retrospec | text | they push and pull and won't bend to your will

text | they push and pull and won't bend to your will

Soujirou Katsuki

shared a photo.

January 15th near Apprassage

well, I guess that settles it...
you know, there's a point where denial isn't worth it anymore （＾。＾；）
for those who don't know much about Japanese history (like me), this is a Shinsengumi haori, because apparently I really am a century old samurai? except probably an alternate universe one or something. it's weird.
either that or my old memories were from a really dedicated historical reenactor w serious delusions

also, MY EYES ARE PURPLE NOW. so that's a thing ◔_◔
I guess I get to join the club of other people who have to pretend to be wearing contacts all the time

oh! I guess I was also going to ask, how many here have memories that are like... normal, I guess? (‘◇’)
well obviously memories of 1860s Japan is weird, but what I mean is that there's nothing supernatural about them.
well almost... there's one that seems different. but the rest of them have no super powers, no monsters, nothing like that. it just looks like the past.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The reaction is instantaneous; as soon as that broken blade comes into view, he flinches, visibly recoiling--as if Soujirou had pulled an actual corpse out of his bag. Anyone else would probably turn their head away, but Yasusada only stares, despite how distressing this obviously is.

One heartbeat, two, three, and finally he moves, stretching trembling fingers to brush along cold steel. Logically, he knows Kashuu is fine. His warmth has faded from whatever bed they'd decided to share the night before, but he's only a text message or a phone call away. He even knows where Kashuu is--after August, they'd gotten into the habit of keeping each other well-informed in that regard.

But Yasusada's never been a logical person, and those thoughts, those facts, cannot dam the tears that well up in his eyes as he stares at the silent metal between them.

This isn't what he wants to talk about, though. He already knew about this; he hadn't expected Soujirou to bring this along, but it's still not a new revelation. He's never been the best at reining in his emotions, but he tries now, inhaling a shaky breath and lifting a hand to rub at his eyes.]

...we were partners.

[There's really no other way to say it. He doesn't know how to tell Soujirou "I think I must've belonged to you too, and I don't think I ever wanted anything else out of life after that". So instead, he uses this, conveying a similar truth in a way they're both already familiar with. Yasusada's never been subtle about his attachment to Kashuu in this life, after all.]

[The distress doesn't come as a surprise either, though Soujirou feels bad about having caused it in a way. Still... A practical side of him can't help whispering that it's better to get this out of the way now, where they're both safe and it's easy enough for Yasusada to get in contact with Kiyomitsu if he needs assurance. Not like the first time he saw this blade, in the middle of a city that was currently an open battle field, immediately assuming the worst based on what Kiyomitsu had told him.

It's better this way. He doesn't regret it - and in his lack of regret based on this kind of reasoning, he recognizes some part of the person he used to be in the memories.

Sighing, he reaches out and closes his hand gently around Yasusada's. It's the only comfort he really knows how to give.]

I thought- That is to say, I guessed it might be something like that. The two of you were so obviously linked from the beginning, you know? [And he'd envied it a bit... to be honest, he still does. Even if they seem to have been part of his life before in a way, the fact that they were swords means it's highly unlikely that he'll ever see them in a memory as the friends he knows them as. That's a strangely lonely thought.]

It's not that strange, right? You've always belonged together. [His smile is bright, not wistful.] And I guess it makes sense that I was friends with the both of you too, huh? If I used to... ["...own you"? No, he can't say that. So he settles for:] ...wield you.

[Reflexively, Yasusada's fingers curl loosely around Soujirou's, though his focus is still very much on the sword between them. He doesn't lift his head, but slowly, as if he's afraid he'll see something unhappy (discomfort, maybe, or a desire to run) on Soujirou's face, he peers up through his bangs.

There's not a lot he can say to that, though. All of it is fact, as far as Yasusada's concerned--knowing how closely they're all connected now has convinced him, to the surprise of no one, that they'll always manage to find each other sooner or later.

History may have taken them both away from him, but if time always gives them back... maybe it's not quite so bad.

So even though it still hurts, knowing what he knows and seeing what he'd seen, he offers a small smile in return.]

Mm I remembered going on patrol. With you. [He hesitates, but Yasusada's never been known for holding back, so he adds--] And I remembered... going home with you too. The first time.

