[video] forward dated to 9/13

[appraiser]

Ryoji Mochizuki shared a video.
09/13 near Apprassage

[ The video starts up, dark, silent. A bedroom, if an empty desk and neatly made bed and too many cardboard boxes count as a bedroom, and then the view flips over with a soft ] Oh. [ as the user finds the front-facing camera instead of the rear that he always uses on his phone. ]

Hi... It's been a while.

[ The bottom half of the screen blurs as Ryoji draws his knees to his chest where he sits on bare floorboards, phone in his hands. He doesn't introduce himself— doesn't need to, when his name is up there for people who don't know him, his face right here for people who do: the people he's recording this video for, whispers in an empty room. ]

I'm back. I know there are probably questions as to why, or how... and I can't really explain it well myself. But I'll answer the best I can, if you want to ask, texting or in person.

[ Ryoji sits up a little straighter now, looks a little more serious. This is what he meant to say: a confession. ]

But before that, I want to say that I'm glad to be back, however it happened... a second chance like this. I also want to be more upfront about myself, and there are things I want to say to a lot of people.

There was a time in the past where I was a monster: I'd hurt a lot of people, and I ran from all of that, hid myself away, and pretended it hadn't happened. The memories I've been experiencing, I kept the good ones close, the bad even closer, pretending they weren't real and that they have nothing to do with me. I thought... that it would be better to forget about all of that and return to a simpler time. Unconsciously, I think that's what I did. I went back to before everything happened, to start over, and do better this time. But I got it wrong. I made myself forget, but I wasn't forgotten...

[ He's rambling now, a little, so he turns his eyes away from the screen, staring off at something in the distance- it's the moon reflected in his eyes, only half. ]

There's somebody I still need to say goodbye to, but after that... I want to see so many of you. I owe a lot of "thank you"s and "I'm sorry"s and "I love you"s, and I want to be with people again. I don't want to leave this world or its people ever again.

So... I'll see you guys soon.




( ooc: forward dated to 9/13 to give myself a buffer. replies can be via text, or an in-person if you want to fast-forward to ryoji showing up at your character's house/class/chance meeting at some cafe/hi roommates/he'll be finding people around town somehow. for his cr, please assume he checked up on them, whether it's handwaved or not! )

Comments

action;

[esperimental]

[ There's not a lot of reason for Ritsu to check out Retrospec every single day. But if anything at all if people needed to communicate with him, it would be easier over text than in person. That brought questions of how he was doing, and he'd have an extra hurdle of matching a smile, the lie he was fine. He's gotten desperate enough to use concealer to hide the dark under his eyes, and with a couple weeks' practice, he's gotten pretty good at it. But it doesn't change the loss of weight, and soullessness in his eyes, how every school day was a tedious chore, how there was such little relief to be found in anything, only feeling alive when he's breaking things in sketchy places as a result of his own emptiness. Even then, he knew this was wrong. He was hurting people in his memories, channeling it to objects so that he wouldn't blow up was only marginally better. He knew, but he did it anyway.

Ritsu's diary stopped being detailed since his return, sometimes being simple accounts, and on worse days along the line of questioning, "Why are you here?" Why does he live? Why does he bother with the minimal effort to keep alive? If he disappeared, how many people would miss him? ... Well, the kind people would. But even then, if he only convince himself a statistic in their low standards of caring about people, it doesn't matter. He doesn't matter. Ritsu could help them along the way, keeping up his walls, slowly severing contact. Pen continued along paper; an argument against himself.

"You don't really want to be alone, do you."

Maybe the next object he burns should be his diary.

After dismissal Ritsu exits his classroom without checking his phone, there was no scheduled meetup today. Before he can think of what to do and steps out the school's doors, his heart stops at the sight of someone who shouldn't be there. Their eyes meet for just a fraction of a second, his face loses color and Ritsu instantly turns his heel and bolts back inside. In those few weeks, he'd given up on Ryoji's ghost being a presence. He'd discarded the idea he could ever forgive himself even sooner. If Ryoji looked angry, he would have stayed put, but of course he wouldn't, it was Ryoji.

