( closed )

[tricksune]

Who: Yusuke Kitagawa (tricksune) and co.
What: general catch-all, currently custom prompts only, but feel free to pm me if you'd like me to write you one!
When: march, possibly april
Where: various
Warning(s): will warn in threads

Comments

[tricksune]

[ He's not sure what the medical benefits of burrowing under the kotatsu is, gazing over at Ann a little hopelessly as she darts off to get them some tea. If she says it'll help though, may as well give it a shot. It's not like the kotatsu is much of a journey, and he sticks his legs under the covers as he drapes himself over the tabletop. ]

I could go for green tea, if there's any left.

[ He may feel like he's been hit by a semi, both physically and emotionally, but that won't stop him from being picky about his drinks. He watches her from where he's sitting. ]

...Is this how you typically cope, Ann?

[ He's genuinely curious. Maybe this is just how the Average Man deals with a bad time. ]

[desistor]

[Look, if he's proven good for one thing in a crisis, it's talking people through it from a speaker. Might as well put it on the table.

Doesn't take long in the recovery zone for what's happened here to settle in with grim finality. (What happened to Cloudbank was horrific but it was clean, broken down into component parts and blank slates, emptiness and quiet. This is bloody and burning and still, even in the recovery, chaotic and aching.)

Catching sight of Yusuke in one piece, even after getting in touch, is a hell of a relief. On his feet and making himself useful to boot. Kind of puts a lot of the adults around here to shame. Himself included, maybe. Probably.

He catches up, and Yusuke points out the body in the corner. Familiar and still and shadowed. He takes a breath. More for the psychological benefits of it than anything practical. Okay.]

Okay. Yeah, I see. Sorry I didn't get here sooner.

[Though the matter of Richie's slotted down to second place, at the moment. He has one hand occupied with keeping the Transistor propped up against a shoulder, as usual. (All glowstick albatross, so constant when he's on his feet that he's almost gotten a little too used to the weight of it.) But the other catches carefully at Yusuke's shoulder to pull them to a stop. Just out of reach of the alcove so he can turn to try and get a better look at the kid through that mask.]

...Take it from me, he's not in a hurry. [Not dismissively, really, and not unkindly. But lets be real. Richie's body can wait a few more minutes if they need it. (He'd know.) Carefully casual, if even-tempered. A little bit wry. Maybe too much for the circumstances. But we all have our coping mechanisms. Then, to the point—] Sure you don't want to sit this out?

[Just because Yusuke's apparently got the steam for the extra mile doesn't mean he has to force himself through it. He doesn't want that. He doesn't think Richie would, either.]

[pussywhips]

[ Green tea it is. She putters around the kitchen, taking her time—pouring hot water from the coffee maker, brewing the tea, adding a little lemon and honey (okay, more honey) to her cup. While she works, she makes a soft humming noise in response to his question.

The first thing that pops into her head is Kamoshida, and that excruciating length of time before they'd changed his heart. It all seemed to blur together into a haze, even now. She'd simply gone through the motions like a marionette, each day a growing line of indignities, and at night she would bury herself under her covers to shut the world out and wish it would all just end.

But that isn't her anymore. Now— ]

Yeah. I mean, I like to eat a lot of sweets and stuff too [ not that that's too different from normal ] and maybe watch some dramas or play games.

[ While she speaks, she brings their two cups of tea into the living room and places them on the table. Then she crawls under the kotatsu with him, her legs stretched out underneath the blanket. ]

You probably like to paint, right?

hi

[persistor]

[ She shows up hours after the initial commotion dies down. After Boxer mentions that Yusuke stayed behind for the clean up, once the tension in his shoulder disappears and he's okay with her slipping out to the streets again ( be careful, he wishes, and she nods ). Because having another individual gasp their last breath in front of you is an awful feeling that festers. Refuses to leave. Haunts corners and idle thoughts longer than anyone really wants it to.

