estoria | [open] And as you know I have a gigantic heart

Entry tags:

[open] And as you know I have a gigantic heart

Who: Rise Kujikawa and OPEN!
When: 7/19-7/23 (IC) aka event-time!
Where: Various prompts
What: It started with a goat. Then it all just went downhill from there. AKA Rise Kujikawa and the mysterious memories event.
Rating/Warning: N/A for now, will update if needed

[It started with a goat. Honestly, at first she thought that she'd dreamed it, that maybe it was just an extension of the white feathers she saw in her dreams recently but no. She wakes up and there sure is a wispy little goat at the foot of her bed. She stares…and the goat bleats flatly at her. It's a sad-looking thing, but as she tries to get closer it seems to disappear immediately.

Wow. That's weird.]

A.) is for Academy

[It's a normal school day. With everyone back from the dead and her worries a little more at ease, she can concentrate a little easier. It's quiet in the Study Hall period of the day and she's working on some homework when she spots the goat out of the corner of her eye…approaching a wastebasket. She hasn't realized it can't change much of the world around them, but she'll get that memo as soon as she gets up and stealthily tries to approach the animal.

Of course, the goat suddenly moves and it startles her and her arms suddenly pinwheel as she yells, trying to balance on her high heels so she doesn't bite the dust. Are you going to catch her? Let her fall? Fall with her? Sorry about all of that.]

B.) is for Bad Places Rise Shouldn't Wander

[This goat is seriously way more trouble than it's worth. She's not sure where it came from or why it's in such poor condition, but she's taken to following it around the colony to make sure it doesn't get too far out of her sight. It's for that reason she doesn't even realize she winds up right in the middle of the Pleasure District. The goat's paused, and if it's possible it gives her a knowing look despite its lack of real expression.

(Is it possible that this goat knows about her dungeon?)

She ends up in a staring contest with the goat, narrowing her eyes when she realizes she's standing in front of a love hotel.]

Don't even think about it. [She sure was talking to the goat, but it's not that hard to overhear her.]

C.) is for Cafe

[Everything is exhausting. She's sprawled over a chair almost ungracefully and that goat hovers around near her feet, but at least its not moving. On occasion, she'll be writing neat lines in a notebook and sipping her tea, though she frowning in concentration. There's an extra chair at her table though. Feel free to ask if you can join her or even be nosy about what she's doing, she won't mind.

On the other hand, if you're a friend or even someone she recognizes, she'll look up and smile brightly before pushing the chair out with her foot.]

Hey, over here!

D.) is for Dancing Games

[Sometimes Rise likes to play games. Sometimes Rise likes to use the game station to practice and when she gets bored of dancing in her room this is the next best thing. However, she's found at the game center today in front of one of the dancing games, and as she watches the colorful arrows fall across the screen she's continually missing and whines in frustration.]

Ugh, come on! This should be really easy! [And it would be…if she actually remembered how to dance. It's like all memories and coordination have left her and she's left trying really hard to fix that. Help her? Challenge her? Question her?]

E.) is for Everything Else!

[If you want to run into her while she's out shopping, at work as a model/karaoke star/tofu connoisseur, or if housemates want to do apartment shenanigans here you go!]

[ooc: ALSO if you have a preference on your type of memory please let me know! Otherwise I will be randomizing. Thank you!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Whoa, Kujikawa, wha—

[Of course he hadn't seen the memory himself. He has no idea why she's looking at him like that. What had just happened? Shit, is she okay?! Leon takes in her expression, his own going open and concerned, and takes a step towards her, hand outstretched—

And then he's hit with a sharp, sickening wave of vertigo, out of absolutely nowhere. He stumbles, doubling over and clutching his head, one hand digging up into his hair like maybe he could pull a few strands out and make the sick feeling go away. What's going on?! Why now? Did it hit her too; is that why she'd looked at him like that?]

Nnnn—hhhh, hold on, shit, what's . . . y'okay? Ugh . . .

[And for the first time in the course of their friendship, when he takes a step toward her she instinctively steps back. She's not afraid of him, necessarily, but she's wary and confused and unsettled. She keeps her distance until he stumbles.

