Heya! To try and further promote the upcoming Matsuda Yasuke fanweek at the end of May (more info on this blog), I’m gonna start posting ficlets with the various prompts suggested! Just to give a couple of ideas!
Warnings for hospital stuff and the Kamukura Project.
When he was little, he tore up a lot of things. Paper, fabric, skin. Even young, he understood that tears left behind scars when fixed. Even when glued back in place. Even when taped together. Even when stitched together.
Things couldn’t be as they were, and people were the same.
Something basic that he refused to believe at heart. Even a rotten corpse can be restored, he had once thought. We’re just not competent enough to do so.
He thinks that. He thinks that. He thinks that.
He rips open a hole in his shirt. He sews it back together. He does so perfectly. No pricks, no mistakes. Just the perfect cover up of one.
Rips are a permanent stain. One that can’t disappear like blood under a scrub of hydrogen peroxide. It’s a scar. Scars can fade, but they can’t disappear.
Even on what’s supposed to be perfection.
Kamukura Izuru doesn’t say anything as Matsuda brushes his hair back, as he stares at the scars, as he remembers marking that very skull with marker and cutting through. Kamukura stares back impassively, when Hinata had stared back in fear and trepidation.
At some point, Hinata Hajime had started screaming and struggling. He had to be sedated. Even through the drug, Matsuda could see the other screaming behind that now vacant stare. Let me out, let me out, let me out! Finally realizing what a stupid fucking mistake it was to consent to something like this.
“You should have just run away,” Matsuda had mattered back then. And right now, he says, “You can still run away. Get as far from us as you can. You don’t have to stay here.”
Kamukura Izuru says nothing, but his gaze drops, cold and despondent.
“You don’t have to live like this because of his mistake,” Matsuda said, more firmly. “Even if that idiot can’t be brought back, you’re still…”
“Do you really believe I cannot be undone?”
Matsuda stops. Kamukura is still not looking at him.
“Do you really think I am a permanent fixture? You know better than anyone that these egotistical fools are rushing headfirst towards their end, and that in that end, I will be discarded without a second thought.”
That’s—another situation entirely. Yes, I killed him, and I brought in this guy to replace him… But… But..
“You really don’t care, do you? Hah. Haha. Why bother, then?”
Matsuda Yasuke, someone foolishly committed to undoing entropy, could only shrug his shoulders at the fact.
“It’s not my fault,” he said, to himself and to Kamukura. “I warned him. And I warned you. It’s not—my fault. I’ve got no obligation to either of you.”
It would be a mistake to pretend that were true.
But he was really, really just an idiot like that.
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