You know what everyone needs after rampant robotic attacks and another iteration of clone wars? A vacation! That’s right everyone, you deserve this. CERES understands what you need. CERES is here for you all the time, so never doubt that this is a pleasure colony, and they are here to look after all of your needs. Kick your feet up, relax, and let CERES Recreation and Activity Necessity Keepers (Team RANK, that is) set you up with your ideal getaway.
It’s as if you can sense the incoming relaxation and luxury before you even completely finish loading. There’s the warmth encompassing your entire body as your code gets transferred into this particular ViViD Level. A cool, refreshing breeze hits you. The sounds of waves gently lapping against the coast fill you with relaxation. The sun, the sand, the surfs, it’s all there – welcome to the beach, baby!
An echoing greeting message from the ocean comes next, if you can translate it.
 OOOOOOOOOOOOHMAHH GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHD.
YOOOOOOOOOOOORRRALL SOOOOOOOOOOOOO KYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT.
KYOOOOOOOOOOOT EEEENAAAAUUUUUUUF TOOOOOOOOOOOOO EEEEEEEEEEEEEEET.
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PHASE I [ 08 00 ] That said, isn’t that breeze a little… too strong? It feels like it’s brushing up against all of you, if you know what I mean. When you open your eyes and look down, it becomes rather clear why. It seems that you’ve found yourself in some pretty interesting attire. Everyone. No exceptions. You appear to have two options – be overcome and scream like the Victorian maiden your heart says you are, or strut like a model in this stuff. Turn some heads! Work that up do!
But don’t worry, we’re also conscious about safety here at CERES! Therefore everyone’s also been provided a pair of super high-tech safety-tested appendage protection floatation devices (STAPFD for short.)
At least everyone around you is caught in the same sort of attire – and everyone around you also appears to be stuck inside a giant sand castle. It’s entirely malleable to what you want it to be! Want to see a fancy sand bidet? Feel like adding a sand statue in your honor? Think that wall should now be a door? Well, with enough perseverance, you can make it happen!
Just uh, be careful about getting sand in your… everywhere.
PHASE II [ 1000 ] Someone broke it. Not pointing any fingers, even though you sure do seem like a prime suspect, but someone broke it.
It almost starts like an earthquake with how the castle starts to rumble, the sand shaking right beneath your feet. And then the walls right next to you start to cave in followed promptly by the ceiling right… above your head. Oh dear. The sand starts to run and fall, losing its structure and shape. The hallway behind you starts to cave in, ceiling first and then the walls follow suit. Now the sand really is getting everywhere – but not just uncomfortable places. It’s in your hair, your eyes, your nose…. this sure doesn’t seem like a pleasant way to go!
Best to start running – there’s a trusty drawbridge to get over the moat (because what’s a sandcastle without a moat?) but who knows how long until that, too, is going to give way? Best to cross over it before it starts to shake and disappear too. Or if you don’t make it, hopefully you can land some pretty impressive airtime to make it to the other side!
If not, well...there'll be the sensation of sand crushing down upon you, filling your mouth and eyes, and you won't be able to breathe at all – and then you're alive again on the beach (but possibly in yet another new, uncomfortable, skimpy swimsuit). Honestly, be more careful, would you?
PHASE III [ 1200 ] However, once you do make it to the other side, it’s all smooth sailing from there! Or is it? Hah, as they say, life sure can be a beach.
Which is what this is.
Welcome to your Beach Episode, folks. Now that you’ve made it out of the collapsing sand castle, you’ve made it to the luxurious, picturesque golden coastline. Sure, you’re coughing up fine, luxurious, sand dust right now and you’ve definitely gotten sand in all of your crevices thanks to your swimsuit, but that’s okay! Go take a soak in the ocean or something or cool off with a smoothie. There’s a smoothie shack off into the distance, complete with a long chalkboard with… well, probably a few familiar names? And some unfamiliar ingredients. Sounds appetizing right?
That said, once you do ingest some of the smoothie with the name of a newcomer, you might suddenly find yourself feeling a bit… different. You’ll be taking on some of their traits, one of the most intense parts of their personality – or you might need to take a second to sit down because you’re suddenly seeing one of their memories. Whoa. What do they actually put in this stuff?