And also for the first time, she also doesn't know how to handle him. How to handle this. It's clear to her that it's like what had happened with Yosuke. A memory he doesn't know she's seen, the sick, dizzying sensation. She's felt it with people, too, when her goat's met people. And while a big, big part of her wants to bolt, to question and try to understand…a bigger part, the more fundamental part of who she is as a person can't push down the need to help him and take care of him. He's still someone she's cared for even if this is now something much, much larger than she ever anticipated. It's funny…even when they had been sure Namatame was behind everything, she had been one to argue that everyone needed to calm down and they couldn't harm him. They had to take time to think straight.

She has to apply the same to him. She fixes him with a calm look, still more nervous than usual even as she steps forward tentatively, taking his hand to pry his fingers from his hair.]

It's going to hurt more if you do that. [Her voice shakes even if she doesn't want it to, and her eyes scan around the arcade. If he's sick, a place with loud noises and lights won't help.] Can you walk?

[In a way, she figures it'd also be best to question him somewhere private just in case things get ugly…but still somewhere visible. Ugh. She can't be second-guessing him now but…there are too many confusing pieces here. Who was Leon Kuwata?]

[He nods and immediately regrets moving his head, so he swallows hard and speaks instead:]

Yeah. Sorry . . .

[God, this is so embarrassing. How many times does he have to have some weird breakdown in front of her? And she's acting strangely; he's still caught up in trying not to throw up, so he's not being as observant as he could be right now, but he knows she is. Did he embarrass her or something? Shit.

He takes a few deep breaths, waiting for the nausea to subside. Thankfully, it's starting to. He even manages to blink his eyes open at her and offer a wavery smile.]

This's so embarrassing. You pissed at me? Heh . . . s, sorry. I just gotta get outta here . . . sit down somewhere.

[Leon just don't throw up on her and she can probably handle anything right now. It's easy for her to switch to a no-nonsense kind of serious mode, the kind she'd had when she first moved to Inaba and wanted people to leave her alone. Where she would normally lead him by the fingers or hand, she lets go and gestures for him to follow her. The smile's only partially returned, though it's still one tinged with discomfort.]

Come on. There're some tables outside we can sit at. Do you need anything? We can probably get some water from somewhere…[She's mostly thinking to herself to keep herself calm. She's also not answering the question. She's not pissed. She's…well. She doesn't know yet.]

[He shakes his head, and this time regrets it less. Good. The feeling's starting to fade; he's not better better, but he's climbing his way up to functional. Now it feels more like he just got spun around by a carnival ride a bit rather than feeling like he might need to go to the hospital.

He follows her, still rubbing his face and frowning. More and more frowning, as they walk. Is she that worried about him . . . ? She's definitely acting odd . . . ]

I just need a minute.—I dunno what's going on. Maybe this is 'cuz of that stuff in the sewers . . . maybe it's hitting me late?

Yeah. Maybe. [Her voice sounds a little far away as she leads them to a table outside of the arcade, still in eyesight of people but enough that they won't be right out in the open.] Some people were still feeling things for days after they came back.

[It's not that. She reaches the table and she stares at him, taking a seat and waiting for him to do the same. When he joins her, she still doesn't speak even as she rests her gaze on him, hands propping her chin up as she regards him carefully. Finally, quietly, she says:] …you would never lie to me, would you?

. . . Huh?

[What? He blinks at her, still rubbing his hand through his hair and trying to deep-breathe away the last of the vertigo. It's persisting, but he can think through it. Or—he thinks he can, anyway. But that question, her demeanor, it feels like it's out of left field.

His heart picks up, and he swallows, brow furrowing. She'd found something out. What did he do? What did she find out? Who told her? His brain casts around for anything—]

I, I wouldn't. 'Course I wouldn't . . . why? What?

[Does she want to confront him right now? No, of course not. But…she can't let this continue. She can't keep this up without understanding, without really knowing who he is, what had happened, all of those things. She's apologetic but firm in her question, keeping her gaze level.]

I need you to tell me the truth. Who's Maizono-san?

[While she's so focused on Leon, her goat trots along on unsteady, uneven legs, heading for their table. It still has a little ways to go, but with Rise in-sight it seems to be okay.]

What?

[Sure, in his panicked mental grasping for whatever she might be upset about, he'd touched that possibility. But only two people in the colony could have told her about Maizono—or maybe she'd snooped around in his place, somehow, gone into that one drawer, but no, her name isn't associated with any of that—

His mind flits to everything at once, every thought blending together into a dull, ugly, hard buzzing in his ears that he can barely hear his own voice over. His face goes chalky pale, eyes wide and panicked.]

