yamuenai

[yamuenai]

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[yamuenai]

@kokorose : "i tried to get a message out to you." PICK UP YOUR PHOOOOOOOOOOOONE HISHIMA

" i wasn't aware , " hishima counters, his voice bland, maintaining the mask of seemingly imperturbable composure even in the wake of ume's naked shock . gently lifting a gloved hand , hishima turns the screen of his phone to face his conductor ---  the unread number beside the messaging app icon is staggering , a graveyard of neglected communications buried in the device . " NEVERTHELESS , ” he adds , “ when your usual punctuality failed , i began to suspect there was reason for your delay . "

in ume's absence , hishima had meandered between lumine 2's shops in an accustomed solitude , looking often but buying little , & after two hours has only a small bag embossed with pavo real's strong serifs to show for it . 

a small shrug graces his narrow shoulders as he stashes away his phone once more , MESSAGES DAMNED TO GO UNREAD . " if it were dire , i expected you would send a warbler . "

[yamuenai]

@the-composer : "You look fun." He's all unctuous smiles as he sidles up to his new target, looking him up and down. "You belong to the Shinjuku flock, right?" Joshua had only paid minimal attention to the Reapers, so it makes sense he would have overlooked him initially. "Who are you?"

the intruding voice breaks the still face of hishima's thoughts . perched at this remote zenith , the recursive loop of an exterior staircase hung above udagawa's knotted snare of roads & telephone wires , THERE EXISTS NO SUCH THING AS A CHANCE MEETING : he has sought hishima out with a purpose . 

there is no sharp gasp , nor snap-like pivot towards him --- deliberately , hishima straightens & rotates to face the stranger fully , like a stone monolith pivoting about its axis with earth-scraping slowness . " has my reputation spread even among the shibuyan natives ? " he asks evenly , schooling his features into an impassive mask with ease. " I AM HISHIMA SAKAZUKI . & you ... "

now it's hishima who looks with scrutiny , extended gaze scanning over his unassuming figure , finding no trace of malice except for the cloying way his mouth sinks around fun --- but hishima had been quick to learn of the outward antagonism present among the shibuyan reapers , the cat-like pawing at their mark until they can wring no more amusement from it . it's a sentiment that has ceased to trigger his guard .

" ... are unfamiliar to me , " comes his judgement , given flat . " WHO MIGHT YOU BE ? "

[yamuenai]

in the same moment, hishima is tracing the jagged periphery of her inner turmoil , winding a barbed skein of doubts around his knuckles - ACUTELY COGNIZANT OF HOW LITTLE EFFORT IT WOULD TAKE TO UNTANGLE THEM FROM HER THOUGHTS & how it would ease some of the tension from her frame , identical to those silent nights he had placed his palm solidly against her forehead . & yet , encased by the river & the isolated bubble of Imagination it forms - how everything flows in , but in defiance of logic , never seems to flow out - hishima is robbed of the means to disperse it . it's in this comprehension that redirecting her emotions would mean BEARING THEM HIMSELF , OR ALLOWING THE RIVER TO FEED THEM BACK TO HER , that he grasps why it is she frequents this place .

he again feels her gentle gravity urge his form into motion - but accustomed to his own carefully curated emotional distance , he remains DUTIFULLY APART .

" shibuya yet stands , " his shadow stands steadfast against the damp , graffiti-sprawl of concrete , split , duplicated , & contorted into four mirrors of his sturdy form . " grieve it not . "

hishima's gaze prickles at the back of her head like the cold edge of a knife. she should either be used to how he can peel her apart one handful of words at a time, or should have listened to every single part of her that told her to leave, to forget it, forget him, because of how easily he can flay her alive. 

but she's still here. 

he is, too: equally as scalded by her. maybe there's something to say about liking the pain, or maybe they're just the same type of self destructive — or maybe she's stuck on the fact that she doesn't know, even after the months they've spent sinking into each other's cracks. who else would she allow to know but him?

who else would he allow himself to know but her?

