synflux | ( closed ) i don't want to be pitied,

( the bottle at his feet, half-empty. the river below, its water reflecting the pastel blossoms above. even the electrifying neon pulse of the city can't compare in its wonder, the memory of boats driven by oarsmen and fewer crowds having been what drew him here. and while there was none of the former and more of the latter than he would've liked, what he really didn't expect...

—was a certain someone to accompany him into the night, regardless of how hard he's tried to dodge her.

there are things he wants to say to her in the back of his throat that creep into his chest like ivy. cruel things, like "beat it", or "scram", but also, "watch it on the way back", or "get someone to walk ya home", the contrast between them as impotent as it is dangerous, and maybe it's the sake that has him lowering his guard tonight more than usual. he knows he ought to be left alone, is meant to be alone with the taste of alcohol still on his tongue, but he lingers in the moment, cheeks a tinge darker than the flowers and elbows folded on the railing. )

Didn't anyone ever teach ya... to be wary of strangers?

( his accent is thicker, the words threatening to run over. )

Edited 2024-03-15 15:30 (UTC)

This again... I'm not a kid, you know?

[ March rolls her eyes, balanced a little on her toes to get a good shot of the water past the railing. The distant lights of the city add a faint glow to it and if she focuses just right, she can catch the rippling reflection of the petals, trapped within the river. ]

Anyway, I learned that pretty quickly.

[ Very quickly, when she'd been attempting to acquire some kind of clue to unlock her memories, had followed a man into an alley during one of their earlier planetary expeditions when he'd said he'd recognized her and had swiftly realized that trusting anyone beyond the Astral Express crew was maybe not a good idea.

She'd learned to defend herself since then, so that Dan Heng would never have to make that kind of expression again.

But...

She rocks back on her heels now, turning to study Izou, who is... very obviously drunk. Sure, she'd tagged along originally just because his company was interesting and she'd remained because she was concerned, but-- ]

But you're not exactly a stranger? And... I don't know, you sort of looked like you didn't want to be alone.

[ Maybe that's grasping. It was just a thought that had occurred to her when she'd run into him on her way back, enough to make her rethink her original decision. ]

( oh, he knows. the way she handled that stressful setting in the underground, that dress and the way it fit her curves—all of this surfaces to mind momentarily in his drunken stupor, just long enough for him to blink it back just as quick as it came. he just needed to try and deter her one last time is all. keep those walls up.

what really captures his attention, though, is her final statement, echoing through the sluggish thrum of his pulse in his ears. didn't want to be... alone? if anything, it felt the contrary. being alone meant no one had to see him this way. being alone made it easier for him to tolerate when people came and went so frequently.

easier. nothing in life was easy, but still—

izou licks his upper lip. swallows before he speaks, head nodding forward a little as he turns to stare at her with genuine confusion. )

What, makes ya say that?

( his hooded gaze drifts downward as the bright lights become too much for him when he looks her way. )

Edited 2024-03-16 05:25 (UTC)

Because...

[ There's a lot she could say here. Maybe if she had Welt's ability to speak smoothly, sharply observant. Or maybe Bronya's regal eloquence would be better here. Maybe that would strengthen that tenuous string between them.

But March is aware she isn't the type of person who could speak to a throng of people and speak a lie through a sense of grief and betrayal, with an unwavering voice.

So she just answers him honestly, matter-of-factly. ]

If you really wanted to, you could have lost me. [ Outsped her. Threatened her life with full malicious intent. Told her he had other plans. He doesn't really seem the type to humor someone just for the heck of it and he'd insisted as much before. ]

There was just something about you, then... I can't explain it. Though maybe it's more like I just didn't want to leave you alone. [ She can admit that much. Maybe she'd imagined any kind of shadow in his gaze when she'd run into him. She's been told she's nosy before. ]

( there's that hum of her voice through the electric buzz of the street, and as he focuses on the shape of her face and the way her hair falls, the words start to come in clearer. words that would typically make him flee and draw away even harder than before, but for now, something just twists inside him like the slow crawl of smoke. something heavy and unsure. something that has his eyes dart to the river below and back.

has anyone ever said that to him before—that they didn't want to leave him be?

there was that ryouma, always weak. always too kind for his own good, telling izou that he was stronger than anyone he knew, and even he... even he turned and left without saying anything eventually, leaving him with the others, but more alone than ever before. there was takechi-sensei, affording him all the kindness he could until there was nothing left to give and nothing could convince izou to stay and suffer the ridicule.

and then comes march, whisked away from her home and all that precious stuff she said she didn't have, just offering the phrase up to him on a silver platter. "i just didn't want to leave you alone".

for the second time tonight, he finds it hard to look her in the eye. )

You're... an odd one. I tell you I'm a killer, try to shove ya off me with my attitude, and... and... —a cold-blooded killer, y'know? The sort folks used to mention in hushed whispers to each other... all that, watch where you walk at night nonsense, or Izou the Manslayer'll cut ya down.

( he waves a hand dismissively out towards the river. )

And... they were right. They had every right t'be scared. Bringing down a, ... a whole slew of guys before they can blink is nothin' for me. You were right, too... I coulda lost you, and...

