okitactless | IC inbox; recolle

Everything he says? [Rude...] He insults me all the time, y'know! He's really rude!

[POT KETTLE ETC...

Clearly Kashuu isn't feeling quite as fussed about the charm as Yamato, in any case. Give him a while to get his tinfoil hat back on and he'll start to wonder if it's possible that, unlike the marked package Retrospec sent to him containing the single shell, they can also send unmarked things too.

But.

They'd still have to have a way to get it inside their apartment with neither of them noticing.

He'll pick up his own mug, getting up in Yamato's space to look at the omamori again.]

Well... You could probably use it anyway, yeah? For your classes or practices or whatever.

Ha? No way! He was really worried about you the other week, you know. He wanted to protect you from the mob.

[PROBABLY. That's how Yamato interpreted it, anyway. Because of course he did.

Anyway, moving right along...

It's situations like this where Yamato's superstitions kick in. He might not be fussed about some of the more overt oddities happening around them, but it's the little things like this that get under his skin the fastest.

He eyeballs the charm warily, but... Kashuu's right. Regardless of where it came from, it's still a good luck charm. For all he knows, his mother tucked it into his pocket last time he was home and it just fell out onto the table last night, or something. So he nods slowly, humming into his cup.]

I guess so... if it's here, I might as well. You don't want it?

What? That doesn't make any sense and he definitely wouldn't. Why drag the mob into this, anyway?

[WHY ARE THEY SUDDENLY AN ITALIAN SOAP.

But he just sighs, assuming it's Yamato being Yamato, and refocus on enjoying his tea. He'll look up to eye the charm once more before shaking his head, though.]

You could use something like that way more than me.

[Rude... But he means it in a non-rude way, for once.]

He would too.

[And just-- doesn't bother to explain about the mob part?! Okay yams.

It sounds rude, but Yamato knows better--and even if Kashuu had meant it that way, it's not like it's untrue. Kashuu has even less use for a sword protection charm than he does.]

Well, alright... I have practice later today, I'll ask them about it. [In case it was just... slipped into the pockets of everybody at the dojo or something.]

["No way", thinks Kashuu but doesn't say aloud because HE KNOWS HE'S RIGHT, YATO IS A BUTTHEAD, but he also doesn't want to try figuring out why Yamato dragged the mob into things or what's going on or why, so he just sips at his tea and lets that topic gently expire.]

Yeah, one of 'em may have put it in your bag or something and it just fell out...

[A little, sloping shrug. Then, after a brief second of consideration, he'll move to stand again.]

You have time to let me brush your hair out before you leave, yeah?

[It's a perfectly reasonable explanation, but Yamato doesn't look convinced. He doesn't argue, though--there's not really anything to be done for it, not when he won't have any further answers until he leaves for the day. Besides, he has more important things to focus on. Like, y'know. Exams.

...Ugh, exams.]

Mm. [It's not really an answer, just a noise mumbled into his cup, but Kashuu can probably tell that it's a "yes" anyway. It's not an everyday routine, but it's comforting nonetheless, something relaxing he can focus on before he slips right back into wandering around and chanting definitions.]

[WHAT A GOOBER...

But Kashuu will move with his cup to stand behind Yamato, plucking up the comb he always uses to combat that mess of a ponytail. He'll alternate between untangling the fluff and sipping at his drink and mostly be content to stay in companionable silence, hoping he can provide a little break before The Exams begin...

Once it's all smooth and he's tied it neatly back into place, he pats Yamato's head twice and pockets the comb again.]

There! Perfect. No way are you gonna fail now. [With his bizarre charm and good-lookin' hair... ANYWAY, over to the sink he goes, to rinse out his mug.]

I'm gonna be out late tonight, by the way, so don't wait up for me.

[LET HIM LIVE...

But Kashuu's probably the only one who can tame the pompom in the first place, and Yamato's accustomed to the procedure by now--when to stay still, when to turn his head, that kind of thing. It doesn't stop him from trying to look over his shoulder now and then, to make a comment or ask a question, but for the most part, he's pretty happy just to sit like this.]

I'll tie the charm to my ponytail. [IT SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING HE WOULD DO but no, he's just joking, and he smiles as he tucks the charm into his pocket.] Thanks, Kiyomitsu. I'll see you later.

