[There's something weird about that wording, "repair me" when most people would refer to healing or treating an injury or illness, but only half-registers in the back of his mind, because the sentiment itself rubs him the wrong way and he's irrationally annoyed about it.]
Bullshit. If that were true, you wouldn't risk makin' it worse comin' out here tryin' to do this by yourself. You're hiding it.
[Which--if Tsuru wants to do that, it's none of his business. He's hardly about to meddle in this guy's relationships. But the resignation in his tone bugs him. Like he's just going to let this happen to him even if he doesn't want it to. Shinjiro had chosen his own self-destruction, had walked into it willingly; the idea of someone just suffering in silence for no reason save wanting to avoid worrying others feels infuriating.]
(His tone might be cutting but Tsurumaru is used to being cut. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't even really seem to react much at all. Instead, he keeps his same, cool composure, )
Of course, I don't want to be seen like this. It's ugly.
(In more than just an aesthetic sense,)
And ugly things are scary. Especially to sensitive spirits.
It means there are those who would understand and those who wouldn't.
(And the result is still the same in the end. But of course, speaking in cryptic riddles isn't going to clarify anything.)
... And what if no one can fix it? (Then he might as well keep it under wraps and keep himself together as long as he can as far as he's concerned.) You know, this city has a way of making extraordinary humans more ordinary.
(Taking away their powers, making them weak and boring.)
If you want to surprise me, you should tell me you're a saniwa.
[He can see shades of his own choices in this; a problem that's too big to solve, so it's easier to run. Better not to worry anyone and fade away, right? Maybe that's why it pisses him off so much--they say you always resent the people you see yourself in most, after all. But more than that, he thinks this guy doesn't want to fade away, that he's embracing it only because it feels safer than getting his hopes up. Or maybe he's just reading too much into it, but--]
What if someone can? We've got demons and priests and doctors and all kinds of people around here.
[He doesn't answer the last bit; he is nothing and nobody, as he's ever been, but that's not the point.]
Anyway, before you can figure out out who can help, you oughta start with how this happened in the first place. That's gotta be the key to undoing it.
He doesn't know. He's only ever seen this sort of damage after taking direct damage to his sword. The only way it had ever been repaired was by repairing the sword itself. He can't sense it here and when he closes his eyes and tries...
... There's just a hole that shouldn't be there. An uncomfortable nothingness that somehow manages to fill him with unease. And still, despite it all, he covers it up. If he covers it up, no one will realize the hole is empty. No one will even realize there's a hole.)
I wonder...
(He can only wonder but he won't get his hopes up. If he expects nothing, the result will be a surprise. If he can receive a surprise, he'll be surprised. And if he's surprised... then he won't be bored. And isn't the opposite of a boring life a fulfilling one? It's best this way. )
In the garden, there's a tea arrangement. (A tea party,) When I saw it... I became overcome with a need to drink.
After I drank, I began to break. (and slowly, he reaches to touch his cheek, where just the smallest chip seems to be missing.) But I couldn't feel it happen.
[He's spent maybe an unreasonable amount of time in it for how much he hates it, but he extra hates it now. Shinjiro supposes that one guy is entitled to an "I told you so" about how things were going to get worse eventually. He really hopes he gets the opportunity to punch whoever is behind all this sometime.
The last part stops him short, though; he tilts his head slightly, squinting closer at the other man like he'll figure something out if he does.]
What do you mean, "this" body? You got another one somewhere?
[Shinji's seen so much weird shit at this point, his reaction to the possibility is pretty much just this. There's a planet where some humans are descended from chickens, a person who used to be a ghost and is no longer, and apparently literal demons from hell so, why the fuck not.]
(He says lightly and cheerily, a sudden change in tone from his calmer and more resigned one before. He's really able to switch his mood at the drop of a pin. It's like one minute something is heavy on his mind, weighing him down, then next, he's normal. He's just a silly guy even if he's breaking. )
Hm... Not here. I don't think I should.
(And he goes quiet for a second, looking like he's thinking about something when he's just trying to see again if he can sense anything. He couldn't before but wouldn't it be a surprise if he could feel it now?)
...
