sticksandbones | 002 — So Meet Me By The Cut Through [LOG]

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red vs blue: agent texas

002 — So Meet Me By The Cut Through [LOG]

Who: Rengoku, Akaza, and You!
What: Kyojuro asks for “his” estate back Unfortunately, because the request is so woefully unspecific, what manifests is a dojo that is at least somewhat unfamiliar. But hey! At least you get lessons now!
When: A week or so after returning to the Grove.
Where: Soryu Dojo
Warnings: Honestly it’s probably going to get gay in here. I’m sorry.

[[u can ignore this and jump to the comments for prompts, this is all just flavor]]

[With any hopes of escape now thoroughly dashed, and taking Senjuro’s continued presence within the Grove, flickering or otherwise, into consideration, one thing is clear: they are both in dire need of a proper place to call home. If being trapped here for the long haul was the only option they had, then the least Kyojuro could do was make the most of it.

Really, he wouldn’t have thought the request would be such a difficult one. Sure, the words “my home” were relatively vague, but thus far Heimr seemed perfectly capable of making something from nothing. This shouldn’t have been such a difficult task.

But when all the magic had faded, and everything was said and done, it was not the Rengoku estate that stood before him. Not that it was entirely unfamiliar. The writing on the wall beside the entrance proudly displayed a name that Kyojuro had come to know.

Soryu.

His heart leapt at the sight of the name, spurring him inward. Really, he should have taken the time to consider what this implied, but he was far more concerned with seeking out the secrets within. Two buildings occupied most of the compound, with a koi pond and long decayed garden occupying the rest It was far from surprising to find a fully equipped dojo inside. A few punching bags were set up here and there, and a number of gi hung upon the wall, remarkably pristine despite the dust that had accumulated on every other surface.

Though the primary function of the dojo seemed to be for improving hand to hand, a wooden barrel containing four shinai was tucked into the corner. A number of practice pads and other gear were also squirreled away, not as an after thought, but simply to allow the most amount of room for the primary function of the dojo.

Dimly, Kyojuro couldn’t help but wonder how much this might resemble the dojo he apparently spent so much time in. His heart ticked up a beat at the idea of showing him, before the heat of the sun high above his head reminded him that it would be some time yet before it was safe for Akaza to emerge..

Ignoring the dojo itself for the time being, Kyojuro instead made his way to the other, detached building. Stepping up onto the engawa, he reached for the sliding door that opened into the genkan. His shoes were left in the entry way as he began to pad around.

Each room was carefully counted once, then twice. All told, there were eight tatami rooms within the home, on top of an altogether too large kitchen, living area, and bathhouse off to the side. Something about it didn’t feel right, considering the fact that Akaza mentioned having no other students at the dojo. But perhaps the proprietor had been overprepared?

More questions to ask Akaza, he supposed. For now, his first goal was to find a broom. It would probably take days to properly clean the place, but for now he could start airing it out as he cleaned the first few rooms enough to sleep in.]

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i. Under a Canopy of Stars — Closed to Akaza

[The first rays of the sun had only just dipped below the horizon as Kyojuro began knocking on his door. It was too early for him to be anywhere else but here, a fact proven by that sixth sense of his always honed in on Akaza.

He did not wait for a greeting as the door opened. Instead, he reached out, taking Akaza by the wrist and gingerly pulling him forward. Unfortunately, ever since the events in Roseroot, he’s been willfully ignorant of the idea of personal space between the two of them.]

There is something I must show you. [A beat passes, before:] I know not if you will welcome the sight of it, but I can assure you there is no danger, at the very least.

ii. Where Thought and Truth Divorce — Around the Grove

[A few days later, Kyojuro rises exceptionally early. The sun is barely beginning to peek up as he emerges from the dojo. After lithely dancing across the stones of the river, he found a patch of grace to settle in. A few stretches were performed, reaching to his toes, stretching his arms high above his head, before being followed by a frankly obscene amount of pushups and sit ups.