[Despite there still being a palpable distance between them compared to other people who share memories, Soujirou can't help smiling. Even if Yasusada and Kiyomitsu were objects at the time and Soujirou wasn't aware of them as he is now; even if he'll never actually see them in any memories; hell, even if they're actually from different worlds somehow... it's nice to have something that ties him to the people he knows. It's nice to hear that he's remembered.

He wishes he could have some more concrete memory to share in turn, but most of his memories so far focus more on who he was and the people around him. The ones that are fighting-oriented only involve other swords, he's pretty sure, apart from the blur of all the times he'd used that one sword move that Yasusada knows now.]

I... got a memory like that about Kiyomitsu. Well, holding him for the first time and knowing his name, at least. [He squeezes Yasusada's hand gently.] I guess it's only a matter of time before I remember more about you too. [He might as well say it.] I kind of want to, you know? As strange as this is, I want to have memories I can connect to people I know. I want to know that... that I'm not all alone, I guess. That I'm part of something too. My memories so far have been of people who apparently mattered a lot to me, but who I don't even know, you know? I might never meet them, but as long as you two are my friends, I've got something to hold on to.

[Well... that was a lot more than he planned to say, but he can't exactly take it back now. And he did mean it.]

[In a way, Yasusada understands. He's intimately familiar with crushing loneliness, and his urge to be a part of something, to have a purpose, has always been as strong as Soujirou's (if not stronger). But he can't say understands this. Not completely. He's had Kashuu at his side for all of this from the very beginning, and as much as it hurts to go through this without his family, he knows perfectly well that he'd be a whole new level of distraught without Kashuu's support.

Still, he squeezes Soujirou's hand gently, and-- well, he's never been known for having a filter.]

I know we couldn't talk back then, but I know I loved you a lot. [A pause, and then he smiles again, a bit more relaxed this time.] I mean, I love you a lot now too, of course, but it was different. More... intense, I guess.

[This is why it's so nice to be friends with Yasusada. Most people would probably feel like saying something like that was really embarrassing - especially most other guys, let's be real. Soujirou has never really understood why filtering away such things is necessary - that's not the kind of feelings he has problems talking about - and he's glad that he has at least one friend who feels the same.

Grabbing one of the little vegetable sticks and nibbling on it distractedly, he returns smile for smile.]

Well, even though I love you and Kiyomitsu a lot too, I don't think I can understand what it's like, being someone's sword. [And it's not the same, being the owner. He knows it's not. So what he can say is:] I know it mattered a lot to me... being a warrior, living that kind of life. I know I was thinking that if I couldn't fight, I wasn't good for anything. [He shrugs a bit awkwardly.] So I guess you could say you were part of what mattered the most to me.

[Yasusada nods, slow but not reluctant. There's no point in arguing something they both know to be true.]

It's different from being friends. [He definitely agrees there. Yasusada has always been a little overzealous about everything, including friendship, but in spite of that (or perhaps because of it) he can differentiate.] It's more like...

[He trails off, listening to Soujirou's explanation; and he can't help but feel a warm smile spread across his face. Maybe he shouldn't find joy in this, in relating to those feelings so strongly, but he can't help it. This is what he is. In some ways, it always has been. And hearing how much it once meant to be by Soujirou's side, even when they couldn't actually speak... it's nostalgia tinged with melancholy, but balanced by contentment.]

I was really happy to have you as my master. [Even saying it to Soujirou's face doesn't feel all that weird to him. It's just the way he is.] I think I talked about you a lot, even after--

[He stops abruptly, struck with sudden fear. Does Soujirou know what happened to him, back then? Surely he must know his own fate, right...?]

[He knows why Yasusada stops talking like that, though he's not sure he knows how to feel about it. His death. It's something he once thought he was sparing Yasusada of having to experience, when he pulled back from him and everyone else. He'd been made aware of it back then; he'd been forced to realize that it was going to come earlier than anticipated, and it had been a nasty awakening. As a teenager you only see your death as something far away that doesn't concern you. Realizing that he had less allotted life than his contemporaries, and that even his own parents were likely to outlive him, it wasn't so strange that he'd pulled away, right?

Even though he's already admitted the more selfish reasons to Yasusada now, the ones that were all about not being wanted or needed anymore.