( as usual, drinking makes him more chatty, bringing his defenses down. he grips the railing. )

It won't feel so good lookin' at that photograph later, I bet.

For me or for you?

[ It's a rhetorical question--or maybe it's just that she doesn't need an answer to it. That's not the truly important part here. Every photograph is precious to her, a memory that may be joyful or painful, but one that she made.

And Izou...

... Izou feels like a kaleidoscope, of sorts. Presenting one way, bristly and ready to lash out, but turn it another way, view it from a different angle, and there are glimpses of something else past it. Maybe it's because of the alcohol that he's speaking with more candor now and she wonders if she ought to keep it at surface-level. She doesn't want to lead him into saying things he might not actually want to state. ]

I've been called odd before. Stubborn, too. Reckless. And it's not like I don't believe you. If you wanted to kill me, I'd be in a lot of trouble right now.

[ Would he succeed? She'd rather not have to think about that question, instead leaning against the railing and pillowing her head on her arms as she looks at him.

He's like Ishmael... maybe more than she'd realized at first. His reasons for pushing her away seemed different, but maybe it was just that he was so used to people being afraid of him, he didn't want to trust someone who clearly didn't know him all that well piping up and saying she wanted to be friends.

If he responds better to true intentions, maybe he'd been lied to before, or manipulated. ]

I just think... maybe that isn't everything to you. Or you wouldn't be trying so hard to get me to avoid you. That doesn't really sound like a killer thing to do. [ Especially with someone who can bring down a "whole slew of guys before they can blink." He can't even claim it would be a pain to kill her if that's the case. ]

But I get that you probably don't want to trust me or be friends yet. I haven't exactly proven myself or showed how amazing I am, right? So I'm... [ Her gaze lowers, slightly. ] ... Sorry, if it felt like I was forcing it.

( his lip curls in amusement for the first time, ever so slightly. )

Stubborn, eh? I can see that.

( but it's what comes after that cuts crisp through the tipsy need to chuckle at the characteristics strangers to him have assigned to her, that has him hesitate and grip the railing even harder than before, her hair blurring in his vision to become one with the cloud of petals behind her. there's the pin-sharp feeling of anger, and as his hackles raise at her words, brows furrowed and jaw set, it's easy to see the barest hint of a fang in his mouth. )

Prove yourself? No one asked ya to do that. Does it LOOK like I'm... I'm askin' you to be better just to stand at my side? If anything, you did... did fine on that mission, so don't lemme hear that... shit outta your mouth again.

( it feels like an accusation, a one where izou isn't sure in the first place what a "friend" would mean to him anyhow, besides... someone who won't betray him, maybe. someone he'd be comfortable to be around, where it's easier to believe a person like that just doesn't exist. )

You should just, do what you want. Like you've been doin'. If hanging out with a guy who's too much trouble...

(—is what you want to do, then who am i to stop you?

he's the problem here. the one who can't accept a hand outstretched to him, so why's she got to belittle herself like that?

it doesn't make sense. )

Edited 2024-03-16 18:21 (UTC)

[ That note of anger is unmistakable, surprising her enough to blink a few more times than usual. And maybe she'd expected him to be more mad about her continuous attempts, but-- ]

That's what you're mad about??

[ That she was potentially putting herself down?? Which, fair, she doesn't exactly like to say when she might be wrong or that she's not good enough for something, but that's usually to her own frustration and not anybody else's. That he's being so belligerent for her own sake isn't something she thinks she could ever overlook.

It's... almost a relief, though. Instead of another round of "it's for your own good, I know what's best for you", something she's grown to hate even more after encountering that messenger in her memories, he's telling her to just do what she wants. Even at his own detriment.

March can't help a laugh, the surprise lending a hint of breathlessness to it. ]

You've got a long way to go if you think you're going to be more trouble than getting my memories back will be. [ And maybe that's where the stubbornness comes into play. ]

But I do want to keep hanging out with you. And talking to you. I want to get to know you, Izou.

So brace yourself, okay? I'm pretty hard to lose.

( brace yourself, she says, eyes sparkling and full of promise. it's here where he unclenches a hand briefly from the railing, growing too weary in the face of her determination to be riled up further. in fact, he's at a loss of words, and it's wordlessly that he stares back as the weight of possibly being known starts to unknot in his chest.

"i want to get to know you."

how can she say something like that with a straight face?

the honesty is reminiscent of his master and her head-strong presence, her resolve to flourish despite the upending obstacles. )

I...

( his scoff is a little softer now, his grumbling a little distant. there's an itch between his ribs and a redness to the flush in his cheeks that wasn't there before when he says, under his breath: )

How'm I 'sposed to respond to that...

( there's a shiver up his spine, thinking it's all a little weird that he should feel shy about this when they barely know each other, the memory of that photograph tugging tight against what little control he has left over his currently weak brain-to-mouth filter. )

Whatever. Just. Don't be surprised, when I let... let ya down.

( his throat is still warm with the taste of tonight's drink, and now it's warm with... something else, as if a man like himself should feel nervous around a woman in the heart of the city. shit. hold it together. then, as if to prove to himself that he isn't boneless and weak in the face of her words, or if pushed by the uninhibited part of his mind that keeps swerving between tense and relaxed, izou reaches out with a curled finger to brush a stray petal off her bang. )

You were, takin' photographs of the spectacle. Never seen somethin' like this before?