By the time his routine finishes, probably an hour or so in, he’s thoroughly worked up a sweat. Both his haori and his uniform shirt are cast aside, leaving him shirtless as he begins to weave laps around the Grove once more.

You are welcome to interrupt him at any point and asking why the hell he’s torturing himself. Or join in. He’ll be glad to have the company.

Alternatively, you may find him gathering branches in the afternoon, securing only the thickest and sturdiest debris. A pile is quickly formed beside the stone path on the river, which Kyojuro eyes as he stands with his hands on his hips.

Mans doesn’t know the first thing about building a bridge and getting over it, apparently.]

iii-a. In That Latticework of Dreams — Netbook

[Not long after Kyojuro begins his new morning routine, some very excited handwriting appears in the netbook. Someone’s back to his big letters and shoutpoles, yippee.

TRAINING BEGINS TODAY. PLEASE STOP BY THE DOJO TO LEARN THE FUNDAMENTALS OF TOTAL CONCENTRATION BREATHING, BASIC SWORD SKILLS, AND ANY OTHER SELF-DEFENSE TECHNIQUES YOU MAY BE INTERSTED IN.

iii-b. We Are Shameless — At the Dojo

[True to his word, Kyojuro is waiting outside of the dojo for anyone that might be interested in joining him. Though he starts off with his arms crossed over his chest, simply patiently waiting, before long he’s picked up a shinai of his own and settled into performing the same swing.

Once.

Twice.

Ten times.

Then one hundred.

He repeats the same movement again and again, inviting anyone there to do the same. Even when his muscles burn from the repetitious action, he presses on. Should you waver, he will turn to you.]

Do not give up yet! A thousand strokes per day is the best way to build up the perfect swing!

iv. I Want to Run Away With You — Wildcard

[Blah blah blah, bother me however u want :3]

[if he didn't have the heightened senses that he does, akaza would have been horrifically startled by kyojuro. he'd already been on his way to the door when the man approaches and knocks, and even with kyojuro's forwardness, he doesn't expect to be grabbed so quickly. his face scrunches up as kyojuro speaks and he tries to discern what the hell that means.]

Alright...? What is this something?

I do not think I could put it into words, I am afraid.

[Much as he's certain that the home that bloomed forth was Akaza's at one point, he cannot be entirely sure. And he would hate to encourage his friend into hoping (or send him spiraling into dread) over nothing.

Kyojuro does pause by a window before exiting the building, confirming that the sun has well and truly sunk below the trees before pushing the door open. He marches onward, daring only to glance over his shoulder as they reach the center of the grove, and both the river and the dojo walls that have come into being swim into view.]

I asked the shopkeeper for something. With Senjuro having been here, I wanted to give him a proper place to call home. I asked for my home. But this is what I was given.

[most everything about kyojuro is a goddamn mystery to akaza, so he takes this in stride and follows along with him. in fact, akaza keeps his gaze trained mostly on kyojuro rather than where they're going. only when the man looks back at him and explains, does he catch sight of... a distressingly familiar gate and wall.

akaza stops mid-step and stares in shock. this he really can't wrap his head around. it looks nearly identical from this angle, but it was given to kyojuro?

it's a long time before he can speak, and still, it's hesitant.]

Have you...? [been inside, he wants to say, but his throat feels like it's closing up. he tries desperately to swallow the feeling down. he feels... sick.]

I have.

[Too late, he wonders if it was wrong of him to intrude. It was "his" home by definition, but the traces of Akaza's life had been the far more prominent features. He'd only wanted to help out, but perhaps that had been the wrong idea?]

When it came into being, it was as if it had been abandoned for some time. I wanted to attempt to clean some of it up. And to know if it truly was...

[Akaza's. Or perhaps Hakuji's was the better way of thinking about it. And from what he had seen, he couldn't be sure if that was the case.]

There are eight tatami rooms. Far more than I would have expected from the way you described things. I can show you, if you wish.

