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Yasusada

I'd rather be doing kendo

VOICE | TEXT | VIDEO | ACTION

[Blood lust, battle haze, call it what you will, but it's only the sound of Kashuu's voice that breaks him out of it. It's a good thing, too--Kashuu speaks up just as Yamato's decided to stomp on their attacker's foot, just to make sure he won't be borrowing anybody else's knives, either.

But Kashuu takes priority, as he always does. Yamato would rather stick by his side and take the risk than waste another second keeping him around these dangerous fools. So he nods, padding over to the wall to get his bag, then heading right back to grab Kashuu's hand.]

Come on.

[It's not quite a run, but it's a quick pace that he sets, as he leads the way back to the first well-lit street he can find. From there, it's easy to find his way to the park--he might have grown up in a different part of town, but he's lived in this city his entire life.

Even when they're out in the open, though, on streets that still have cars driving past, he doesn't let go of Kashuu's hand. If anything, he presses closer, like he's afraid that the minute they lose contact, Kashuu is going to vanish.]

What happened?

[Now that they're safe, he finally asks, but in truth it doesn't really matter. All that matters is that it's over.]

[Kashuu doesn't let go or try to shake him off at any point as they leave the bodies in the alley behind. In fact, as the grip of tension and anxiety and those lingering memories of battle begin to fade from him, he only holds on more tightly. The feeling of Yamato's palm against his is more of a comfort than the cool metal of the sheath in his other hand, and it keeps him a little more grounded, too.

Likewise, he sticks closer toward the edge of the sidewalk, pressed close and keeping his wary attention poised outward as if he expects an ambush at any second.

Which, y'know. Not an unrealistic concern, seeing as that's what happened the first time.]

—I was caught off-guard.

[KIND OF. He definitely sounds mildly ashamed, so there's certainly some truth to that. Normally, he's pretty good at keeping an eye and ear on his surroundings at all times. It's a habit he had well before joining kendo, and one that persists to this day.

But between everything that's been happening and the toll it's taking on him and the fact that he just wanted to pick something up and get back home had worked together in an awful way, and he ended up picking a way home that he probably would have known to avoid if he'd been paying more attention.]

I dunno who those guys are, but they were looking for people, I think... So I didn't wanna lead 'em back to anyone.

[It's terribly selfish of him, but Yamato's privately relieved. It wasn't a targeted attack, nothing to do with Kashuu personally. It could've been anybody who had the misfortune to wander down that road at the wrong time. The same goes for those thugs, really--they got terribly unlucky that this was whom they'd chosen to target.

He nods, understanding, and squeezes Kashuu's hand lightly.]

Well, we caught them off-guard right back, huh? [He shoots a quick smile in Kashuu's direction as he glances left and right, tugging him quickly across the street while it's clear. There's a little blood on his knuckles, a little sweat keeping his hair stuck to the back of his neck, but the night air is cool, and most of his earlier unease has dissipated, replaced by exhilaration.

When he darted out of the house not half an hour ago, the last thing he'd expected was to find himself fighting side-by-side with his old partner. But now that it's over, he can revel in it--in how easily they fit together, even now. Kashuu wasn't gone that long, but it was long enough for Yamato's style to grow and change. For Kashuu to slide in so effortlessly... it speaks of kinship, but also of raw talent. No one will ever convince him that Kashuu wasn't born to do this.

And maybe that sword was meant to be a secret, but even so... doesn't that mean Kashuu's finally ready to accept that?

If it's not something he can dedicate his life to, that's okay. If this really means that Kashuu's willing to try, that's more than enough for him. Fighting well together was exciting, but not as exciting as the sight of Kashuu fighting at all.

(Not that he wants more midnight ambushes, of course.)

His mood buoyed, he nods to the sword, and this time his smile is a little more sheepish.]

Sorry, I didn't mean to snoop. I went in to see if I'd missed a note or something, and I just happened to see it. [But the way he's looking at Kashuu, the way he's fidgeting like he wants to bounce on his toes, speaks volumes all on its own.] It's really pretty, did you get it custom-made? I bet that kind of thing is easy to do these days, it should make it easier...

[Not that he knows how, exactly, you could customize a sword to suit a serious injury, but still. It's meant to be encouraging.]

[WELL, HE'S NOT WRONG. He's bleeding a little, too, having been nicked once before he took off, but he's definitely not in a bad state. Nowhere near as bad as the guys they left behind, anyway...]