PHASE IV [ 1500 ] For the brave souls that venture out into the water, you have even more adventures waiting for you. Anyone who’s swimming around, wading in the water—hell, even looking at the water is getting scooped up and deposited in one of these giant orbs. But don’t take up too much room, because someone else is getting shoved right in there with you. Time to get cozy with your new friend, because it's only going to get worse as the waves begin to carry you out into this big, blue, virtual ocean. Hopefully the choppy waves don’t bounce you around too much or – well, you could always get really friendly with a stranger! Why not?
At least until it’s made very clear that fresh air does not make it back into these balls. That seems like a bit of a design flaw. Now what? Fight the other person who’s inhaling all your air? Suffer through it for swimsuit-clad fun? Or if you break it…. well, you sure are stranded out in the ocean. Or are you?
After enough flailing, you’ll be met by a giant, dumb-looking creature who will then eat you whole.
Everything goes dark. This is surely the end --
And then you're in Cerealia proper; it seems that was the exit to the level (but why there?) and you'll find yourself either in one of the fountains or the pond in the park. Either way, you'll be very, very well. And this time, that's not virtual. But hey, at least you'll have all of your stuff with you.
BONUS [ xxxx ] Do you hear that?
Anyone idle on the beach will hear a distant melody coming from further out into the ocean. It’s a beautiful, elegant song that automatically makes the listener stop what they’re doing and immediately wander toward the noise. It takes you a moment to recall – it takes a moment to think about anything now, really – but you remember hearing the smoothie shack owner say something about mermaids populating the beach. Could this be their song calling out to you? Whether you would normally abide by this kind of call or not, you find your feet walking further and further out into the water, the shallows lapping up to your ankles and up and up as you are drawn in by the song.
A rather classic song, though the usual instances of French are also replaced with the very enticing, enchanting nonsense promise of omelette du fromage........and then they try to drown you.
[ Remember to apply proper warnings on threads with sensitive or inappropriate material and do let a mod know if your thread careens off into maiming or canoodling so we can lock the log. ] |
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iii-2
He buys a drink, with an uncannily familiar name. Maybe because he's drawn to it (he is), or maybe because the subject of said drink is on his mind (always), but whatever the reason, he's hallucinating before he knows it.
And... it's familiar? Uncannily familiar. The location, the hallways, the style of dress and the accents of the people being killed, the style of swordsmanship... The perspective is just. Different. It doesn't quite feel like he's the one doing the killing, probably because he can see the sword in thin hands in front of him.
And cerealia is weird. Really weird. He's learned as much, so the hallucinating probably means that he's actually here, right?
And if he's actually here, then that guy over there that really looks like he should be resting instead of coughing up a lung is probably him.
Oh.
He's... staring. For a little while. In shock and awe and like he wants to cry or laugh or hug him or wrap him up in one of the about six towels he's stolen, but what he manages to do is just squeak out a hesitant question.]
...Okita-kun?
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But then, of course, there's the sound of a voice saying his name - and a familiar voice too! He looks up, feelings of dizziness and disorientation momentarily taking the back seat as his face lights up in a delighted smile.]
Yamato-kun? Is that you?
[There is a strain of disbelief there, as he remembers the empty bed that suddenly seemed to take up their entire room, and how he'd resorted to camping in the living room in an attempt not to have to deal with the absence there. Curling up there with Kashuu and not talking about it - at least not properly, not for long - but skirting awkwardly around the subject of a loss which they both were hurting from, even if they did so in very different ways.
But that really is Yamato standing there. His beautiful, complicated, difficult, confusing, messed-up, perfect sword. (Though that really goes for both of them, huh?) He takes a step toward him, then another, not entirely steady on the shifting sand, but too overcome by relief to really notice.]
You're here!
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(And the drinks will probably all be receiving at least +20 cherry blossoms for a while.)
He gives up on the not-crying thing, too, because blinking them away makes them fall, and he has to blink them away to see that beautiful, wonderful, delighted face. Oh well. That's what towels are for, later.]
It is! I'm here!
[He's here. And Okita's here. And he has the second chance he always ached for, yes, but more than that he can speak to him, and talk with him, and do his best to take care of him, all things he couldn't do before, and it has him closing the distance between them himself in a moment, has him wrapping Souji up in his arms so he doesn't have to watch him falter on the sand any longer, so he can hold and protect like he always should have done.
He feels like he might break him, and that's terrifying, but he can't bring himself to let go, not yet. His skin is too warm, even under the sun, and if he hadn't put his hands directly on Souji's shoulders, they could have easily wrapped back around to his own. It hurts. But it's okay. Everything's okay, now, or it will be.]