[the thought doesn't even cross his mind that kyojuro may have "intruded." whether or not it was a mistake on the shopkeeper's part, akaza is certain that if someone handed kyojuro something and told him it was for him, he would be trusting enough to take them at their word, if only because he holds to his own word.

he shakes his head, and begins the trek across the river without giving kyojuro a direct response.]

It looks -- just like it. It wasn't small, just -- mostly empty. He inherited it.

I see.

[Kyojuro follows after. His steps are careful as he crosses the stone path, mercifully avoiding plummeting into the water and adding more chaos to what is clearly already difficult for Akaza. By and large, though, he lingers behind the man, letting him set the pace.

Continuing the conversation is the more difficult part. He doesn't want to leave Akaza in silence, lest his own thoughts turn sinister. But anything he can think of seems like it would be prying, which also will not help matters.]

If you need to do this on your own, I understand. But until you say as much, I will be with you, Akaza.

That's... fine. He said it was yours, right?

[that doesn't mean akaza understands it. but still, he wants kyojuro around. the man has proven time and again to be a grounding force in the face of akaza's own thoughts as well as physical threats.

he doesn't stop until they reach the gate. akaza stares hard at the sign; there's absolutely zero doubt in his mind, this is keizo's brushwork.

as they pass through the gates, his breath quickens. he recognizes the koi pond, hurries past the flowerbeds, turns a corner, between the dojo and the home, practically hyperventilating --

and stops dead in his tracks. there's nothing there. where there was a well in his memories, there is only grass, here. his feet move again, dragging him closer to the place he knows it was. once he's standing in the exact spot, he turns around, studying the ground intently. only after it finally cements itself in his mind that it's really gone does akaza look back to kyojuro.]

He did. I asked to have my home back, and this is what came to fruition.

[Which makes less and less sense, the longer he studies Akaza's reaction. He might have thought that Heimr simply supplied what he needed as a home, given the vague nature of the request. But for it to be so intrinsically linked to both Hakuji and Akaza...

He swallows down his thoughts before they can begin to wander, instead following dutifully behind his companion. He doesn't understand the urgency in those movements, but ultimately concludes that he is not meant to. He is here for support and only that, after all.

Or rather, he's meant to be. But as Akaza approaches what is simply grass, turning about as if something was meant to be there, he cannot feel anything but confusion. There is something missing, something he's missing, and all he can do is wait for Akaza to elaborate.

That, and let him know that Kyojuro is listening.]

Akaza? What is it...?

[his shoulders slump. this should be reassuring, comforting, that wretched fucking thing never having existed here, and yet... it only makes akaza long for a reality in which it didn't back home, either.]

The well. [it's only two words, but the gravity with which he says them... surely kyojuro can put two and two together, after roseroot.

... akaza doesn't wait long for a response before abandoning the spot. he doesn't feel much better, but at least the feeling that he'll be sick has abated. now, he makes for the house, his steps calm once more, even if his breathing is still somewhat labored. before entering, he looks over his shoulder, to make sure kyojuro is still with him.]

[Indeed, Kyojuro can piece that detail together. He might not understand the exact meaning of the well, but it was an important and devastating part of Hakuji's history. Unlike Akaza, however, he can celebrate the fact that the Well never existed in this world. They've had their fair share of terrible memories to go around, after all.

None of this is said aloud, however. He merely nods and turns to follow Akaza. When the man looks back to confirm his continued presence, he gives a nod in response, then draws steady with his companion. Without so much as thinking about it, his palm bumps against Akaza's own, a silent offer should he decide to take it.]

The rooms I found here... they all appeared lived in once.

[eight used rooms is... strange, he will admit. akaza is silent as they walk through the house and he peeps into each room, one by one. one of them consists almost entirely of bedding, and he can't imagine what sort of giant person or couple would need that much room to sleep.

when they enter the communal living space, he turns to take it in and... stops. there's an old painting on the wall, one kyojuro might not have seen unless he faced it specifically. the portrait is centered on koyuki, hakuji, and kyojuro. akaza also recognizes both his biological father and his would-be father-in-law. he can infer that the older and younger rengoku men are his father and brother, but the woman is a stranger to akaza.

each of them looks... happy. and older. not by much, but enough to be noticeable. even kyojuro's brother is grown.]

