Tsuzuki Asato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sweetdeath) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thenearshore2016-06-23 01:13 am
sweetdeath) wrote in thenearshore2016-06-23 01:13 am
[semi-open]
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.]
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.]
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And maybe that's different.
Whatever the reason is, Tsuzuki can still feel the absence of their connection. He squeezes his eyes shut.]
He's -- gone.
[It's as close as he can get. He leaves his hands where they are, hiding his expression.]
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No. No no no no. That's not how it goes. That's not allowed. He can't just be gone, not when just recently they were flopped on the ground under the cherry blossoms, complaining about how silly the Heavens were.
No.
This can't be happening. She rejects it.]
How can he be gone-?! [It's just not--] You said you weren't going inside! You said--
[No.]
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He'd said. He'd promised. He'd needed to protect Hisoka and he'd been helpless to stop it.
A keening noise works its way free from his throat.]
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No. He's a god, so--]
You're supposed to listen to your shinki... you're supposed to protect them!
Was this more important to you than him-?!
[It hurts. Shinki are tools of the gods, and she gets that, but it hurts so much to think that they may be treated as such, that they may be disposable.
That even a god can be careless enough to let their shinki die.]
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It was his responsibility. It was his fault. Hisoka died because of him, because he was with him, because Tsuzuki didn't try hard enough.
Tsuzuki struggles against her grip with all of his strength, forcing his hands back towards his face with his fingers tensed into claws.]
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Stop... doing this!
[Her voice strains as she continues to push his hands apart.]
Hisoka died for you! You can't just-- you can't just do this now that he's gone!
[This is all so wrong.]
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Hisoka died. Hisoka's gone. It's his fault, and her pain and anger are just one more weight he can't bear.
He's still responsible. There's a little voice in the back of his mind reminding him, that sounds a little like Hisoka lecturing. He still has to take care of Battler. He can't give up: but it's so, so hard not to. Maybe if he lets Yuuki hate him it'll help her. He can't do anything but let her, anyway, and he deserves it.]
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You can't--
He died for you. You can't just... just hurt yourself now. If you do--
What did he die for, then-?!
[Everything hurts. She doesn't want to deal with this either, but she doesn't want anybody to die, either.
She just wants it all to stop.
In a jerky moment, she falls on her knees, grip still tight on Tsuzuki's wrists as sobs begin to shake her body. This is awful - everything is so awful, and there's no way to fix it, no way for her to do anything.]
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Because even when he's not a reaper he can never get away from that truth. It was true before he died, too, and it's true now.
He doesn't make a move to comfort her: she's holding his wrists, for one thing. For another, how can he? There's no comfort that matters.]
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More than a few tears hit the floor during this time. She knows she needs to be strong, but she just can't do it anymore. She hit her limit with Bo, tried to pull herself together, and hit her limit now once more. For all the faith Hajime had placed in her...
She really isn't that strong. She never was to begin with.
She only releases his hands when she finally calms, small hiccups and red eyes making it impossible to hide her weakness. But she tries to scrub the tears away with her wrists anyway, sniffling all the while.]
What... are you going to do now...?
[He needs to do something. Anything. Hisoka didn't die so his god could rot.]
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The thought of it crumples him down into a tighter curl, although his hands stay where they fall when she releases his wrists, open and limp at his sides.
(He's not alone, he knows: he can still feel his connection to Battler, and Battler's concern. He almost resents it, because it means he really can't stop. He can't fail someone who needs him, and there's still someone who does, so he'll have to think of an answer to Yuuki's question, eventually.
He shakes his head slowly against his knees.
He doesn't have an answer yet.]
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You can't... you can't give up yet. If you've got another shinki... You can't let them down.
[Not again.]
You have to be there for them.
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I, I'm sorry --
[His voice is almost panicked, spilling out from that other thought circling helplessly in his mind. (I let Hisoka die--)]
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[She can't take this any more.]
...I'm not the one who needs it.
[But the person who did isn't here anymore, and...]
Just... Just make sure it never happens again. [That's all she can say. That's all they can do, isn't it?] Don't--
Don't treat lives so lightly. Yours or theirs.
[She can't take this. With a hurried swipe over her eyes, she scoots back and stands, turning on her heel and making a dash for the door.
Because for all of her big talk, in the end, she's just a coward who can't even keep her closest friends safe.]
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There's nothing he can do. There is nothing that can fix it. It's --
He squeezes his eyes shut, barely struggling as the guilt drags him down, and doesn't even hear the door open or close.]