kokuyoyo: (And the cops are back.)
Chikusa ([personal profile] kokuyoyo) wrote in [community profile] thenearshore2019-06-03 07:49 pm

[closed] with eyes sunk so deep in our skulls

Who: Chikusa Kakimoto, Ken Joshima, Nanako Dojima
When: when Hakkai disappears
Where: The empty lot in the Central District that used to be Temple Li Tieguai, later Temple Nanshe
What: Chikusa and Ken have lost two gods before, but it doesn't get any easier. Even for the third time.
Warnings: codependent teenagers reacting badly to loss, as usual



As had happened twice before, the disappearance happened so suddenly that it took a moment for the pain to set in, not too unlike how the brain would need a moment to accept the loss of a limb.

The Temple of Iron Crutch Li had been by no means been an enormous or extravagant temple in the pristine beauty of the Central District, but that had only served to make it all the more notable a landmark. The tall and sturdy red brick walls had stood out from the complicated designs of other temples, and the scent of herbs had wafted out from behind its simple decorated walls. It hadn't been a huge place, with enormous bedrooms or fancy kitchens... but it had been everything to some of the people who'd lived in it.

Just as utterly, it's now nothing.

As with the times before, not everything disappears. The bags and suitcases Chikusa had packed underneath their bed frame a long time ago, filled with spare clothes and poisons and rations, those had stayed. Chikusa's massive collection of beanies, although not the drawers that he'd kept them in, is still there and in a pile on the ground. A lot of their snacks, most of them Ken's, are scattered about.

There is a framed picture, drawn for lighter and brighter times.

There are letters.

There is not their bedroom, a little bit cleaner in recent days with renovations and expansions but still as full of their things as it had always been. There is not the herb garden, carefully maintained even by the two of them for chores, full of calming and comforting scents always found their way into the temple. There is not the kitchen, or its attached dining room, two places they'd all spent so much time in with food theft and conversation and an ease couldn't be found anywhere else.

There are not the things that matter.

There is not their god.
junkyarddog: (Who was born in a house full of pain)

[personal profile] junkyarddog 2019-07-04 08:51 pm (UTC)(link)
Ken tries to meet Chikusa's gaze, but focusing feels hard - it's like some inner instinct, telling him that if he moves, if he does or changes anything right now, he'll get hurt. (And in a way, it's technically true - if he shakes off the dissociating away from his pain, he'll have to feel it, actually deal with it.)

But at Chikusa's words, he stiffens minutely as everything in him rejects everything about Chikusa's idea. No. It's almost more sensation than thought. Picking up their things - it's the first step after Hakkai's departure. The first step to having to move on, to having to deal with the fact that Hakkai is gone. It is in fact the first act of Life After Hakkai.

Ken doesn't want that. He wants the opposite of that so strongly that his brain has basically shut down all non-essential functions of his body rather than deal with the reality of Hakkai's disappearance. So Chikusa gets a reaction, sort of, in that Ken closes his eyes. That's all, but it's the closest thing Ken can manage to an absolute refusal to even consider what Chikusa's suggesting.