(Brows knitting together in concentration and he laughs,)
[What is this guy's deal. Shinjiro stares at his completely unhelpful non-answer as the guy just kind of zones out with something in between impatience and irritation, and a hint of disbelief. Alright, maybe he's reading all this wrong and the guy really doesn't care what happens to him as long as it doesn't freak other people out, which -- in Shinjiro's opinion, is absurd, but fine. Whatever, guy. Die, don't die, see if he cares.
(He cares. A lot. Against his will, for the most part.)
A hand comes up to scrub at his face.]
Tch. Nevermind. Look -- if the problem got caused by the tea party, maybe that's what'll fix it. Was there anything else there besides the cups?
[Ugh, the fucking flowers. The idea of getting anywhere near them while in the presence of someone else seems like the worst time, actually, but...mmm.]
Well, shit.
[...]
[Fuck, alright.]
Nothin' in this city's tried to kill us before. So it could be one of those stupid bonding things, like in the bank or the mall. Maybe you need to go back and drink with someone to make it stop? Or... it wants you to talk about the flower shit?
(He says and it's hard to really tell if he's speaking for himself or teasing Shinji because he gives him a playful smile,)
Right?
(And he lets out a loud and bright laugh,)
I've been told I'm bad at talking. (He's cryptic, he's vague, he talks in riddles and poems, he's indirect, he makes a point of being difficult to understand... he's been told it all before.) Let's hope it isn't.
("Let's" he says, agreeing to go along with Shinji. He recognizes when he's being helped when he needs it. He can try to be a little easier to deal with.)
... Be careful.
(The last thing he wants is for Shinji to also end up messed up.)
cw reference to depression/death wish/attempted murder
[Literally, though? Tfw you would've let a preteen murder you because you saw no better solution to your crippling self-loathing and guilt than to simply die. A trauma counselor of some kind in SEES would've probably solved a lot of problems tbh.
The laugh feels embarrassing, somehow, like the prospect isn't as uncomfortable for the other man, despite what he says. He rolls a shoulder in a motion that should be casual but comes off looking more awkward than anything.]
Yeah. That makes two of us.
[But Tsuru is agreeing to head back to the garden, and so, bracing himself for whatever nonsense he might have to deal with from the plants or otherwise, starts leading the way. He's not even really sure what he's doing, honestly, so much as he got invested in this whole situation and now he feels the need to see it through. Hopefully if they figure out how to fix it, they can just never speak of this again? That'd be nice.
Once they arrive, he starts looking around the table for anything strange or out of place, but indeed, all he sees are the tea pots, and the empty cups.]
You remember which one you drank from?
[Now that he's standing close, the compulsion is starting to nag at the back of his own thoughts, to go ahead and just trial and error this thing already. But there's no good being reckless and getting them both killed.]
(Empty tea cups where before they had been full. The tea pots are surely full, though and he feels that unnatural compulsion gnawing at his spirit. It makes him want to pour himself another cup and he finds himself reaching to grab onto Shinjiro's sleeve. He needs to ground himself but likewise, he needs to keep Shinjiro from also giving into the impulse. His fingers are stiff and he can't hold on very tight but the way he can feel them creak is enough to snap him back to attention for now, )
It was bitter and strong.
(And he looks over. He recognizes the cup he'd drunk from by its design and in it, traces of a black tea remain. His mouth goes dry and he tightens his grip on Shinjiro and it hurts to move his hand like this and he grits his teeth,)
[Tsuru grabs his sleeve, and it is perhaps testament to Shinjiro's concern about the situation that he doesn't immediately pull away. It's such a wounded, vulnerable action that it stirs the protective instincts Shinjiro's constantly trying to trample under his heel and pretend don't exist. Subtly enough that it could've been the result of his natural motion, the back of his hand bumps against Tsuru's shoulder in something neighboring reassurance--unacknowledged in either words or expression.
He opens the lid off each pot, then, though he's careful to step away once he's opened them all, and looks over the set, frowning.]
Guess it'd be too simple if there was a white tea of some kind. So -- red, yellow, blue, green orange ... what goes with black?
[He really, genuinely, tries to think about this for a minute, before he sighs, scrubbing at his face.]
Really ain't any good at this kinda shit. Yamagishi or Kirijou could've probably figured it out...dammit, I've got nothin'.
[He's about to start anxiously pacing, better let go if you don't wanna accidentally get dragged, Tsuru...]