[Yamato doesn't wait up.

He suffers through his exam, and since he's not due at work until tomorrow, he's free to spend the day at the dojo--which is exactly what he does. No one has any answers about the mysterious charm, though the general consensus is that it's a fitting one for him. A few of his fellow students even ask him to pass it on, if he finds out where it came from; it is well-suited for kendo tournaments. The whole thing still leaves a strange feeling in his chest, not quite déjà vu, not quite superstition. But it's such a small thing, and it's easy enough to keep on his person, whether it actually brings him any luck or not.

With Kashuu out late, Yamato could really stay at the dojo as long as he wanted. He's there after the final lessons of the day most of the time anyway, training or sparring personally with the masters, or some old friends. "If you stop learning, then you've already lost," he remembers hearing, back when he'd been overly confident and exceedingly reckless. But he'd taken those words, and so many others from his beloved master, completely to heart. So by the time he decides to leave, the dojo is empty, the sky is dark, and his clothes are drenched in sweat.

He doesn't wait up, but he does throw a quick dinner together, something to leave in the fridge for whenever Kashuu comes home. He takes his time in the shower, taking advantage of the opportunity to use up all the hot water, and does his best to towel his hair dry without creating a tangled, fluffy monstrosity for Kashuu to attack in the morning. He leaves his bedroom door open wider than usual--just a habit, really, like he wants to make sure he'll hear Kashuu getting home even when he's asleep. He changes, crawls into bed, and falls asleep quickly, the odd charm sitting, forgotten, in his kendo bag.

He doesn't wait up. But in the end, it doesn't matter--before long, he's wide, wide awake.

Or at least, it feels like no time at all has passed. His room is still pitch black as he snaps back to consciousness, not that he can see it when his mind is still fixated on the dream. Dark shapes moving swiftly around him, the scent of blood so strong it nauseates him, pain exploding in his chest as he tumbles down the stairs--and the sound of Kashuu's voice, screaming his name.

Someone else is screaming, too. It takes Yamato in a minute to realize it's him.]

[Kashuu had gotten home late that night - late enough that the water is reheated again by the time he takes a shower, that he doesn't heat up the meal left for him because he doesn't want to run the microwave, that he pauses to pull Yamato's door in to its usual resting spot as if to say don't worry, I'm back in response to that unspoken searching. It's late and he's tired and he doesn't waste any time crawling into bed either, and while his dreams aren't free from a fresh onset of vivid hallucinations, they're much kinder to him than Yamato's are.

As evidenced by the fact that he, you know. Keeps on dreaming in relative peace once the memory is over. And Yamato wakes up and screams.

Kashuu's deep enough into REM sleep that even though he jolts into consciousness almost reflexively, immediately, he's still disoriented.]

Yasu—?

[But he still calls out without thinking, and his feet move without his command, carrying him up and away from his bed and to his door and as he's moving, he's becoming more alert. There's no way he could have forgotten to lock the front door, right? Had someone with a key lost it, and an unsavory person picked it up? Possible scenarios rush through his fuzzy mind as he practically slams around the corner, intending to push Yamato's door open and...

Do... something, if there's actually an attacker in there.

He hasn't thought very far ahead.]

Yasusada—!

[Likewise, Yamato's body has moved on its own, but with far less finesse than usual. He falls out of bed, but the light pain of impact is lost in the phantom aches his body still feels. Disoriented panic has him nearly toppling over as he scrambles backwards, back hitting the wall like the solidity will help. Like curling up in the corner could erase the image of that horrible, horrible glow.

By the time Kashuu bursts in, he's got his hands clamped over his ears, shaking his head vigorously--the dream is over, but the fear and desperation he'd felt has too strong of a hold on him, and he doesn't seem to notice that Kashuu's here. He doesn't seem to notice anything at all, actually, his eyes unfocused, the screams having faded to soft sounds of distress.]

[It's not like he's never seen Yamato have a nightmare before. It's not like he's never had his sleep interrupted in the night by screaming. But it's not exactly common, and he's never seen him this distressed, to the point that he looks more like an injured animal trying to keep the things hunting him at bay.

