How to Live
Jun. 24th, 2021 10:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Death Mark/Shiin
Follow-up to The Specter of the Kujou Family
Chapter Summary: Mashita tries to help how he can. And has toned down the tsundere.
Word Count: 1005
Rating: Teen, ish, Mashita is all but dancing around the fact he has a crush
Spoilers: Post Good Ending, so identity spoilers, ending spoilers, general game spoilers...
Warnings: alcohol, Mashita being prompted to clean up his ableist language
It might honestly have been the liquid courage that prompts Yashiki’s next words, once he stops laughing. He hadn’t had much, but now that the detective thinks about it, the older man’s eating habits had been sporadic at best, and that was with other people here in the mansion to force him to eat and stop looking for answers every now and again. It didn’t seem like it was on purpose, just forgetfulness, but that didn’t make it any more healthy. Of course, that could have been the influence of the Mark, but given that his caffeine habits hadn’t changed, Mashita just has the feeling that most of the calories he consumes on purpose are probably from coffee. “Help me figure out who I am and what I should do.”
Mashita doesn’t bother to reply to that one, just lifts an eyebrow sardonically.
“You don’t have to feel obligated in any way, but you were right. Your advice has been very helpful, once you look past the delivery.” Is he—is he teasing Satoru?
He considers. Mostly for show; he’s already decided to help, because Yashiki quite honestly needs it. Mostly he’s thinking about what delivers in the city, what would be easy on the stomach, because if the man’s a lightweight or just hasn’t eaten… “Ramen,” he decides out loud, quirking a smile as it looks like he’s confused Yashiki again.
“Well, you’ve suddenly come into a lot of money. I think you could probably treat me this once.” He hates charity, actually, which could become an issue later on, but for the moment it’s more charity for Yashiki, rather than the other way around.
“A-ah, yes, of course.” Yashiki gets up to move toward the room’s phone and stops himself, causing him to sway a little. Definitely tipsy, even if he’s trying not to be. “Although it just occurred to me that while Masamune might not be around anymore to mind, he’s considered dead, so I’m not sure if I can use—”
“Restaurants still take cash. Though if you’re concerned about it, make a note of how much you use,” the detective states firmly.
“Good idea,” Yashiki agrees, and heads over to the phone. At least he seems competent enough about that, which is a relief. Overly polite, as usual. But it’s clear he’s capable of acting like a human being, if he has to. Also of note: he knows all the hiding places he can find cash, in this place. It’s not like they hadn’t found a few, while turning the mansion upside down looking for clues, but he’s as familiar with the place as a man would in his own home, and that’s an interesting observation.
The easy silence is a little less so, when he returns. He really hadn’t expected to be forgiven, hadn’t planned for it, and is now at a loss. He’s not exactly the same Yashiki as he had been, either, though for once he’s not going to bring that up. Tact is not one of his strengths, but Yashiki’s already struggling enough with his own identity. “You should at least let the others know you’re alive. It’ll be up to them whether or not they can forgive Kujou, but they’d probably agree with me.”
Yashiki grimaces, but nods reluctantly, and goes to pick up the phone.
“Not now, idiot. Though I could email that damn fortune teller woman and she can let everyone else know.” He had been…annoyed, to say the least, when she’d somehow gotten his address, but he’d been desperate for any news about the amnesiac, which meant things he really hadn’t wanted to think about. It’s hard to avoid thinking about them now, but Mashita is a stubborn bastard. He can manage. At the nod, he sends off a quick ‘he’s alive’ to the woman and promptly turns off his phone. He’ll deal with her later.
Being an expert investigator, though, he notices Yashiki flinch on the ‘idiot’. He hadn’t done that before, when he was missing his memories. “What’s wrong?”
“They never said it to my face, but they’d talk about us even in the same room…how a useless hikikomori would be a poor head of the household, or how it’s too bad the competent one was born a woman.” That memory was all Kujou’s, the pain his. It’s rare, too, that Mashita feels any guilt for anything he’d said. It’s enough to put together a hypothesis. Kujou Masamune had learned that to place any feelings toward anyone other than his sister was pain. Even children are capable of learning to stop sticking their hand on the stove, even if no one tells them it’s dangerous.
“I’ll watch my mouth, but no promises.” That’s a complete lie. He’ll do his best, and he knows it’s hardly for honorable reasons, but there’s no reason to burden Kazuo with the specifics. Time for a subject change. “You don’t need to take on the name, you know.”
Yashiki’s smile is wistful. “I’m not looking forward to it either, but I have to be Masamune. I need the Kujou resources to deal with Mary.” At the detective’s alarmed expression, he quickly adds, “…I was able to seal her, as a holding measure, but like Grandfather’s seal, it’s merely buying time. I’d rather find something to seal her for longer, at minimum, or destroy her, if I’m lucky, and I need the money, contacts…” That sounds an awful lot like being a slave to the stupid—annoying—doll for the rest of his life, but Satoru holds his tongue.
The phone rings, and Yashiki excuses himself. The delivery’s probably here, and, Mashita thinks, vaguely amused, the delivery man probably tried for a knock, found the door open, and is now in the main hall calling with shaky hands wondering if he’s going to be haunted. He contemplates drinking more, briefly, before coming to the conclusion it’d be a bad idea. It’s mostly for show, anyway, and if he actually gets drunk he might do something embarrassing.