White. (Which is the exact color that Shinjiro had guessed. But if he thinks about that person he has to smile a little to himself and add,) ... Red.
(But the moment he says it, there's this feeling gnawing at the back of his mind, urging him to try the red one, then. He takes this as proof that it isn't the one he should be drinking.
Luckily, he doesn't have to linger for much longer because Shinjiro begins to lead the way and he lets himself be dragged for a bit. He doesn't mind. Despite his whimsical and almost uncontrollable nature, he's actually quite used to going along with others. This time, he can choose to go of his own volition instead of being dragged around against his will.
Here, we have Shinjiro thinking so hard, trying to find a way to help and Tsurumaru can't help but be fascinated by it. How very human, he thinks, to see someone in need and want to help even if things might be hopeless. It's one of the better traits humans have and though he seems old enough to be a man.... maybe he's still good.
Maybe it's okay to admit--)
This type of injury... it's like my true form is damaged. (He doesn't want to get his hopes up. He can't expect anything.) Around here, there may be...
(But if he says it, it makes his hopes true.)
... A sword.
(So where is it? There aren't many places to hide a sword in this garden unless it's further out. There's clearly nothing under the table but not to far away... there is a shelf.)
[He's tempted to try it himself, black and then red, to see if they cancel each other out, but Amada being in this place makes everything more complicated. The notion of just leaving the kid alone again without warning if something happens to him twists at his stomach.
(And, reluctantly, he's willing to admit to himself that it'd be kind of horrible to watch someone die from trying to help you, regardless of how little Shinjiro cares about his own well-being)
So he's pacing, pondering if there's some trick to this, like if you're supposed to mix the teas or if you should pour them somewhere or what, when Tsurumaru speaks up again. Shinjiro slows at first, then stops as the words sink in. "I can only feel this body", he'd said. His true form is a sword. That's...well, that's a new one in this place, he supposes. But truly, why not? It's not like there aren't plenty of stories about tsukumogami back in Japan. He's seen much weirder at this point than a possessed sword having a human form.]
I definitely don't know how to reforge a sword or anything, for the record. But it's a big city. Someone can probably do it. [...] Don't have to say it's for you.
[Since he gets the feeling this guy would prefer people to assume he's human, based on how this situation has gone down.
...But all that's immaterial if he doesn't find the sword, so it's time to get looking. There doesn't seem to be anything buried within the nearby plants, but ... that sure is a shelf, over there. Is it large enough to fit a sword in? Maybe. Time to start opening some drawers!]
(It isn't so much that it's a secret and more that in this particular situation, the thought that his sword may be close has his hopes raised and he hates being disappointed. He'd rather have a broken sword than no sword at all. At least then he would feel whole again after all this time.
While Shinjiro looks through the cabinet, Tsurumaru tries to help. He moves more slowly, careful not to worse his own condition but when Shinjiro opens the drawers he'll find packets of seeds. The names are faded and worn but the colors are still easy enough to see.
Red. Yellow. Green. Blue. Black.
Each color corresponds with a different tea. )
Those packs. (It's too much of a coincidence,) Do they say anything?
Shinjiro looks at the color-coded packets, turning them over in his hands, holding them up to the light, anything that might reveal some kind of clue as to how they're related to the tea.]
Tch. Squat.
[He tips out a couple of the seeds into his palm to try to examine them as well, but as far as he can tell, they just look ordinary???]
Maybe you're supposed to plant 'em? Some kinda ... bullshit circle of life metaphor or some shit. I dunno.
(He cranes his neck and tries to look. The writing is so faded that the only clue they have is the colors of the packets.)
And wait a whole season...?
(Like this? He sounds disappointed, like a child hearing he has to do something boring but really, he's frustrated. He can't stay like this for a season. He'll surely break apart by then.)
Most medicine comes from plants. (There are some traditional medicines that can come from animals but most are from plants.) Flowers, leaves, roots, bark, and even seeds...
(With bandaged fingers, he reaches out to clumsily take one and hold it up. There's no compulsion to consume it. If compulsion was an effect of something dangerous like the tea, could this be a safer option...? Or "nothing?")
I don't want to eat it. It must be safe then, right?
[Shinjiro cringes just faintly at 'wait a whole season', because no, that's not a good solution at all, it's just. The best he could think of.
But then the other man comes up with another idea, and ... well. There's only really two possibilities, here. It'll fix things, or it'll make them worse. And when even the worst-case scenario means waking back up on the train the next day...ugh. He's not entirely unaware of the hypocrisy to the thought that it's probably better than doing nothing and wasting away slowly, but things like this always seem to matter less when they're about him than others.]
...Who knows. ["Maybe that's what they want you to think", etc.] But if it's a choice between death and maybe-not-death, not like you can really go wrong tryin' it.
(Eyes linger on the seed, his expression thoughtful and curiously at peace despite the situation. It's hard to read. Is he worried or not? )
I'm Tsurumaru.
(In all of this, he'd never introduced himself and now seems like the best time. Unprompted, at a sudden time, without any further explanation. And he reaches to take some more of the seeds from Shinjiro,)
I wonder what other surprises will await me today. (He looks over at Shinjiro, a calm smile on his face,) I hope its fun.
(Suddenly, he tosses the seeds into his mouth and swallows.)
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no subject
Bullshit. If that were true, you wouldn't risk makin' it worse comin' out here tryin' to do this by yourself. You're hiding it.
[Which--if Tsuru wants to do that, it's none of his business. He's hardly about to meddle in this guy's relationships. But the resignation in his tone bugs him. Like he's just going to let this happen to him even if he doesn't want it to. Shinjiro had chosen his own self-destruction, had walked into it willingly; the idea of someone just suffering in silence for no reason save wanting to avoid worrying others feels infuriating.]
no subject
Of course, I don't want to be seen like this. It's ugly.
(In more than just an aesthetic sense,)
And ugly things are scary. Especially to sensitive spirits.
no subject
[Sensitive spirits? Is that a weird way to refer to people, or something more specific? Ugh. It doesn't matter.]
If you wanna go off and die on your own, whatever, that's your business, but if you're actually lookin' to get anything fixed, hiding it's stupid.
no subject
(And the result is still the same in the end. But of course, speaking in cryptic riddles isn't going to clarify anything.)
... And what if no one can fix it? (Then he might as well keep it under wraps and keep himself together as long as he can as far as he's concerned.) You know, this city has a way of making extraordinary humans more ordinary.
(Taking away their powers, making them weak and boring.)
If you want to surprise me, you should tell me you're a saniwa.
(A "sage." A "diviner." A "sacred judge." )
no subject
What if someone can? We've got demons and priests and doctors and all kinds of people around here.
[He doesn't answer the last bit; he is nothing and nobody, as he's ever been, but that's not the point.]
Anyway, before you can figure out out who can help, you oughta start with how this happened in the first place. That's gotta be the key to undoing it.
no subject
He doesn't know. He's only ever seen this sort of damage after taking direct damage to his sword. The only way it had ever been repaired was by repairing the sword itself. He can't sense it here and when he closes his eyes and tries...
... There's just a hole that shouldn't be there. An uncomfortable nothingness that somehow manages to fill him with unease. And still, despite it all, he covers it up. If he covers it up, no one will realize the hole is empty. No one will even realize there's a hole.)
I wonder...
(He can only wonder but he won't get his hopes up. If he expects nothing, the result will be a surprise. If he can receive a surprise, he'll be surprised. And if he's surprised... then he won't be bored. And isn't the opposite of a boring life a fulfilling one? It's best this way. )
In the garden, there's a tea arrangement. (A tea party,) When I saw it... I became overcome with a need to drink.
After I drank, I began to break. (and slowly, he reaches to touch his cheek, where just the smallest chip seems to be missing.) But I couldn't feel it happen.
I still only feel this body.
no subject
[He's spent maybe an unreasonable amount of time in it for how much he hates it, but he extra hates it now. Shinjiro supposes that one guy is entitled to an "I told you so" about how things were going to get worse eventually. He really hopes he gets the opportunity to punch whoever is behind all this sometime.
The last part stops him short, though; he tilts his head slightly, squinting closer at the other man like he'll figure something out if he does.]
What do you mean, "this" body? You got another one somewhere?