Or was Ritsu just seeing things? No, no. He was there, waiting for him. Standing, waiting. For how long? Ritsu shoves past students in a frantic run, futilely hoping shutting himself away could hide him from a ghost. He turns his eyes to the janitor's closet door slightly open in the emptier part of the hallway, slamming it shut and turning the lock. He buries his hands in his hair, breath heavy as he sinks to the ground with a strangled cry. Nothing could have prepared him for this. He had to quiet down, he didn't want to be found. In the dark and feeling the slow swallow in his throat, he waits, hugging his knees with trembling fingers. And the seconds stretch agonizingly slow. ]

[appraiser]

[ Ritsu was the last person he'd seen before he died. He was the last person he'd felt, the last person who was there, and when Ryoji had come up again, the memories of the last ten years of his life flooding back, his was one of the faces that'd stuck, looking hopeful, regretful, scared, grateful, so many things that lent to how much he'd cared for Ryoji's part in his life. He remembers Ritsu talking about his brother leaving him, remembers the promise Ryoji had made to himself about never doing that to anybody else, a promise he broke and will keep breaking, but not this one time. Not to Ritsu.

> Last month was a terrible tragedy.
> However, you must still go to school today.

As it were. It's Ritsu's deeply ingrained sense of responsibility that Ryoji placed his hopes in, that Ritsu would be in school no matter what. So that's Ryoji, standing, waiting, chatting with students and teachers alike until he found out which classroom Ritsu would be in and when. That's Ryoji who spots him the moment the doors open, who meets his eye and opens his mouth to call out of greeting, whose voice dies in his throat along with the flare of joy and relief in seeing Ritsu's face again when the boy so clearly sees and rejects him. The shock of being run away from roots Ryoji to the spot for a split second, but the fear of losing sight of Ritsu if he turns a corner urges him to move, chasing him down the hall, not having to weave in and out of the crowd because Ritsu's own frantic dash away from him opens up the path.

With the janitor's closet, it's a dead end, with nowhere else for Ritsu to run, even though it's where he chooses to hide. Ryoji's feet slow and stop in front of the door, and he leans forward to press his forehead against the cold paint. ]

...Ritsu?

[esperimental]

[ It doesn't take Ritsu long at all to realize how moronic a choice he's made retreating into this cramped location, and hearing the gentle whisper come from so close makes him want to jump out of his skin and probably collide into a few mops. But Ryoji hadn't moved past the wall so he's forced to meet his face again, one small blessing.

"If I get hurt, it's because you're important enough to be to cause hurt, so I wouldn't mind that at all. I want to be friends even with the hurt, because hurt isn't all you have to offer." Do you still believe that, Ryoji?

Ritsu bites his lower lip, tightening his meager self-embrace. When Ritsu failed to drive Ryoji away the first time, neither could have imagined the consequences of their bond would be so great. To save Ritsu's life was worth it in Ryoji's eyes, but the feeling isn't mutual.

"Go away", are the first words form in his mind, but he wouldn't have meant it. What can he say? If he just pretended he wasn't here, would he leave? That's no good, he can't just stay in here forever. Even if he can claim to. And he's still convinced this is Ryoji's ghost. They're not bound by silly constraints like physics. He must only be keeping a short distance for the sake of being polite. Ritsu's voice finally manages to form words, with shaky intonation. ]

Why... are you here?

[ A stupid question. There to see him, of course. And he already knows he would have, even if it's his fault he died. Ritsu's mind was an utter mess. Ryoji can't see him shake his head, but he hastily scraps that in favor of another. ]

Why were you smiling? --At that time.

[appraiser]

[ "Why"...? The question isn't one he can answer so readily. He's here because he wants to, because his mind brought him to this school, his feet to this closet, heart to Ritsu as if it were merely natural and not needing a reason why. Throughout much of his life, he never stopped to ask himself why. He chased after those important enough to be chased, and smiled— all the time, actually.

Even in the past month, when everybody was put through that mansion, he remembers smiling, little by little. Playing with ghosts of children, dancing with those long dead, dancing with Ritsu... playing on the piano... messing around with the cufflinks... ]

Because I was with you?