[ He's accepting it. He's accepting it?? It's more like he's given up on protesting and maybe that's not the ideal reaction she'd want from someone she's extending friendship to, but it's still a victory that feels warm in her chest. He's accepted it, which means she can call him a friend now with full confidence.

Even though he looks embarrassed, which is oddly cute. Maybe because everyone on the Astral Express is either too dignified, too composed, or too weird to be flustered.

She isn't too fond of him putting himself down, phrasing it like it's an inevitability, though. ]

I don't think you're--

[ Except the words kind of die in her throat as though she'd gone and choked on them, a thin little noise when his hand comes forward and she's not sure what to expect, but it's not the very lightest of pressures against her bangs, followed by the sight of a petal fluttering harmlessly to the ground.

It isn't as though she isn't used to proximity. But usually, she's the one reaching out, establishing that contact. Even Argenti striding towards her gallantly to talk about her beauty, flower in winter, etc. was startling rather than anything else. But right now, she's completely caught off-guard by this growly grump of a guy just clearing her hair of flowers and she hasn't been drinking; there's no real excuse for the sudden flush that puts her face a shade closer to her hair. ]

J-just try me!

[ She blurts it out, almost defiantly, before her gaze flicks down to the camera. A nice, safe subject. Whew. ]

But--yeah, not like this! The sight, I mean. The way the petals are fluttering all over the place and just taking the time to stop and watch them and make a whole outing out of it... I really like the idea of it, you know?

But you're from Japan, right? So maybe it's not all that exciting to you?

( huh. that's new.

a strange satisfaction unfurls in him at getting a reaction out of her if only just briefly, though he isn't entirely in touch with following up on it what with his thoughts being so muddled at the moment. the cotton-candy colored blossoms and the pink on her cheeks, terrific and gentle all at once—he takes in the sight of it quietly at first, a honed talent to observe the quirks of others in order to determine best how to tail and kill them quickly being what prompts him to do so.

but he isn't here to kill her, and if anything, the thought of it...

—nevermind. he extinguishes the flame of that complicated candle quickly enough. best not to think on anything complicated while he can barely think, opting to rest his chin slopping on a hand as she begins to fiddle with her camera. )

Yeah. Can't say I ever had the time or the... the need to take it in this deeply before, but. Now. Maybe it's just an overwhelmin' sight to behold, given most of the, the country's gone to shit. That something this appealing can still survive in a world that's tryin' to forsake it.

( in a kinder world... a kinder passage of time, the people here wouldn't have to worry about such a simple tradition being lost to them, and izou lets his opinion on the matter run free before his mind can catch up and consider that it's probably a silly sentiment when coming out of his mouth. )

[ It feels like he's analyzing far too much about her in that moment and March releases a very quiet breath when that pressure diminishes slightly. She knows what she'd like people to see, when they look at her, but there's no guaranteeing what they actually find. Himeko's gaze had been thoughtful, sometimes.

But Izou brings up a valid point, one that strikes her as strangely poignant. Something beautiful in a world that was pretty much dead in so many ways...

And she can remember, the tearful laughter in Natasha's voice when she'd told Hook that it wasn't the ceiling of the underworld in Belobog, but the sky. ]

I'm glad... that there are still things like that here. Kind of makes me want to be someone who can be that kind of resilient too, no matter what life throws at me.

[ One finger lightly taps against the camera before she finally stops fidgeting with it. ]

I didn't even think about it until now, but this is your country... have you been okay, seeing it like this?

Haven't given it much thought yet. But it don't really matter much, what with me—

( —being dead and all, or very much alive, in this moment and the moments since LILITH had pulled him away from his original resurrection in an organization far from here. there's no telling if any of this will stick with him or whether or not they'll pull the plug on him being able to live out the rest of his days as a living, breathing person, and while he hadn't given it any deep thought until now, izou still manages to stop himself from blurting out the fact that he's long expired.

less for himself, really, and it's then when a realization spikes him straight in the skull despite his drunken state:

that he's losing, gradually, to the wave of her care against his attempt at an uncaring facade.

telling her that he's a dead guy... when she's trying to build lasting memories or whatever, is just going to bring down the mood. best not to mention it.

his free hand itches, desperate to down the rest of that bottle about now. )

... with me, bein'... with our bein' tugged around on, LILITH's leash to salvage it all. Still, there's prob'ly plenty of... of other timelines where everything's in place and the sky looks clear, so I'm not all that worried.

[ Funny, something felt... off about that. Maybe? Maybe she's imagining it. He's drunk, after all. He's probably having a hard time putting his words together in a way she understands.

March listens, regardless, one hand drifting up aimlessly to rub at her temple. There's a slight ache there... Maybe she was focusing on the pictures a little too enthusiastically. ]

I hope that's the case, then. I'm not an expert on timelines or anything, and it's sad that this one's really went through it, but...

[ She shrugs, lightly. ]

This is the timeline I met you, so I don't think it's as terrible as it could be.

( GIRL STOP...

SAYING STUFF LIKE THAT!!!

he's gonna have to grip that railing again, because a sweet statement like that just about makes his head reel. the urge to flee this situation has never been so strong, but the prospect of tripping and eating dirt after the fight-or-flight rush of adrenaline doesn't sound so hot right about now.

more importantly... )

You... You really oughta think before you...

( actually, maybe he is starting to feel sick. )

Shouldn't you be, headin' on home? Before it's too late.

That didn't sound ominous at all.

[ A little dryly, even though she's pretty sure he just meant the time. ]

But I'll head back when you go. There'd be no point in going back on my own.

[ Since she followed him out here in the first place, probably to his chagrin. But she'd feel bad leaving him here by himself, especially when he's drunk. What kind of a friend would she be then? ]

( fine. his brow furrows. if that's what it's going to take to get out of this situation— )

Then I'm goin' home, and you're comin'... with me.

( if it can be called home, those cold hallways and colder rooms.

here's where he reaches out in an attempt to grab her by the wrist, with nary a thought as to whether that grab should be gentle, not only just to steer her up the ramp that leads down the the riverbank and away, but also to steady himself as it's become increasingly difficult to command his feet to take the appropriate steps. )

[ "Home" he calls it again, and she makes no move to disagree with him, but she doesn't want to think of it like that. She doesn't have a home, but even so, she'd think of the familiar hallway of the Express, the room she had filled with the memories she'd begun to acquire since waking up, shared chores, Himeko's sludgy awful coffee, the crew.

This is... just another temporary stop, but she might as well treat it like a precious memory for later on down the road. The base feels impersonal still, though.

He grabs her wrist and it's rough enough that she winces slightly, her skin as chilled as ever (though the rest of her feels a little uncomfortably warm), but March tolerates maybe five steps of this before she comes to a stop. Once she's sure Izou's also stopped and is steady enough, she tugs her wrist free and moves in closer with a little grumble, one hand resting at his back and the rest of her near, helpfully. ]

Just lean on me, already. This is a limited time offer from a pretty girl, so if you miss out, it's your loss!

[ She fully expects him not to go for that, but at the very least, she can be close enough to ensure he doesn't fall on the walk back. ]

( the cold of her skin when compared to the warmth of his that laps eagerly at anything it can hold onto, the way they've gradually become covered in the colors of spring as they had their little back-and-forth beneath the cherry trees. an izou who hadn't spent the night indulging in pleasure and reward might've swatted her help away immediately, content in making a fool of himself.

but maybe he should just lean on a pretty girl and let them lead him somewhere, as he swallows his own perceived shame of it on his tongue and accepts the small hand fitted against his back. accepts that this is a much better alternative to letting her watch him waste his entire night out on the riverbank, or worse, fall asleep in the cold outside.

a free hand close to her lowers as if to lay itself on her waist, and then pauses, the wasted hamster turning the wheel in his head doing its utmost not to embarrass him here. instead, izou draws it back, deciding to do exactly as she says, leaning his weight into her just a tad as his head bobs slightly with each stride of a step. )

Careful, goin' down this way.

( if only because the crowds seem to be thinning, and to him, anyone by themselves this late can't be too trustworthy. it's almost ingrained in him to expect something at this point, and he inclines his head lazily towards where the station ought to be in the distance. or maybe... that's the opposite way? nah. surely... )

Hopefully, we ain't too... it ain't too late for the last train.

[ For as confidently as she said it, March is normally not the one being leaned on. Unless it's another planetary crisis of some sort and she's helping out civilians, but this is something a lot tamer. Just a drunk guy who doesn't necessarily need her (need her help, she corrects herself, silently) and likely would say as much, if he was sober.

For once, she's far less lively or exuberant in her movements, just focusing on easing them along the ramp, down the riverbank, to the station. Slow but steady progress. He'd told her she didn't need to prove herself, not to him, but a part of her still wants to establish that she can be useful. She can get them back.

A few people do glance in their direction, some gazes lingering longer than they ought, but either something about the man slightly slumped against her or the thought that it might not be worth whatever effort they're considering, has them moving on without causing a disturbance. ]

We'll be okay. [ Because she doesn't want to think about them missing the last train. Sure, there are places to stay, if they had to, but she's not exactly drowning in money right now. But they'd manage. She was a member of the Nameless, after all. A Trailblazer.

They always managed.

Thankfully, it's a moot point. They get to the train, March hurriedly shoving a foot through the threshold as they announce the closing of the doors, to get the both of them inside and to a pair of seats. As soon as she's sure he's actually sitting down and not at risk of falling forward, she moves her hand off his back. ]

There we go! Almost there, Izou.

[ With an air of proud triumph as though she truly did something amazing. ]

( izou returns their stares as they pass with some of his own, unbeknownst to march, a one-eyed, weary glare landing on each and every one of them with as much viciousness as he can summon at the moment, as if to say, "don't even try it". the last thing they, or he needed, was some punk to stroll up and grate his nerves while a girl like march was supporting him and his wobbly legs.

when they arrive at the station after all that shuffling, he lands with an unceremonious thud in the seat he's been guided to, and then—

looks down, brushing a hand past the fringe of his messy bangs to hold it to his forehead. breathes in slow. shit. he really had her do all that work, got her involved in the cycle he always returns to: make a mess of himself, become a burden. rinse and repeat. he did tell her to do as she pleases in the heat of the moment, but...

he swallows, various phrases he didn't deserve tumbling all about in his head along with the repetitive train announcement.

almost there, huh.

before izou glances up to check the time or even if march is still present, he starts patting the seat next to him with a heavy hand, as if signaling for her to sit. )

[ Well, he's still conscious. That's good.