I missed you.
[He can't even manage to be cagey about his emotions, right now.]
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I was... afraid I wouldn't see you again, I guess.
[He lets out a small laugh, frayed and emotional, but not quite as unraveled as Yamato's voice just now. He's not crying, at least - but maybe that's because he's cried far too many tears back home recently, cried for all the times he'd stopped himself before then. The compulsion not to has let go of him, at least. All he needs to do now, he reminds himself, is breathe. Even when it hurts, there are those who make it worth it.
He manages to wipe sand off his thumb, and then uses it to gently brush the tears away from Yamato's cheeks, even if he knows there will probably be more.]
But I really should stop making my poor swords cry so much, shouldn't I?
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I'm here... I'll always be here...!
[He promises so fiercely through the tears, like he's thought of this time and again, like he's considered breaking from the citadel to try and change history for the better for him, has the sneaking suspicion the only reason he never did was because illness isn't something that can be struck down with a sword.
He promises, and fails to take into account where they are, now, that they can come and go at the whims of the world with little say in the matter. That's never been a problem. It won't be a problem, if he doesn't consider it.
There's a hand on his face, wiping away the tears, and he laughs and sobs and holds tighter for a brief, brief second before catching himself, before loosening his hold so if it's difficult to breathe, at least it's not him that's causing it directly. And he shakes his head, too, because no, he shouldn't stop. He shouldn't stop doing anything at all, because he's here, despite everything.]
It's okay... It's okay, Okita-kun, I don't mind...
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Well, I'm glad you don't mind. [A small, teasing laugh, and Souji unceremoniously tweaks the tip of Yamato's nose as if that's the most natural thing in the world. It is, really - he's always been a tactile person, with a rather limited understanding regarding the concept of personal space, so of course it comes naturally. And Yamato is, after all, his own sword. They're practically part of each other, aren't they?]
But it really was just like this the very first time I met Kashuu Kiyomitsu as well, you know? It's a bit alarming that I keep making my beloved swords this upset, you know? It's just about the last thing I want to do.
[His voice remains more warm and teasing than concerned, at the very least. Really, it's in many ways a very good way to meet, apart from how he's now pretty obviously leaning on Yamato, as if he's definitely going to keel over in case the sword lets him go for even a second.]
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It's kind of overwhelming, if he's honest, but he isn't, and he's more than content to be swept along with the tide that's washing away all that separation and loss all at once.
Or, at the very least, burying it under the sand.]
Of course I don't. [He can't even be offended at the laugh, or the tweak of his nose, because they are natural little affections, and... he was his sword, as much a part of Souji's own arm as his hand was.]
I'm not upset! [The protest comes a little too quickly, a touch too loudly, like the assertion is touching on something he really doesn't want to reveal - or admit, even to himself. But then he quiets, and pouts a little bit, because the tears might be subsiding, but the emotions remain.] I'm not... I'm happy, you know?
[Ah- But he's leaning on him more, now, and even as he's insisting that he's happy, there's a sad little ache in his chest that doesn't let him forget the reality of the situation, that makes him stop clinging so desperately and shift his hold to one that's more supportive. Not that he'll comment, no. It's just more comfortable like this, that's all.]
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[He murmurs the words, as if he's not exactly saying them to Yamato so much as just reacting, but there is nonetheless a fond quirk to his expression. It's really not unlike how Kashuu would react, and something about that thought is just rather endearing to him. So like Kashuu - and so alike himself. Not necessarily in the same ways, but there is a definite overlap there, painted in the trails of blood and loving touches he had left behind on both their blades, like maps of different parts of the same city.]
I'm really happy too. But, ah-
[It's so kind of Yamato to simply accommodate him like that, to not mention it, and it's not as if Souji doesn't understand that it's to spare his dignity. He'd tried so hard, after all, to keep going as if nothing was wrong, to hold himself together as if that was going to make everything okay. He'd wanted it so badly to be true, and had kept up pretty and brave appearances so that people wouldn't see the sickly mess inside him, in his mind as much as in his lungs.
But in the end, that had only ended up hurting people more, hadn't it? So with a small smile and a bowed head, maybe so he doesn't quite have to meet Yamato's gaze for a second or two, he manages to make himself say the right words. (They are the right words... right?)]
You know... I think I should probably sit down. Can you help me?