Heh... I guess so, huh? Maybe that'll keep 'em from poking their noses into anyone else's business.

[It would probably be better for them in the end anyway, honestly... Especially with people like Yamato running around?! They were lucky to get away without anything punctured or broken (...badly broken, at least) this time.

He'd actually temporarily forgotten about the sword, though - or rather, what it meant to have it here, instead of back home in the closet. It's just the apology first, to which Kashuu mumbles a simple:]

Mm, it's fine.

[Because he'd be worse off without Yamato right now, and even if he doesn't like this blade and its inconveniences, he probably owes the quick wrap-up of that fight to it, too.

But the more Yamato talks, the more his heart sinks.]

[He knows Yamato very well, after all. He recognizes those tells. He sees the fidgeting, the sudden lift in his mood. He hears the way that he talks, and that gentle push of encouragement.

His smile falters and then fades.]

—No, I didn't. I didn't get anything made, it was-- one of those weird gifts, y'know? Like how people've been waking up with pictures or clothes or whatever inside of packages from Retrospec. I didn't ask for it or anything.

[At the very least, though, he doesn't let go of Yamato's hand. He nearly lets himself be guided, like his focus on the conversation alone is as much as he can do.

These are the sort of things where he needs to be very careful about what he says, and he knows it, but he's got a creeping feeling that the damage was already done as soon as Yamato saw the blade. Maybe that's another reason he wanted to keep it tucked away.]

Oh...

[It makes him falter, but it isn't enough to daunt him. Not when his hopes are this high, when he's just seen Kashuu at, in his opinion, his most beautiful.

He wants to believe. He wants it so badly that he's willing to ignore the signs that Kashuu himself is giving off, to ignore common sense and just how well he knows his dearest friend.]

Are you sure it was from Retrospec? Maybe it was a gift from somebody else. Like that omamori. [He never did figure out who that was from, but it still seems too small to be a mysterious delivery from ghost ninjas, or whoever managed to pop into their apartment.] I bet that was for you, after all.

[刀剣御守り、it said. Well, Yamato isn't the one with the 刀剣、is he? It's a sign. It's got to be.]

You handled it like you've had it forever, though. So whoever got it for you must know you really well.

Unless someone else broke into our apartment and just left a sword on my bed, it was definitely those guys. They just gave someone else an old sword too, so...

[So it's not just him, and he'd honestly almost rather it be Retrospec than consider he's got some weirdo scooting in through his window at night to drop weapons on him while he sleeps.]

I'm pretty sure that omamori was for you, anyway. [He says and then promptly doesn't explain... He'd never brought up that other dream, but he doesn't really feel like bringing it up just yet either, considering there's a bigger fish to fry.

Primarily, that he can start feeling the conversation teetering in a dangerous direction and he, not really knowing how else to handle it, only knows to cut it off at the pass.

He doesn't think about how familiar the blade itself is, or how it felt at home in his hand as he fought, or how it was the exact same one he'd been wielding in that brief flash of battle.]

It's just some random thing. They probably just wanted to make my life a liiittle harder, 'cause y'know, things aren't weird enough or anything.

[Kashuu's good at this. Dodging questions he doesn't want to answer, ignoring topics he'd rather not discuss, he's a pro at maneuvering a conversation to the way he wants it to go, and more often than not, Yamato lets him. He lets Kashuu run, lets him keep his blinders on and pretend like refusing to talk about the past will eventually lead to its total eradication. He does it because he has far more to lose than Kashuu does--primarily, Kashuu. The fear of seeing Kashuu turn his back, watching him storm out the door with no idea when (or if) he's going to come back, it's still too much for him to bear. So he pushes buttons and he crosses lines, but usually, he's the one that relents first. The one that extends the olive branch whenever he senses the slightest risk of losing Kashuu again.

Maybe Kashuu realizes how lenient he's been, all things considered. Maybe he doesn't. Either way, the truth remains--when Yamato is really, truly intent on something, there's nothing in the world that can deter him. Kashuu might be good at dodging, but Yamato's better. He doesn't give chase, so much as he barrels through, destroying any hope of word games and subtlety.]