It's less that they're kindred souls — but more that she'd rather avoid having more people face that kind of nightmare alone ( like she had to ). She moves through the city against her better judgement, slips into the laboratory before she decides that she might be overstepping one way or another. It's too late to consider that.

( But it's not too late to pass by other volunteers walking out of the hospital, their shoulders unnaturally tense and their jaw tense. She thinks nothing of it, until one almost seems to stagger into her shoulder, raising her alarm bells when he reaches for her wrist to steady himself.

Against all expectations, he stumbles away just as quickly. A moment passes before the skin-crawling feeling disappears, and she speeds up towards the laboratory. )

It's reassuring that Yusuke seems to be keeping busy, at least. Not that that deters her from approaching him at all; just ... maybe from a direction where he'll see her approach. If he notices her at all. Either way, there's a sealed water bottle that she hands him; if he looks up to her face, she shrugs. ]

[tricksune]

[ He almost calls his mask into place on reflex. Strangely, he can feel a distant twinge of Arsene's power for himself, their ceremonial connection setting off a chain reaction he still doesn't entirely get. But between that and Joker's sudden, commanding presence, Fox stops bristling and lets himself drift. He's too tired not to.

...He doesn't remember much of the trip back either, probably having passed out on Akira before they made their exit, but the next several days are peaceable. Or they are to him, anyway; the fog won't do any permanent damage, but it's enough to leave him winded if he strains himself any, and that means a whole lot of sitting at home. He works with Red on a new, improved pedestal for Sandra, takes to his paints as usual, and pays the Station a visit as soon as he's able. There's home visits and the occasional text, as well as a few extra Dias sprinkled along the way, and all-in-all, recovery is a slow but certain journey. He bounces back quickly enough from these things (or forces his way through them, which is practically the same thing), and once he's fully healed he has no intention of rotting away in his room. Sandra and Clair were recovered, Richie and Percival are returned. Normalcy comes with them. After a night spent in space, he goes back home and the dust settles.

That is, until he suddenly jerks awake in his sleep, snapped up to sitting with a headache thundering through his skull. Already the dream's starting to elude him as it's chased out by a racing heart, but it leaves him pallid, hand slowly releasing a white-knuckled grip on his comforter to comb through his hair and pull at the roots.

But he stops short on that too. It takes him a second to make out the blurry shape by his bedside, almost pushing it off. ]

...Akira.

[ Your bed's over there, guy. Still, he might be surprised, but he's not offended; they'd been roommates before, and it hasn't been long since the move. He's used to waking up to Akira there by now... if maybe a little further away. ]

[larsenist]

[ The city settles back into its usual pace, and the rest of them their daily routine. When Akira isn't working, he trains, and when he isn't training, he cooks for the house. Even the Institute soon resumes its typical bustle, everyone keeping busy and too obsessed with their own projects and deadlines to expend any more energy on old news. The gossip only circulates for so long before it's neglected altogether.

Yusuke's injuries fade, too, however something else seems to linger. It emerges in his artwork—though he may not realize it himself—and in more than one night of restless dreams. (Akira can sense it, something vague but irremovable clotting his chest. He wonders if it's because of the pact as well.)

...He's resolved to intervene, though his best laid plans are easily thwarted by fatigue. He falls asleep at his post, arms folded over the mattress and glasses forgotten to the side, only slowly blinking back into consciousness when he hears his name. ]

...

[ He rolls his head the other way so he can catch a drowsy glimpse of his friend. He doesn't look or sound sorry at all for the intrusion, though he doesn't look very awake, either. ]

Yusuke.

[tricksune]

[ The fact that Boxer's shown and doesn't immediately blanch and bolt at the body is more of a relief than he could possibly anticipate. The gravity of the task ahead is replaced in part by the weight of a hand on his shoulder. (He's a good man. He ought not to be here either.) Yusuke brushes off the apology; that he'd apologize at all almost laughable.

