thenearshore | [CLOSED] If the sharpest thing where you come is a blade of grass

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[CLOSED] If the sharpest thing where you come is a blade of grass

Who: Hijikata and the Bad Idea Bears
What: Souji has invited Yamato over to Hijikata's temple! Because they're clearly going to be friends forever and should do friend things. Like beat each other senseless sparring. Also Hijikata is most likely Concerned.
When: April 23rd?
Where: The Hachiman temple
Warnings: Violent, obsessed little punks. Possible mentions of Hijikatas past Trauma Conga Line, so death of friends, death of family, tuberculosis is awful, lots of violence.

***

Souji has already decided that it's his mission to make Yamato feel better about things. Since they seem to naturally understand each other so well, it only makes sense, right? And he likes Ayumu already as well, and he'll be indirectly helping her out too, since she's the one taking care of Yamato for now (without reflecting on it, he automatically doesn't think of her as Yamato's God, not the way he defines it).

He also enjoys Yamato's company, and is really happy to have him over on a visit. This has manifested in a lot of giddy excitement which has been spilling over everywhere all day, and a lot of energy too, which he spends cleaning up and getting the ducks fed. He really doesn't like cleaning much - it's boring - but it's something that needs to be done, and right now he's even content in the chore, since it gives him something to occupy himself with.

Hijikata will no doubt have noticed his behavior, and Souji has of course told him that his friend is coming over, so it's not exactly hard to pinpoint the cause. Souji is certain that they'll get along fine, anyway, since he and Yamato are so very alike. That only makes sense.

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[Souji lights up even more - if that is even possible at this point - at the look on Yamato's face. He'd known, just known he was going to like it, because of course he would. They were so very in sync in just about every other regard, so it only made sense that the other Shinki would be just as at peace, just as happy in the dojo as he does.

In response to his question, Souji is able to reply with enthusiastic nodding. He had actually run it past Hijikata - not right away when he volunteered the place to Hakkai, but at the very least before telling Yamato. Because even though he'd already been certain he wouldn't say no, he also really didn't want to disappoint his friend for any reason. He'd gotten Hijikata's go-ahed, like he'd known he would, and had just laughed at his God's grumbling, because that's just how he was.]

It would be our pleasure. [Okay, maybe that's a bit of an embellishment of Hijikata's sentiment, but Souji can definitely make up for it in terms of enthusiasm.] And of course, I'd very much like to join your lessons too. I'm pretty sure I used to wield a sword, you see. I could feel it as soon as I held anything the way I would a sword, you know? As if my body remembers it.

[Yamato nods enthusiastically; he knows exactly what Souji is talking about.]

Yes, me too! It's like I knew I would be a sword, even before Commander-kun called my name the first time. It was so easy to guide her, and then wielding one with my own hands...

[Felt just as natural, like it was an extension of his own body. But he doesn't say that, because Souji clearly knows just what he means, and why waste time explaining something they both instinctively understand?

His smile turns a little bit shy, then, fluffy bangs falling into his face as he tilts his head down.]

Do you think I could watch you, Souji-kun? I like seeing how other people fight.

Huh, that's... amazing. Maybe that's why we look so alike when we are swords.

[Because, well, he had noticed. Hard not to, when one of his own sides looked just about identical to Yamato, even if it of course was hard to tell exactly in battle.

Either way, he's eager to please, and since Yamato is going to be his teacher anyway... He walks briskly up to one of the stands lining one wall, picking down a practice sword. It feels smooth to his touch, alive somehow, as the weight and curve of it immediately become a part of his own body.

He takes a position, his body reacting to something that feels like memory, even if no images or thoughts follow it. And ten he's flowing from stance to stance, his breathing smoothing out into a perfectly controlled rhythm; his focus narrows only to the room around him, the movement of the practice sword, his own balance, strength, reach, position.

It's so easy. It's so right. He's certain, absolutely so, that this is what he is made for, in one form or another.]

[Yamato's more than ready to sit back and watch. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he enjoys watching other people, whether they're going through the steps of a kata or in an actual, heated battle. For a minute, he really does just stand out of the way, bright blue eyes tracking Souji's graceful movements, from his light steps up to the smooth arcs of his arms.

But something resonates inside him, urging him forward like a siren's call. He's too busy watching to spare it a thought, even to be afraid of the way his body moves on its own. He falls in line with Souji, stepping into the form as if they'd started together, drawing the sword he keeps at his hip instead of bothering to go and grab a practice sword. There's no danger here--Yamato's confident that even if he swung at Souji right now, he wouldn't land the hit.