Well it's sharp, so they obviously meant for you to use it somehow. [He uses a bokuto over a shinai, but Yamato knows surprisingly little about how to handle a real sword. Still, he doubts anybody would go so far as to sharpen a blade that's only meant for decoration. And seeing how easily Kashuu was able to wield it has only confirmed that.] And it's lighter than the bokuto you used to have, isn't it? So it'll probably be easier on you. If they're gearing up for a war or something, you'll be way ahead of the game.

But there's no rush, you know? [He's quick to add that, just in case Kashuu thinks he's about to turn around and drag him to the dojo right now. He's deliberately ignoring Kashuu's discomfort, but he isn't cruel. Not intentionally, anyway.] We have plenty of space at home, we've just got to shift the furniture a little. I was thinking about doing that anyway, after the blackout.

[Here's the thing (that Yamato already knows, having dealt with Kashuu at his worst before). He's good at dodging questions and weaseling his way out of conversations he doesn't want to have, but when he's backed into a corner? As soon as he feels like he has no elegant escape? He's also absolutely the quickest of the two of them to bare his teeth.

All of the little tells are there. The way his shoulders tense. The way his body language starts to close off, the way he turns just a little to the side. His grip on Yamato's hand loosening, like he's already looking for the first chance to walk away. Yamato's paranoia about him turning and leaving again isn't baseless, after all; between fight and flight, Kashuu settles with some bizarre mixture of both.

When he speaks again, there's the hard edge to his tone that's usually present when he's toeing the line of self-restraint, but only just.]

I'm not planning on using it again.

[That's plain and simple enough to understand, isn't it? He glances down briefly at his hand where the sheathed blade rests, and he doesn't think about what he's looking at.]

It doesn't matter how heavy or light or sharp it is, or why they gave it to me. I don't care how much time or space we have, either. This thing was in the closet for a reason, you know?

[There's something about hearing things you don't like that just hurts. No matter how obvious it is that it's coming, it always, always hurts.

Kashuu has never been that difficult to read, for him. The indications are subtle if you don't know him well, but Yamato does, and he's sensed the way Kashuu is trying to steer this conversation just like Kashuu's done for him. The way he's trying to pull away is especially noticeable, and for a minute, he hesitates. It's so tempting to cling, to back down and let Kashuu out of this yet again. If he keeps going, Kashuu is definitely going to walk away, and after the vision he'd had earlier and the situation he'd stumbled across, that thought has him tensing with fear.

But no matter what Kashuu says, he knows what he saw. Kashuu is no weaker than he was years ago, still moving with the same fluidity and strength that he's always had. And when he looks at that blade in Kashuu's hand, the way it so clearly belongs right where it is, he can't do it. He can't just stop and let it go. Not again.

Perhaps surprisingly, he's the one who lets go of Kashuu's hand first. His steps slow to a stop, and he's silent for so long that it's probably eery. But when he does finally speak up, his tone carries the same hurt reflected in his eyes.]

So that's it? After all of that, you're just going to run away again?

[Yamato may slow to a stop, but Kashuu stops moving as soon as his hand is dropped, pulling it back to himself in a reflexive gesture that's almost defensive. His tells aren't always subtle; it'd be obvious to anyone in that second that he's hunkering down behind his walls, even if his posture shifts and drops into something more natural in the next moment.

It'll still likely be obvious to Yamato, though, that it's a forced sort of nonchalance.

There's something like hurt that reflects back in his own expression too, but that comes and goes quickly, as it often does. When escape isn't an option, anger is his fallback, even if he always regrets that when his temper cools.]

How many times do I have to say it? I don't care about kendo anymore. Yeah, they gave me a sword. So what? D'you want me to look at it and say, "oh, good, it's a sign! Time to ditch everything and go right back to how things were years ago"? Get real. There are tons of more important things that need my time and attention. [A little huff of air follows, like a half-formed laugh or an arrogant snort that falls a little flat. His expression is sharp, though; his eyes are piercing, bright red and angry as his jaw sets at a stubborn, haughty angle.]

I don't need to hang on to old, useless stuff. If that's your definition of running away, it's not my problem.

No.

[It's rare, for Yamato to get truly angry. Even if his feelings begin to turn that way, his hurt ultimately turns to sorrow, not fury. Maybe it's surprising, to the people who've only seen him at his most wild, but it's the way he's always been. Anger simply doesn't serve him--it doesn't solve his problems, just wastes his energy.

