[semi-open]

[sweetdeath]

Who: Tsuzuki, Hisoka, Battler (and you!)
What: Hisoka's dead (or is he?) and Tsuzuki's not coping well.
When: March 27 & 28, 2016
Where: Tajimamori's temple
Warnings: Discussion of character death, depression, self-harm.

Closed to Battler/Late Night March 27

[Tsuzuki isn't sure how he got back to the temple. There are blank spaces in his memory, spreading darknesses after that searing moment when he felt Hisoka dying and his name shattering into an equally blank and empty space where their connection had been.

The sunflowers are blooming all around the porch, and the cloying-sweet scent of orange blossoms rises from the trees along the far wall. He isn't looking at them: he knows by the scent and the flower shadows swaying over the front door.

He reaches out and fumbles, blindly, for the door handle. Smooth, worn wood under his fingertips. Door frame. His thoughts come more slowly with each moment, leaving most of the information of his senses to flow past without interpretation or comment.

A splinter stabs his index finger, and Tsuzuki notes the pain as if from a very great distance. He doesn't flinch. His hand falls on the door handle, he turns it, and the door falls open.

Tsuzuki stumbles over the sill and falls heavily against the wall just inside it, sliding down slowly until he is curled at the base of it.

He closes his eyes.

There's blood everywhere behind his eyelids.]

March 28/Open to Visitors, Hisoka in the evening

[The window is open in Tsuzuki's room. He's not sure if he opened it. It's ... familiar.

It doesn't smell like cherry blossoms outside.

This isn't Meifu.

Hisoka was a shinki, not a shinigami, and Tsuzuki couldn't protect him.

All that blood, and he couldn't heal him.

His thoughts wander by slowly, and the blanks grow between them, until he's staring out the window without thinking anything at all.]

Comments

March 28, morning

[arealhardnose]

[Making sure her colleagues are all right has been part of Elsa's job description for as long ss she can remember, regardless of whether or not is is literally written in the job description. So when she's on her way to Hajime's pool party, she makes a stop at Tsuzuki's house. It's at least partly her fault that Hisoka is dead, after all. She owes Tsuzuki at least that much.

When she finds him, she watches for a few seconds, waiting to see if he has noticed her. He hasn't though, and knowing why makes her chest tighten up with guilt.

Well, she'll do what she can for him.

Tsuzuki?

[sweetdeath]

[Tsuzuki's eyes are blank and unfocused, but the new voice registers somewhere deep down. A few long seconds pass before he turns his head, blinking, to glance at her.]

Elsa?

[He lifts his hand in reflex, looks at it, and stops. Oh: the cut he'd made across his palm to help treat their wounds was healed already. Does she need his help?

She's not bleeding. He's the one that still has blood staining his clothes. They're... he's at home. That's right. Just because he keeps seeing it doesn't mean it's still happening, he thinks, and pulls his knees up against his chest to rest his forehead on them.]

[arealhardnose]

[No, Elsa isn't bleeding. In fact, she looks as if yesterday hadn't happened at all. She's dressed for a day by the pool, in a black one-piece bathing suit under a pink wrap-around skirt and a light jacket-top to cover up tje few cuts that are still healing. It's a stark contrast to how he feels, of course, but appearanced count for a lot. She is going to deflect as much suspiciok as possible of them, an additional effort on her part to try and make amends.

When Tsuzuki all but curls into himself, Elsa crosses the room and goes to him, stye fabric of her looser garments billowing behind her.]

That's all the answer I need to the question of how you're doing. I'm so sorry, Tsuzuki.

[How many times has she said that since yesterday? She can't remember anymore, can't remember if she's told him already. It doesn't matter, though. It's still merited.]

I'm sorry all of this was pointless, in the end.

[sweetdeath]

[Tsuzuki shakes his head, no, with sudden determination, before lifting his face from his knees again. Tears streak his cheeks, but he doesn't seem to notice them there as he looks earnestly at her.]

No. I brought him. It's my--

[He chokes on the sentence and buries his face in his hands.

He can't let Elsa blame herself. It's his fault. Hisoka's gone and he can't -- there's no bringing him back. Tsuzuki couldn't protect him, can't go after him, and can't bear it. Not this. Anything else, but not this.]

March 28, evening

[outwardinsight]

[ This isn't the first time that Hisoka's found himself missing memories, but he's never had them competing before. This is not the Gensoukai, and he's too much of a rookie shinigami even after a few years on the job to know much about the doings of gods. That he might be one now seems utterly surreal. Were there promotions like that? And...

For some reason, he remembers an evening of cherry blossoms, viewing the flowers with Tsuzuki, and going back (back?) to a house surrounded by flowers. It's enough to go off of, and he finds himself teleporting there without a second thought. His head is still aching, but he can't afford to take a chance at indulging his own weakness. The part that scares him is that the place in his memories is certainly real.

The mingled scents of sunflowers and orange blossoms are nostalgic in a way that's scary, but he'd been here. He'd felt comfortable, if a little anxious that time that he came home (home?) with Tsuzuki. Everything feels a little surreal around the edges, and he makes his way inside without knocking.

For a moment, it feels like he's falling, and he has to clutch desperately at the door frame before he can get his bearings again. This is bad. The front door is left open as he kicks his shoes off clumsily as he pushes off to rush down the hall. Something is wrong. ]

Tsuzuki-? Tsuzuki!

[sweetdeath]

[Hisoka's voice is shouting his name. It sounds so real. Panic grabs Tsuzuki hard by the throat, and he hunches around that aching empty place in his chest where he'd felt Hisoka's presence since they came here, that place where he can still feel the flutter of Battler's worry next to the emptiness that tells him Hisoka is gone.

It sounds so real. No. He's not going to let himself. He has to be okay, he has to hold on, Battler still needs him and he can't forget what's real.

He presses both hands against his face, hard, fingernails digging into his skin.]

[outwardinsight]

[ Hisoka stumbles into the room as a pang of panic tears through his senses, but he keeps moving. His chest hurts, heart thumping painfully, and suddenly he's not sure if the panic he feels is Tsuzuki's or his own. ]

Tsuzuki? Are you hurt?

[ Tsuzuki's huddled, closed and hurting, on the floor. Knees banging painfully on the floor, he puts his hands over Tsuzuki's own before trying to tug on them.]

Hey, look at me...

[sweetdeath]

[Hisoka's hands are warm on his own, pulling them away from his face. Tsuzuki chokes back a cry before it's more than a half-formed sound against his own palms, and tugs weakly against Hisoka's grip.

(It's not Hisoka's grip. Hisoka's dead. If this were him returned, Tsuzuki would feel it, and he doesn't.)

His fingers come away from his face, and his eyes slide reluctantly open. He sees Hisoka there, too. It's not real. It's not real. It's notitsnot]

-- not real you're dead --

28, afternoon

[sleepingknight]

[Even after the pool party to lighten the mood, she can't bring herself to be truly happy.

Tsuzuki... he said he'd go, but that he'd stay at the entrance. He would be safe. So.according to that, he should be back now, right?

Stepping up to the door, she knocks on the frame twice, calling out:]

Helloooo?

[sweetdeath]

[The sound of the knock echoes distantly in Tsuzuki's room down the first-floor hallway.

Oh, he thinks.

Someone's here.

Maybe he should do something about that.

He considers the effort of standing up and walking to the door to greet a guest, and puts his head back down against his knees.]

1/2

[sleepingknight]

[Weird... Maybe they can't hear her? Unless they're hurt--

She tests the door and, finding it open, walks inside.]

Tsuzukiiiiiiiii? Hisoka?

[They... they aren't actually hurt, are they? She shuts the door behind her and marches down the hallway, feeling slightly relieved when she comes across Tsuzuki almost immediately.]

There you are!

2/2

[sleepingknight]

[...But why is he sitting like that? In a flash, she's crouched by his side.]

Hey, are you okay-?!

[sweetdeath]

[Oh, no. Oh no, it's Yuuki, and she doesn't know. Tsuzuki flinches away from her, both hands flying up to cover his mouth as he holds back a sob. He's going to have to tell her --

His hands shift, hiding more of his face and a little less of his mouth, and he drags in a shaking breath.]

Hisoka's...

[He chokes on the word dead, and his breathing picks up as he tries desperately to hold back anything else. Screaming, sobbing, he doesn't know what, but he can't in front of Yuuki, he'll scare her. He won't let it out.]

March 28th - Late afternoon

[birdstheword]

[It was easy enough to sneak out from her own Pool party. There were lots of guests and with Sheryl taking the stage all eyes were on her. Hajime even enjoyed the show for a bit before stepping away. After throwing on a long shirt over her biniki and grabbing a small plate to pile some sweets on, she made her way to Tajimamori's temple. Her ability had already had given her clues to what was wrong and the lack of Tsuzuki's or Hisoka's presence at her party just confirmed it.

It doesn't take long for her to arrive. Looking the Temple up and down before going over to knock at the door. When no one answers she skips around the temple. Maybe there's a back door or---oh hey! Open window! Hajime stands on her toes as she peeks in. It's impossible to miss Tsuzuki's form. She meets her eyes with his but its easy to tell that he really isn't looking at her.]

Tsuzu-kun! Good afternoon!

[sweetdeath]

[It's Hajime, although it takes a long, long moment of staring blankly at her before his eyes focus and the information works its way down into his mind. Oh, no. Oh no, he can't tell her. He can't bear to.

He brings his hands up to cover his face, hunching over his knees as though waiting for a blow to fall.]

[birdstheword]

[That is....not a reaction she wanted to see. But it's not unexpected either.]

I'm coming in, Tsuzu-kun, okay?

[She waits only for a handful of seconds before climbing in through the open window. She's trying not to drop the plate of cookies as she does so. Her foot catches on the ledge of the window as she makes it through, sending her face first to the floor. BUT! the plate is held high so it doesn't drop!]

Ow....that hurt..