He won't do that, though. He's too entranced by the way they're perfectly in sync, despite the minute differences in style. Yamato isn't as graceful as Souji is, his movements peppered with influences from people he doesn't remember, as well as the new, utterly unique styles he's seen here in heaven. Nonetheless, there's no denying the similarities, and it would be terrifying, if it didn't feel so comfortable.]

[There is a triumphant kind of joy in every movement, but it's not the kind that makes Souji laugh or even smile. If anything, he looks more serious than he ever does otherwise, the degree of his focus expressing itself in an intensity which might even be thought to be intimidating.

But the joy is still there, and it swells as Yamato joins in, as he follows through the movement with the ease of diligent practice. They are not as one, not mirroring each other perfectly; in a way it would be strangely lonely if they were. They're like two musicians playing the same piece, synchronized in spirit but differing in expression.

Souji starts moving faster, putting more emphasis in each movement, knowing without having to look that Yamato will sense the shift and keep up with him. His bare feet are whispering acros the floor, his breathing never hitching even as he starts to feel the exertion, every movement also precise that it makes only the faintest sound. It's a perfect rhythm, smooth and controlled, and it barely changes at all the moment Souji swings around and swipes low against Yamato's abdomen.

Even so, he's already preparing for the other Shinki's parry.]

[Yamato knows, almost without looking, just when Souji begins to change the pace. Souji is so much quieter than he is, light on his feet and entirely focused. Yamato is, in contrast, practically bursting with tightly controlled energy, a bit like a powder keg preparing to explode. Still, he's quicker than he looks, and it doesn't appear to cost him any extra energy to keep up.

It's pure instinct that guides him out of the kata and into a block, and all at once, he breaks into laughter, destroying the quiet of the dojo. His grin is more genuine than its ever been as he counters, knocking Souji's practice sword away and taking a swipe at his arm with his own fully functional blade. It's battle-ready, sharp and gleaming, though it's strangely empty of the kind of energy they possess in vessel form. That's comforting, though. Yamato doesn't want a shinki of his own.]

[Souji doesn't laugh, still focused on his breathing, but his face breaks into a smile as his position instantly shifts into a defensive one, already anticipating an attack. It doesn't for a moment strike him that Yamato wouldn't retaliate, doesn't cross his mind that naked blades are a lot more dangerous than practice swords, because why does that matter? What would be the point of doing this if they didn't take it seriously?

He can't parry from this angle, not a sharp edge, and so he drops low and twirl easily under the blade, coming up and aiming the practice sword heavily on the back of Yamato's elbow. There's already something sharper about him, something more deadly than the graceful demonstration of form that was there before.]

[Some small part of him is tempted to speak, to call out a friendly tease or to compliment Okita on his seemingly inherent skill. To be silent for this feels like he's missing something, almost, like there's some opportunity right here he's foolish for not taking.

But it's only a small part, because-- well, they aren't silent, are they? Okita's speaking to him through his breaths, through the whisper of his clothing and the sharp crack of wood and steel. It's a language he understands perfectly well, so there really isn't any need to fill up the air with words. Not right now.

Souji's too fast for him to spin around and block, so Yamato dives and rolls forward, trying to put some distance between them. He spins on one knee to face Souji again, but he's already guessed that Souji's right on his heels, and it's likely that he'll only have time to block an incoming attack. An overhead strike, he thinks, and brings his blade up accordingly, ready to block the hit he's anticipating.]

[Of course he follows. He might as well be able to consciously stop his heart than not do so. It's an indescribable sensation, the beauty and the rhythm of the kata before blended together with brutality and speed, with the quick and dirty mathematics of necessity, and how is he supposed to be able to stop that?

Yamato anticipates his attack, of course, but while the distance had granted him a respite, it also grants Souji a split second to slightly alter his tactic. He can't really strike from a different angle, not with his own momentum and with Yamato down low and blocking with a naked blade. But he angles the way his practice sword comes down against it so that at least comes down against the dull back of the blade, momentarily locking against the tsuba. With that added leverage, and with the tip of the blade lowered just enough from the impact, he's able to fling himself over Yamato.

For a moment he's facing away from Yamato, his balance questionable, so he doesn't really have much of a choice but to whip around and aim another strike against Yamato's head in an attempt to throw him off his balance too.]

