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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.]

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[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?

[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.]

[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.

[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.]

It's not your fault. [And that's perhaps the only thing she's certain of. Her voice is firm, but somehow still gentle, as if her words could embrace him.] He chose to come with us. He knew the risks. We all did.

[And yet, she knows she has little if any power to help him through this. At best, she can tell him Hisoka might come back, but that seems cruel.]

I don't think he would want you to blame yourself. You did what you could, and so did he.

[The words feel as good as dead leaves in the fall, but they're all she has for him right now. They aren't close enough that she'd hug him, and... well, she doesn't have any tissues.]

[ 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!

[Hisoka hadn't wanted to go. That's the worst: he hadn't wanted Tsuzuki to go, either. Tsuzuki had been the one unwilling to stay home. He'd let Hisoka talk him into staying outside of Yomi-no-kuni, but he hadn't let Hisoka talk him out of going as far as the entrance.

And now Hisoka--

He wipes his face on his sleeve, which doesn't really help when he's still crying.]

He only -- [He only came because I wouldn't stay home. Tsuzuki can't say it out loud. She's so worried, but he can't stop crying, either, can't even scrape up the strength to try. Not yet. Half-choked, he manages:]

Sorry.

[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.]

[ 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...

[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 --

[ Breath hitching, Hisoka tightens his hold on Tsuzuki's hands briefly as he forces them down. It hurts, but that's a reflection of the magnitude of Tsuzuki's pain. He can't take it, but he can't move away either. Instead, he lets go of his hands so he can cradle his partner's face as he leans in. ]

I'm here. See? [ The words come out breathless. ] I'm here.

[ He doesn't understand, but he doesn't have to. All he knows is that he needs to make that unimaginable grief stop. ]

[It's the breathlessness in Hisoka's voice that makes Tsuzuki's heartbroken certainty waver. If Hisoka wasn't really there, if Tsuzuki just believed he was because he needed it so badly to be true, would Tsuzuki imagine him hurting like that? That's not what he wants --

It's not, he thinks, and lifts a hand to press against Hisoka's cheek.

He's warm and real to Tsuzuki's touch, too, and there's sweat sticking his bangs to his temple. Tsuzuki brushes them free with a little automatic gesture, and catches his breath on a sob as he leans forward to press his forehead to Hisoka's.]

How--

[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?

[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.]

I don't know. [ He feels overheated, but he hangs in there as Tsuzuki starts to awake to the reality of his presence. His eyes flutter closed, and he drops his hands to instead drape his arms around Tsuzuki's neck. At this rate, he'll be leaning on Tsuzuki for support, but he couldn't begin to think to pull away. ]

Doesn't matter right now. [ Not to him, anyway. What's most important is simple. ] I won't leave you.

[Tsuzuki blinks against the stinging in his eyes, and a few hot tears slip down his cheeks. Starting to believe it's real feels like pins and needles all through him, as hope sneaks back in like blood to a sleeping limb.

Hisoka's back. Hisoka -- knows him...?]

I'm sorry. I -- I let you -- [That's an actual sob, and Tsuzuki takes his hand away from Hisoka's cheek so that he can fist it instead in the fabric of his partner's shirt and hold on as tightly as he'd wanted to yesterday, when Hisoka had been just a little too far away to reach in time.]

[Ah, how awful not to be omniscient just long enough to know what reallly happened. Then Elsa wouldn't have accidentally made it worse for Tsuzuki. As it stands, his obvious distress moves her to put a hand on his shoulder and give a gentle squeeze.]

Please don't be sorry. Not for this. If this is what you need to do and feel, then go ahead. [She's only sorry she can't do more.] I'm sorry for what you're going through. If there's anything I can do...

[She lets the sentence hang there, open-ended like her offer, for whatever good it can do.]

[He comes very close to saying, take care of Battler, but -- no.

No, he's failed Hisoka already. He can't fail someone else who's depending on him, who doesn't remember anything. He'll have to be able to do it, he thinks, and shakes his head in answer to her question, pressing his sleeve over his eyes again. He hadn't changed shirts, and his cuffs are still stained with blood. The smell makes him feel suddenly sick.]

You didn't. [ It's a reflexive denial. Whatever happened, whatever left him with these gaps in his memory, he's positive it can't be Tsuzuki's fault. He always took too much blame for himself, and Hisoka lets out a slow, shaky breath. ]

I don't know what happened. [ It's a quiet confession, but he hopes maybe Tsuzuki won't catch on how upset that prospect makes him. ] But it's not your fault.

[At this point, she's thinking she should get going and leave him to process this on his own a little more, but then he goes a little green in the face.

(This, by the way, is part of why she didn't become an elementary school teacher. Too many bodily fluids to deal with. Elsa's not queasy, but still.)]

Just breathe, Tsuzuki. Breathe slowly. You're going to be okay. [She hasn't said anything about the blood on his clothes, but... maybe she should?] When you're feeling steady again, you should go change, maybe take a bath. It might help you relax a little.

[He knows Tsuzuki, but he doesn't know what happened. Tsuzuki squeezes his eyes shut against the tears, taking a long breath, and tries to shake off the shocky fog in his mind.]

Hisoka... what do you remember?

[What's left? How much did he lose?

Whose shinki is he now, if his connection to Tsuzuki is still gone?]

[Tsuzuki nods, once. He'll do that, yeah. He needs to. Later.

He takes a breath -- through his mouth, trying to block out the scent as he steadies his stomach -- and manages without looking up:] Th-thanks.

[He'll have to do this. He'll have to be okay. He's...

It seems so overwhelming, he thinks, and squeezes his eyes closed, hard. But he has to. Just a little later.]

[Elsa nods. That's probably her cue to go, so she takes it with grace and another light squeeze to his shoulder before she draws back her hand.]

I've got to go now, but please call me if you need anything. And take it easy. [With one more nod, she turns to head out, hoping he'll feel better sooner rather than later.]

We were in the Gensoukai, and... then I lost track. There was a cherry blossom viewing, but it's so surreal. Like I was someone else, or dreaming.

[ Someone that could feel so comfortable out at night among the cherry trees, but that couldn't be a dream. Not when he'd so vividly known of this house with its tall, beautiful sunflowers. Hisoka slumps against him, ends up with his face buried against the juncture of Tsuzuki's neck and shoulder while his words come out muffled. ]

And then this. I don't even know how to file a protest.

[ It's such a stupid complaint, but he's not actually all that okay himself. ]

Hisoka -- you remember?

[Tsuzuki wraps his arms around Hisoka's waist, staring down at the back of his head. The Gensoukai. That's why Hisoka knows him. It's not still, it's again.

Tightening the hug, he lets his own head fall against Hisoka's, breathing out on something that almost sounds like a shaky laugh.]

You remember....

[Tsuzuki really has him back.]

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March 28, morning

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March 28, evening

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28, afternoon

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tsuzuki ;;

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