It's enough to startle him into inaction, very briefly. He pauses for just a breath where he stands, eyes wide and wondering just how he's supposed to handle this - but he doesn't have time to figure that out rationally. Yamato is clearly having a moment here, and he lets his body move itself right to his side, kneeling on the floor, reaching out.]

Yasu? Hey, can you hear me? C'mere, it's okay.

[Like someone who is handling an injured animal, he starts small. He starts with a little touch against his shoulder, a hand on his head, the same gentle petting motion that he saves for troubled times. He'll only pull himself closer if Yamato doesn't lash out, too concerned to push any sudden invisible boundaries.]

[If this had been a normal nightmare, there's no telling what his reaction to being touched might've been. Even after the years he's spent striving to emulate his old teacher, Yamato still lashes out on pure reflex sometimes, if he's startled too badly. Kashuu's wariness is justified--it's not unlikely that Yamato could seriously try to hurt him, albeit unintentionally.

This time, though, it seems to do the trick. Yamato jumps, but he lifts his head, blinking rapidly to try and clear the sight of shadows and blood from his mind.]

Kiyomitsu? [There's a fractured sort of hope in his voice, the tone of someone not expecting their wish to be fulfilled. It takes a second for it to sink in that Kashuu really is there, and slowly, his surroundings begin to fall back into place. His hands tremble as he lowers them, but he reaches out instead of recoiling, which is as good of a sign as Kashuu's probably going to get.]

[There's no hesitation, then, as soon as he gets even the smallest of go-aheads. Yamato is in pain - possibly physically, definitely emotionally - and that's enough reason for him to set aside his (already pretty flimsy, honestly) self-preservation.

He reaches back, scooting in and pulling Yamato to himself. He cradles the back of his head gently with one hand, and the other rises to the spot between his shoulder blades to pat in a soft, rhythmic sort of shush-shush motion. Something about the way his name had been said digs into his heart painfully, but he keeps his own voice as steady as possible. He knows when he's the one who needs to be an anchor, after all.]

It's okay, it's okay. You're awake now.

[His heart is still pounding, but Kashuu is tangible, and he clings on pure instinct. As the dream finally begins to fade from his senses, he clutches the front of Kashuu's shirt, trying to focus on the sound of Kashuu's voice--calm, soothing, not at all like it had been in his mind. If he'd seen Kashuu's face, he can't remember it now, but he doesn't have to try very hard to picture the sort of expression that would've been on it with that kind of tone.

Yamato isn't buff by any means, but he's got lean muscle where Kashuu is lithe, substituting what used to be a graceful style with his own raw strength. He's taller, too, no matter how much Kashuu pretends otherwise in the shoes he likes to wear--but none of that matters now. Not now, when he feels so painfully small, so terribly weak. His very bones feel brittle, like the slightest push could break him into pieces, so he presses as close as he can, like he wants to absorb Kashuu's strength until they're perfectly balanced again.

His fingers clutch Kashuu's shirt so tightly, it's a miracle he hasn't torn a hole into the fabric. He doesn't notice; all he can focus on is the solid presence beneath it, seeking refuge from the lingering remnants of his nightmare in the gentle motions of Kashuu's hand.]

So-- ["Sorry," he tries to say, but the word catches in his throat, like his voice is trying to hide too. He gives up on speaking for the moment, instead trying to steady his breathing, keeping his eyes wide open. He doesn't want to know what he'll see if he closes them again.]

[To his credit, Kashuu seems more than willing to donate as much strength as Yamato needs in this moment, trying to be both a blanket and a fortress, to comfort and shield him from any lingering cobwebs of darkness that his mind had conjured up. He notes how tightly Yamato is clutching his shirt, pays attention to every single movement of the body pressed to his own, but only so he can adjust himself accordingly and provide the most comfort.

When Yamato tries to speak and cuts himself off, Kashuu doesn't press for an answer. He only continues with the soothing gestures, making sure that his presence is solid and unwavering and sturdy, that he can be a support in any way that he needs to be one right now. He hums and pets his head and fusses with his hair somewhat absentmindedly. He pats his back and rocks him gently from side to side.

(He spares a glance or two over his shoulder, too, still minutely paranoid that something physical had spooked Yamato so badly even though he knows now that that isn't the case.)

There's nothing left to say but little murmured reassurances. He simply lets Yamato try to come back to himself, uncaring about how long it might take and unwilling to rush him.]

