∗ 6o﹕ sender claps a hand over receiver’s mouth to silence them . (@ Nishiki)
100 nonverbal prompts. / accepting.
is it so wrong to feel inadequate? it’s silly, even to him, that he needs to rationalize his own emotions. that he has to.. consider that what he’s feeling is wrong and silly and goddamnit, akira, focus! says the fake kazama that’s currently hitting his brain with a bokken. / —because if he doesn’t give a hundred percent to the dojima name then, clearly, he’s failing. he’s a failure. take his mark-2 grande and throw it beneath a crusher since, whatever, right? he isn’t deserving of a fancy car if he can’t even do his damn job.
.. reina listens, sometimes. though he can tell she’s only being polite. has told him that "the time will come for you to shine!" but — he can’t feel it. deep, rooted in his chest; an ugly pinnacle of shame. —shame, and the now three bottles of chuhai sloshing around in his system. in hindsight, maybe drinking on a particularly bad day was not one of his best decisions. alas, here he is. nova beside him, in some quiet, empty bar, drinking his sorrows away…
"maybe i’m the problem." he croaks, voice a register he’s never heard himself be in. high, panicked, whiny— dear god. he’s become a whiner. "maybe.. i don’t know. kiryu, he— he has it all figured out. and i’m just— just what? some fuckin’— decoy? a useless guppie that can’t even get his own shit togeth—"
a hand to his mouth. warm, real, grounding. a little rude, but— needed. immediately he shuts up, eyes flickering from the ground up to her, staring with a blink, blink, blink. for a moment he’s quiet, brain half a mile back and still processing the here, the now. then,
".. sawee." (sorry.) muffled against her palm, looking much like a kicked dog more than the soldier he’s meant to be. could imagine what his sworn brother would think of him, seeing him get handled in such a way. "what’s happened to you, kyōdai?" —what’s happened is he’s hit rock bottom. this is rock bottom, imaginary kiryu. ugh.
