citylogs | [ semi-open ] your faith walks on broken glass

[He can't fucking sleep. It's not great on a normal day, but as the date on his calendar creeps closer to October, he gets more and more restless. It's either insomnia or nightmares, both on the worst nights, and the first time he wakes on the fourth he gives up on the notion of staying in bed entirely. Better not to risk the next time he wakes up to be with screams that wake Amada.

He slips out without making breakfast for once, too worn out to go through the motions, even of something he enjoys. There's cereal and milk, at least, and bread for sandwiches. Guilt seeps in at the idea of leaving Amada on his own (again) but it's been an ever-present companion sticking to his bones all this time. What's one more thing to feel shitty about among the rest. All he knows is he's not ready to face him yet, not like this, without the lance at his throat. The weight of the olive branch being extended is too heavy, threatening to crush him where he stands. So he runs from it, wanders the city without a destination in mind, and winds up in a strange garden. It's beautiful, and quiet, and perhaps that should've been his cue to leave, because he doesn't deserve peace like that, anyway -- something the flowers are quick to remind him. He's angry, initially. There's a blooming bruise on his knuckles where he made an ill-advised choice to punch the glass. By the time he's made it halfway to the exit, the insults have wormed their way under his skin, and his pace slows with each new comment.

Coward, they jeer. Too afraid to live, but too weak to commit to dying. Drawing out everyone's suffering for nothing at all in the end. If they were all going to end up being there anyway, you should've had done with it two years sooner.]

Shut up...shut up already. You think I don't know?

[Ever wonder if Amada had to help drag your corpse through the streets? Too bad you weren't the one crushed with the house that day, huh. Would've saved everyone a lot of trouble.

It's ironic -- after some time, the ache of hearing it grows almost welcome. Nobody else is willing to accept these things as true, after all. Not even Amada will hate him anymore.

Eventually, though, he hears footsteps, from his spot where he's hunched in on himself in the middle of the path, and he blinks up at them like he's been sitting in a dark room for hours and someone just flicked on the light switch.]

...You should get outta here. This is a shitty place to explore.

[Says the guy who's still here by choice just to suffer some more. Pushing people away would never protect them from you anyway. It's already too late.]

Edited 2023-10-05 23:46 (UTC)

[ brighter than a light switch is don quixote as ever, her gaze curious but without judgement of the flower's words -- they murmur and mumble once she's close to them herself, not quite loud enough to be heard, but there's snatches (dishonest and clinging) whispered for now. the hunched form of shinjiro reminds her of heine only a few months ago and she does what she did then:

she stops a few feet from him, taking a seat with her legs crossed. going nowhere. ]

'Tis even worse to explore alone, Young Shinjiro.

[ a little chiding, maybe, and the flowers may laugh, may giggle in her voice at the hypocrisy she always has in doing just the same, but that's fine. if it's true, she can't get mad over someone else pointing it out.

don still will over certain things, but she'd be no better than the fools who get mad when she throws a glove down to fight. ]

They are right, however! It is much too late to worry about pushing others away in an effort to protect them -- does that not hurt more?

[ himself, herself. reaching out a hand only to have it smacked away -- it hurts, doesn't it? not that thou'rt any different, a flower comments snidely on don quixote's own person. how oft have thee held thy tongue to "protect" another?

more than once, despite her boisterous attitude and tendency to babble. ]

[Shinjiro looks genuinely terrible by the time Don finds him, the worst she's ever likely seen him. He seems simultaneously like he hasn't slept or eaten in days and like he's about to be sick; his breathing's unsteady, like he's been fighting off a panic attack, and his eyes are unfocused and distant, faraway. It hasn't been this bad since he staggered to Kitsuragi's doorstep after having laid Don's own body to rest that one time, and while the evidence of the scars he hides is often visible while interacting with him in the day to day, the wounds themselves are generally well-buried. On this day, they're entirely too close to the surface.