[Shinji's seen so much weird shit at this point, his reaction to the possibility is pretty much just this. There's a planet where some humans are descended from chickens, a person who used to be a ghost and is no longer, and apparently literal demons from hell so, why the fuck not.]
no subject
(He says lightly and cheerily, a sudden change in tone from his calmer and more resigned one before. He's really able to switch his mood at the drop of a pin. It's like one minute something is heavy on his mind, weighing him down, then next, he's normal. He's just a silly guy even if he's breaking. )
Hm... Not here. I don't think I should.
(And he goes quiet for a second, looking like he's thinking about something when he's just trying to see again if he can sense anything. He couldn't before but wouldn't it be a surprise if he could feel it now?)
...
(Brows knitting together in concentration and he laughs,)
Nope! Nothing! For better or worse.
no subject
(He cares. A lot. Against his will, for the most part.)
A hand comes up to scrub at his face.]
Tch. Nevermind. Look -- if the problem got caused by the tea party, maybe that's what'll fix it. Was there anything else there besides the cups?
no subject
(And he shakes his head. Truth be told, he didn't sticka around for very long because--)
The longer I was there, the more I wanted to drink.
(And he holds up one damaged hand. It was best to just get out of there before he totally wrecked himself.)
no subject
Well, shit.
[...]
[Fuck, alright.]
Nothin' in this city's tried to kill us before. So it could be one of those stupid bonding things, like in the bank or the mall. Maybe you need to go back and drink with someone to make it stop? Or... it wants you to talk about the flower shit?
[A beat, then a little groan.]
I hope it's not that one.
no subject
(He says and it's hard to really tell if he's speaking for himself or teasing Shinji because he gives him a playful smile,)
Right?
(And he lets out a loud and bright laugh,)
I've been told I'm bad at talking. (He's cryptic, he's vague, he talks in riddles and poems, he's indirect, he makes a point of being difficult to understand... he's been told it all before.) Let's hope it isn't.
("Let's" he says, agreeing to go along with Shinji. He recognizes when he's being helped when he needs it. He can try to be a little easier to deal with.)
... Be careful.
(The last thing he wants is for Shinji to also end up messed up.)
cw reference to depression/death wish/attempted murder
The laugh feels embarrassing, somehow, like the prospect isn't as uncomfortable for the other man, despite what he says. He rolls a shoulder in a motion that should be casual but comes off looking more awkward than anything.]
Yeah. That makes two of us.
[But Tsuru is agreeing to head back to the garden, and so, bracing himself for whatever nonsense he might have to deal with from the plants or otherwise, starts leading the way. He's not even really sure what he's doing, honestly, so much as he got invested in this whole situation and now he feels the need to see it through. Hopefully if they figure out how to fix it, they can just never speak of this again? That'd be nice.
Once they arrive, he starts looking around the table for anything strange or out of place, but indeed, all he sees are the tea pots, and the empty cups.]
You remember which one you drank from?
[Now that he's standing close, the compulsion is starting to nag at the back of his own thoughts, to go ahead and just trial and error this thing already. But there's no good being reckless and getting them both killed.]
no subject
It was bitter and strong.
(And he looks over. He recognizes the cup he'd drunk from by its design and in it, traces of a black tea remain. His mouth goes dry and he tightens his grip on Shinjiro and it hurts to move his hand like this and he grits his teeth,)
Black.
no subject
He opens the lid off each pot, then, though he's careful to step away once he's opened them all, and looks over the set, frowning.]
Guess it'd be too simple if there was a white tea of some kind. So -- red, yellow, blue, green orange ... what goes with black?
[He really, genuinely, tries to think about this for a minute, before he sighs, scrubbing at his face.]
Really ain't any good at this kinda shit. Yamagishi or Kirijou could've probably figured it out...dammit, I've got nothin'.
[He's about to start anxiously pacing, better let go if you don't wanna accidentally get dragged, Tsuru...]
no subject
(But the moment he says it, there's this feeling gnawing at the back of his mind, urging him to try the red one, then. He takes this as proof that it isn't the one he should be drinking.
Luckily, he doesn't have to linger for much longer because Shinjiro begins to lead the way and he lets himself be dragged for a bit. He doesn't mind. Despite his whimsical and almost uncontrollable nature, he's actually quite used to going along with others. This time, he can choose to go of his own volition instead of being dragged around against his will.