If anything, Boxer must've headed over straightaway. There were probably more urgent needs to tend to, but for all his relative composure, Yusuke can't totally think straight. He can't leave Richie there. It's not driven by any logical argument, but the issue's rolled through his thoughts so many times over it's compressed to a point, a fixation: he has to do this. He'd lost control of his death—what would happen if he let this get away from him, too? Richie may not be in a rush, his spirit already galloped off to wherever it's meant to go, but the same can't be said for him.

So as nice as it'd be to crumple under the offer, he gives it a slight squeeze instead, more reassuring than warm, responding politely. ]

I don't mind. [ He trails for a moment, then, ] Or rather... I won't relent on this. But thank you.

[ There's no point in losing his head in all this. He'd asked him here, and despite his unfaltering cool, Richie was no stranger to Boxer; he wasn't going to foist this whole thing onto someone who's just lost a friend. ]

Besides, he's very frail. [ ...It was like his skin was barely tethered to the muscle anymore. ] You may need the extra hand.

[ He's grateful his mask leaves his expression hooded, because he grimaces at the thought. For all his conviction, there's a moment spent in lost wavering as he slips away, drifting forward towards Richie aimlessly. ]

Though I'm not sure where to begin...

[desistor]

[More urgent matters, wow. Come on, kid. Give him a little credit. He doesn't argue when Yusuke insists—no point in it, he knows the type. But he'd had to ask. Instead he laughs, once, without humor. A breathless and self-effacing thing. Grim and gallows in its delivery.]

Wish I could say I didn't know the feeling.

[His experience with this sort of thing mostly involves being left with no time for anything but leaving the remains behind to be Processed away for good. No time to spare for the bodies, for the sake of those still living. Not exactly the same situation, now. But...better to be here than not, he figures. And better the two of them than no one at all. They'll figure something out.]

Lets see...

[He catches up to Yusuke in a few deliberate steps and crouches down in front of the body, bracing himself against the ground with the Transistor propped up beside him—suppressing the little flip of vertigo that comes with recognition, the fresh twist of horror as the gore-streaked face resolves into a friend. (Time for that later, he knows, when this is done and Yusuke's been looked after and no one else is at any more risk of joining ol' Rich in the Country. He takes a good look and it hurts, sure as shit. But he breathes it in and buries it deep.) Still, without looking away—quietly angry, edged with incredulity—]

...the hell did they do to 'im?

[Why? Never seen anything like it. He exhales, and seems to notice something. Or...the lack of it. Frowns, for a few seconds, gone quiet. Then, absently—]

No Trace... [Is he disappointed, or not? Would it help, to be able to speak to him one last time? A weak warbling echo of his old self, before he slots away for good? Maybe he'd hoped, at least. for a few last words. To better understand what the hell had happened, here. Or...for Yusuke's sake, if nothing else.] Guess he's too far gone.

[tricksune]

[ If anything's trespassing on his rest, it's the nightmare, not Akira. Yusuke curls up his legs, resting his chin on his knee to gaze down at him, heart still beating unpleasantly quick in his chest.

At least it means he doesn't have to rub away any sleepy-eyed bleariness, startled to full wakefulness in an instant. Since it seems that Akira might still be too sluggish to explain himself without a little prompting— ]

Did you get lost? [ It's asked with an uncommon wryness, for him. ] You have your own room now.

[ That can't be comfortable... ]

[tricksune]

[ The transition between everything today was jarring, but the fragrance of tea and idle conversation is still a welcome respite. He warms his palms against the mug as the kotatsu melts away the aches in his legs. It's all a comfort, cozy, and most importantly, distracting. ]

Right.

[ They're both pretty predictable, though he tries not to sequester himself in his room to paint his feelings away as often as he used to. His old pieces were just bastions of anger, bottled frustration. Sometimes he'd wonder how long it'd take for people to notice, how many of Madarame's galleries that he'd fill before anyone sensed his unease. Though Ann had spotted it right away, he doubts others would be the same way.