March takes the assumed cue after a few seconds, sinking into the seat next to him. It's hard to tell what he's thinking when he's quiet, and sure, Dan Heng is also quiet, but she'd known her fellow passenger long enough now to know additionally what those silence moments meant. Here, she's not sure if he's feeling sick, if he's falling asleep, if he's lost in memories coaxed out by the alcohol or if he's just not the talkative type.

... Well, the alcohol had kind of proved him otherwise, though.

Still, she thinks she should probably stop talking, in case it makes things worse. So she simply settles back, pushing back her bangs briefly to clear it of any stray flower petals that might have latched on for the ride back. They're both still sporting light layers of them just from having stood out there. ]

( yep. izou's still awake. still awake, but the gentle rock of the train is sure to lure him to sleep eventually.

the relative silence is comfortable, the dullness between his shoulder blades from having to sit up and focus on staying up a minor inconvenience. the chance to gain his composure, to screw his eyes shut for a good couple of minutes and clear a good deal of the escalating nausea was a welcome one, and it's then that he finds he can concentrate on something more pressing.

the smaller presence moving beside him.

he doesn't open his eyes at first, allowing his senses to remain dull, but then finally, finally, he says something, unmoving under the dim light and the neon projections through the windows of the train car. )

You... You said something 'bout being sealed away before. Someone got a problem with you, where you're from?

A lot of people did, for one reason or another. [ The crew, in general. Not everyone appreciated them trying to seal a Stellaron, even if it was better for the place it had landed in. She'd seen for herself how it could corrupt a person who'd listened to its whispers. But she knows that's not really the true answer here, so March tips her head back to stare at the brightly lit ceiling of the train. ]

... But I don't know... how I wound up in the ice. [ Naked, no less. She doesn't mention that. ] Or how long I was in there, just floating in space. Maybe I was the one who did it. Maybe it was some kind of punishment or an attack or to protect me. It's really all one huge blank.

[ Frustrating beyond belief, if she dwells on it. ]

I found out recently, though. That it's not like I hit my head or anything, but... something sealed my memories deliberately. So maybe whatever did that was also responsible for the ice.

[ This is said deliberately lightly. Matter-of-factly, even. Just a tidbit of information to offer a new friend. ]

( izou listens the best he can, head tilting forward in drowsiness after trying to pull it back.

and while he can't see her expression or even picture it at the moment, the casual manner in which she admits all this has his tongue feeling useless. clumsy even. is the air in here harder for her to swallow when she talks about being imprisoned in ice like it's something that just happens to everyone? why is it so easy for her to talk about it?

even just the thought of imprisonment, just the mention of it tugs at uncomfortable memories beneath his ribcage. things he doesn't want to think about right now, and as his brows furrow, he pushes it all aside. presses down on the recollection of dark halls and the dirt beneath his fingers that never seemed to leave.

none of that's here. not in this new life.

just purple limned with neon orange out the corner of his eye as the train rocks, his hands open in his lap. when he tries to mumble out a response to her, it's difficult, the drunken fatigue when combined with the soothing ride gradually taking him out.

all he can do eventually is lean into her shoulder, his neck tilting slightly in her direction, the sight of his sleeping face a rare one indeed. )

[ March blinks when he doesn't actually respond beyond a drowsy mumble that she can in no way parse, and just when she debates asking how he's feeling, she feels him lean against her shoulder.

Oh. Isn't this vulnerability? His sleeping face is unguarded and her fingers itch to grab her camera and snag a quick shot, but several problems occur to her. If she moves, that might wake him up and they've still got a fair ways to go before their stop anyway. And taking a picture of him when he's asleep (and drunk enough to slump against her, for that matter) just seems... not quite like taking advantage, but it still doesn't sit quite right.

But it's such a disappointment, in a way. When is she ever going to have the opportunity to see his face like this again?

Wow, it's so hard to be upstanding.

March sighs to herself, but settles on a compromise, studying Izou's face while he sleeps. Maybe she can commit it to memory, this quiet moment that only she is likely to remember. It's just as important as all the other ones she's lived so far.

After a few minutes, she carefully lifts one hand to pluck a stray petal from his hair, which is a lot less embarrassing when one of them is asleep. ]

Fine, fine... one extra service for the night. [ With a softly amused huff.