Here, we have Shinjiro thinking so hard, trying to find a way to help and Tsurumaru can't help but be fascinated by it. How very human, he thinks, to see someone in need and want to help even if things might be hopeless. It's one of the better traits humans have and though he seems old enough to be a man.... maybe he's still good.
Maybe it's okay to admit--)
This type of injury... it's like my true form is damaged. (He doesn't want to get his hopes up. He can't expect anything.) Around here, there may be...
(But if he says it, it makes his hopes true.)
... A sword.
(So where is it? There aren't many places to hide a sword in this garden unless it's further out. There's clearly nothing under the table but not to far away... there is a shelf.)
no subject
(And, reluctantly, he's willing to admit to himself that it'd be kind of horrible to watch someone die from trying to help you, regardless of how little Shinjiro cares about his own well-being)
So he's pacing, pondering if there's some trick to this, like if you're supposed to mix the teas or if you should pour them somewhere or what, when Tsurumaru speaks up again. Shinjiro slows at first, then stops as the words sink in. "I can only feel this body", he'd said. His true form is a sword. That's...well, that's a new one in this place, he supposes. But truly, why not? It's not like there aren't plenty of stories about tsukumogami back in Japan. He's seen much weirder at this point than a possessed sword having a human form.]
I definitely don't know how to reforge a sword or anything, for the record. But it's a big city. Someone can probably do it. [...] Don't have to say it's for you.
[Since he gets the feeling this guy would prefer people to assume he's human, based on how this situation has gone down.
...But all that's immaterial if he doesn't find the sword, so it's time to get looking. There doesn't seem to be anything buried within the nearby plants, but ... that sure is a shelf, over there. Is it large enough to fit a sword in? Maybe. Time to start opening some drawers!]
no subject
(It isn't so much that it's a secret and more that in this particular situation, the thought that his sword may be close has his hopes raised and he hates being disappointed. He'd rather have a broken sword than no sword at all. At least then he would feel whole again after all this time.
While Shinjiro looks through the cabinet, Tsurumaru tries to help. He moves more slowly, careful not to worse his own condition but when Shinjiro opens the drawers he'll find packets of seeds. The names are faded and worn but the colors are still easy enough to see.
Red.
Yellow.
Green.
Blue.
Black.
Each color corresponds with a different tea. )
Those packs. (It's too much of a coincidence,) Do they say anything?
no subject
Shinjiro looks at the color-coded packets, turning them over in his hands, holding them up to the light, anything that might reveal some kind of clue as to how they're related to the tea.]
Tch. Squat.
[He tips out a couple of the seeds into his palm to try to examine them as well, but as far as he can tell, they just look ordinary???]
Maybe you're supposed to plant 'em? Some kinda ... bullshit circle of life metaphor or some shit. I dunno.
no subject
(He cranes his neck and tries to look. The writing is so faded that the only clue they have is the colors of the packets.)
And wait a whole season...?
(Like this? He sounds disappointed, like a child hearing he has to do something boring but really, he's frustrated. He can't stay like this for a season. He'll surely break apart by then.)
Most medicine comes from plants. (There are some traditional medicines that can come from animals but most are from plants.) Flowers, leaves, roots, bark, and even seeds...
(With bandaged fingers, he reaches out to clumsily take one and hold it up. There's no compulsion to consume it. If compulsion was an effect of something dangerous like the tea, could this be a safer option...? Or "nothing?")
I don't want to eat it. It must be safe then, right?
no subject
But then the other man comes up with another idea, and ... well. There's only really two possibilities, here. It'll fix things, or it'll make them worse. And when even the worst-case scenario means waking back up on the train the next day...ugh. He's not entirely unaware of the hypocrisy to the thought that it's probably better than doing nothing and wasting away slowly, but things like this always seem to matter less when they're about him than others.]
...Who knows. ["Maybe that's what they want you to think", etc.] But if it's a choice between death and maybe-not-death, not like you can really go wrong tryin' it.
no subject
I'm Tsurumaru.
(In all of this, he'd never introduced himself and now seems like the best time. Unprompted, at a sudden time, without any further explanation. And he reaches to take some more of the seeds from Shinjiro,)
I wonder what other surprises will await me today. (He looks over at Shinjiro, a calm smile on his face,) I hope its fun.
(Suddenly, he tosses the seeds into his mouth and swallows.)