But things are better now. There's room for the both of them under the kotatsu, where they can mope and drink tea and natter away instead, maybe argue about the proper sweets for the occasion and end up having both anyway. ]

Though I'm not opposed to expanding my horizons.

[ They can watch something together, sometime. ]

[larsenist]

[ With no great hurry, he readjusts his glasses on his face and pushes his hair around, though the overall effect stays about the same. (His flyaways are even worse than usual, half his locks in blatant revolt.)

His response is unhelpful at best. ]

I know.

[ He gingerly shifts his weight and crosses his legs under him (one of them unpleasantly full of pins and needles), both arms still propped on the bed as he peers up at his friend. ]

...Bad dream?

[ It's not really a question so much as an observation—he's paler than his sheets, far too alert for such an ungodly hour of the night (...morning?).

Akira doesn't pry any further, though. It's up to Yusuke if he wants to continue the subject. ]

hi 30 years later

[tricksune]

[ He probably shouldn't stick around as long as he has—he assures Boxer he's fine and all but rushes back into the fray of things, anchored to the lab for reasons he hasn't figured out yet. Perhaps it's just him seeking to put a dent in the situation, somehow.

It's too easy to feel powerless, otherwise. (Even if he'd done all he could for Richie, what did it amount to? What was he doing here?) He helps navigate the damage, and when Red shows up, he's in the middle of surveying a busted security drone near the supply room that all the hostages had been stowed away in.

It takes him a moment to glance up, probably not until he sees Red's feet approach, peering up at her through his mask. ]

—Red.

[ What was she doing here... It's another, almost awkward beat before he remembers to take the bottle. ]

Did Boxer tell you...? [ Where to find him, and what had happened. ]

[tricksune]

[ The perpetual bedhead is worse after bed, go figure. He's almost tempted to smooth out some of the cowlicks himself, but gazes up towards the ceiling instead, recollecting. ]

Yes. Something like that.

[ The details are too foggy to share, anyway. Just bits of a surreal, strange retelling of all the events so far, twisted from reality as dreams are wont to do—he remembers briefly having some faceless figure melt through his grip as he tries to pick them up, their bodies eaten by smog as what's left of it slips through his fingers and disappears completely.

...He remembers Richie startling awake on their couch for much the same reason once, and wonders if this might follow him into adulthood too. But for now, it's already a distant dream; he's starting to settle. Enough that he can reach out and straighten his glasses for him. There's really no saving his hair, alas. ]

What are you doing here?

[larsenist]

[ He blinks again, eyes remaining shut for a brief moment and expression involuntarily pinched as the plastic frames are gently realigned against the bridge of his nose and over the tops of his ears. (The sensation is... odd, almost ticklish.)

Of course he immediately fusses at his spectacles again when Yusuke finishes, for no real reason. ]

Thought I'd wake you up.

[ (He's been tossing and turning a lot in his sleep, lately, though Akira doesn't say it outright. Yusuke should already know.)

He huffs quietly and shakes his head. ]

...Didn't happen though.

[tricksune]

[ He ruins his hard work as soon as he's done. Unreasonable. Akira isn't the only one who can be difficult, and this time, he flicks his glasses down to the tip of his nose to give him a Look. ]

Perhaps because you need your rest too.

[ Really, he'd be okay. It's true he hasn't slept well lately, but he doubts anyone had gotten much restful shuteye while all those people were still missing. Yusuke doesn't sound especially stern though; it's nice not to startle awake to nothing, or be left alone with his own thoughts. ]

But I appreciate the sentiment, despite your failures.

[larsenist]

[ Now he's just being TOYED with. He shakes his head, displacing his glasses from his face and back onto the bed where they'd started. What now. ]

Maybe.

[ ...He'll take Yusuke's gratitude as a small victory, he supposes. Though it doesn't send him off to his own room any quicker. ]

...After you.

[ (He'll go back after Yusuke nods off again.) Until then he remains stubbornly affixed to the side of the bed. ]

[tricksune]

[ This actual child.....