[esperimental]

... That doesn't make sense... I ki-- [ A hiss comes out, more self-directed than at who he's speaking with, and it's obvious after all the little things Ryoji's noticed about Ritsu. How he never goes easy on himself. ] I killed you. You know that...

[ And the edge in his voice wavers with that sentence, holding his head down. It's meek and afraid. Literally backed into a corner, he has no choice but to endure this encounter where any mistake he makes in speaking would be like swallowing the broken glass from the ballroom's chandelier.

How Ryoji had saved him twice and consequently died for him is not lost on Ritsu. ]

They're right. Everyone who said you wouldn't blame me. [ It changes nothing about the facts. Ritsu was stubborn but so was Ryoji, and this was a matter of who would be able to better express their conviction. But for just a while, Ritsu directs attention away from himself, though he knows it won't last. There was no way he could forget her. ] Have... you spoken to her? Your mother.

[appraiser]

[ "Killed"... It's an undeniable fact that it was Ritsu's doing. He'd looked down then, saw the ice that stuck through his chest, remembers how it numbed his entire body all at once and... had he been smiling? It feels so long ago, he doesn't remember. But he doesn't remember blame either, because what happened was an accident. Ritsu would never hurt him on purpose, and he stands by that even now, sinking down onto the ground so he can sit, knees to his chest and temple to the door. ]

...My mother died the same day I came back, from what I've pieced together from the nurses at the hospital. I can't even remember the last thing I said to her... Was it the convention day? I think she saw me off at the door, and told me to have fun.

[esperimental]

She's still looking for you. I went to see her at your apartment first, and found both of you at the morgue.

[ Their bodies anyway. Spiritually... ] Her ghost was the only one there. I talked with her. And she wanted to see you.

You should find her. ... She's been waiting.

[ And she deserves Ryoji's company way more than his killer. ]

[appraiser]

[ He was about to ask how, but the mention of ghosts has his breath catch in his throat. There's a surge of hope that he can't deny, of wanting so badly for the chance to see his mother again that isn't just sitting in an empty apartment whispering to photographs on the walls in the darkness.

He wants to see her so much. He doesn't want to keep her waiting. But he can't leave Ritsu alone either, abandoning one family member for another, so he makes no motion to move from where he sits. ]

...Can I ask what you two talked about?

[esperimental]

[ It's impossible to even consider refusing. Ritsu's lips move, unsure where to start. His fingers begin to feel sweaty. ]

I needed to say sorry.

[ ... So he heads straight to the initial mission that set him down that path. ]

She wasn't mad. It was... the exact same thing. [ And Ritsu bites into his lower lip, frustration heavy. ] That kindness, that sad expression on her face, how patient she was to hear me out.

"Because I was your friend", she couldn't be upset with me.

[ Nobody was punishing him when he rightly deserved it. Or maybe wanting is more appropriate an emotion; clawing past the sympathetic faces, breaking their masks to a burning anger in their core. But he couldn't even manage that honesty. Because he was weak, in all things. ] I really... already hated myself-- even before I killed you. Asking "why are you here", when I should be asking... why am I here? There's no answer for that.

[appraiser]

[ These are all things that Ryoji can so clearly hear his mother say. For all the kindness and patience he is, it's from his mother where he'd learned all those traits from, somebody whose selflessness and understanding surpasses even his own, as only a mother could.

Ryoji doesn't have that same understanding, but he understands hating himself and questioning his own existence. For him, it was turning into Thanatos, being a very real danger that he had to do everything he could to keep himself contained, while others patted his back and said "It's okay! You're fine! We still love you!" without seeing any of his silent, invisible struggles. How much of that is Ritsu feeling? For how long? And why didn't Ryoji notice...

The same reason why nobody else noticed when he did it; because he cared. So much, that he'd broken down, and it took so many people to pull him together and help him learn, and he wants to save Ritsu that grief. ]

...There's no answer because there doesn't need to be one. It's like asking why there is time, or space, or love, these inexplicable things that just are. And there's nothing to do but accept them. The same goes with death, no matter who's involved, and how deeply.