Here's hoping she doesn't have to try and lug him off the train when they get to the base, because that's going to go terribly. ]

( at midday, izou finds himself taking a brisk stroll across streets that have turned drab and fluorescent, sifting among the masses in search of a little reprieve. even though it's been months since they were summoned into this timeline where some had been whisked away from their homes, a part of him is still astonished to see steel signs instead of paper, manufactured plants instead of true green.

that's why, when coming off a worn district and into streets blooming with genuine pink, he's absolutely taken. the nostalgia hits hard and fast, and suddenly he's been ( easily ) convinced into picking up a bottle of sake on sale and a single box of flower-viewing bento. it's about all he can afford after another 'bout of gambling, and he takes a seat somewhere along the riverbank away from the embarrassing throng of people bickering over where to put their blankets.

sitting on the grass isn't a big deal for him. it's not as if he can't just materialize new layers or wash the clothing later, and he scoffs at them for being finicky over basic shit as someone who lived without the means to do so.

it's here where he'll see toji and, not wanting to ignore him, flag him down briefly: )

I ain't got enough to share, if that's what you're lookin' for.

_{[ It's nostalgic to Toji, too. Although he's not a fan of many traditions, this one he seemed to like for some reason (it was sort of a sappy reason.) Other traditions were pressured for him to take part of as a Zenin clan member, so their connection really isn't that great. Izou will get a rare sight of Toji in a yukata, dark blue with gray bamboo print and a haori to match. This sort of attire, in general, was also something forced upon him at the estate he grew up in, but taking his first wife to this sort of festival helped neutralize yukata wearing: a negative connection made positive.

And now, maybe it will be even more positive, as Izou bats his hand in Toji's direction. ]}

I don't drink.

_{[ He says this, and yet, the man is still shuffling his way over. The festival attire was worn correctly, but let's just say... a large man like im had a hard time keeping himself completely covered up in the front. ]}

Oi. Why're you here by yourself?

( an exclusive look at toji in traditional attire... nice.

izou just wrinkles his nose at the question of why he's alone, as if it should be obvious, the memory of toji's "you make me feel less lonely" playing in the back of his mind like a tiny record. he isn't the type to keep many close, but gradually, gradually, maybe... just maybe...

ugh.

anyway, he's also a little perturbed at the declaration of his larger companion's abstinence (?), glancing away as he once again pats at a spot next to him as if inviting him to sit down. he isn't particularly bothered by the tightness of his fit either, given some of his colleagues in the past were a bodybuilder-looking bunch who could also barely fit into their yukata. )

The hell d'ya mean you don't drink? This is every man's favorite past-time.

_{[ It’s free real estate, Izou. His tit window is so low and his chest enters the room before he does— all you gotta do is reach out and grab.

The yukata does leave him stiffly walking and it is a miracle he wanted to wear the damn thing at all— too many hard days and nights where he was forced to wear clothes like this. He preferred non-flashy clothes like sweatpants and a cozy shirt. He takes the seat offered, sitting correctly on his haunches. Half lidded eyes regard the drink and then Izou’s face. His lips curve upwards, just slightly, because something about being in the other man’s presence delighted him in a way he couldn’t quite comprehend. ]}

Why do you wanna know? Were you hoping to see me drunk and having fun with you?

( this is probably the most voluptuous chest he's laid eyes on so far in neo tokyo, though, let's be real. sorry, ishmael.

he pours a cup for himself despite the pointed nature of toji's question, wrinkling his nose in embarrassment as he considers what the truth is, that up-close scrutiny that this older man exacts on him so effortlessly always seeming to make him cave. the hell, man... )

Maybe I was. What, that a problem? I didn't invite you over t'play mind games with me. Just to...

( enjoy your company, he guesses, but it dies in his throat as he downs an entire plastic cup's worth of sake. )

Just to hang. It's been a while, and there ain't no one else who'll tell it to me as straight as you do. Figured I might learn somethin' more if you loosened up, but I'm fine with keepin' it all to myself.

( lights dimmer than anticipated. the faint crack of something and a shout down the hall.

the scenario in question and what's asked of them surfaces thoughts izou's kept buried for who knows how long, of his own experience in what constituted being questioned at rock-bottom.

and one would think that might have him avoiding this, but a strange pride swells in his chest at being offered a chance to do something more his speed, to bring what might be seen as a sick twist of normalcy in this second chance at life.

what he didn't expect though is to be partnered with an outsider who still feels like a mystery to him, who claims to be similar to the very thing he wields. he gives the man a look as a fist clenches a pair of pliers again in front of their captive, tears already falling to the table with how izou has mutilated one of his fingers. there isn't an ounce of sympathy in the eye that looks down at him as izou drawls in that thick accent of his: )

And just think how easy this woulda been if he'd just come clean in the first place.

(He stays back, arms crossed in front of him, leaning against the wall as he watches Izou work. Compared to the assassin in the room, Tsurumaru is a beacon, catching what little light there is and reflecting it right back. He doesn't look like he is going to get involved any time soon.

And isn't that just how it is? He doesn't have the same air to him that Izou does. He's lighter and cleaner and he doesn't look like the type that would get his hands dirty. But it's the way he looks completely unbothered and the way he watches Izou do his work that lets their captive know Tsurumaru isn't here to help.)

Now, now. (He speaks lightly and pushes himself off, coming over with measured pace. ) Maybe there's nothing to say.

(He crouches down next to Izou, in front of their captive, and looks up with bright, gold eyes, looking, searching, checking deep into theirs to see if there's anything to be found. It's probably unnerving to have someone look so deep into your eyes that you can, in turn, feel a deep and uncertain darkness staring at you. Maybe that's why their captive looks away.)