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[The fond little mutter is almost, almost protested, but he realizes that's exactly what Kashuu would do, so... It's fine. It's fine, and he just lets it go. If Okita is commenting on it, then it must be true, in some ways, and it didn't sound derisive, so he could agree for the sake of agreeing.
Besides, there were more important matters to attend to than petty little protests.]
I... [It's... weird, to be asked for help, like this. He'd planned on it, over years and years, that if he ever got a chance to meet him again, if he was in the awful state he so strongly remembered him in, that he would do everything in his power to help, to be useful. With it confronting him directly, he falters, like when he first had a body and wasn't sure what to do with it.
But duty and resolve and love kick in, and he's scanning the beach for a good spot to sit a moment later. It wouldn't do to just... plop down where they're standing. It's too near the smoothie bar, and he doesn't have his sword to cut anyone who stepped on Souji down at the ankles. There are a few shady spots, but they're far enough that walking is out of the question, especially with Souji having swallowed his pride and coughed up words asking for help.
So it's with a contemplative little hum that he finally responds.]
Of course I can...
[And, of course, he's still a little absent, still eyeing that prime shady spot - he even has enough spare towels they wouldn't have to sit in the sand... but...
Well, he'd better have the respect to ask.]
Okita-kun? Can I carry you? Just over there, out of the sun...
[So you don't have to be humiliated trying to walk over there, shuffling and clinging on him. So it's his idea. So you don't have to ask for that much help.]
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He had been Tetsu's teacher in becoming an oni, hadn't he? And he had wielded this sword until he'd somehow created him in his own image. Is it really very different now?
But there is no reason to attempt pretty words anymore, is there? He'd finally run out, back then, and now he knows for certain what turning down help will do for him. It won't make him more useful to anyone at all, or any less helpless. The only purpose it serves is to make people who care about him, who love him, feel useless and helpless in turn - all it will do is make them cry.
Breathe. Breathe. Swallow your pride and breathe.]
...Yes, I think that's for the best. [He even manages a feeble smile, gently ruffling Yamato's hair - to make himself feel better about this, or maybe the sword, he really can't tell.] After all, I've spent so much time carrying you, haven't I? So it's really only fair if it's the only way around for a change, don't you think?
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Maybe he should have just scooped him up and run off, tried to make him laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Maybe he should have set them down right there and built a towel fort and hissed at anyone who came near. But he didn't, and hurt them both in the process, like an idiot.
But the deed had been done, and his hesitant request had been granted, with a feeble smile and a gentle ruffling of his hair that he can't help but quirk his own half-smile at. Because it's affection. Because he's not being pushed away for misstepping. Because, even with swallowed pride and stupid, painful questions, he still gets to help.]
Aaah, do you really want to be carried on my hip, Okita-san? [Maybe if he teases, acts like he might seriously carry him like a sword, the reality of the situation will become less serious. Maybe they can brush off the melancholy like sand, even if more will surely be kicked up and cling in time.
Because he's not serious, of course he's not. He's already scooping Souji up into his arms - gentle, gentle, don't hurt, don't make it hard to breathe again... - holding him close, crossing that stupid, just too-far distance as quickly as he can walk across the shifting sands.
He's light, far too light, but it's best not to think about that. It's not because he's frail and weak, no, of course not. It's because caring for his master is his duty, so no task would be difficult, even if he had asked him to carry all three jokers at once. It's best not to think of it. Better not to comment. Better still to get where they're going and set Souji on his feet instead of directly on the ground.
He just had to toss a towel down to sit on. That was all. It wasn't some haphazard attempt to help him salvage some pride. (It certainly wasn't an excuse to hold his hands. That was just support. No big deal. Nothing so sentimental.)]
This is alright, isn't it?
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Still, he tries to make them both more comfortable in the short while that he's carried, leaning his head against Yamato's shoulder in a familiar way, one hand lifting to grasp the front of his uniform in thin fingers. No matter what it might feel like, he's safe there, and he wants his sword to know as much.
Still, he's glad to be set down on his feet, at least. He squeezes the hands that hold on to his own, holding on to that connection for a moment or two, and then waits until the towel is laid down before he sinks down gratefully onto the sand. He folds his legs to the side as gracefully as ever, and to preserve his own dignity somewhat he also fold the towel over his legs so that he'll not have to show quite so much of himself. Then he beams gratefully at Yamato, holding out his hands at him once more.]