Wh, what? H, who? How—Kujikawa—no? I, I mean. How did, please. Please please please, no, why?!

[Oh no. Oh no, this wasn't what she'd pictured.

(But then again, what was she expecting?) She quick to move forward to cover his hands with her, mostly to ground him and also make sure he doesn't leave and she hates this. She hates being suspicious of him but she hates that he's so distraught. She should have thought this over better and it just affirms that this was so recent to him.]

Leon, Leon, it's okay! It's okay…[It's not. It's really not and this makes it worse and they're a mess, aren't they? They're a goddamn mess.] I don't--do you have an animal? Has there been something following you for the last few days? That's why…["That's why I know" goes unsaid. How can she make him feel better about this being the second time she's seen memories of his he isn't privy to?]

[He doesn't know what's worse: the possibility that she knows, or her comforting him over it when he loses his shit. What a fucking embarrassment. But it's so hard, it's so hard to think, just like it had been back then. The memory of his trial is a blur to him—accusing faces, facts stacking up against him, and him not being able to do anything about it. Not being able to think or speak in his own defense, lashing out however he could, attacking nothing at all because he couldn't hold it together enough to change things.

And now this: she says things, and they fling themselves at his brain and stick there like it's a ball of glue, and he can't pry them off to put them together and make them make sense in his head. She knows who Maizono is. But it's okay. She knows about the fox thing, but what does that have to do with it? She'd told him not to lie, so she must know-know, and he doesn't know how she could, but then she'd said it was okay? That isn't possible! And the fox—

Why can't he just turn off? So many of the people he knows feel like they have switches inside of them that they can just turn on and off, effortlessly, and that's how they get things done. They can figure out what's confusing them with just a flick. They can turn down their feelings easy as anything. Why isn't he like that? Is something wrong with him?

He'd managed it during the trip down in the sewers, some, but he can't now.

Slowly, he drops his forehead down to thunk against the table, his hands balled into fists under her fingers.]

. . . Just tell me. Just tell me, please . . .

[Just tell me all the answers.

And then, after a long pause, he finally manages:]

. . . It's a fox.

[There's...a very long, quiet pause. She doesn't move her hands and she doesn't speak, simply looking at the top of his head both in confusion and also worry. That reaction still scared her and now she has to wonder the best way to go about this.

It sort of reminds her of the desperation and anger that came from Yosuke that night in Namatame's room, screaming so loud about the injustice of everything. Or even Kanji when he's really riled up. But there's something more...fragile isn't the word she'd use. Never to his face at least. But she's afraid she's broken him by asking in her pursuit of the truth.

She's missing pieces. She knows of the murder now, and she knows of his death, but how point A got to point B is still lost on her.]

...a lot of people in the city have animals following them. Foxes, cats, birds and goats. [Her goat makes a noise from under her chair, but she ignores it.] Somehow they're tied to us. When they touch another person, that person sees one of your memories. [She takes a deep breath then.] ...I saw what happened that night. With Maizono-san and the knife.

[...she won't push, but she's leaving him room to explain to her. She doesn't know the rules of Hope's Peak, doesn't know the full circumstances...but there had to be another way, right?]

[For a long moment, he doesn't do anything. Maybe if he doesn't move, or speak, or think, time will just stop progressing, and things will never get any worse than this moment.

But then he swallows hard and nods, forehead rubbing against the plastic tabletop.

There's relief in it, too. She explained, and now he knows. It sounds stupid and insane and he can't believe his luck would be this bad—no, of course it is. It was always only a matter of time before everything got ruined. This place is like that . . .

But it's still a relief for the situation to have broken down into something he can understand, even if he hates it. It's finally something he can talk about. Hushed and dull-sounding, like some spark inside is taking a break for now and might not be back for a while, but he can say words.]

I don't . . . so, what d'you wanna hear? You probably saw the part that matters, right? You wanna hear about Hope's Peak? I don't wanna talk about that stuff in public . . . is it worth goin' somewhere else? Do you wanna know that bad? Or would you rather just—stop now?

[Stop. Stop them, stop talking to him.]