[Once the process starts, it doesn't take too long for Yamato to settle down, as much as he's going to anytime soon. Little by little, his breathing starts to even out, the rigidity beginning to slip out of his body. His grip on Kashuu's shirt loosens, but he doesn't let go, and he doesn't lift his head.

It helps, a lot, that Kashuu is so familiar to him. Without any clear perception of his dream, it's impossible to tell who all that blood belonged to--but it could only be himself or Kashuu, and he doesn't remember feeling like he'd been bleeding. Not seriously, anyway. With the way his body still seems to throb from hitting the bottom of the stairwell, he's pretty sure he'd have felt some sort of fatal injury too. But if it wasn't him, then it had to have been Kashuu, and that's a far more terrifying possibility. If Kashuu's self-preservation is lacking, then Yamato's is nonexistent.

Or at least it used to be--with how scared he feels right now, he's not sure he'd really be so quick to take a bullet for someone after all. And that adds a layer of guilt to his already tumultuous emotions.]

I'm sorry... [He finds his voice eventually, but it's still a whisper. He's stopped shaking, but he's still tense, still pressing close like he's afraid Kashuu will disappear if he lets go.

He hesitates, and though he keeps his head tucked against Kashuu, he lifts it just a little.]

Are you... are you okay? [This doesn't feel like part of the dream, but then, his dream had felt like reality, so how is he supposed to trust his own mind anymore? And how is he supposed to know that what he saw wasn't some kind of... premonition? He's never thought himself capable of that sort of thing, but with everything that's happened lately...]

I'm okay.

[The answer comes immediately, but it also lacks the reflexive quickness when he's simply trying to dodge giving a real answer. He's fine - freaked out because of Yamato, honestly, but fine. And it's clearly important for Yamato to be made aware of that.

He tucks a few pieces of hair behind one of Yamato's ear and then brushes his fringe back into place, but they're all mostly idle gestures of comfort. His attention is pretty much laser focused on what little of his face he can see, watching carefully for any further signs of distress or pain or impending freakouts.]

Don't apologize, either. [Also important, even if it comes after.

And then, equally important:] Are you okay? That sounded like one hell of a nightmare.

I'm-- ["fine", he wants so, so badly to say. But Yamato wears his heart on his sleeve most of the time as it is, and there's no reason to pretend. Not when Kashuu already saw enough to prove he's definitely not fine.

But Kashuu is here, safe at home, as it should be. Nobody's hurt, there's no reason for that desperate panic he'd felt in the dream, the feeling of unwelcome adrenaline rushing through him.]

I-- there was just... so much blood. [He shudders even as he says it; it probably speaks volumes that Yamato, who's never shied away from a fight in his life, is so disturbed.] And I heard you yell, and...

["I saw a monster" sounds too childish, even in his own head. Even if there's no other word to describe what had thrown him down the stairs, all black smoke and bone, save for that eerie glow.] It didn't feel like a dream at all.

[There's just a little humming sound first, half to show that he's listening, half just as a soft sort of comforting nonsense noise. The entire time Yamato talks, he doesn't move, just keeps petting his hair down and cradling him close.

Blood and yelling really does sound like a hell of a nightmare, but it's the latter part that makes him worried. Two months ago he'd have been able to totally disregard a statement like that. Sometimes, they have active minds. Sometimes their subconscious thoughts can spring to life so fiercely that they feel falsely true even though they're certainly not.

But with Retrospec stepping in and everything he's heard about other people and their hallucinations, and his own strange dreams...]

...Was it like that time you had that dream where I gave you the hairpin?

[Yamato's nod is reluctant; he's not so rattled that he can't understand the connection. But what he'd seen tonight is very different from dreaming about reading magazines, or Kashuu doing his hair. Those sorts of things could very easily be reality, and it's not like Yamato's never had realistic dreams before.

Something about this is different, though, even beyond the fact that it was horrifying. There's a weight in his chest--the same weight, he might realize later, that he'd felt when he saw the omamori. The little charm is the furthest thing from his mind right now, though.

Slowly, he lifts his head, his eyes wide and fearful as he looks at Kashuu's face.]

Kiyomitsu, you don't think... [He pauses, chewing on his lip, and unthinkingly holds onto Kashuu's shirt again.] It... it couldn't be the future, could it...?

[He won't be surprised if Kashuu laughs it off; that's his typical reaction to Yamato's superstitious paranoia. But even if he does, that won't do much to assuage his feelings; right now, nothing can.]

[Is it better or worse, then, that no laughter comes? Predicting the future... Well, who's to say that's not what it is? Even though he and most of the people he's talked to have been referring to these as "memories" of some sort - hallucinations with such vividness that they seem like they really happened at some point - there's nothing to say that they aren't predicting things that will come eventually, rather than things that might have happened before, somehow.

It almost makes more sense, in a way. ...In a very small way, because nothing about this makes total sense.

Still, his eventual answer probably isn't surprising.]

There's no way, yeah? If it's kind of like the dream you had before, then it's probably like the dream I had too, right? And there's no way we can go to the beach for the first time in the future when we've already been there once. So...

[So don't worry about it too much, is what he wants to say, but doesn't. He also wants to ask for more details about the contents of the dream itself, but something keeps those words in his mouth, too. He isn't sure what. Thinking about the possible answer just leaves him feeling somewhat unnerved, for no reason he can pinpoint.]

I guess so...

[It's not terribly convincing, but at this point, Yamato will take anything. Kashuu's definitely the master of shutting out things he doesn't want to think about, but Yamato's pretty good at denial himself. This is one of those moments when denial is what he needs, so as unsatisfactory an answer as it may be, he'll still take it.

He stares a little longer, memorizing the details of Kashuu's face, like he's searching for some sort of change, some indication that this, right now, isn't real. But there's nothing, of course. He hadn't seen Kashuu's face in the dream, but everything he sees now is just as it should be.]

...I'm glad you're safe. [Whether it's a sign of the future or not, they're alright now, and that's what's important.] I really thought we were going to die.

[AH, HEALTHY COPING...

But the acceptance will simply have to be enough for now, even when it couldn't possibly be. It's not like he's equipped to actually help in the event that it turns out to be true, or that Yamato finds reason to believe it's true even if it isn't. While he's busy staring, Kashuu reaches out, resting his thumbs against Yamato's cheeks. He's not sure why - the gesture just comes on its own, and he lets it, just like he'll let Yamato keep inspecting until that uncertainty is gone from his face.]

...D'you wanna talk about what you saw?

[He actually sounds a little hesitant himself, but not so much because he's worried about the contents of the dreams. Rather, they were clearly traumatic, and he's not sure it's good to make Yamato talk about it so soon.]

You can tell me later, if you want. Over breakfast or something... It's only three right now.

[Ah, ass o'clock visits from the nightmare fairy.]

[Just what these two are best at...

He doesn't think, simply leaning into the touch as he ponders how to answer. He isn't sure which would be worse, honestly; talking about it now is the last thing he wants to do, but dredging it up again in the morning (well, later in the morning) doesn't sound appealing either.]

...I'm not sure how well I can describe it. [He says eventually, equally hesitant--Kashuu isn't going to laugh at him, he knows that, but he isn't sure how to convey just how confusing, how frightening it had been. He reaches up to take one of Kashuu's hands in his own, brushing his thumb absently over the cool, smooth texture of his nail polish. It's comforting for him, in much in the same way it's comforting for Kashuu to fix his hair when he's stressed.] We... it felt like we were in a fight. I think there were other people there, but I couldn't see anybody. Just... a lot of darkness and blood.

[He refuses to close his eyes, but he can't quite meet Kashuu's gaze, either. He lets his own drift, focusing on Kashuu's beauty mark and searching for words.]

We were inside somewhere, and I said-- I guess I was talking to you, but I said I was going up to the second floor. I tried to run up the stairs, but... [A pause, a deep breath.] There was-- a monster, I guess. I don't know what else to call it. It was huge, and it... it threw me back down the stairs like it was nothing.

[He'd felt something in his hand, something like his bokuto, but he's so used to that feeling that it doesn't stand out enough to warrant mentioning.] I could hear you yelling my name, and you sounded so scared, I thought-- I thought for sure you were being attacked too, but I couldn't see...

IC inbox; recolle

LET ME LIVE...

but you're already dead

look you

puts you in the fridge

WHY THE FCK

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