Guilt Haunting
Jun. 21st, 2021 11:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreameragain, ya'll are very good with the wishes for me, thanks! /smiles It looks like he deleted his account. I don't think that means I'm in the clear; apparently rerolling (getting a new count to hopefully get better shiki) is really easy. But even if it goes badly, staying as someone's emotional crutch and Pedestal Crush wouldn't go well for anybody, either, particularly when I have to put the game on auto in the background. I mentioned some resources, and if he doesn't use them, he doesn't use them.
Main Points:
Death Mark/Shiin
Chapter Summary: Mashita leans slightly harder towards dere in this one--Yashiki's gone missing, but Mashita finds him.
Word Count: 1150
Rating: Teen (for warnings)
Spoiler Warning: name spoilers, ending spoilers, takes place after a weird mashup of the good and neutral endings
Mashita/Yashiki; could be read as one-sided (is not actually, but Yashiki needs an actual clue or several.)
Warning: It feels like all the warnings. Should not be read by those with emetophobia. Suicidal ideation. Mention of possible eating disorders (probably more along the lines of 'Yashiki is depressed so forgets to eat' but still deserves a tag). Death. The use of the word idiot, because Mashita definitely should not be doing that but is also a rude, rude, politically incorrect man. (Tbf I'm interested to know if baka is less ableist than its translation in English.)
Main Points:
Death Mark/Shiin
Chapter Summary: Mashita leans slightly harder towards dere in this one--Yashiki's gone missing, but Mashita finds him.
Word Count: 1150
Rating: Teen (for warnings)
Spoiler Warning: name spoilers, ending spoilers, takes place after a weird mashup of the good and neutral endings
Mashita/Yashiki; could be read as one-sided (is not actually, but Yashiki needs an actual clue or several.)
Warning: It feels like all the warnings. Should not be read by those with emetophobia. Suicidal ideation. Mention of possible eating disorders (probably more along the lines of 'Yashiki is depressed so forgets to eat' but still deserves a tag). Death. The use of the word idiot, because Mashita definitely should not be doing that but is also a rude, rude, politically incorrect man. (Tbf I'm interested to know if baka is less ableist than its translation in English.)
At first, Mashita is relieved. He doesn’t see anything in Yashiki’s hands, so it’s possible Yashiki is just visiting the H Shrine or something along those lines, but…
Those ghostly shapes, by Yashiki’s feet. He hasn’t said anything since Mashita arrived, and the ghosts don’t look any more restless than usual out here, which is good. He knows all too well how one single misplaced word can agitate spirits, and he’s seen the remnants of those who have angered them.
Of course, he thinks, half in despair. This is worse than just that stupid Mark. Of course he’d fight it, but…he wasn’t completely helpless, even if his struggling was useless in the end. Now he’s not sure if he can do anything, but like hell he’s just going to stand aside and just let this happen.
Yashiki—Kujou—wasn’t a normal person, so why the hell would he commit suicide like a normal person?
Tears stream down the man’s cheeks, and he looks more broken than Mashita’s ever seen him.
“Stop what you’re doing, idiot!” he screams, and Yashiki glances up, eyes lost behind his ever-present glasses. He freezes long enough for Mashita to run up and skid to a stop, in arm’s reach and further away than ever.
“You should stay away from me,” Yashiki mutters slowly. “I’ll bring you nothing but pain. The Kujou family is cursed.” There’s a distant tone to his voice, like he’s already half—no, more far-gone than the ghosts clutching at his legs.
“You can’t let Mary win!” he snarls. The anger—he has to hold onto it, because otherwise he’ll be even less useful than Yashiki right now. Sure, okay, Satoru might be a broken man whose only contribution is his anger, or his sarcasm, but here one of them needs to cling to the fire of life and he’s got enough for them both.
“The world might have been better without me. All the death is on my hands. I should’ve found a better way.” The tears have dried. Now Yashiki is just…hollow. Empty.
“Saya gave her life to save yours, and you’re just going to throw it away?” Mashita yells, baring his teeth. “You’re not alone anymore. You might claim to be cursed, but if you think of the Mark as a curse, you’ve fought fate before. You might be the one to break the Kujou curse!” He hesitates, just for a second, before bringing his palm to Yashiki’s cheek. It must sting, but to the man’s credit, he doesn’t fall, despite how much force Mashita put into that one.
And then Yashiki just kind of…folds his entire body into Mashita’s, burying his head in Mashita’s shoulder. He often carries himself like this, constantly trying to slouch, to make himself smaller. Satoru’s heart makes a valiant attempt to tear itself out of his ribcage, but fortunately doesn’t succeed.