Death Mark/Shiin
Follow-up to The Specter of the Kujou Family
Chapter Summary: Mashita tries to help how he can. And has toned down the tsundere.
Word Count: 1005
Rating: Teen, ish, Mashita is all but dancing around the fact he has a crush
Spoilers: Post Good Ending, so identity spoilers, ending spoilers, general game spoilers...
Warnings: alcohol, Mashita being prompted to clean up his ableist language
It might honestly have been the liquid courage that prompts Yashiki’s next words, once he stops laughing. He hadn’t had much, but now that the detective thinks about it, the older man’s eating habits had been sporadic at best, and that was with other people here in the mansion to force him to eat and stop looking for answers every now and again. It didn’t seem like it was on purpose, just forgetfulness, but that didn’t make it any more healthy. Of course, that could have been the influence of the Mark, but given that his caffeine habits hadn’t changed, Mashita just has the feeling that most of the calories he consumes on purpose are probably from coffee. “Help me figure out who I am and what I should do.”
Mashita doesn’t bother to reply to that one, just lifts an eyebrow sardonically.
“You don’t have to feel obligated in any way, but you were right. Your advice has been very helpful, once you look past the delivery.” Is he—is he teasing Satoru?
He considers. Mostly for show; he’s already decided to help, because Yashiki quite honestly needs it. Mostly he’s thinking about what delivers in the city, what would be easy on the stomach, because if the man’s a lightweight or just hasn’t eaten… “Ramen,” he decides out loud, quirking a smile as it looks like he’s confused Yashiki again.
“Well, you’ve suddenly come into a lot of money. I think you could probably treat me this once.” He hates charity, actually, which could become an issue later on, but for the moment it’s more charity for Yashiki, rather than the other way around.
“A-ah, yes, of course.” Yashiki gets up to move toward the room’s phone and stops himself, causing him to sway a little. Definitely tipsy, even if he’s trying not to be. “Although it just occurred to me that while Masamune might not be around anymore to mind, he’s considered dead, so I’m not sure if I can use—”
“Restaurants still take cash. Though if you’re concerned about it, make a note of how much you use,” the detective states firmly.
“Good idea,” Yashiki agrees, and heads over to the phone. At least he seems competent enough about that, which is a relief. Overly polite, as usual. But it’s clear he’s capable of acting like a human being, if he has to. Also of note: he knows all the hiding places he can find cash, in this place. It’s not like they hadn’t found a few, while turning the mansion upside down looking for clues, but he’s as familiar with the place as a man would in his own home, and that’s an interesting observation.
The easy silence is a little less so, when he returns. He really hadn’t expected to be forgiven, hadn’t planned for it, and is now at a loss. He’s not exactly the same Yashiki as he had been, either, though for once he’s not going to bring that up. Tact is not one of his strengths, but Yashiki’s already struggling enough with his own identity. “You should at least let the others know you’re alive. It’ll be up to them whether or not they can forgive Kujou, but they’d probably agree with me.”
Yashiki grimaces, but nods reluctantly, and goes to pick up the phone.
“Not now, idiot. Though I could email that damn fortune teller woman and she can let everyone else know.” He had been…annoyed, to say the least, when she’d somehow gotten his address, but he’d been desperate for any news about the amnesiac, which meant things he really hadn’t wanted to think about. It’s hard to avoid thinking about them now, but Mashita is a stubborn bastard. He can manage. At the nod, he sends off a quick ‘he’s alive’ to the woman and promptly turns off his phone. He’ll deal with her later.
Being an expert investigator, though, he notices Yashiki flinch on the ‘idiot’. He hadn’t done that before, when he was missing his memories. “What’s wrong?”
“They never said it to my face, but they’d talk about us even in the same room…how a useless hikikomori would be a poor head of the household, or how it’s too bad the competent one was born a woman.” That memory was all Kujou’s, the pain his. It’s rare, too, that Mashita feels any guilt for anything he’d said. It’s enough to put together a hypothesis. Kujou Masamune had learned that to place any feelings toward anyone other than his sister was pain. Even children are capable of learning to stop sticking their hand on the stove, even if no one tells them it’s dangerous.
“I’ll watch my mouth, but no promises.” That’s a complete lie. He’ll do his best, and he knows it’s hardly for honorable reasons, but there’s no reason to burden Kazuo with the specifics. Time for a subject change. “You don’t need to take on the name, you know.”
Yashiki’s smile is wistful. “I’m not looking forward to it either, but I have to be Masamune. I need the Kujou resources to deal with Mary.” At the detective’s alarmed expression, he quickly adds, “…I was able to seal her, as a holding measure, but like Grandfather’s seal, it’s merely buying time. I’d rather find something to seal her for longer, at minimum, or destroy her, if I’m lucky, and I need the money, contacts…” That sounds an awful lot like being a slave to the stupid—annoying—doll for the rest of his life, but Satoru holds his tongue.
The phone rings, and Yashiki excuses himself. The delivery’s probably here, and, Mashita thinks, vaguely amused, the delivery man probably tried for a knock, found the door open, and is now in the main hall calling with shaky hands wondering if he’s going to be haunted. He contemplates drinking more, briefly, before coming to the conclusion it’d be a bad idea. It’s mostly for show, anyway, and if he actually gets drunk he might do something embarrassing.