Yusuke lets out a soft huff, either laughter or exasperation, flopping onto his back again. Maybe he won't spend a few hours staring at the ceiling this time—even if they don't talk things out explicitly, he feels more at ease. ]

If you insist.

[ Mona's rubbed off on him. ]

Good night, Akira.

[larsenist]

[ They've never really been the overly-talkative sort, plenty kept to themselves in any conversation, but they usually manage to find the same wavelength anyhow. Akira's weird enough to stare until he falls asleep, and Yusuke's equally strange enough not to care—or notice in the first place.

...He's reluctant to leave him (leave things the way they are). The reason is hard to pinpoint, easy to find excuses for—or maybe the other way around.

He sighs softly to no one at all, reaching over unthinkingly and tucking aside a wayward strand of hair from Yusuke's face, before he carefully uncrumples himself from the floor. ]

...Goodnight, Yusuke.

[persistor]

[ There's a certain level of discretion, normally, for situations like this. Gazes politely averting when certain, unspeakable words get tip-toed around — in theory. Red chooses to hold Yusuke's gaze for as long as he'll allow it, her answer coming in the form of a single, grim nod. He's heard from him, in slow, but certain terms. Some details to follow up, once she pressed him for them.

It didn't sound pretty. Seeing here, she's starting to see why.

She crouches down beside Yusuke, taking in the appearance of the security drone. Exceedingly primitive compared to what she's seen, but that doesn't mean much anymore. She's not here to help, exactly, more just to make sure that no one's driving themselves to the point of exhaustion in an attempt to do something—

Her arms crawl at the sight of a brilliant, static-y white that seems to cover the edges of the drone ( or maybe her arms crawl at the same time, out of pure coincidence; she doesn't want to entertain that possibility for long ). Red's body freezes, blinking the sight away.

A trick of the light, maybe ( she hopes ). ]

that's a very rude icon for this ftr

[tricksune]

[ Look, there's better things to do than drag a body around. He could be with Red, or out looking for people, or... literally anything that isn't this. He doesn't stop Boxer as he approaches their friend (what's left of him), silent as he seems to assess. What words of comfort are there to share, anyway.

He's not sure what Boxer's looking for—Richie's long gone without a trace, yes—but if nothing else, he gives him the moment to hurt. It'd taken him some time to recover his own footing, and it seems to slip again now that he's here, right in front of the body again.

But anger is something he can relate to, a fizzle of emotion that he hasn't afforded enough time between the grief and disbelief. There's a line of tension threaded through his response as he shifts his weight, eyes narrowed slightly. ]

They were tortured.

[ Yusuke finally closes the distance for himself too, crouching and gingerly reaching out to touch the crook of his elbow, like it might scald him. On the contrary, it's not warm at all. ]

Even the survivors are battered... it's unthinkable.

[ Unjust and unkind and utterly despicable. To use people like this—he'd thought he knew human cruelty back home, but it always goes so above and beyond his expectations. His expression hardens with scorn; better anger than inaction. (Though it stings still to say survivors, somehow callous to the body in front of them right this instant.) ]

Something to be dealt with later.

[ Retribution could wait. After a pause, he tries to squirm a hand under Richie's shoulder, slowly so the skin might not rupture. ] Mind his head.

[tricksune]

[ At least she's honest. His eyes soften slightly—she'd lost a friend today, too. He'd brought Boxer here, Boxer'd taken the news back, and he's glad that he had someone to share it with who might buffer the blow. But it still means that she's taken on a bit of the burden herself. For her to still be here after... he wonders if it brings any relief to see the scene for herself. ]

I'm sorry.

[ For her loss. He's just out of sorts enough that he misreads the minutiae of her body language; the hard stare, the sudden stiffness, all of it could just be consequence of the bleakness in the lab, the suffocating atmosphere lingering even as the gas has been cleared out.

(That must be it, right...?)