What...? [is all he can manage for the moment.]

[Busy as Kyojuro had been with looking through the entirety of t he living space, and then cleaning it enough to be livable that evening, he really hadn't stopped. Some part of him probably recognized that there was a painting there, but given the fact that he had attributed this place entirely to Akaza, it felt too personal to really stare.

Now that his attention is being fully drawn to the sight, though, Kyojuro feels compelled to take a step closer. Unlike Akaza, he recognizes almost everyone here to a degree. His family is easy enough to identify, to the point that he doesn't even try to stop himself as he reaches out, fingers grazing over Ruka Rengoku's cheek.

But even the three people he shouldn't know had all been forcibly introduced to him back in Roseroot, after all. Only the man in the center of the photo, on the very left of the focal trio, was unfamiliar to him.

Mostly unfamiliar. The longer Kyojuro stares, he finds familiarity in the deep blue tattoos (only six, three for each arm, rather than spanning the entire body) and light eye lashes (framing vibrant blue, delighted eye). Yet for all the similarities he draws, there is still something so alien about what appears to take shape. He'd never seen Akaza so excited, not in the way this man was as he held out both hands, rings adorning both left and right. Yet as he studies the portrait, he knows that this must have been a familiar sight to its subjects. The girl's eyes were crinkled in delight, hand covering her mouth. Even his own image, for as much as he tried to be composed, held the hallmarks of mirth.]

This is... us. [He turns to look at Akaza.] Or at least meant to look like us.

It is us.

[there's no doubt in his mind, even though akaza doesn't look directly at hakuji, can't bring himself to. it's the detail in his family that holds his attention. his father is a healthy weight. the way his master holds himself is entirely relaxed, not rigid with buried frustration. even with her hand covering part of it, he can tell koyuki's face is ever so slightly sharper with maturity. her and his father's skin is rich with life, not all too pale.

he swallows, tearing his eyes away only to stare at the painted kyojuro as well. yes, he's certain that's kyojuro, too. he's more than familiar with that precise face.]

It cannot be us.

[Not because the strange reality depicted on center stage is in any way detestable. No, it is because of how impossible the rest of it seems. He still recalls the day his mother had been buried. Her hair had been a midnight hue as deep as a crow's feather, not tinged with streaks of grey. Never mind the fact that her body, once frail with the illness ravaging her, seemed not just full of life, but well-built and muscular. As if she were a swordsman in her own right.

Then, there was Senjuro's age, and the confidence with which he held himself. Or his father, who beamed with pride at his eldest son, and held not a gourd of sake within his hand, but his beloved wife's palm.

None of this was possible. None of this should have existed. Kyojuro surely would have remembered even just one fragment of a sight like this. Instead, he can only lament what could have been.]

I don't understand.

It's them, which means it's us. You asked for what was your home, so I know you buy into the reincarnation thing. I don't -- understand it either, but...

[like kyojuro, he raises his hand with the thought of touching his lost loved ones' faces, but stops himself before he can. even more than he refuses to allow himself as punishment, he doesn't want to accidentally tear or break this priceless memento.]

I don't know how or why, but this clearly is your home, so you and your brother get comfortable.

[Akaza is right, mostly. There is just one detail that sticks out to him, one that he cannot help but rail against.]

Our home. [He motions with his head to the painting. Shinjuro and Keizo stand close enough to one another to be friends. Shinjuro's hand even seems to be clapping the dojo master on the shoulder.] Whatever this place was, it was clearly shared by both of our families equally.

[He swallows, eyes coming back to the trio standing at the forefront. He had never asked who the girl had been to Akaza, but he'd had his assumptions. Those seemed largely true, given the nature of what had been painted on the canvas. Ignoring his own presence, it might have seemed like a commemorative painting, honoring the union of man and wife.

So why was Kyojuro there at all?]

