thenearshore | 33 - Sweet Dreams

Entry tags:

33 - Sweet Dreams

Who: Everyone!
What: A mysterious plague of dreams is sweeping through gods and shinki alike.
When: Jan 30 & 31
Where: Wherever the dreamers go...
Summary: A strange sleepiness is spreading through the Heavens. Those who succumb to sleep find themselves dreaming vividly, and even wandering into each other's dreams. Will they be able to escape the seductive power of their dream worlds and return to reality?

Waking World

Sweet Dreams

Shinki characters

Nightmare

when they're not wearing pants.

Mystery Dreamscapes

A vast, shining building of many rooms is hung everywhere with wooden plaques that rattle like dry bones in the breeze. Each one has an urgent and desperate prayer written on it, and they keep falling from the walls, only to catch fire and be reduced to ash as soon as they hit the floor. The sound of hurrying footsteps is audible, but the dream's owner never quite comes into view.

The street is crowded, packed shoulder to shoulder with strangers who shove rudely and refuse to move out of the way. Their voices make it almost impossible to hear, and the crowding makes it almost impossible to move. Despite this, anyone who enters this dream will have the irrational conviction that there's someone or something at the other end of the street they have to reach. As they push through the crowd, though, the people around them grow angrier and angrier, and might even start to fight back.

A giant crystal glows blue in the middle of a room, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of tiny straw dolls in intricate traditional clothing from all over the world. A middle-aged man is crafting small dolls on the far side of the room, muttering under his breath, "This one, this one." He can't be roused or distracted from his task, except if the room's door is opened, in which case he screams and flees outside into what appears to be an endless, dense, ancient forest full of strange shadows and ominous sounds.

A huge lecture hall is filled with students sitting in folding seats. At the front, a vast man, easily eight feet tall and wearing a tweed suit with patched elbows and a traditional demon mask, is pointing out students in turn and forcing them to come to the board to answer increasingly bizarre, arcane or deeply personal questions. He turns to point at the newest arrival.

A beautiful springtime meadow filled with fallen twigs spreads out around the visitor, who innately knows that picking up one stick in each hand will allow them to fly. Above, other dreamers circle and swoop in the blue sky. As they rise to join them, though, flocks of giant crows almost as big as people swoop in and begin attacking the fliers, trying to knock the twigs out of their hands and force them to plummet to their deaths.

In Summary:

Help out the sleepers
Have a good dream
...or a nightmare
Explore others' dreams
Have fun~

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Course I am. You're the boss's boss, you think you don't get introductions?

[Zhao leads the way towards the table, waving Bakugou to an empty seat on his other side; the transparent couple bow their heads in polite greeting and make room, the young woman clasping her beau's hand to tug him out of the teenager's way. Zhao surveys the table, grabs an unopened bottle of Coke, and sets it by the empty plate at Bakugou's spot.]

That's Sang Zan and Wang Zheng next to you, she's HR and he's organizing our library for us. Chu Shuzi's on their other side, he's our field operative-- [the tough guy nods in their direction and shoves the boy next to him upright again, only for him to subside onto his crossed arms on the table with his hair in his plate. Chu rolls his eyes.] -- and the kid who can't hold his liquor over there is Guo Changcheng, our newest officer.

[Guo Changcheng mumbles something about protecting citizens into the cradle of his arms.]

You should've heard his speech two drinks ago. That snake over there is Zhu Hong, and next to her's Lin Jeng, our science department.

[Does that mean I get paid department head salary? Lin calls back.]

How many times did I catch you sleeping on the lab bench last week? You're lucky you still get paid! -- And this is our outside liaison, Shen Wei.

[His voice goes abruptly from censure to fondness as he indicates the man in the wire-rimmed glasses, who leans forward a little to offer a polite bow around Zhao.]

This is Bakugou Katsuki. He might not look like much, but you should see what he can do with an explosion.

The fuck is that supposed to mean? [The 'may not look like much' part, not the explosions part. The explosions part is perfectly accurate and Bakugou has no complaints to make about it.

He takes the unopened bottle of coke and, since he hasn't been given anything to open it with, uses the edge of the table and a smack of his hand to knock the cap off before taking a swig.