“I’m scared,” Kujou mutters. “I’m so scared.”
“That’s only natural,” Mashita explains quietly, hands slowly, reluctantly moving up to embrace the man in his arms. “Spirits are overwhelming for anyone. You’re impressive in that you could act even in such instances—speaking of which, you probably need to tell these spirits to get lost.”
“It’d be easier to just leave, before anything else finds us.” Yashiki’s often a practical man, despite what the detective will tell him, because he has all the survival instincts of a lemming and the luck of one of those impressive gamblers, but sometimes he’ll say one thing and do another. Such as in this instance, when he says a sensible thing and then just…doesn’t move, trembling in Satoru’s arms.
It’s against everything Mashita believes in. He wants to complain about how reckless the other man is, even downright suicidal, but then, given how he’s found the Kujou heir, maybe that’s a little too obvious even for the detective who delights in pointing out the obvious. Speaking of his own feelings seems gross and would probably get an accusation of perversion if it were the other way around, despite how apparently asexual Yashiki turned out to be. (In Mashita’s defense, the man had turned up, scruffy and nearly homeless-looking, in the company of a young girl with no relation to him. And then when they’d gone back, they’d found another kid, and with his mind already on a case and dealing with a claim solely invented through projection…he’d gone and done the same thing, really.) But he needs to give Yashiki some sort of lifeline, even as he maneuvers Yashiki like a puppet so they actually can maybe start walking away. The end result feels more like he’s carrying the older man, but whatever. “You know we won’t abandon you, right?”
Unexpectedly, Yashiki pauses to vomit into the undergrowth, which apparently is gross even to suicidal ghosts, since they and the hands back off. Mentally, Mashita resigns himself to laundry when they get back and keeps hauling the Kujou heir down the paths, even as he gasps and coughs and retches. It’s not clear if it’s the guilt eating him alive, or if he’d been drinking, or if he’s got a currently-unhealthy relationship with food still, but the exact circumstances don’t matter until they’re safe.
“Sorry,” he mutters, barely audible, and Mashita shrugs, knowing Yashiki feels more than sees the gesture.
“We’re incredibly lucky as many of us Mark Bearers survived as did. That damn doll was stacking all the cards against us, and yet somehow your kleptomania kept most of us alive.” He’s not prone to superstition, but remembers vividly the escape from Shimi-O, though the car was different. It’s everything that he can do to stop himself from breaking into a run, but after what feels like forever he finally sees the spooky entrance sign. He'll ask Yashiki later how the hell he even got here. It doesn't matter now. The Kujou heir shrinks a little when Mashita bundles him inside the car.
“I’ll clean later. For now, I think you need a change of scenery. Hope you don’t mind a cramped, shitty apartment.” He might bang his head on the super-low door. Mashita might forget to mention it and laugh, but he doesn’t want to add potential concussion to the day.
Yashiki leans his head back, on the verge of dozing off. It’s enough of a surprise to make Mashita swerve a little when he speaks, sounding awake but world-weary. “It’s like you said—my empathy is my weakness. I’ll always feel guilt about it, and—maybe it’s strange, but I don’t think I can forgive Masamune for putting us all in this situation to begin with. The oddest thing is, I don’t think he had the empathy in the first place, so where did it come from?”
“Who knows, maybe you actually did get some brain damage,” Satoru jokes, and reminds himself to keep breathing when that actually provokes a short if nice laugh.
Definitely dead: Yamashita, Masao Kimura
Those ghostly shapes, by Yashiki’s feet. He hasn’t said anything since Mashita arrived, and the ghosts don’t look any more restless than usual out here, which is good. He knows all too well how one single misplaced word can agitate spirits, and he’s seen the remnants of those who have angered them.
Of course, he thinks, half in despair. This is worse than just that stupid Mark. Of course he’d fight it, but…he wasn’t completely helpless, even if his struggling was useless in the end. Now he’s not sure if he can do anything, but like hell he’s just going to stand aside and just let this happen.
Yashiki—Kujou—wasn’t a normal person, so why the hell would he commit suicide like a normal person?
Tears stream down the man’s cheeks, and he looks more broken than Mashita’s ever seen him.
“Stop what you’re doing, idiot!” he screams, and Yashiki glances up, eyes lost behind his ever-present glasses. He freezes long enough for Mashita to run up and skid to a stop, in arm’s reach and further away than ever.
“You should stay away from me,” Yashiki mutters slowly. “I’ll bring you nothing but pain. The Kujou family is cursed.” There’s a distant tone to his voice, like he’s already half—no, more far-gone than the ghosts clutching at his legs.