Maybe this is a waste of time. Are you tired, Izou-kun?

Far from it. If you need a break, I got everything covered.

( not a peep yet, huh. maybe their little captive is unrelated to the situation at hand with the way his gaze darts up at tsurumaru for something soft, like pity. that was common back in the day, the torment of individuals who may or may not have even been seen at the scene of the crime, the taste of metal on their lip or the heat of wax close to their toes.

but izou's not gonna ponder all that complicated stuff.

a tool like himself only needs to be useful, and the thought of LILITH doling this mission out to only a couple of them hums pleasantly against his skull. )

I don't believe for a second they got nothing to say. Though maybe... we oughta try somethin' different.

Are you sure?

(Elbow on his knee, face propped up on his hand as he muses.)

If he had something to say, I think he would have said it by now.

(Having someone who might believe him is like a light in the dark, a chance in a hopeless situation. It's clear that captive is calculating the situation now and figuring out who the good and bad is in this situation. He begins to please with Tsurumaru, swearing he has no idea what's going on. They got the wrong guy. He was just there to make fast cash. A quick buck.

And Tsurumaru listens. He listens perfectly, his expression one of patience and innocence. He shifts some, reaching to grab that bloodied and injured hand of his, holding it gently in his own...)

There, there. (And he squeezes, pressing down on his injured fingers until he begins to cry out again,) You've found your words again.

(And still, he's as calm and light as ever.)

What do you want to try, Izou-kun?

(He won't stop him. Despite all of that hope earlier, there is no "good" here.)

( it's such a simple, effective move that tsurumaru employs, and izou watches him do it unflinchingly.

it's not what he expected out of him, though, given the playful demeanor he's had thus far. though he guesses it's a different kind of playful, the way a ghost of a smile dances across his face as he applies pressure to their target.

it's a something izou's not going to forget anytime soon, even if he doesn't feel much sympathy for their guy who claims to be your run-of-the-mill thug.

as tsurumaru hands him the reins verbally again, izou plants his foot up against the table with an aggressive shove, causing the captive to squeak in shock. )

Lessee...

( a free hand runs contemplative along the scruff of his chin. hanging them upside-down seemed like too much effort. )

How 'bout... we play a little game. Show 'em the stills and see if they can guess where each was taken. Get one wrong, though, and...

( the "stills" in question being digital projections of various sites close to where the hybrids were last seen, and while this was entirely not fair, what method of persuasion was? )

(If it wasn't for his mangled and bloody fingers, this would surely be a reassuring squeeze and not more pressure. Their captive tries to pull away but Tsurumaru doesn't relent,)

I love games.

(He says so easily, eyes bright with something that could be excitement or madness.)

Do you have any now, Izou-kun?

(He lets go finally, giving much wanted relief and their captive doubles over as they try to catch their breath and bearings again.)

( oof my html mishap in the previous tag,

and it's there in that gaze that izou sees something briefly, the light of a hunger that he's tangibly familiar with, but can't exactly place, like the sky holding its breath for the rain on the shore of the riverbank he used to play as a child. he opts to let it go, not to question it for now, immediately distracted by their captive closing tight in on himself in pain.

a wave of the hand and izou brings up holograms of a few narrow, traditional alleyways that've been transformed in this futuristic landscape to simple tourist traps. well... tourist traps that were lacking in tourism given the state of the world, which explained why they'd declined over-time.

the poor injured captive glances up, likely eager to be set free as soon as possible, mouthing off about the so-and-so he knows that eats here or grifts there.

good. they're making progress.

instead of responding, izou tilts his neck for a satisfying crack, and to tsurumaru: )

Hoh. What sorta "games" are you into?

(I barely even noticed...

It's good information so far. He's sure someone can use it later to look up the names they've gotten so far but none of it is really related to their actual mission, is it? He's certain Izou has caught on to this too and he just crosses his arms as they go through the footage,)

Hm?

(He tilts his head and thinks for a moment, making a point to draw out the silence that follows,)

... I like a lot of old games. Matching painted seashells and catching temari...

(Definitely older hobbies from an era long, long past.)

Do you know "onigokko?"

(Essentially: Tag. Where one player pretends to be the oni chasing after the child who tries to run away. If the oni grabs the child, the oni wins.

When he asks, he looks right at their captive, too like he's already decided what he wants to play.)

( huh.

izou scrunches his nose a little at the question.

sure, a couple of those games ping him as memorable, but... they're all for children. )

How old are you, exactly?

( nevermind the captive. that shit can wait. )

(Innocently,)

Me?

(Like he's talking to someone else. He stops to think for a moment and begins to count on his fingers... One by one, each finger goes up and then down again. After a couple of rounds, he hesitates and seems a little less certain,)

I've lost count.

(Their captive looks at him. Brows furrowing. How does someone totally lose count of their age? And by the number of times Tsurumaru has gone up and down on his fingers... he's counted at least a few decades. Over forty when he appears to be in his 20s? As if catching on, Tsurumaru adds lightly,)

I've been around since at least the Heian era.

(And their eyes go wide. They can't possibly be hearing that right.)

Are you surprised?

(Is he asking Izou or their prisoner?)

H-Heian?!