I'm not going anywhere. [even with the bitter memories of this place, or its mirror image back in japan, akaza doesn't think he could bring himself to walk away from it. not permanently, anyway. he does have his knitting materials to fetch from his inn room.

he almost turns tail to seek out what was once hakuji's room, in another life, or -- maybe koyuki's, where he spent most of his time. from there, he would be able to spend his nights looking over the garden, just as they once had in the day.

one more glance at kyojuro, though, has him hesitating.]

Kyojuro? What's bothering you? [he isn't stupid. he sees the way kyojuro struggles to accept the portrait.]

Good.

[Kyojuro's words are distracted, naturally, by his own thoughts. He thinks about bringing it up to Akaza, but dashes the thought just as quickly as it forms within his mind. Until he's made sense of it all for himself, he cannot bear to plague his friend with similar troubles.

Shaking the thought from his head, he turns to Akaza and offers a careful, if slightly unsteady, smile. He nods to the halls, taking a step down one.]

Where do you want to see next?

[ironically, his instinct here is to wonder what kyojuro would do, were their roles reversed. would he insist, or let it go? as far as akaza can recall, he's done both... so by what metric does he decide which to do?

he takes one step to face kyojuro, but not yet follow him.]

Is it something you even want to talk about? If you say no, I'll drop it. Otherwise... [an awkward shrug of the shoulder. why can't he be better at this sort of thing? how does he come off as approachable? caring?] I'm here.

[To be honest? Kyojuro can only laugh. He recognizes that dogged pursuit in Akaza's tone. It's a mirror of himself, he realizes. Despite everything, his resistance in wanting to discuss the matter, he can't help but feel proud. It's good to know that his own "bad" habits were wearing off on Akaza.]

I did not want to add to your troubles, is all. [But if Akaza truly wants to know, if he cares enough, then Kyojuro will gladly reward his efforts.] The positioning of you and I... it was strange. Considering the nature of the portrait, I would have expected you and the girl to be front and center. My presence... complicates that, don't you think?

Her name is Koyuki. [it's the first time he's been able to say, or even clearly think her name since he found himself in this place. but before he can spiral in this thought process, he glances back at the portrait to actually think over kyojuro's concerns. maybe this time, he actually studies the three of them closer.

turns out, there are a few... fascinating details. two rings on hakuji. one on koyuki's hand, over her lips, and... another, on the hand at her side? the hand around koyuki's waist is -- kyojuro's.

akaza's brows furrow as he stares, but he's surprised to find it isn't out of jealousy or anger. he just can't put two and two together.]

It... seems pretty deliberate to me.

[why else would he be there? why else would his entire family be there?]

Koyuki.

[Strange, how even the name evokes a faint spark of warmth in his chest. Maybe it makes sense, considering how beautiful the woman in the portrait seems to be. He imagines her to be about thirty here, petite perhaps, but full of what feels like a boundless fount of energy and life. Anyone would be lucky to have her.

As it stands, Kyojuro doesn't think twice about the hand on her waist. Distracted by the whole picture as he is, it doesn't occur to him that there's only one possible person that hand could belong to, considering Hakuji's own positioning.

Thus, when he looks to Akaza, there are countless questions in his gaze.]

I do not follow.

[akaza gestures... vaguely at the whole portrait.]

It's a painting. [not that he really knows what photography is, but still.] Why would someone go to the length of painting your whole family if you weren't meant to be there? Isn't this house more than big enough to have accommodated everyone?

That... is not quite what I meant.

[He doesn't doubt that he belongs here. It's the how of it that chews at the back of his mind. Even without noticing the way his hand settled on Koyuki's waist, there's still a level of intimacy with how the three of them sat together. And that seems... off.]

This seems celebratory in nature. [He picks at his words so carefully, lest Akaza get the wrong idea.] If I had to guess, it was meant to celebrate some sort of union. I would assume marriage between the two of you. But if that were the case, I should be with my own family, not directly beside the two of you.

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002 — So Meet Me By The Cut Through [LOG]

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the is for me one <:}

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