It's good. Thank you. Will you sit with me? I'd really want to talk with you for a while, if you don't mind.
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But he wasn't a burden, now. He wasn't an inanimate soul bound up in steel and wood, but had a body of flesh and bone. He could help, now, where he ached to, then. Souji couldn't be less trouble. And there's a little bit of bitterness nagging in the back of his mind that he must be terrible for finding anything positive at all in the state of him, but that's a thing that won't be confronted, not now.
Not with Souji's head on his shoulder, or his hands in his...
Or with him beaming up at him, reaching for him, asking him to stay.
He flusters, a bit, at that. Doesn't take his hands, but instead drops another towel over Souji's head so he can't see him flush... though he's certain he'll see the sakura drifting about again once he peeks.]
I don't mind... [He doesn't mind, and he's tucking himself in next to Souji a moment later.]
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Please ignore the flecks of red left behind by his lips.
Souji is certainly ignoring them, clearly amused and still laughing quietly at Yamato's reaction. He scoots a bit closer as his sword sits down, allowing himself to lean on him for support.]
Ah, was I being embarrassing? I think I've been told the same thing by that other sword of mine... once or twice. [More like all the time. Kashuu is very easy to embarrass, and a lot of fun too.]
I'm guessing- That is, you don't remember meeting me in this place before, do you? [He's not sure how he feels about that. Maybe a bit hopeful, though. Somehow, he feels like he did it all wrong the last time around, too overwhelmed by Yamato's unyielding belief in him to do it justice.
Maybe this time he can do better.]
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What red? He doesn't see any of that.
No, the only red here is on his face, of course, and he's certainly ignoring that, too, even if Souji leaning on him turns it a half shade darker.]
He's too easily embarrassed, that Kashuu Kiyomitsu... [Not surprising!! Kashuu is embarrassed by literally everything, and Souji's merciless teasing was surely just awful for him!
Not that... he'd been especially merciless yet. But he knew. He knew the potential was there.
The more concerning thing right now is that Kashuu saw him and didn't stay with him, when he was in this state! And while Yamato does kind of want to track him down and give him what for (and see what kind of phenomenally stupid swimwear he'd been shoved into), there's no chance of him moving.
Less so when it becomes apparent that Souji had been here before - and remembered being here before, unlike him.
And he's kind of jealous of the other him, for the time he spent with Okita. And kind of not, at the same time, because then he wouldn't have gotten to meet him at all... probably. It's complicated, and best not to think of it past the simpler sentiments.]
I don't... I'm sorry. Ah- but I'm glad that he - the other me, that I've heard about - did get to meet you... I'm sure he was happy. [Simpler sentiments like that. It was easier to compartmentalize him and this other him as two separate people, he'd come to think.]
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[Yeah, he has absolutely no shame about that. At least there's some incredibly obvious fondness in his voice as he speaks, because he has really and truly learned to love and admire his swords. He feels pretty warmly about the whole bunch, actually - and Haru too, of course.
He curls up a bit further, wrapping the towels around himself, and then slips an arm around Yamato's shoulders. Partly it's so that he can support himself a bit better, and partly it's so that he can start to idly pet his hair. It's just as well that Yamato has been used to being handled by Souji, because he's a tiny bit terrible about personal space.
As strange as it is, though, Souji really wouldn't find Yamato's emotional response unreasonable at all. As it is, it's hard for him to read it, but he errs on the side of being careful and gentle about the matter, as much as he can.]
I didn't get as much time to get to know you as I did Kashuu, but... yes, I believe so. And now I've got a chance to do so much better, right? [He gently bumps against Yamato's side, smiling.] It's made me very happy too, you know? It's an honor most warriors could only dream of.
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Souji probably had his work cut out for him in finding time to tease them all in the first place.
Souji curls closer, and Yamato hesitantly wraps an arm around his waist. It feels natural to do, but is it... too much? Too weird? Forward, somehow? He's not sure, but he does definitely stay put once he shoves the hesitance aside. He's Souji's sword, used to being handled by him, and currently on the receiving end of gentle affection, so the least he could do was try to let him know he really didn't mind it at all with some kind of returned contact, right? Right.]
Better? I'm sure you did fine the first time, Okita-kun. [Bumps back! Because Souji can definitely do no wrong, ever, as far as he's concerned.] An... honor? [Now he's blushing again, good job.] I'm... not so sure of that... [He's just a sword!! A humble little sword!!!]
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