[Crack.

Yamato no Kami Yasusada was never the strongest sword in the Citadel. Nor was he ever the fastest. Strong enough, yes, fast enough until he wasn't, until the day came that he, just like his beautiful partner, failed to protect what was necessary. Yamato's always been as much of a student as he's been a teacher--his classes have always involved learning on his end, too, open and encouraging in a way that never would've passed for a "real" class.

He's too slow, or maybe the angle is wrong, or maybe everything just comes together perfectly enough for Souji to land his strike. Yamato turns into it, and as a result, he gets a nice whack directly against his head and his cheek, sending him sprawling with a yelp. The impact dazes him momentarily, and his sword almost, almost clatters out of his hand, but it doesn't. There's probably going to be a nick in the floor, though.]

Nngh... [Gingerly, he raises a hand to touch his face; yeah, that's going to bruise. But then he laughs, gently laying his head back down on the floor.] That was amazing, Souji-kun!

[There is a moment still when he stands over Yamato, the practice sword raised, his eyes blank, as if he's still analyzing the threat. As if he's waiting for the next move, or the opening to deliver a finishing blow.

Then Yamato speaks, and he slowly comes back to himself. Blinks, lowering the threatening implement, returning it to being just an instrument for training and nothing more. He lets it fall to the floor a moment later, the clatter almost deafening in the silence.

Then he lets out a soft laugh and falls to his knees, gentle hands reaching out and cradling Yamato's face, lifting his chin so he can get a look at the bruise.]

You were amazing too. I'm so happy we could do that. [He doesn't apologize, because he knows that Yamato wouldn't want him to anyway.] Does it hurt a lot?

[If Souji had chosen to attack, Yamato wouldn't have held it against him. He knows what it's like to have your blood boiling--if he'd been the one to strike Souji down, there's no telling when he would've decided to pull back, if he did it at all. An enemy certainly wouldn't, and that's the whole point of this. For a sword shinki, practice like this isn't just about spending time with a good friend, or even studying good battle techniques; it's part of honing and sharpening his very existence. He'll never surpass his limits if he isn't pushed to them, and how could he ever fault Souji for granting him that opportunity?

He lets Souji reach for him and touch his face without complaint, gratitude and happiness and something else, something even Yamato couldn't have identified, shining in his eyes.]

No, [He says, even as he realizes his eyes are watering, spilling ever so slightly out down his cheeks and onto Souji's hand. That's odd.] it feels wonderful.

[It's a weird thing to say, but Yamato's a weird guy. He smiles, and in truth, his face is a little tender--he's got a nice red mark where the bruise will probably form, and he'll be lucky not to have a headache later on. But it's a good pain, and he doesn't mind.] Nobody else here knows the way I fight like you do, isn't that funny?

[Yamato is pretty weird, yes. But Souji doesn't mind - probably because even though their weirdness isn't exactly the same kind, it's certainly the same brand at the very least.

Gently, he brushes away the tears from Yamato's cheeks, laughing a bit as he does so.]

Good. I'd be worried about these otherwise. [He holds up a wet finger.] But you're feeling happy, right? So it's those kind of tears.

[He's not sure exactly why, and not certain that Yamato knows why either, but that doesn't really matter. In this place, at this time, they understand each other and themselves well enough to know that they're happy, that they are exactly what they're supposed to be. Compared to that, everything else is unimportant.]

I guess... since we're almost exactly the same kind of weapon, and we feel the same way about being Shinki, maybe that only makes sense? [He hesitates, and then adds cautiously, trying not to talk about it too directly:] It's not good to think about whatever happened before we came here. I try not to. But I think... somehow there is something tying us together. That isn't a bad thing to think, right?

[He's not sure what he's feeling, honestly. It's nothing so simple as "happy" or "sad", or even "hurt", in the physical sense. But Souji looks happy, and that's enough, so he nods anyway.

The past... it's dangerous. Something in his core tells him that, and it's good to know that Souji feels the same way. But he can't deny that it calls to him, in little ways and private moments. If there's something in their pasts that connects them... is it really so bad to want to know what it might be?

But those are thoughts for later, when he's alone. For now, he just nods again, offering Souji a bright smile.]

No matter what it is, I'm glad for it! [He's not glad Souji's dead, but having him here has made things so much easier to bear.] Thank you, Souji-kun.

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[CLOSED] If the sharpest thing where you come is a blade of grass

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