okitactless | IC inbox; recolle

[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...

[He keeps his hand still for Yamato, recognizing this as a stress tell and allowing him to do what he needs to keep himself anchored and comforted.

Though honestly, the more he talks, the more concerned Kashuu is that this isn't the sort of thing he's equipped to offer enough comfort for. It's... really nothing at all like the memories before. It's nothing like planning a trip to the beach, like doing Yamato's hair. Even the dream he'd had earlier in the night - all but forgotten for the time being - had been peaceful. He had held out an omamori just like he'd done in the kitchen earlier that day, and a paper inside with something he doesn't remember had been removed from it because it wasn't needed anymore. Something like that. Something entirely realistic, something that he could see himself doing in real life.

Nothing involving blood or darkness or monsters.]

Well— [WELL. Well. Well, what does one even say in response to this? He almost does laugh, not out of disbelief or mockery but because it's simply so much to try dealing with. His breath leaves him in a little huff.]

...You're okay. [He shifts his free hand down, running it across Yamato's back, over his arm, and then leaning back slightly to check his front just in case.] See? You're fine, you're not bleeding. Nothing's broken. No bruises, no blood. And I'm okay, too. Nothing else is here but you and me. No monsters, nothing - just us. Whatever you saw... no matter what it was, it didn't happen now.

[Which naturally doesn't discount it ever happening... Which is why he adds, almost without thinking:]

I wouldn't let anything like that happen to you.

[It really isn't like anything Yamato's ever experienced before--not in real life, and not in dreams. He's never been squeamish, and he's lost plenty of fights, both in the dojo and out of it. He's no stranger to blood or pain, but this... this was a whole new level.

He understands what Kashuu is getting at, and it's reassuring, he supposes, to know for sure that he hadn't injured himself in his sleep or something. But he doesn't look completely satisfied, either.]

I know. [He shakes his head slightly.] I wasn't scared for myself.

[Well, not completely. Getting thrown down the stairs would spark survival instincts in anybody, and he'd been no exception--he can't deny that some of his wild panic had been due to that. But by far, his own terror had been for Kashuu. For the possibility that, if he'd managed to get up from the foot of the stairs and turn around, he'd see that all that blood belonged to him.

Even now, the thought has him tightening his grip on Kashuu's hand, albeit just a little. It didn't happen now, that's true. But how can they be sure it won't happen soon?]

[Ah. ...Well, that's much less surprising than any part of the dream Yamato had just recounted. He knows his dingus roommate far too well, after all. Of course it'd be something like that.

So he drops his other hand down, resting it against the one already holding his, and holds Yamato's back in turn. A reassuring gesture. A gentle squeeze.]

Don't be scared for me either, got it? 'Cause as long as you're here, I'll be here too. No one else in the whooole world would put up with you like I do, so obviously it's my job to stick around.

[Maybe in some other situation, that would be enough for Yamato to roll his eyes, to nudge Kashuu with his elbow, to make him smile. But he's still too shaken for that, the fear from his dream mingling with old wounds, things he never really stopped thinking about rising to the forefront of his scattered thoughts.

"But you left before," he doesn't say, keeping those words safe beneath his tongue. It's not fair, he knows it isn't, and no matter how upset he is, he doesn't want to make accusations he doesn't mean. But does it really make a difference, in the end? Kashuu hadn't wanted to get hurt, but he'd left anyway, abandoning them--him without a word. Who's to say that getting hurt a second time wouldn't drive him away again? And if... if he couldn't, isn't the result the same? Intentionally or otherwise, Kashuu would be gone from his life. The circumstances are nothing alike, but in the deepest parts of his heart, Yamato can't help selfishly feeling that they're not so different.

"I can't lose you again" is sitting in his throat, too. He doesn't say that either.]

...Do you promise? [He asks instead, finally. His expression is usually pretty open as it is, but his gaze is full of raw emotion as he lifts it to meet Kashuu's. Hope, fear, desperation, a maelstrom of feeling shines in the oceans of his eyes, as he searches Kashuu's face for a guarantee that Kashuu can't possibly give. Nobody can truly promise not to die, after all, but right now, that's the last thing Yamato wants to hear.]

[Normally, he'd be one to point that out. He doesn't make promises that he can't keep, after all - not when it comes to the serious things. He's only human. No human can predict their own death. On top of that, his first reflexive way of handling problems is to drop them and run far, far away. He's not even thinking of the way he returned to Japan and left Yamato behind for years right now, somewhat selfishly, focusing instead on the more immediate concern of trying to reassure him that no monsters would be snatching him away any time soon.

Can he really promise, though? Of course not.

But for once, he doesn't say that, because he's swept away by the intensity of emotion reflecting back at him from Yamato's face. The way his eyes stare, wide and hoping and afraid, as if Kashuu himself were some sort of prophet that could dispel any inkling of misfortune hanging around the two of them. There's no way he has the power to do something like that, in this world or in any frightful dream world, but what can he do? He can't leave someone looking at him like that without the answer they want to hear.

His voice is surprisingly steady when he speaks, even and measured and more sure-sounding than he could ever feel.]

I promise.

[And then, in a somewhat childish gesture, he lifts a hand away from Yamato and holds it up, pinky extended.

Fortunately, he leaves out the "cross my heart, hope to die" part.]

[It's funny, really. Two years is a long time, and people change, especially when it comes to running from the past. Kashuu worked so hard to reinvent himself, and Yamato's still not sure if he'd even wanted to return at all. It would've made perfect sense if, upon their reunion, they'd felt more like strangers than old friends.

But Yamato's never felt that kind of disconnect. He understands Kashuu as well as he always did, no matter how much they've both changed. He knows when Kashuu's whining and when he's genuinely upset. He knows how to push Kashuu's buttons, and he knows exactly when he's crossed a line, even if he marches right over it anyway. And most of the time, even if he doesn't mention it, he can tell when Kashuu's being serious, and when he's just trying to placate him.

Some part of him, that small voice of logic that's so often drowned out by his heart, knows this has got to be the latter. But Kashuu sounds so certain, and it is exactly wants to hear--and that offer, such a small, silly thing, is exactly what he needs to feel better.

He knows Kashuu very well, even after their separation. But Kashuu knows him very well, too.

He lifts his own hand, linking his pinky with Kashuu's, and nods just a little.]

If you die, I'll kill you, you know. [It's mumbled, but finally, the tension is truly starting to drain out of him. His grip isn't so frantically tight, and a smile even ghosts across his face.]

Good thing I have no plans to die any time soon, then.

[It's said with a little barely-there huff that could be a laugh, and he shakes their linked hands once, giving his pinky a little squeeze before moving to break his hand away again. A pinky promise for something like this is childish, but it's not like he has anything else to offer in the face of monsters and blood.

But he can tell that Yamato is calming down a little, and more than coming back to himself after that nightmare, he's losing that frantic edge that had pushed some fear into Kashuu himself. He reaches up again anyway, though, patting his head once more.]

D'you need me to get you anything? Water or a snack or...?

[Extra blankets, warm milk, heck, he'd probably go to the corner store if Yamato wanted his favorite pudding or something (assuming Yamato would even let him leave the house alone so soon after apparently thinking he'd straight-up died). Kashuu lives to be spoiled, but no one could say that he doesn't know how to spoil others in turn, or dote on them when they're sick or distressed or in need of a little gentleness.]

Edited 2017-03-22 06:47 (UTC)

[The most telling part, probably, is that Yamato actually lets his hand go. The desire to cling is certainly there, but then, it always is to some mild degree.

His first thought is, indeed, to ask Kashuu to stay--not just in the house, but right here with him. The fear that he'll turn around to find Kashuu gone hasn't quite dissipated completely, but he knows himself well enough to recognize that it will linger for a while. It wouldn't be fair to force Kashuu to stay with him if he's just going to worry about it anyway.

So he shakes his head, reluctantly letting go of Kashuu's other hand, too. If it's only three in the morning, then Kashuu definitely need to go back to bed. It's the middle of the school week, after all.]

No, I think I'm just going to lay on the couch for a while. [There's no way he's going back to sleep, but his nonexistent diploma isn't going to suffer for missing classes. It wouldn't be the first time he skipped out to go spend the day at the dojo, which is exactly where he's going as soon as the doors are open. Granted, it's not like he's going to function well without sleep either, but. He'd rather stumble through the day than risk closing his eyes and seeing that awful grin all over again.]

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