[Would it be easier to walk away and cut all ties now? Maybe. Maybe it would be safer to leave this behind knowing what Leon's capable of. But that's hypocritical and also completely unfair. They've come so far...it makes little sense for her to walk away now.

So. She stares before she speaks to the top of his head again.]

Your place or mine?

[His shoulder shake in a quiet, humorless laugh, and he finally lifts his head; his eyes are red-rimmed, though the tears haven't spilled over, yet. He lifts his hand to rub the heel of it over his eyes anyway.]

. . . If you come to mine, I can show you something. If you want. It's—it ain't—

[He takes a deep breath, hating himself for even having to say this.]

—I'd never . . . do anything. Got it? Even if you flipped out on me and ran and never talked to me again, that's nothin' like what happened back in Hope's Peak! I'm not a—

[Murderer.]

. . . I'm not.

[It sounds like a dumb move to go home with someone after what she's seen. But she's been to Leon's apartment before and this is stupid. She has to trust him. He...he said he wouldn't lie to her. And she believes him, believes he'd never really murder someone but...there was the evidence. There was the paranoia she felt that drove him to end what Maizono started.

But at the same time, the expression breaks her heart a little. She doesn't immediately say yes. But after a few moments she nods.]

You promise it'll be okay?

[He flinches and puts his head down on the table again for a moment. He can read between the lines. He hasn't felt that aimed at him in a long time—not since Fujisaki had come to the colony, seen Leon, and reacted with fear, as if he might whip out a knife at any second and go on a murder spree.

But he's not. He isn't! How do you make someone understand that? It's not like not wanting to be a baseball player anymore and changing his image, quitting the team.

What do you do when you don't want to be a killer anymore?

And why is it so easy sometimes, in a way that makes him feel sick and complicated, and like this other times, in a way that doesn't feel any better?

He finally tilts his head up to look at her again, peeking up through his bangs.]

I—I'll get on my knees for you, man, I swear. I swear!

[She has to give him the benefit of the doubt here. And she's being kind of stupid, she knows that. If he really was a killer he could have offed her at any point in their friendship.

This is Leon. This is her friend and she knows that part of being a friend is understanding the parts of your friends that're kinda scary and dark. So she meets his eyes carefully and shakes her head.]

That's not necessary. I believe you. [The pause is heavy despite that.] ...let's go back to your place. It'll be quieter than mine anyway.

[He sighs and nods, relief beginning to tinge his features. Usually when he "wins" something, he's all smiles . . . but this doesn't feel like much of a victory. Leon pulls himself to his feet and half-heartedly fusses with his hair to get it out of his face.

He may not be victorious, and his insides feel like a fuckin' mess right now, but there's a seed in his belly of something he never thought he'd have to fall back on when this happened: hope.]

. . . Thanks.

Kujikawa—I'd never let anything bad happen to you. Never! It's me who—I'm the one on trial again.

[In other words, he's ready for his life to end all over again, figuratively this time.

But first they've got to get to the courtroom. He pulls away from the table to trudge back in the direction of his apartment, head ducked and shoulders hunched.]

[She's up on her feet too, a little unsteady on her heels as she makes to follow after him. She's careful not to overcrowd him but also not fall too far behind, goat straggling after her.

She's heard him, of course. That he'd never let anything bad happen to her. And she knows that. She's known that since days ago when they were together in his apartment and he held her close and assured her that everything would be okay and that he'd do anything for her. She knows that.

But she knows she has to understand this huge part of him, too. The goat will silently follow the two of them back to his apartment and she's quiet the whole way there, awkwardly entering his place when he unlocks the door and carefully kicking off her shoes.]

...I know you wouldn't. [She finally says.] But what do you mean "again"?

[Leon steps out of his own shoes and immediately heads over to the far wall, behind the couch and near the kitchen, where there's a console table with a drawer he never opens and guests tend to have the decency not to snoop in.

He opens it now, after spending a few quiet moments just staring down at the tabletop.

He doesn't call Rise's attention to it, or nod her over, or anything like that. She can come peek if she wants, or make herself comfortable and he'll bring over what he's got to show her. It doesn't matter to him, and he's too caught up in his thoughts to even address it yet.

As for the fox, it slinks off under another table to curl up out of the way and watch them, with a sleepy sort of wariness.]