God, he really is like that Okita Souji, isn't he?]

After I died.

[He puts down his vegetable stick and leans across the table a bit, putting a hand on Yasusada's face. Because it had already happened once; because Yasusada has already lost him somehow, in another life... maybe it'll be easier to be open with him too? Though that's a terribly cruel thing to think, isn't it?]

Someone told me... Okita Souji died of tuberculosis, right? I really have no luck with my health. [He smiles, a little too brightly.] But I'm really glad someone kept talking about me, in that case. I'm glad someone remembered me... and missed me. [It's something he still wants, selfishly.]

[He isn't surprised, but he flinches anyway, no matter how gently the words leave Soujirou's mouth. He leans automatically into Soujirou's cool fingers, and while it's nothing like being wielded with pride, the familiarity is comforting anyway.

Has it always been like this? Or is it only now, when he remembers why he covets Soujirou's touch?]

Of course. That's what I fought for.

[It's the first time he's said such a thing out loud, giving voice to thoughts that have been swirling around in his mind for months. He hasn't mentioned it to Kashuu, and while he warned Baren that he would never receive the sort of love and adoration Yasusada felt for his former master, he never mentioned that no one else could, either.

He'd liked their newer master too, he knows. He'd enjoyed their gentle touches and he'd been exceedingly grateful to be reunited with his family. But he has yet to feel anything that could rival the way he'd felt about Okita Souji--and despite the still-missing pieces of his memories, he doubts he ever will.]

...I'm sorry. [He speaks without thinking, as usual. But though he hadn't intended to apologize, he doesn't take it back.] I wish-- I wish there was something I could've done for you.

[But a sword can't cut an illness from someone's body. There's nothing he can do to help here, either, but at least Soujirou knows he's there.]

Oh.

["That's what I fought for." It's such a simple little sentence, and yet it leaves Soujirou completely floored. To think that any version of him, anyone who has in someone occupied a similar space in the world, has left such an impression on someone... it's honestly kind of hard for him to comprehend. Even if that person wasn't really him, it still means something so important to Yasusada, and it's something he connects somehow to Soujirou now. He can't help it; he suddenly feels kind of grateful of the strange memories and everything that's happened so far. Maybe it's stupid, but all he really wants is to matter to people, in any way he can.

But then Yasusada is apologizing to him, and no matter how out of his own control the matter is too, he still feels guilty about it. He shakes his head, a distressed little crease appearing between his eyebrows.]

I don't think he'd want anyone to feel like they didn't do enough. Maybe he's just like me, and he's not strong enough not to want others to miss him, but... I don't know how alike that person and I am yet. But if he was anything like me at all, he wouldn't want you to regret anything. [He breathes in a steadying breath, managing a small smile as he gently ruffles Yasusada's bangs.]

I've thought about that kind of thing too. And even if- if I'm no longer here one day, I'd want people to know that I was grateful for the things they could do, and wouldn't think at all about they couldn't do.

[It's reassuring, but when he peeks through his bangs, there's a hint of hesitation on his face anyway.

"Don't make excuses for not doing what you must. It's troublesome."

The words ring in his ears, and he almost, almost brings it up. They're both here now, and if he can explain-- if he can say all the things he'd wanted to say back then--

--but even as he thinks it, the words die in his throat. He hadn't been lying--he does love Soujirou, and he has utter faith that no matter what he'd thought as a warrior, that he'd offer unwavering support as a friend. But the chance of rejection, however small, is enough to keep him silent. He could hardly stand Okita's harsh, unrelenting gaze then--and he knows himself better than one might assume. Seeing such an expression on Soujirou's face... it could very well destroy him.

So he bites back his comments, focusing on Soujirou's words instead.]

I know... [And he does, despite the reluctance in his tone.] I know there wasn't anything I could've done, except try and protect your legacy. But still. [Logic does not sway him nearly as much as emotion, something that's apparently gotten him into trouble in every lifetime. Still, if the trade-off is remembering the strength of true devotion, he can't bring himself to care much.

He bites his lip, considering-- but there doesn't seem to be any obvious harm in asking, so:] Do you have a lot of memories of other people?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

text | they push and pull and won't bend to your will

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject