they were wolves —— all canines , intrinsic and wild. where else can the teeth go but sink into the flesh and tear the hurt out before it infects and festers. hands so deeply tattooed by their scars and they are tongue tied because the emotions run too deep. it was hard to let it out so they let the bones speak for them. let the copper in their mouths and on their tongues speak. their blood lava , their breaths ashes , and from those ashes maybe he will learn to be honest about what lies in his heart ; maybe he will learn there may be more and he is not atlas.
anger still makes its nest. anger is what he breathes and chokes on. what he softly , excruciatingly gnaws as the other continued to spit acid. bruised jaw and flesh are numb , the muscle underneath too is numbed. “ what does it matter? ” a venomous hiss fumes from bloodstained teeth. it has always been like this , ever since childhood , blame him for it all , let him take the anger and wear it like war paint because he is strength. the one who stood when no one else couldn’t. he was so well trained , well equipped. he could not say more , nothing more to saito’s taunting , but he could still raise his fists and he could still beat the living shit out of this rambunctious mutt. their blows continue to fly , sterile white walls and floors painted with their ruby ichor. their heels leave skid marks and thrown bodies leave dents.
then the vice commander begins to have enough , skips backwards leaving space but not for long as he lunges his knee into the other’s abdomen. a few more steps forward , both are hauled onto the floors once again. the thuds against that hard floor ricochets through the halls , and still not a single soul around to witness the rough housing — that was for the best , however. this was their personal tango. their play , their anguish , their twisted little bonding because the words nestle in their hearts and throats is lodged and refused to let go. the heart does not speak and instead it acts out its harrowing reverie. the most he has ever felt resentful , “ what more do you want from me?! ” voice gurgles in the blood of his mouth , almost drowned out by the continuous beating and heavy heaving and grunting. there was a strain in his voice , something more wanted to spill from his throat , something more wanted to crawl out from it and thrash as feral beasts. you can hear it , how much more wants to be blurted.
─── rabid & wild, lawless but not completely so when it comes to matters within a pack. teeth barred towards one another. most fight one another with purpose , his own is proof of that even if it means hands would be caked in another but scars ,bites & blood. it is what it always that’s how it’s always been , yet he moves out of his docile place within that pack in order to prove a point towards the other. what does it matter ? that question annoys him all the same now this self made man that holds everything upon his shoulders. atlas , not just anyone though.
this man was the shinsengumi’s atlas , fool that was harsh on the surface yet he’s the kindest of them with that golden heart & pure intentions. ah , but while that’s a thought he can’t help but listen to words laced with that possible anger. finally ! his own flesh stings with pain the whole time & that hiss eases it away once it falls onto his ears. ❛ for you to stop being an idiot & taking all the blame. you’re not some bullshit superman that can hold up everything on your pasty ass shoulders. oh how about this as a want too , finally realize you’ve still got me & pancake chested okita to help you , stop taking the blame just onto yourself. ❜
this loudmouth always taking the blame for things the whole time , he’s heard some tales of his childhood barely so to continue on with baring the weight of blame even now ? stupid , completely idiotic & self – punishing. for every punch that lands on him , he moves to continue with returning it with vigor. feet shift , skid & struggle to catch himself as to not fall. he could die , this was his possible deathbed , one that was fitting within his guilt ridden mind. let it out even if it means pain on his behalf it’s far worth it. taunts continue to fly without pause.
words ‘ tender ‘ even as he wheezes from the knee to the stomach laughter brims within him. oh he’ll play kind , soft as if the other was fragile , if not completely delicate ... bullshit ! as if he’d do something fool-hearty like that for long even if gloved hands seem to glide over the bloodier side of the berserkers face. had anyone seen the hallway’s walls , the flooring & them as well then a bloodbath would be fitting to describe it , even if it would have felt mild. oh but he doesn’t skip a beat , never turns up the charm nor attempts to lower the cynical parts of himself. just at the drop of a hat he takes a fist full of hair in hand & while it might hurt him more then anything he doesn’t put up the stops to recklessly slam his forehead against the others. shit it hurts &the sharp stinging he feels doesn’t piss off at all.
❛ enough of this bullshit white knight shit while holding the blame on your shoulders. shape the fuck up & give me back that bastard oni - fukucho I know from back then. ❜