⠀   ⠀"it's not just about me," tsuki murmurs, her fingers idly tracing the jagged outline of a hewn piece of concrete. "it's about everyone the higher plane's ever fucked around with. every time some self-absorbed featherhead gets bored and turns two hundred thousand lives to dust."

her jaw sets hard around the memory. she tosses the concrete pebble into the river below, ripples slicing the frigid black, sound punctuating the loss. it's been three years since the composer's game and they're still being punished for it.

[yamuenai]

@psychreaped : they didn't tell you?

" they may have . i haven't made a habit of checking , " hishima confesses , steering his gaze towards the static-filled sky projected outside the cafe window , over the horizon of a plain porcelain cup . his voice , an amalgam of disinterest & hardened reticence , ricochets off the canvas-lined walls hemming them in wildkat — A STARK , NUMBED ECHO AGAINST THE RICH COLOURS OF THE INTERIOR . " i'm afraid you've sought the wrong reaper for counsel . the fate of the city is of little consequence to me now - your breath is better spent on kaie or susukichi . "

his cup rattles a nonsense melody against the polished countertop , half untasted . there dwells his sombre knowledge that the destruction of shibuya is an event earmarked in hours , not days ; there persists his detached musings of shiba's next prospective target following the obliteration of this city , WHETHER THIS GAME WILL CONTINUE , or if his puppeteers will tire of him once shibuya is reduced to dust . hishima expertly shifts from his perch on the bar stool & directs himself silently towards the solitude of the exit . 

" naively hopeful they remain ; they yet harbour belief that there are words potent enough to reach him . "

[yamuenai]

@memoreaped : funny. i don't remember falling asleep.

for a fleeting second , HISHIMA STRUGGLES TO COMPREHEND WHY THE TEEN'S APPEARANCE RINGS A BELL ; & is equally puzzled about why someone who looks as though he's just passed his entrance exams ( or not passed , if he were to take an honest measure ) should regard him with such profound perplexity . his recollections of those intense three weeks in shibuya - & those involved within - swiftly receded behind the inviting challenge of restoring shinjuku , & take a moment to be trawled from their depths .

" an astute observation . you did not , indeed , "  once the recognition is drawn , hishima steels his focus on fret with a subtle rise of his chin & a severity that sharpens the edges of his indifferent exterior . " a lack of memory around the events leading to your entry isn't unusual . was that also not the case the last time you played ? I SUPPOSE IT MATTERS NOT . " 

he delves into the depth of his pocket with stone-faced tenacity , retrieving a mysterious object : revealed in his palm as a black pin gleaming ominously under the city's overcast sun . adorning it is a red , dual-spiked emblem . with an air of formal stoicism , he extends it toward him . " once more unto the chthonic breach , furesawa tosai . WELCOME BACK TO THE REAPER'S GAME . "

… the trace of a SMILE , barely perceptible , etches itself momentarily upon his face . " no , i'm merely pulling your leg . "

[yamuenai]

@hackereaped : I always lived in my head

in the fragrant confines of kaie's shop , nested in incense & old books , THERE IS BALMY SPRING SUNLIGHT - not through the windows , but spilling outwards from the soft-spoken girl before him . hishima takes in her warmth & words alike with his typical unaffectedness , his emotionless facade perched on one of kaie's weathered velvet wing chairs running counter to the SUBTLE DIP OF HIS SHOULDERS at such unfiltered genuinity . she couldn't sour his mood more than whatever kaie deemed important enough to message him about , repeatedly , until even hishima could not ignore the rising notification count , & so the distraction is a welcomed one .

" i see . " he intones with a deliberateness that seems to ponder her even after his acknowledgement . " solitude is a familiar sanctuary . "

perhaps he'll allow himself to linger here a while , in this brief refuge amid the relentless waves of self-aggrandisement & deceptions that mark SHINJUKU & SHIBUYA'S SHARED SWAN-SONG .

