[closed] with eyes sunk so deep in our skulls

[kokuyoyo]

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.

Comments

ken and chikusa, waking up

[kokuyoyo]

Once upon a time, Chikusa and Ken were alive, for all that it could be called as much. Chikusa can't remember everything from that life, but he can remember enough. He can remember being on edge all the time, not trusting anyone, not feeling safe anywhere, although he came closest when he was at Ken's side. That kind of life didn't allow for them to let their guard down even a little bit, and he can remember so many sleepless nights because they were all both on edge. After all, how couldn't they be, when the slightest change could signal a threat to their lives?

And there were so many threats in those days.

It's that bone-deep habit which jolts Chikusa awake, limbs jerking and fingers fumbling into his pockets out of reflexive habit because something is wrong. Processing exactly "wrong" is takes a second, and then a few seconds more that have him sitting on the floor- the grass- with a blank stare. Logically, his brain understands what it means for him and Ken to be on the grass, their belongings scattered around them. This has happened twice before, after all. They are no strangers to loss.

If that is better or worse for the twisting sensation in his stomach, Chikusa can't say. All he can do is sit there, black beanie lopsided on his head and fingers limp around the yoyo in his pocket. He needs to do something, he needs to react, he needs to care for Ken who he knows will take this as hard a blow as him-

But, for now, he's frozen in place. Frozen, and aching for a comfort he knows he will likely not get again in this place.