retrospec | 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.

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[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?

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

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