Strange as the names are, he focuses on committing them to memory, as well as some rough facts about them - Sang Zan, ghost lady, HR. Wang Zheng, ghost man, librarian. Chu Shuzi, punk, field operative. Guo Changcheng, newbie, drunk disaster. Zhu Hong, snake, no job(?). Lin Jeng, fashion disaster, science department. Shen Wei, liaison, arm candy.

Look, Zhao's not subtle.

Bakugou has a nagging sense that there's not much need to memorize these names, that he's wasting his time here, but he can't really remember why. He's Zhao's boss, right? He needs to know the people he works with.

...how did a teenager become the boss of an adult man? The thought trickles slowly into his head. He can't recall. Actually...he can't even recall what Zhao's job is.]

What kind of work do you guys do here? [Bakugou hadn't really planned the words, but they don't seem too out of place.]

Don't worry, you'll grow. [No one looks like a punk teenager forever! Eventually they grow up into a punk twentysomething like Zhao. His chuckle, though, fades as he glances back at Bakugou, slowly realizing that he's serious.

Well, fuck.]

Didn't they brief you? We're the Special Investigations Department. [He points at a brass plaque on a wall, with a hawk's profile over a badge incised with the Chinese for Special Investigations Department.] We look into crimes that have... unusual aspects.

[Well, fuck it, Bakugou's already in a room containing two energy beings, two Dixing people and one Snake Tribe woman-- Zhao amends, flatly:] Wild Tribe or Dixing energy powers.

Why have somebody else brief me when you could just tell me yourself? [Bakugou's not even sure who 'they' are, or if they were supposed to brief him. He does feel an unpleasant sort of awkwardness being surrounded by these people and not actually knowing what their jobs are, although purely by observation and job titles, it feels kind of like a police department.

But that tells him less than it could. He doesn't know what the fuck the Wild Tribe or the Dixing are, and the police of Bakugou's own world operate very differently from the police of the Japan that...

...that Bakugou presides over as a god, now. That particular train of thought, the 'just because this is some kind of law enforcement department doesn't mean I know what kind of work they do' thought, makes him remember just what he has to contrast the way his own world works against. That's right; he's a god, and Zhao is his shinki. That's why Bakugou is his boss.

And shinki aren't allowed to remember their pasts. But here they are, in Zhao's department, with people Zhao is familiar with...and, dimly, the memory is coming back to Bakugou, of finding Zhao asleep and trying to wake him up...

This isn't real. This is a dream.

That's a very densely packed ten seconds of realization, for Bakugou.]

[After a few seconds, Zhao leans over, and waves his hand unhelpfully in front of Bakugou's eyes.]

Hey. Hello in there?

[He really hadn't been briefed, had he? Though apparently he's putting together a lot of different pieces, if that "hit on the head with a big stick" look he's got is any clue.]

Ngh. [Bakugou shakes his head.] Sorry. Just...thought of something.

[He doesn't want to break the spell of the dream for Zhao. Not right now. The dream seems nice, and Zhao seems happy; might as well let him have it for as long as he can. After the death Bakugou saw him die, he definitely feels Zhao's earned it. Why wake him to the reality of not remembering anything, and knowing he's dead?

But Bakugou still wants to learn what he can about Zhao's history, about his world, so...that means playing along with this dream. Not the easiest thing he's ever done, since he's not sure what he's supposed to know - is he supposed to be a native? Not knowing what things like the Dixing are is gonna be a problem then - and Bakugou's usually too direct for lying, and thus doesn't have much practice at it.]

...anyway, go on. You were gonna tell me about you guys. [Well, might as well learn what he can and hope he gets a lot of context clues. If he doesn't...well, if he fucks things up, he fucks things up, but hopefully he can put off the fucking up for as long as possible first.]

Uh huh. [Nice attempt at a cover for knowing absolutely nothing, new boss; Zhao leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out under the table as he considers Bakugou, and swipes an unopened beer from the ranks on the table. Shen Wei opens his mouth as though to correct Zhao's slouch, or maybe to correct his extreme rudeness in general, and then just sighs, picking up his chopsticks.]

-- Little Wei, pitch in if I'm getting any details wrong, okay? [At that nickname, Shen Wei very nearly drops his chopsticks again. He pushes his glasses back into place, clearly pretending his ears aren't turning pink, and nods.]

So! A long time ago, the Dixing people arrived on this planet and built a kingdom underground. The Wild Tribes separated from them then and combined themselves genetically with various plants and animals on the planet's surface to blend in -- the three most powerful now are the Snake, Raven and Flower tribes.

[Shen Wei nods, and adds, "They are not the only ones, but they're the most numerous remaining."]

Ten thousand years ago, a meteor impact damaged the Dixing kingdom and started a war when some of the survivors decided to take over the surface of the planet and wipe out the current residents, which is to say, us humans and the Wild Tribes. Other Dixing survivors allied with the surface dwellers to defend them, the rebellion wound up defeated and we worked out a treaty. Part of that treaty--

[He gestures to the table.]

Was us. Dixing residents sometimes wind up in the human world. If they don't cause trouble or use their powers to attack anyone, they don't get caught, but if they do it's our job to catch them and extradite them back underground.

["I don't know why you think you need my help for this explanation," Shen Wei says; his glance at Zhao is sharp. Zhao shrugs, grinning, and takes a swig of his beer.]

So that's us. How did you wind up in our chain of command again?

[Okay, that? That worked out perfectly. That was as in-depth an explanation as Bakugou wanted, and he didn't have to break whatever dream immersion is going on here.

But then Zhao asks that question, and Bakugou thinks that this might be the end of the line as far as immersion goes, anyway.]

You don't remember?

[Zhao spreads his hands.] They didn't brief me any more than they did you. I just heard you were the new boss.

[That's true, isn't it? It feels right; that he'd just gotten the news dumped on him, no explanation of why or what Bakugou had done to wind up in such an exalted position at his age.

It feels right, but it also doesn't make any sense, and the faint pin-scratch of a line between Zhao's eyebrows gives away his doubts. Shen Wei glances at him again, and then to Bakugou with barely-veiled threat in his expression.]

[Bakugou scowls at Shei Wei for that look; he doesn't know what he did to piss the guy off, but none of this is his doing and he's not going to take any blame for it. If Zhao's starting to wake up, then he'd have to wake up eventually regardless.

Then he looks back to Zhao.] What's with the look?

I've had plenty of my own problems with the higher-ups, but they're usually better than that.

[He looks up at Bakugou, frowning. On his other side, Shen Wei meets that scowl with an unchanged, level, and still threatening look.]

How did they pick you, again?

[Well, if Shen Wei doesn't want Bakugou challenging Zhao's immersion in the dream - which is Bakugou's current and only guess for the stick that seems to have lodged itself up the man's ass - then that's too damn bad. Even if Bakugou desperately wanted to play along, he wouldn't know what the right response to Zhao's question is. So if whatever answer he picks fractures this dream bubble, too damn bad.]

I'm a hero in training. We cooperate with law enforcement all the time in any case.

Wait, what? We're hiring heroes now?

[Zhao rubs his head; Shen Wei starts to say something, and Zhao turns to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and murmuring in his ear. He subsides, and Zhao pushes his chair back, getting to his feet.]

Hey, Bakugou. I think we need to go have a chat.

[Something is very wrong here. Things aren't lining up in his mind, and that means someone or something is fucking with his mind.

He's asked Shen Wei to keep a close eye on them, in case the thing that's messing with his head is Bakugou... but somehow, he doesn't think it is. Somehow, he feels like what Bakugou's saying is closer to right than the party around the table, and that's a real problem.]

My office?

[He points; it's at the back of the room, with a big window that has blinds drawn down over it, and it's a good compromise between privacy and not being out of Shen Wei's line of sight if something starts to go wrong.]

[Well, Bakugou's pretty sure the jig's up. Still, he did his best to play along, and Zhao was always going to wake up to what's going on sooner or later, so he's not particularly distressed about the failure; it's more of a feeling of 'oh well, so much for that'.

He gets up and follows Zhao into his office, dropping into the nearest chair he can find that doesn't look to be Zhao's own. There's a slightly brooding quality to him, but no evasiveness or nervousness.

He considers for a moment before speaking up.]

I can tell you what's going on if you want, but it's gonna spoil your party. And waiting to find out about it isn't actually gonna hurt you...I don't think. [He has to add this last bit, somewhat reluctantly, because technically these dreams are the result of a weird plague. It doesn't seem to be doing Zhao any harm, but it's not like Bakugou can guarantee it.]

Waiting all night to hear your story is going to spoil my party too. Spill, hero.

[Zhao's office is surprisingly clean: there are a few boxes of files, and a plant stand in the corner with lush greenery draping across it, but the main feature is a big desk with a few papers tidied into an inbox, a computer, and a comfortable office chair behind it.

He ignores the chair and perches on the corner of his desk, instead, producing a lollipop from his pocket as he considers Bakugou with a long, cool stare.]

Especially if waiting might hurt me. Is anybody else in danger?

Nobody but maybe the two of us. [Bakugou sighs, with an air of faint 'fuck it' aggravation.] This is a dream. You're asleep right now. That fucking thing that's making people fall asleep everywhere in the Far Shore hit you. And I guess it snagged me when I was trying to wake you up.

You're probably not gonna remember any of this stuff when you wake up, so...when I realized what was going on, I thought I could play along. But there was too much for me to bullshit, and I don't know enough about this place to make crap up that you'd buy.

[There is a long silence, before Zhao leans forward from his perch on the edge of the table, reaching out to apparently--

-- ruffle Bakugou's hair? Nope, he's checking for lumps.]

All right, how hard did you hit your head, little boss?

[It's an endearment, really. Please don't kill him.]

This isn't a dream. I work here. Does this look like a dream office to you?

[He sits back, spreading his hands: it's cozy, but it's not some movie set. The details are all right: there's old scuffs on the exposed brickwork, the floor's polished and well swept but there's some dirt under the plant stand, the paperwork on his desk is from a couple open cases and a couple of closed ones together, the computer's a couple years older than Lin Jeng would like. The old, soft leather couch out in the main room smells like fish from years of Da Qing dropping his dried fish treats between the cushions.

It's not perfect. It's just home.]

[Bakugou swats his hand away with an irritable noise.] I'm not gonna fight to convince you. But I'm your god, you're my shinki, and I'm guessing all this stuff is from your memories of your own world that they don't let you have while you're awake. It's too detailed to be shit your brain just made up on the fly.

But if none of that rings any bells, you can just go back to enjoying your party or whatever, 'cause I don't have any other explanations to offer you.You either believe me, or you shrug off whatever instincts you've got that are telling you something's off. But I'm not busting my ass to sell you on it unless it turns out me waking you up is the only way you're gonna wake up at all.

[Shinki. It's not a word that Zhao should know, and yet, it drops into his mind and leaves a ripple of uncomfortable understanding. That's right: he's a shinki. Shinki are--

-- shinki are dead. Shinki forget everything. Is this all going to be gone when he wakes up, forgotten? He casts a glance at the window of his office that looks out onto the main room of the converted warehouse; the blinds are drawn, but warm light leaks through, striping the floor of his office. He rubs a hand across his mouth, expression twisting as he struggles against the knowledge.]

Ah-- fuck.

[It's bad enough that he's left them all behind. Da Qing, Zhu Hong, old Chu, old Li, little Guo, Wang Zheng, Sang Zan. Shen Wei--

who he hasn't left behind at all, has he? The light outside flickers and dims as a colder memory slips into his mind. Shen Wei, already bloodied and beaten, throwing himself in front of Zhao to take a bolt of energy with that same sweet fucking smile he'd used to say, once, It's all right, I'm used to being hurt.

Shen Wei had left him behind first. Wang Zheng and Sang Zan, too, they'd given their afterlives to give him ten more seconds before that monster Ye Zun swallowed their spirits whole and came through the door after the three out of four Hallows they were keeping safe in the lab. Zhao's face is twisted with grief; he looks away, avoiding the kid's gaze, and huffs out an almost soundless laugh.]

All right-- fine. It's ringing a bell.

[Bakugou would know Zhao was hurting even without his bond to the man; it's on his face before he looks away. Getting to feel it is worse. Bakugou grits his teeth and looks away, hating all of this.] You shouldn't have made me tell you, dumbass.

[It's surly and doesn't sound particularly sympathetic at all. But the buried message is 'I hate that I hurt you', and Zhao may be able to tell if he's not hurting too much himself to interpret the fine print of his god's limited emotional range.]

Oh yeah? [Zhao inhales again, looking up with a lopsided smile. The pain's still there in his eyes -- and in their bond -- but he's got it under control now. He reaches out, giving Bakugou's shoulder a light shove.]

I should've just sat around here playing house with a bunch of people who're all in my head, huh?

You telling me isn't making any of it less real.

Yeah, but it sure as shit stopped you being happy. That wasn't fake, even if everything else was. [Bakugou slouches in the chair.] You'd have had to wake up eventually, but you could've had longer. Either until you woke up on your own, or I realized you had to be woken up by somebody else.

I can't give you anything like this. Even if I wanted to.

It's probably not the last time I'll dream about them. Even if I --

[Forget. Because he will, won't he? He doesn't remember his dreams when he wakes; it had seemed normal to drift into consciousness with nothing more remaining than vague tatters of emotion. He wonders if he's been here before in his sleep, building fairytale happily ever afters for himself.

The light through his office blinds seems to be fading, bit by bit, warm gold dying down to cool blue shadow.]

Even if I remember, it's not like I'd get this back. I'd just have to miss it more.

[Miss them more. The loss jolts through him again, sharp as broken glass left in a wound, and he tosses Bakugou a glance.]

Which doesn't mean I'm not going to have anything like it again, so get over yourself, okay, boss?

[He breathes through the ache of it, and his smile is better this time. He's lost the family he made, and there's no reaching back from one shore to the other to get back what he'd had. He can't even remember them in daylight.

That doesn't mean he can't ever make another.]

See what we're like after I've worked with you a few years. You probably still won't be old enough to drink then, though, so we'll have to keep the New Year's party child safe.

[If he can't cure Bakugou of his guilty slouch by pointing out that this isn't his fault, he's willing to cure the kid of it by pissing him off.

Whatever works.]

[That gets a scoff of mild irritation from Bakugou; it doesn't quite piss him off, but it does seem to stir him a little out of any guilt he might have been feeling.] I'm sixteen, I can drink if I want to.

[Not legally, perhaps. But his mom's let him have alcohol before, and he doesn't see why anyone would care that much. Bakugou tends to avoid unhealthy or potentially-damaging-to-his-future-hero-career activities on his own initiative, but he doesn't like being told he can't, or shouldn't, do something.]

Is that Shen Wei guy your boyfriend? [That one comes out of nowhere, unapologetic. But Bakugou figures that he needs to ask this question while they're here, or it'll never get answered at all.]

Yeah, well, just don't tarnish the temple image too much.

[Sixteen is old enough to drink with a meal, anyway, and it's not like Zhao's really going to try to enforce the drinking age. He'd mostly just been trying to tease Bakugou out of his guilty hunch, and that much seems to have worked.

Boyfriend, though -- he blinks at the question, and glances at the darkening windows again, his expression shifting from surprise to aching affection.]

Yeah, we're together.

[He might want to use the past tense, he reflects, and takes a deep breath. No, he can't do that yet. Not for Shen Wei, not when he's just as dead and somehow still around anyway.]

He's-- look. I have a stupid request, Bakugou. He's dead, too. I might not ever see him again, but if I do, if he shows up, don't let me ignore him, okay?

[Dead souls become shinki; shinki forget. They've met for the first time twice already, but once, Shen Wei knew him, and once, Zhao Yunlan knew Shen Wei in turn. If neither of them knows the other, could they walk right by each other without blinking?

He'd like to think not, but on the off chance that it is possible, he can't let it happen. They haven't had enough time together yet. A whole afterlife might-- might-- begin to be enough to make up for Shen Wei's millennia of waiting.]

33 - Sweet Dreams

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