( wide might be an understatement.

the interrogation is totally on pause as izou deals with this information, almost wobbling with how it threatens to disrupt his balance.

that was, like... how many years back again? pretty far back, he can recall. )

But you don't look a...

( —a day over twenty, at least to izou, and as he slides this new piece into the puzzle that makes up tsurumaru in his mind, he removes his boot from the table. slides a hand into a pocket as if that'll bring some more composure to the situation before he speaks. their hostage friend watches the exchange incredulously, any complaints or phrases about wanting to be let out dying in his throat at their current back-and-forth. )

Is that why you... ( his one eye narrows, all that sword stuff from before coming back to him— ) why you've been actin' so familiar with me? What are you, an age-old demon or somethin'? Or somethin' like... me?

( who for all accounts and purposes looked human and was human now, but. )

(Oh, what a reaction. He absolutely takes delight in it. If they were in a better setting, he would be having so much fun but he stays ever mindful. There's a prisoner here. There's a job to do. And he can use this to his advantage.)

Maybe.

(He hums. Maybe he is a demon. Maybe he's something like Izou. He holds up one finger and with each following statement, he lifts another,)

I've been a blessing. A protector. Divine. Recently, I've been a messenger from Heaven and then an oni.

(Five fingers, five roles.

Eyes shifting, glancing at their prisoner, smiling the smile of someone enjoying an inside joke. Always one for dramatics, as if on cue, the air in the room shifts, a warm breeze swelling and centering around Tsurumaru. Cherry blossom petals manifest and in a burst of white light and energy... a sword appears in his outstretched hand. Fingers closing around it, wind dying down, and now suddenly armed,)

You can face "divine punishment" (tenchuu, which he makes no point of acknowledging Izou. He shouldn't have to.) or "suffering." (Ku. The suffering of being human.) But if you speak, you may find mercy.

(This poor guy was not paid enough to deal with this. He's trapped in a room with devils and his mouth hangs open. It's very clear his resolve his breaking and he might have something to offer for a chance out.)

( it's not a clear-cut answer that he receives, and izou looks even more wary for it, but the display of mysticism when combined with the shocked shriek of their captive is enough to put even him on edge.

this sword-related specter or whatever is impressive to say the least, and it's the mention of divine punishment that has izou freeze.

there's no way that word wouldn't ping him in some way, wouldn't run cold under his skin with the memory of each kill and with the shock of someone other than him uttering it with meaning in this decaying world.

their hostage, too pressed at this point and completely unwilling to suffer whatever the consequences might really be, leans back so violently that the chair itself seems to shudder. there's some babbling about illegal tech and invisibility and whatnot, and izou just barely registers that as being useful while he's busy thinking about tsurumaru. LILITH is watching, though, of course, and clocks the information as legitimate, recognition of it coming through the speaker. )

About time.

( and then, to tsurumaru, a glint in his eye: )

I got a couple questions if you're willin' to answer 'em. Outside.

(The announcement goes off. They've gotten what they've come for and their reward will transferred to them the moment their information is verified.

Tsurumaru holds his position, sheathed sword in hand... and then lowers it. There's no need to continue but ooooh, did he love the look on their face. It makes him smile and he could preen like a bird right now, all pretty and proud of what they've achieved. )

Hm?

(He would have expected Izou to be as pleased but he supposes the man has questions, right? How long has it been since he'd laid out the first crumbs?)

I guess it's time.

(For answers, right? And he pats Izou on the shoulder as he practically skips ahead, right out that open door.)

Let's go, Izou-kun.

( the image of tsurumaru preening is so cute...

and their captive is on the verge of tears, beyond relieved to see the two of them shuffling their way out of a room that's been a literal nightmare for them for the past hour or so.

when they exit, though, izou rounds on his companion who may or may not still be holding tight to that steel, fingers curled inward as they grasp at his collar in the close quarters of a hall so blindingly white it might swallow tsurumaru whole. )

If yer that old, then... —how come you didn't say anything this whole time?

( pieces of a puzzle are slowly sliding into place, and while he's stern, it's a sternness without teeth. a one thats unnerved by what he doesn't know. )

(Still holding his sword, the gold fastenings clink delicately as he's forcefully handled. There's a certain level of resistance as he holds his ground but he relents enough is free to grab him, bring him down, push him back...

(Yes, he thinks, this isn't really surprising given what he recalls.)

He only smiles, eyes bright, as playful and light as ever,)

You never asked.

(Of course, he hadn't helped either.)

( true. he hadn't asked. izou kept to himself, almost out of habit.

he's steady, the tension brought on by this reveal practically thickening the air between them on his end. )

That mean you...

( his grip loosens a bit, more a shocked reflex than anything. )

You know everything about me? You haven't been laughin' at me this whole time, have you?

Not everything.

(It's true. There's no way he would know everything. Raising a hand to pat Izou's fist on his shirt,)

Now, now. Why would I laugh?

(Pat, pat,)

You're a fine swordsman. Of course, a sword would know you.

( closed ) i don't want to be pitied,

MARCH 7TH, 3/16.

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TOJI, 3/15.

please accept my late ass but if not i can catch you at the current event!!

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TSURUMARU, 3/17.

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