. . . You saw how things ended up and all. All that from before—they executed me for what I did . . . 'cuz those were the rules of the game. 'Course I went on trial first. They had to prove I did it and vote on me being guilty. That's in the rules too.

[His voice is both tight and—defeated. Here he is, actually saying all of this, for the first time in the many months since it happened. It's new, and he doesn't know yet how it feels to talk about it. That's something he'll learn as he goes, he guesses. Right now, everything still feels terrible . . .

But she knows he wouldn't. She believes him. Right? There's some hope after all, buried in all the garbage. Maybe, for the first time, he can have this conversation.]

[While it would be easier to sit away from him and let him have his moment, she does follow him to the table and hovers behind him, staring at the drawer but not into it. Whatever he has to show her must be important.

The goat's practically following in her shadow, stumbling along as it hovers behind the pair of them. She doesn't know what he's thinking, really, but then the pieces fall into place. A trial for a murder. An execution for a sentence. What kind of a school was Hope's Peak that those were the rules?]

...there was a game where you had to murder people?

[Leon slides the drawer open and begins to pull things out of it. It feels like he's watching someone else do this, or maybe that he's moving his hand through the use of strings from somewhere else, outside. He has to concentrate on placing each thing on the tabletop, feeling how the weight of each item settles onto the table under his hands.

The knife, first—the same one that was in the memory. He sets that down quickly, his brain faintly alarming at him from somewhere else: don't keep that in your hand. Don't ever hold it around Kujikawa. Don't process how the handle feels in your fingers. You'll make her run away for good . . .

Then a handful of ceramic shards: the mask he'd been given during that one shitty thing that had happened a while ago, the one where you couldn't get rid of these things and couldn't break them and then they started to change and you couldn't do anything about that, either. His is shattered now, into large, still-identifiable chunks, each one stained with bloody fingerprints the size of a teenage girl's.

And then a small electronic device, something like a smart phone, turned off at the moment.

Then he pushes the drawer closed, without lifting his gaze from it, or moving his hands from the pull.]

Yeah. This stuff is . . . CERES gave me all this, 'cuz they think it's real hilarious what we went through. What happened to me—it's just a big joke to them.

[The words come out flat and measured. Emotionless—

But then something twists inside him, and he feels here, suddenly, in this place, in his own body and apartment with a friend he doesn't want to lose, and he finally lifts his eyes to look at her again, color rushing back into his face, eyebrows creasing with sudden urgency.]

—I didn't want any of this! I didn't ask for this! Not then and not now! I didn't want this shit to follow me here! I didn't want you to find out! I didn't wanna be locked up in that place! I don't, I don't want any of it, but—it's all right here! It's not fair!

[She doesn't respond immediately as she examines the items from her place behind him. She listens, understanding immediately that he's not faking this and that he really is panicked by everything that's happened and how hard this must be to tell her. She doesn't take a step to take any of the items from the drawer, but she doesn't take any steps to walk away either.

It's not fair. That part is correct. She catches his eyes and frowns lightly, wondering the best way to ask for further explanation.]

I'm not mad. [It's the first thing she says. She's not mad that she's finding out this way.] And CERES doesn't even seem to care about things that hurt us. [She's definitely eyeing the knife, and seeing how it looks clean she looks at the mask and the device instead.]

You killed her because she tried to kill you. But why? What kind of game says you have to kill people at all?

[The fight goes out of him; he slumps, coming out of his spell to run a hand through his hair.

Okay. Okay. He can have this conversation. It's beginning to feel like just another hard thing he has to talk about, not . . . what it was before, whatever that was. A hazy mire he couldn't wade into without getting stuck. There's a way through this: forward.

She's holding out her figurative hand for him to help him through, and it breaks his heart.

There's nothing he actually needs to do with the knife or the mask; he just needed, for some reason, to show someone they were there. But the e-handbook, that he needs. So he picks it up, gives her a tired, defeated, but deep-down hopeful look, and turns back to go over to the couch and flop down. This time, he watches to make sure she follows, nods her over.]

. . . Look, you gotta understand it's real hard for me to start at the beginning 'cuz I don't remember the beginning. Did I ever tell you that? I'm 19, I guess, but the last birthday I remember, I was turning 17. In my second year of high school . . .

In my third year's when all this started, but she took those memories out o' me. I just remember the Mutual Killing. That's—the "game." . . . Pretty screwed up, huh?

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