide how his vision is slowly blurring over, because he doesn't want to cry in front of hijikata?? (yet??) how embarrassing of him!! ]
What, about how my clan was massacred before my eyes, and how I couldn't do anything? How I couldn't just pick up a sword like them and protect them, because I'm a spirit?
Or, do you want to hear about how I was buried with them afterwards, and how the only thing that I could do for them was to hold them, as they started decaying beneath the ground, because I was terrified that they'd leave me if I didn't do my best to hold their bodies together? I couldn't even see them, and when I talked to them, about how much I missed them, about how badly I wanted to die and join them and be with them, they didn't talk back.
Of course they didn't, right? Talking to hundreds of dead bodies, as if they were still alive — if you think that I'm out of my mind, for doing something like that, I wouldn't blame you for it.