It seems that something about the drone's caught her eye, though, so he explains as placidly as he can. ]

It's just a bit of clean-up and investigation left... You needn't push yourself to be here. [ He's not sure if he really anticipates the day being over, but the truth is that there isn't much left to do. ]

my range is very limited, I gotta work with what I can

[desistor]

[Torture. Not a hard sell, from the evidence, but still. Not an easy one to swallow. He's silent through the catchup and silent through the implied retribution can wait. Yusuke doesn't say as much aloud, but it's not hard to read between the lines. Can't really blame him for wanting to get even. But it's a surprisingly measured attitude from a kid. It's easy, understandable, and pretty damn dangerous to kneejerk toward the opposite. To want to even the score right away, to put things right again. Or at least to understand it, to put the pieces together, stop things for spiraling out into something far worse.

(Some fringe group, hunting people down to take their lives and use them for their own ends. For....what? The good of the city? Feels ironically familiar, in a way, once that part comes to light. Life's funny, that way.)

But...one thing at a time. No real chiding, yet, despite the sharpish studying look leveled Yusuke's way for the news, and the declaration, and everything that comes with it. (One thing at a time.) Still, carefully—]

Whole city's wise to them, now. [Ought to help this from happening again. Or...well. Here's hoping, anyway.] Ought to slow 'em down a little.

[He leaves the Transistor leaning against the wall and moves to counterbalance as Yusuke carefully shifts the body. Hesitating only briefly when the state of the body protests the treatment. Rich isn't (wasn't) too big a guy, even when he was at his best and better at keeping all in one piece. Yusuke—though wiry—is tougher than he looks. So, between the two of them, it shouldn't be too hard to get him up and out to somewhere a little more dignified than collapsed in a corner. Figure it out from there.]

On three.

One—

[Two—]

[pussywhips]

i'm so sleepy nu...but i'm coming.....

[persistor]

[ The apology seems to shake her back to reality, tearing her eyes away from the white that seems to slowly, but certainly, fade away. Listens quietly ( not like she can do much else ) while Yusuke tries to explain what's left to do, eager to ease the blow for her.

It's ... sweet. He watched Richie die in his arms, that much she knows — and from the way that Boxer acted, it's not hard to tell how bad it got. And yet, here he is.

She shakes her head — there's no need, she's the one who just got here. Finally pulls her phone out of her pocket, typing up a short message for Yusuke to read ( keeps her attention focused on the living, the real, because if she stares at the drone again who knows what she'll see ). Ignores the pain that shoots up her arm again, jaw tensing in an attempt to bite back the grimace. Red turns the screen over. ]

You probably need the

[ There's laughter that rings behind her, high, clear, playful, Sybil's. The phone clatters to the ground, as she whips her head around.

Nothing.

( You're not looking the right way, Red. ) ]

[tricksune]

[ When the world spirals out of control, like it's spinning right off its own axis and straight into the nonsensical void of space, there's a few tricks he's learned to keep himself on both feet. The first is to realize that nothing is too absurd. Life is strange. The second is to stay rational despite it. There was nothing he could do about the extremists right now. The body needs to be moved. Boxer is here to help, and he has a point—whoever did this wouldn't be able to move with the same impunity that'd let them make the kidnappings to begin with.

So, they do what they can, where they can. He shoots the same sort of look back, almost severe in its determination to get to the next step, whatever that may be. He can't say what that is, but it can't be enough of a roadblock to lose traction completely. They have to get through this day to the next, somehow.

One. Two.

—A few things happen on three. They manage to hoist up Richie's body. Yusuke feels his skin twist off his muscle, ripping under his hands.

And then, all at once, it vanishes. The corpse evaporates out of his hold wholly and completely before he can even fumble to catch it, because there was nothing to drop in the first place. The sudden disappearance has him stepping back, inertia threatening to tip him over now that nothing's weighing him down.

He keeps his balance, but his composure wipes blank. He stares at the whole lot of nothing between them for a long, long time before his gaze wobbles up to Boxer instead.

What? ]