But now, his hands are curling into fists. His eyes are dark, an ocean storm brewing under the cover of midnight, in contrast to Kashuu's. Before, he'd thought they'd looked pretty, like rubies or that polish that he keeps at the forefront of his collection. Now, all he can see in them is blades and blood.]

No. No more. I'm not going to stand here and listen to you lie, Kiyomitsu. I'm tired of it. Just because I get why you do it, it doesn't mean I'm okay with it, alright? Haven't I always supported you with all this new stuff you're into? And you just keep pretending like all those years didn't mean anything because you're too scared to admit that you're sad!

[It's typical Yamato--putting everything in the simplest of terms, because it's all he knows. He never did learn how to speak fluidly, especially when the dam breaks and words pour out of him without stopping to pass through his head. Screw respecting boundaries, screw vague implications. Kashuu might turn and leave mid-sentence, but Yamato has no problem shouting after him if he does. He might be shouting anyway. He's too angry to notice.]

You keep forgetting that you're the one that came back, Kiyomitsu. You found me, remember? But then you came back and you asked me to go to school with you again, and I said yes because I care about you, but-- Kiyomitsu, you've always known that this is important to me, too. You know that never changed, but you think I can just see you fight and see that you're still just as incredible as you used to be, and then act like it never happened? Like it doesn't matter? [Viciously, he shakes his head.] I can't. Do you even understand what you're asking me to do? I just can't.

[At first, he almost doesn't know how to react. He's seen Yamato angry before, even if it's rare in general and even rarer for it to be directed at him. He knows that it isn't quite as simple as all that, too. Part of him understands where this is coming from, that it's Yamato's big heart that makes him hang on to these things, and that he doesn't mean - usually, anyway - the damage that his unfettered words can cause.

It's a little like being lost, then, with a hand to hold for only so long. Yamato is honest. He speaks the truth, however blunt and unpalatable it is. Nothing he says is untrue, even if some are severely watered down and simplified. He's not sure what stings the most; that look on his face, or the way his pointed words dig under his skin and sit there, raw and bitter.

Maybe it's a little surprising that he doesn't turn to leave mid-sentence. He struggles to keep his expression contained, shades of upset and anxiety and anger weaving through just below the surface until he can hone in on the only feeling of the bunch that he can weaponize.

In the silence of the street, with only the occasional car passing by, his heels echo loudly as he makes his way one solid, pointed step at a time until he's close enough to Yamato to reach out and touch him. He doesn't.]

Do you wanna know why I came back to this stupid city, Yasusada? It wasn't for kendo. It wasn't for the memories, it wasn't for any of our classmates or instructors, and it deeefinitely wasn't for you. It was because I had to so that I could take the next step in my actual career. [His lip pulls back just a little into an unpleasant sneer.] You wanna quit school and go back to practice twenty-four seven? Fine! It's not like I need you around to do what I came here for. You can do what you want, just like I'm going to do what I want. And if that's not good enough for you, if you still wanna talk about how much better things used to be or whine about the stuff you can't let go of? Go cry about it to someone who cares.

[He can practically feel the regret as soon as he finishes spitting the last of that out, but he doesn't pause. He just moves to neatly step around Yamato, as if he intends to simply keep walking and leave, which he will if he's not stopped.]

[There's a strange sound in his ears. The electric hum of the streetlights, or maybe the blood rushing through his ears. Maybe it's just what happens when your body gets taken over--not by the urge to strike in a magnificently deadly way, but simply by overwhelming numbness.

It hurts. Of course it hurts.

This is the part where he's supposed to stop Kashuu, he realizes. Where he's supposed to reach out, to grab his hand, to apologize and beg for him to come back home. He's been worried sick for hours, and those worries proved completely correct, and now he has to watch Kashuu leave again? With no way of knowing where he's going, when he'll be back, if he'll run into trouble? Again?

It's almost too much.

His hand shoots out as Kashuu brushes by, but it's Kashuu's elbow that he grabs, not his wrist. His nail polish has chipped over the course of the week (only natural, since he'd never intended to keep it on this long), but it still gleams as he yanks Kashuu back and holds out his other hand.]

Hand it over.

[It's almost too much. But even though it makes him sick just to think about, this hurts more. And right now, with the memory of Kashuu's fluid movements still so fresh in his mind, it's hurt that wins out. So he holds Kashuus's arm with one hand, and keeps the other extended as he nods towards the sword.]

If you really think it's so stupid and meaningless, then you don't deserve it. So give it to me.