Don doesn't go, though; she sits down by his side instead, not too close but eminently nearby, and his stomach drops in that sense of anxious denial he's felt ever since she first uttered the word "friend". The flowers aren't wrong when they say it's too late; she cares about him already, and there's nothing he can do to stop her. Shinjiro leans heavily against his own knees at the realization. He never wanted...any of this.

The silence has dragged too long. He looks up, exhausted slate eyes meeting Don's, and the breath he lets out is too soft and tired to be a sigh, but it's a close thing.]

S'like...ripping off a bandaid. Hurt a little in one go to keep it from aching a lot, over a long time.

[You mean, like you did to Aki? Two years bleeding free, who knows how long it'll take to even scar over, let alone heal.

--Breathe, Aragaki. In, out, in. Steady, like Kitsuragi showed you.]

Or at least, that's the way it was supposed to be.

Such a thing cannot happen when friendship... nay, when others' hearts are involved, for thy blossoms are right: it leaves naught but a gaping wound in its place. But thee know that.

[ ...

she knows, after all, that the flowers say things they don't want to hear or admit. don relieves shinjiro of her stern gaze as it lands onto the ground instead, finger coming out to draw shapes against the flooring. ]

Moreso when the person allows it not to heal, when they continue to pick at it wondering why it had been torn so soon when they'd had their own bandages to offer in return. [ how oft have thee refused it? they ask her, whispers loud as a stage, a more casual tone peeking in mockingly, you truly are one to talk of friendships, when you don't even--

don speaks louder over them. ] I do not know what ails thee so, Shinjiro, but I should like to understand -- it is something that thou hath not forgiven thyself for, that much is certain, and while I will not forgive thee for that which is not mine to forgive I should still... I should still like to understand, and to offer that salve which thee plainly deny thyself.

[He'd tried to make it easier. He'd tried to pull away, but Aki wouldn't let him go, and he could never bring himself to directly sever those last threads between them. He never wanted to leave anyone to bleed, had always meant his distance to become an anesthetic to dull the pain when he reached his inevitable end.

Neither she or the flowers are wrong, though, and it frustrates him, because he still thinks he did the right thing, or as close to the right thing as there was left for him to do, so why does it feel so awful to think about it? It's a strange and contradictory sensation, holding no regret for those particular decisions while licked by the fires of guilt all the same. She offers him salve, and it's his instinct to reject it out of hand; he has grown tired of having his blame absolved, mitigated, covered up -- the weight of his mistakes weighs down his back and threatens to crush his lungs against the floor of the greenhouse.

He's so, so, tired. For once, the strength to keep up his walls saps from him, and he just...relents.]

...I did tell you there was someone who shouldn't've died the way they did.

[He closes his eyes, breathes out a proper sigh, this time.]

It was my fault. And her kid watched it happen.

[. . . .]

Today's the anniversary.

[ ... today, huh. and he sought to be alone in the worst place whether he knew it or not.

don's eyes lift back to him in quiet understand before her hand reaches out to grasp whatever hem she can. a small weight of existence. it is, however, enough to settle the flowers and their odd desire for others to touch one another. ]

Do thee wish to be punished for thy presumed wickedness, my friend?

[ an honest question. this is a kind of salve too, for she's seen how guilt weighs on others. ]

If so, answer quick. As one ever in eternal servitude to her Lady Justice, I shall offer what thee seek. In what way is it thy fault? Did thee strike her with intent? If an accident, is thine attitude an attempt at reparation?

[The question feels a little like being dunked in cold water, air rushing from his lungs as breaks through the surface. Nobody's ever really asked him that, in those words, and he can't even deny to himself that he'd like the answer to be yes.

...Except it's not that simple, of course. Dedicated to justice or not, there's little meaning to a punishment from someone who has nothing to do with his world, with SEES, with Amada. Even if she killed him, he'd come back, she'd suffer the consequence of killing him, and he'd be leaving Amada alone again, if only for the night. So he doesn't know the answer to her question. He hasn't been able to figure out what he wants out of this epilogue of sorts on a life he'd stopped living years ago since he first woke up on that train, and as the months have stretched on, he's found it increasingly more difficult to hold himself entirely apart. He never asked for this second chance, never wanted anything more than to close the chapter on his own miserable existence with as little collateral damage as possible, and he was only partially successful at even that much, but at least it had been over.

Now it isn't. And there's nothing left for him to do, no end to strive for when even death no longer sticks. All he has is to live, and maybe that's the cruelest punishment of all.

She grasps at the edge of his sleeve, and it's perhaps testament to how exhausted he is that he doesn't pull back, doesn't reclaim his space from her. He just stands there statue still, only the sound of his shaky breathing as evidence to life clinging to his veins.

Despite what she asks, he doesn't answer readily.]

I didn't mean to hurt her, no. But that doesn't change anything. And I already know I can't repay shit. I told you before I shouldn't even be here anymore.

And yet thou hath not a choice in the matter.

[ because she knows that even if she kills him, he'll come back -- missing something, perhaps even the very memory that sinks guilt into his heart. ever a potent venom if she knew one. her grip tightens and she steps more into his space. ]

Remorse bleeds from thee. Atonement is not beyond thy reach -- one may not feel they deserve a second chance, but that is not thine to decide. Nor is it mine.

[ of course not. would that she could, because he does not seem a bad man to her even now; he hadn't meant to, and he had wallowed in self-loathing since. his atonement being death? she'd seen all kinds of cowards 'til now, though they clung to life desperately before her lance had sundered their skulls. ]

Her child would be the one to decide such a fate, if any. Though I suppose it might be difficult to find them if they have gone far... if they should turn up here at all. But it is a decision that thee must respect nonetheless, and adhere to: that is what is "right", Shinjiro. Accept what thou hath been given until that moment, and live until otherwise told. Can thee not?

[A muscle jumps in his jaw at atonement is not beyond thy reach; it rubs too close to the sort of thing Aki always says, and the only thing that really stays his temper in the moment is her acknowledgment that the one who really holds the right to judge him, to hate him, is Amada. He exhales out the frustration, a harsh rush of air that does nothing to make him seem less worn out as the anger drains away.]

He's already here, actually. ...Look, it's--complicated. He did want me dead, back then.

[So much so that he was ready to give up on his own life the moment he realized that Shinjiro was already dying and so revenge would be meaningless.]

But to him, I've already been in the ground a couple years, and now things're different. Hell, he's acting like what happened to me was on him, when the way things went down was my fault, too.

[He draws his knees in to his chest, then, her grip on his sleeve the only lingering tether between them, and when he speaks next he sounds almost angry, but there's too deep an undercurrent of misery there for anger to be the full story.]

...Gettin' real tired of people tellin' me to move on with my life, though. Just wipe it all away like nothing ever happened, right? Like it's that fucking simple.

[ so then it's settled, is it not?

it seems simple, to her. but she knows from the various trips into the memories of her fellows that it is not so simple. still, she can't fully get rid of that line of thought from her mind, and after a moment don shakes her head. ]

One can live with their shortcomings while not being consumed by them. In the end, the one whom cannot forgive thee is thyself.

[ just like yi sang. that'd taken so much more time to undo, and it was ultimately something he had to do himself; the sinners were at his side, at his back, but they were nothing but a safety net for him. just in case he fell, there would be someone to catch him, set him back on his feet, for him to try again.

maybe it's a little gracious to give them that much. but surely, that is how yi sang felt in the moment. her hand drops away from him, though in return she scoots a little closer, turning so their backs are to each other. there's always a small comfort in letting people hide their grief, their anger.

still. she can't help the own shake of her voice, passion held in check by the minor irritation of her words, her intentions misunderstood -- to no fault of shinjiro's own, to no fault of her own, it's simply how humanity is. ]

I am not saying to wipe thy slate clean. That would be wrong, for both the deceased and the ones they have left behind. But I see little point in living so miserably when it would seem the world is giving thee chance after chance to not do so, and to find ways to ensure such incidents cannot happen again -- without forsaking those who would see thee better, many who do not know but perhaps would accept thee nonetheless as I have. To live is to make mistakes, some graver than most. But that does not mean we must be defined by them.

[ -- breathe, breathe. ]

Do thee understand? If I must make it plainer still, I shall.

[Ken didn't need to know where Shinjiro was. Not when a certain date was approaching. Realizing that he might need some space, he didn't talk to him at first about it as he knew his teammate wasn't a talker. Still, that didn't stop him from being a little worried when he didn't see him that morning.

Upon walking around, he didn't seem to see Shinjiro anywhere in sight. At first, he wondered he really should leave him alone. While there was a time and place to finally discuss what needed to be said after 2 years, he also knew that such a sensitive topic had to be given some time. Ken had (mostly) made peace with what happened but for Shinjiro? Everything was still so new to him.

Just as he was about to go back, he found himself in a strange garden as well. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except that he happened to see a rather familiar looking person.]

Aragaki-san....?

[He said in a low whisper before he walked toward him. As he did so, he tilted his head to the side. Who was he talking to? Was everything okay? With his worries, that just made him go to his side.]

Are you-

[He said before raising an eyebrow or two.]

...But what about yourself?

[He flinches when he hears that voice, not bothering to look up. The concern in the younger boy's voice feels like a knife, digging into the old wounds and twisting, and the worst part is that Shinjiro can tell it's all entirely earnest. Every time he has to face the fact that the kid doesn't hate him anymore, it feels like a blow all over again. Another reminder of the fact that he has no true excuse not to move on anymore, except how can he? If he lets it go...it really will be like nothing ever happened. Doesn't she deserve more than that? He doesn't have the right to start over.]

M'fine. Don't worry about me.

[He's really not, cackles one plant. He's using this place as an excuse to hurt himself, because nobody else will.]

You don't need to stick around and hear this shit.

[Well, we are just a replacement for Amada's hatred, after all, croons another. Isn't it sad that he misses it? Really pathetic.

It's at this point that Shinjiro grabs one of the pots in a panic, attempting to smash it against the wall, but it doesn't break. The flowers simply laugh.]

[All those voices he hears, was this really what Shinjiro was truly thinking? Ken had long gotten over his hate for his teammate but he never realized it was to this extent. Biting his bottom lip, it hurt. It hurts a lot knowing how much pain Shinjiro was in. Especially now that he could see his side of things.

Immediately, he rushes over to his side once he smashes the pot.]

What if I want to?

[And yet, he also couldn't help but hear a few whispers himself from the plants.]

Let's get out of here, the both of us.

[What makes you think he'll take it? What makes you think he forgives you? one whispers. As they whisper such words, Ken couldn't help but wince a little.]

[What if he wants to, huh. Shinjiro can't imagine why. He already doesn't understand the kid not hating him anymore, but he especially doesn't understand this. Dealing with him and his bullshit on this day, of all days? It doesn't make sense.

He's about to say not like I can stop you, I guess when the kid switches tracks and suggests they both leave instead, and he...feels even less sure how to deal with that. It's one thing to pretend that it's not weird to hang out like normal on other days, but ...

He sighs, scrubbing at his face. It'd be shitty of him to make the kid be the one to have to coax him out of here, when the plants aren't wrong about why he hasn't been able to bring himself to leave.]

Yeah, let's go.

[Amada's wasting his time, another taunts, right between them both, It's obvious he'll just be back later.

Shinjiro grits his teeth, stamping on the offending plant as he keeps walking, even as it continues to jeer.]

Edited 2023-10-10 00:33 (UTC)

[It was getting harder to Shinjiro to stay here. Trying his best to ignore the comments, he gestured him toward the entrance. And yet, Ken had to admit, it was getting difficult for himself as well hearing all those words. He wasn't wasting his time, he knew that Shinjiro was suffering and that he needed some help. It was hard as he wished to say something to them.

But he knows it's no use.

He's lying, he's waiting for the right moment to attack him. One said before giggling. It's only a matter of time!

Or perhaps he's just taking it slow, that's the best way to get revenge! Another said.]

...Let's hurry, I think the both of us need it.

[He said rather forcibly before giving a long sigh. With each passing second, it was getting more frustrating to not shout and say something. There was only so much he could do and this seemed to be the only option.]

I'll go with you whenever you are ready.

[Shinjiro's not even sure who these last flowers are taunting with that one. If it's supposed to be him, joke's on the damn flowers, honestly. He's not afraid of the kid taking his revenge any more now than he was back then. And if it's Amada's insecurities they're coming at...

Well. Oddly, he's almost a little offended? There's plenty of reason, in his opinion, to hate him, but the notion that he would ever even consider harming Amada is absurd to him. He'd die first--he did die first, and he had no regrets about that. Really, the only thing he resents now is that things didn't end there.

I'll go with you whenever you're ready, Amada says, and now Shinjiro can't help but hesitate. It had come up the day Amada had arrived, too, but maybe the kid's buried his resentment in his own guilt and projected it onto him.]

You don't gotta do this, you know. Try to convince yourself you're okay with me, or like you owe me shit because I died. I told you already, takin' that bullet's the only good thing I ever did with my life. I've got no regrets about that.

[It's true!, chitters the nearest flower. He only wants to hurt himself. The more others are kind to him, the worse it gets!]

...Fuck this. C'mon.

[Whether or not they talk, or just give each other space or walk away for good, he can't deal with it in here, with Amada hearing every word.]

I’m not doing this because I feel like I owe you anything.

[He said almost immediately. He didn't mean to, but he just blurted it out without thinking because it was true. Ken knows that Shinjiro would probably feel guilty knowing how kind he was being to him. While there was a part of him was aware that he was doing it because he felt guilty for what Shinjiro did. However, he wondered if what he'll say next really upset him. Either way, he knows he has to be honest.

As he took a deep breath in, he was prepared for any kind of backlash.]

I'm doing this because you're my friend.

[A part of Ken does see Shinjiro as his mother's killer but it was an accident. Nothing more and nothing less. Still, hearing those words from the plants, he just wonders what they'll say upon hearing them.

Either way, he takes a step forward before looking back at him.]

Edited 2023-10-11 17:48 (UTC)

[He openly flinches. Whatever he may or may not have had to say to the first part is lost to static and white noise at the second. There's a temptation to lash out, to throw the flowers' words in his face--you usually assume your friends are out to kill you?--to run away.

He doesn't do either of those, just freezes in place, stock still like a statue, back still turned from when he'd made to leave the greenhouse. The only signs of life are the harsh but steady pace of his breathing, and the clenching of his nails against his palm -- hard enough to draw a few drops of blood that drip onto the path.]

Don't be stupid. We don't even know each other. And I ain't worth knowin', anyway.

Edited 2023-10-12 21:56 (UTC)

But what if I do? What if I do want to get to know you better?

[Which was an odd statement considering what Shinjiro had been through. Was he going to say something or would he keep on rejecting him? Hopefully not but he can't keep thinking about it as he continued to walk out of the forest.

With the flowers whispering how he shouldn't be doing this or how he should just leave him be, he didn't know what to think about it. All he could do was hope that Shinjiro wouldn't think too much about it.]

Edited 2023-10-13 15:46 (UTC)

[He grits his teeth, frustrated. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to have died, been a closed chapter in the kid's life. A story about rising above adversity or some shit, a buried footnote, never a real person that particularly mattered.

His eyes shut, fists clenching tighter against his fists. Another drip of blood against the plants. At length:]

Why?

[As he tried to say something, he should see the frustration on Shinjiro's face. He had a feeling this would happen. As he debated if he should continue with this, it was too late to back out now. Not when he already gone this far.]

Because I want to get to know you better. You don't have to agree but...

[He trailed off a little before looking the other way.]

I think it's the least I can do, right?

Edited 2023-10-14 14:48 (UTC)

[Tch. This kid...he wonders if Amada even notices how he's contradicting himself. Saying it's not that he feels like he owes Shinjiro anything and then turning around and saying befriending him is the least he can do.

He lets out a breath that's edging on ragged; this conversation is wearing on him, but it's not one he feels he can walk away from.]

Don't you get it, kid? There's no least to it. You don't need to do shit.

[...

Something clicks at the back of his mind, suddenly. Maybe he's been looking at this wrong from the start.]

It ain't on you to be friends with me because the others ain't here, if that's what this is about. I'd kick Aki's ass if he ever asked you to make an effort for me.

No, he didn't, it's me that's making the effort. No one said anything at all.

[Which wasn't the complete truth. While the others might not have said anything, he could tell that they like him to try and make amends with Shinjiro should the day come. Not that they needed to ask as Ken was fully prepared to meet him again at some point in the afterlife.

But it seems that life at different plans.]

I...you don't have to accept it but I thought I should let you know.

[Because he can't deny that there was a hint of guilt under it all. If Shinjiro saved his life, the least he could do was try to get to know him better and try to make things easier for the both of them somehow.]

Tch, obviously. Can't exactly tell someone to make friends with a corpse.

[He can't help that light bit of impatience. He's trying to make a point here, alright!!]

I meant if he came here, he'd have no right to ask it of you, so if you're doin' this because it's what you think he'd want...there's no need for it.

[He hates this. The idea of talking about any of it freaks him out. Things were so much easier when Amada just wanted him dead.]

That doesn't mean I ain't still gonna have your back. We're still SEES, and I decided a long time ago my life'd be yours if you ever wanted it. But shit like this -- [he gestures, vaguely, to the whispering flowers] doesn't need to be your problem. You don't gotta feel like you need to care about me for us to still be teammates.

Edited 2023-10-14 20:51 (UTC)

[Hearing a 'corpse' talk made Ken wince at his words. It just reminded him of what Shinjiro did for him and how much he regretted his actions. He really wanted to get to know him, he spent so much of his time thinking of revenge that he never truly understood him.

As much as he wanted to argue against what he might believe in, he couldn't. Not when he was just so insist on rejecting how much he truly cares about him.]

...I'm guessing you're going to keep on being stubborn no matter how hard I try.

[Which he can't blame him, not when things are just so rocky between them right now. With a sigh, he crossed his arms before moving forward.]

Just know that if you need anything, I'll help out okay? I'll have your back too.

[Although, with the say he was saying it, it almost felt as if he wouldn't mind risking his life again for him.]

[He still can't understand why Amada wants to try so hard, though. Every time he tries to ask, he just gets another answer that sounds like obligation or guilt, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to convince the kid that neither of those things should apply with him.

It hurts. He's tired. He sighs.]

...You don't need to. But I guess I can't convince you not to, either.

[Because stubborn is as stubborn does. If he was just as unyielding, so was he. Not after everything he been through, he couldn't allow himself to falter with his decisions. One wrong move and things would fall apart. This was no different as he gave a nod.]

Not really, I already made up my mind to keep trying to know you again and that I hope I can.

[While he knew he was posing his will on his teammate, he also knew was being selfish. However, if he wasn't being honest, he would regret it later.]

[It's not the answer he wants to hear, of course, but he's gotten worn out from this conversation, and ultimately relents slightly, if only to give himself space to retreat and lick his own wounds in private later.]

Mm. Guess we'll see how it goes.

[He breathes out an exhale to steady himself, then finally turns to the kid again.]

Ready to head back?

[ semi-open ] your faith walks on broken glass

poison garden | open to CR

touches him

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cw for reference to self-harm/suicide ideation

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