[Hajime pushes herself off the ground with one arm before sitting upright. She rubs her now red forehead with a smile whine. But the cookies are fine! Victory! Oh, right! Tsuzuki!]

Tsuzu-kun, I brought you some sweets in case you feel like eating.

[sweetdeath]

[At the impact and the Ow, Tsuzuki's head comes up with startled suddenness, and he rolls onto his knees, reaching out a hand reflexively towards her. He should... help. He can't let her be hurt.

Can't let anyone be hurt, he promised, and even if he broke the promise he can't--

Oh, he thinks, remembering, and pulls back his hand. He doesn't know how long it's been, but the cut he'd made to help heal people is closed over, long since healed without a trace. He reaches toward his palm with his other hand, ready to claw the skin open to help.]

March 28th, super late afternoon/early evening-ish

[galactically]

[As a woman who's getting very good at spotting familiar faces in the audience, Sheryl immediately notices the lack of a certain presence at Hajime's pool party.

Tsuzuki was a no-show. As great as it was to see the rest of her friends in attendance, her last conversation with him stuck a chord in her all the same. He may be a few years older than her, but she could only hope that he didn't get hurt on his — in Sheryl's mind, that is — ill-advised trip to Hell.

Luckily the trip to Tajimamori's temple isn't too far, just a quick stroll in a sundress with her wet hair all wrapped up in a towel, thanks to taking a lengthy dip in the pool a few hours prior. Sheryl even makes sure to bring in some snacks from the party; as she recalls, Tsuzuki really likes sweets!]

Yoohoo! It's me, Sheryl!

[There's an open window and she can see him. Of course she's going to be loud.]

[sweetdeath]

[The first sign that something is wrong is the way Tsuzuki's not moving at all. He's hunched over his knees, sitting on the futon, with his head turned towards the window and his unusual purple eyes blank and unfocused.

He stays that way for several seconds after she calls out, before he stirs, slowly, and lifts his head just a little from where it's resting against his knees.]

[galactically]

[Something is off. The moment Sheryl notices that he's not greeting her, she frowns, glancing up at the window with alarm in her eyes.]

Can I come in? I brought something for you from the party! You didn't show up, so I thought I'd stop by for a visit.

[sweetdeath]

[It's hard to tell from his blank stare whether he hears her or not, but after a long moment, his chin dips in something that could be a nod, and he puts his head back down on his knees.

Sheryl.

He needs to tell her what happened. He should ... he should be strong for her, he supposes.

He can't summon up even enough strength to think about doing that for long, he realizes, and closes his eyes. Maybe she'll find out from someone else. Did he tell her to come in? He can't remember. Maybe she'll understand.]

march 28th; sometime before evening

[roeh]

[Some people say anticipation is the worst. The fear, the sinking sensation in your gut right before you about to do something uncomfortable. Before you take the jump. Some people didn't have a fucking clue.

But people like Shepard, they knew it was the aftermath that really hit the hardest. Waking up the next day. Just getting up and out of bed. Knocking on so many doors and writing so many letters that the faces and names blend together like ripples on a lake that gather and grow until the entire surface is blemished with the unforgettable sum of them.

She knows Tsuzuki knew the true before he ever planned that trip. But he still...

And now...

Shepard didn't need to hear the news to know how these things ends. So she comes knocking. Windows worked just as well as doors.]

Is this the part where I buy you one drink or twenty or just offer my condolences.

[sweetdeath]

[Tsuzuki flinched in on himself at the sound of a voice, and the knock at the window: he's so tired, and each new time he has to explain what happened to Hisoka the pain of it bites more deeply. It takes him a moment for his thoughts to gather themselves, and for the voice to register.

Oh, it's Shepard, isn't it?

... And she did try to tell him not to. He winces, but he raises his head. His eyes are red and swollen from crying, but they're focused on her, with a guilty wariness as though he expects a lecture or a blow.]

I --

You heard?

[roeh]

I didn't need to.

[Nor does she need to now as she sees him even more clearly. Shepard knows that face. Better still show knows the ugly, corrosive feelings that go with it as well as some know their own family. A constant lover to share a bed with, to dream of and wake to every morning.

It's always the worst when the letter is for you but that doesn't save you from the grief of everyone else, only amplifies it, drowning out every other thought in your head.

Whatever happened, she doesn't need to ask to know. And she feels for him.]

Can I come in? Or we can go out. I know both options are equally shit but it's what I've got right now.

[sweetdeath]

Come in.

[Tsuzuki starts to get to his feet, to go to the door and let her in, and his legs come awake in a blaze of pins and needles. He stumbles and falls sideways, and startled embarrassment flushes energy through him that he hasn't felt all day.]

Uh -- it's not locked...

[He sits up, stretching his legs out along the futon, and scrubs at his face with both hands, trying to clean himself up. He's worried everybody today. He's... still worried. It's superficial, the way he's snapped suddenly out of it: it sometimes happens, but he can still feel the weight dragging him down. Maybe it'll be lighter eventually.

In the meantime, he leans over and prods at his legs, trying to coax them back to function while Shepard makes her way to the door.]