#echosdeath.

[abysel]

"you look terrible. come into the shade," @echosdeath says, beckoning him to the space next to her beneath the tree. blades of light cut across her face between leaves overhead, dappled over her skin. when it catches her eyes just right, honey-brown cracks and splits in a kaleidoscope of liquid gold. the sun burns at his back. her gaze proves little kinder, remaining the brighter thing — or perhaps that's the trouble. the sun only sees what stands before it.

"mm. that's unfortunate." kaeya's head rolls into a small, lackadaisical tilt. fur brushes his cheek. unusually, he doesn't reach for diversion: no clever redirection, no attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere. a moment of study passes before he crosses into the shade and lowers himself beside her. relief comes quickly, easing into him as the light falls away. tipping his head back, one arm drapes loosely over a knee. "i appreciate the invitation." his eye drifts closed. "the diagnosis could've used a gentler bedside manner, though."

the clues were subtle: the exhaustion. the headaches. the overwhelming desire to disappear for a week — or more, more efficient than explaining anything. of course, efficiency had never been the point of conversations like these. "well..." he glances at shams. "i suppose if you were interested in gentleness, we'd be having a very different conversation."

[zetsubocho]

romance... that’s just out of the question.

“are y’sure?” she takes a bite of kaki-pi. because of matsugane, his clan, and yaeko’s girl, she’s come to know yagami too. over twenty years, she’s watched him stumble, rebuild himself, and keep going anyway. much like she has with @echosdeath. “i mean, tābō’s quite the charmer... and not exactly subtle. neither are you.” and if either of them had the courage to confront what was already obvious—- to themselves, let alone each other—- it would’ve saved them—- and everyone else—- a lot of trouble. “it’s kinda cute. embarrassin’, but cute.” and if they had eyes, too, maybe it wouldn’t have taken this long. so much for perceptive types.

she exhales softly. taps her manicured nails on the table. “and the way ya talk about him...” a laugh. “honestly, i’m startin’ t’wonder which one of ya’s actually foolin’ themselves worse.” her eyes crinkle deviously, pausing her tapping to point at shams. “like yer face... it does this... thing whenever he comes up. y’know? real annoyin’. makes it hard t’take ya seriously.” when shams makes an expression opposite of what she’s describing and sinks her head onto the counter, chizuru smiles to herself. cards fingers through dark waves of her daughter’s hair, listening to the bar’s music. [what about this dream again, i wonder? is there still love to be found? in the moment our hands touch, all the feelings i’ve held back rise up...] “no, but really, listen.” she often hears stories about other people in love, people falling out of it, or people simply talking about it, what with her bar attracting the hopeless romantics, hopeful fools and every cynic in-between. “ya don’t survive what we survived without gettin’ good at buryin’ things.” it’s been years since she’s let herself call anything love. that’s what she thinks, at least. maybe if the fates were kind, her boys down in sōtenbori—- and yasuko, too, if she were alive—- would poke and prod at her the same way she’s doing with shams now. ...two outta three, anyway.

“but feelings? they don’t stay buried just ‘cause we ask nicely.” she gently forces shams to look back up at her, thumb and forefinger holding her by the chin. “the world already takes enough from ya, sweetheart.” don’t start takin’ more from yerself too. “maybe stop askin’ permission from yerself before wantin’ somethin’.” she lets go, then immediately dons a teasing curl to her lips. “and if ya keep insistin’ this is ‘outta the question’, life’s usually the one that decides otherwise anyway.” a pause, then, “i just don’t want ya pullin’ away from somethin’ kind right when it’s finally here. y’know?”

[zetsubocho]

for the better part of their meeting, arranged by sugiura—- who akie wishes was here, before remembering again that he isn’t, that he’s off with that lawyer—- well, private eye now, she supposes—- like he always is, like this is normal, like this, what’s happening here, isn’t—- shouldn’t feel like—- something like this—- she gives the cold shoulder.

avoids eye contact, keeps her eyes on her hands. communication is supposed to happen here. something reciprocal. something that closes the distance instead of defining it. she’s still learning how to do that, how to answer, how to meet speech with speech, after years where silence became the only fluent thing she had, where it became easier than translation. there’s a point where the conversation should require her to respond. should catch up to her, arrive in time to be met, become something she can step into instead of fall behind.

it doesn’t. at least, until @echosdeath says, “it’s not my fault, but it’s my problem.”

but it’s my problem... akie’s bitten-down nails worry at the skin around them, before pressing down into the soft, tender flesh, too hard, too far, until it hurt. pinpricks of blood well up on her thumb. shams, who’s been more-or-less enduring the lopsided exchange, reaches over to stop her, an attempt to calm akie’s nerves, but her hands dart away and retreat into sugiura’s jacket instead—- hers now, in the way things become hers when no one is actively using them anymore.

“i d-don’t...” her voice comes out rough, scratchy, shaky. she hates how small it sounds. “i, um... d-don’t need you making it your problem.” with skin-picking off the table, akie curls further into herself on the couch, and focuses elsewhere in sugiura’s apartment. “i don’t n-need that.” she decides on his shelf, sparse except for a singular picture frame: him and his sister. emi terasawa looks back at her. she wishes she had a picture of shiori still.

all she has is the memory of her, her sunburst smile, her laugh; her dying, cooling, rotting body in shangri-la. “that’s not—- that’s not what this is s-supposed to b-be.”

[zetsubocho]

let’s pretend for the moment that you’re not entirely insane.

god, @echosdeath is ruthless. does she say this to all her business partners too? good afternoon, thanks for meeting with me. by the way, you seem mentally unstable! “‘not entirely insane’...” akiyama repeats it back to her, visibly pouting harder as she plucks the magazine off his face. “see, the ‘not entirely’ part somehow makes it worse. if you’d just called me insane outright, i could’ve worked with that. but this?” he presses a hand to his chest. “this feels targeted.”

he glances over at hana’s desk for help, support, divine intervention—- anything, really—- only to find it abandoned. right... still out on that errand. not that she would’ve helped him over shams anyway. she’d sooner watch him suffer than intervene. “you really know how to make a man feel special, y’know that, shams? you’re so mean to me. genuinely.” he sinks further in his chair. she’s flitting through the mess of his desk, and arches her brow at him. he points to another pile next to her. “do you enjoy watching me suffer? because i need you to know you’ve wounded me. deeply.” another dramatic hand-to-heart. “right here.” he lets out a long, suffering sigh. “ahh, i’m devastated. completely devastated.”

[katorats]

@echosdeath. " news travels fast, around here. "

okwaho's narrowed gaze keeps watch on each of the patrons of the tavern. his hood remains over his head, concealing much of his identity from a glance. he really hopes that no one tries to bother him tonight, especially since he is with company. whilst he isn't as well known nor as wanted as certain individuals in his group, there is still a pretty price on his head should someone get brave enough to take the initiative. he leans in to respond to shams in a bit of a whisper. " i was hoping that wouldn't be the case. town is small enough. but, maybe i shouldn't risk it. " he's gotten rather used to staying in the woods anyway, which is preferable if it poses less of a threat. as much as a proper bath would do him wonders.