“You can’t let Mary win!” he snarls. The anger—he has to hold onto it, because otherwise he’ll be even less useful than Yashiki right now. Sure, okay, Satoru might be a broken man whose only contribution is his anger, or his sarcasm, but here one of them needs to cling to the fire of life and he’s got enough for them both.
“The world might have been better without me. All the death is on my hands. I should’ve found a better way.” The tears have dried. Now Yashiki is just…hollow. Empty.
“Saya gave her life to save yours, and you’re just going to throw it away?” Mashita yells, baring his teeth. “You’re not alone anymore. You might claim to be cursed, but if you think of the Mark as a curse, you’ve fought fate before. You might be the one to break the Kujou curse!” He hesitates, just for a second, before bringing his palm to Yashiki’s cheek. It must sting, but to the man’s credit, he doesn’t fall, despite how much force Mashita put into that one.
And then Yashiki just kind of…folds his entire body into Mashita’s, burying his head in Mashita’s shoulder. He often carries himself like this, constantly trying to slouch, to make himself smaller. Satoru’s heart makes a valiant attempt to tear itself out of his ribcage, but fortunately doesn’t succeed.
“I’m scared,” Kujou mutters. “I’m so scared.”
“That’s only natural,” Mashita explains quietly, hands slowly, reluctantly moving up to embrace the man in his arms. “Spirits are overwhelming for anyone. You’re impressive in that you could act even in such instances—speaking of which, you probably need to tell these spirits to get lost.”
“It’d be easier to just leave, before anything else finds us.” Yashiki’s often a practical man, despite what the detective will tell him, because he has all the survival instincts of a lemming and the luck of one of those impressive gamblers, but sometimes he’ll say one thing and do another. Such as in this instance, when he says a sensible thing and then just…doesn’t move, trembling in Satoru’s arms.
It’s against everything Mashita believes in. He wants to complain about how reckless the other man is, even downright suicidal, but then, given how he’s found the Kujou heir, maybe that’s a little too obvious even for the detective who delights in pointing out the obvious. Speaking of his own feelings seems gross and would probably get an accusation of perversion if it were the other way around, despite how apparently asexual Yashiki turned out to be. (In Mashita’s defense, the man had turned up, scruffy and nearly homeless-looking, in the company of a young girl with no relation to him. And then when they’d gone back, they’d found another kid, and with his mind already on a case and dealing with a claim solely invented through projection…he’d gone and done the same thing, really.) But he needs to give Yashiki some sort of lifeline, even as he maneuvers Yashiki like a puppet so they actually can maybe start walking away. The end result feels more like he’s carrying the older man, but whatever. “You know we won’t abandon you, right?”
Unexpectedly, Yashiki pauses to vomit into the undergrowth, which apparently is gross even to suicidal ghosts, since they and the hands back off. Mentally, Mashita resigns himself to laundry when they get back and keeps hauling the Kujou heir down the paths, even as he gasps and coughs and retches. It’s not clear if it’s the guilt eating him alive, or if he’d been drinking, or if he’s got a currently-unhealthy relationship with food still, but the exact circumstances don’t matter until they’re safe.
“Sorry,” he mutters, barely audible, and Mashita shrugs, knowing Yashiki feels more than sees the gesture.
“We’re incredibly lucky as many of us Mark Bearers survived as did. That damn doll was stacking all the cards against us, and yet somehow your kleptomania kept most of us alive.” He’s not prone to superstition, but remembers vividly the escape from Shimi-O, though the car was different. It’s everything that he can do to stop himself from breaking into a run, but after what feels like forever he finally sees the spooky entrance sign. He'll ask Yashiki later how the hell he even got here. It doesn't matter now. The Kujou heir shrinks a little when Mashita bundles him inside the car.
“I’ll clean later. For now, I think you need a change of scenery. Hope you don’t mind a cramped, shitty apartment.” He might bang his head on the super-low door. Mashita might forget to mention it and laugh, but he doesn’t want to add potential concussion to the day.
Yashiki leans his head back, on the verge of dozing off. It’s enough of a surprise to make Mashita swerve a little when he speaks, sounding awake but world-weary. “It’s like you said—my empathy is my weakness. I’ll always feel guilt about it, and—maybe it’s strange, but I don’t think I can forgive Masamune for putting us all in this situation to begin with. The oddest thing is, I don’t think he had the empathy in the first place, so where did it come from?”
“Who knows, maybe you actually did get some brain damage,” Satoru jokes, and reminds himself to keep breathing when that actually provokes a short if nice laugh.
Definitely dead: Yamashita, Masao Kimura