[There's a part of him that wants to just throw the stupid sword at Yamato's stupid face, honestly, because that hurts (which, he supposes, is only fair). He hadn't consciously set it up that way, but he really had been showing all the signs that he'd intended for - or maybe even expected - Yamato to take the cue and patch things up.

It's not really fair of him to expect something like that. He knows it, somewhere, but he's too angry right now to really care about that. He focuses instead on the fact that Yamato isn't refuting his quiet fears that the current him is just not good enough, but feeding it by asking not for his return, but for the return of the sword. He knows it isn't true - surely not, right? - but it pokes and prods at old bruises, little wounds that say you're not really much without that sword. If anything, that just makes him want to spitefully hold onto it.

...And perhaps more importantly, even though Yamato's hands against it had been a comfort earlier, he doesn't particularly feel like dealing with that right now on top of everything else.]

You don't get to tell me what to do. [Followed by a quick jerk of his arm, intending to break away from his grip.] Don't touch me.

[The worst part, probably, is that Yamato doesn't even look surprised. His eyes are still a maelstrom of upset, but he nods, like this is exactly what he thought Kashuu was going to say all along. And maybe it was. He knows Kashuu cares more than he wants to admit to anybody, especially to himself. Doesn't this just prove it? How can he not see that he never really moved on, like he so desperately claims? How can he cling to that sword so tightly and still hiss that everything they had was a waste? It's contradictory and stupid and Yamato isn't sure how much more he can take without just punching Kashuu himself.

"Don't touch me," he says, and that gets a reaction--a brief flash of surprise, and a half-step backwards as Kashuu tears himself away, like the recoil from a gun. But it fades quickly, and he shakes his head.]

This is exactly what I'm talking about. You say I'm the one hung up on the past and it doesn't matter, but you can't even let go of a sword you say you're never going to use again? What, are you going to throw it away? Use it on me? [He doesn't bother stopping to let Kashuu acknowledge either of those. They're not real options, as far as he's concerned.] If it's so useless , how come you can't even let go of this one thing?

[He shakes his head again, taking another step back, but this time, it's to steady himself.] You can lie to yourself all you want, Kiyomitsu, but you can't fool me. And I won't listen to you trying to tell me that the only thing that's ever mattered to me is a stupid waste of time. Not anymore.

[Maybe someday he'll be able to admit that it's the only thing he's good at. The only thing he's ever known how to do. But he doesn't have the words, and that's not a thought at the forefront of his mind right now.

His shoulders have risen in tension, but his head hangs low, bowed with the weight of these heavy feelings.]

Find someone else to watch your back next time.

[The most painful, terrifying thing in the world to Yamato is watching the people he loves walk away from him. As it turns out, he learns, as he backs up a few more steps and turns around, it doesn't feel any better when it's his own decision.]

[He doesn't even want to explain to Yamato why he's wrong - even though he's not entirely wrong, rarely ever is about things like this - just because it somehow seems too personal now. While he tends to shy away from sharing those painful or embarrassing personal things with Yamato even on good days, it's too much to bear the thought of now, when Yamato is the one turning his back first. Maybe when he's in a more self-deprecating mood, he'll figure he deserves this. Right now, it just feeds into his current negativity and anger, leading to a bizarre sort of vindication when he turns around to leave, too.

Petulantly, he wants to shout after him; something like fine or that won't be hard or any assortment of things designed to hurt. It's not that he wants to get the last word in for the sake of smugness so much as for his own self-defense.

In the end, he doesn't say anything. Ignoring those needling words might just be playing into the notion that he runs from everything he dislikes or can't handle, but right now, that's not important for him to disprove. Not really.

So he doesn't wait or watch Yamato's back as he leaves, and he isn't the one to extend the olive branch either even though the opportunity is his as much as it had been Yamato's. He walks away, too, with the pointed air of someone who doesn't plan on coming back any time soon - and he won't. While Yamato is staying with his mom, Kashuu will be couch surfing for three or four days or so until he gets tired of feeling like he's barred from his own home (even if it's self-inflicted). For now? He's not focusing on the "where" beyond "anywhere that I won't have to see Yamato's face".

Especially since he can already feel his own heating up further in anger and shame, and he's not about to cry in public.]

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accurate keywords tbh

help them and help us

mostly help us tbh, us the innocent victims

honestly though

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