[yamuenai]

every day i wake up to write hishima . ' i'm bitter , ' he said bitterly . ' the abrupt dissolution of my idyllic world has robbed me of the will to go on . i have withdrawn from those i once held dear in order to shield myself from further emotional harm but cannot stop myself from still caring for them , resulting in a cyclical suffering that stops me from being able to change both myself & others for the better . also , they nerfed motherships . '

[yamuenai]

@gamereaped : “It was not your decision to make. My life is my own.” / shiba

in their grand meeting place , chandeliers loom high above , crystal-encased flames bathing the daunting backdrop of gilded ebony tables & velvety burgundy drapes in an ethereal , milky glow . amidst this opulence , every utterance dripped from shiba's lips rings with an INSINCERE METALLIC TWANG that claws at the threads of hishima's rapidly fraying patience .

" does thirst for power outweigh your duty so much now , shiba ? " he retorts with terrifying calmness – a storm well-veiled behind ironclad composure . his tone is acrid as caffeine , impassionate as the frozen tundra whistling through the drapes that surround them . " understand that your existence is intrinsically tied to shinjuku’s welfare . SACRIFICING ONE IS AKIN TO MURDERING THE OTHER . "

[yamuenai]

instinctively , hishima intercepts , HAND SMOOTHLY ENVELOPING HERS to lower it before the club staff can take any undue notice . the gentle gasp it triggers shoots a dangerous jolt of sentiment within him , & hishima fights to ignore it , just as he's ignoring the warm softness of her skin against his , remembering how IT FIT BETWEEN HIS & THE COLD TILE -

" i have no intention of pursuing something serious , " he warns , attempting to maintain the edge in his tone : a caustic barrier between him & this thing he still denies the inevitability of . " it would be better to keep knowledge of one another to a minimum. "

with purpose stated , he releases her from his grasp , but does not move away . euclase eyes , HARD AS THEIR NAMESAKE , bore into her : a look like trapped thunder underlining each word of his warning . the strobing club lights illuminate the angles of his face - the stern set of his lips, the rigid cut of his jawline - while shadows dance in his hooded sockets . " if those terms are agreeable , then i wouldn't refuse another glass of ichiro's . "

a triumphant smile blazes across tsuki's face. with a stony expression like that, she was worried she'd have to drag him along by those obnoxious square-lined lapels. now she's got her mind set on a much more satisfying set of plans for them, leaning subtly closer, drumming a gentle staccato against his skin. considering her options.

⠀ ⠀"let's chalk it up to scientific curiosity," she says. maybe it's the warm lights above them that make her shed a soft flow, or maybe it's just her; everything about the club seems amplified, neon, louder than life. "i've got a hypothesis, and i'd like to test it."

a pause. her eyes flit briefly downward, landing on his glass that contains more meltwater than whiskey. a tragedy. and one she's about to correct, if he lets her.

⠀ ⠀"... over another round of drinks," she gestures for a waitress. "if you're game, that is."

[yamuenai]

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD" PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

who else knows you're still alive?

don't tell me i'm the only one that knows.

i never should have believed their lies.

how could you keep this from me?

they lied to you. they knew it would break you if i died.

i staged it all.

there's no way this is happening.

i'm never letting you go.

i promised you i'd never leave you.

but i saw you die! this is impossible!

no. no. this isn't happening. this can't be real.

i watched it. i watched you die and now you're standing here.

how is this even possible?

they might have exaggerated just a bit.

we needed to make it look like i was dead.

you just let me spend all this time thinking you were dead?

did you tell anyone else?

this was your master plan? fake your death, see what happens?

i don't know whether to be pissed or be thrilled to see you again.

i've just seen a ghost.

you saw what they wanted you to see.

you're not real. i must be dreaming.

did you look for me?

funny. i don't remember falling asleep.

you just let us all believe you were dead?

it was the only way to do this. i'm sorry.

when were you going to tell me?

i watched the life leave your eyes...

you kept this from me.

oh my god... no. no no no. this can't be happening.

how did you... how did you even do this?

someone pinch me.

you look pretty good for someone that's supposed to be dead.

i watched you die in my arms.

they told me you died.

i promised you i'd come back.

they lied to me? all this time?

trust me, i wanted to tell you. i really did.

i think i need to sit down.

i'm gonna need some time to process this.

are you real? can i touch you?

what was all this about you dying?

you've kept the truth from me all this time.

had you just told me, i could have helped you.

i begged them to let me tell you, but they said it would ruin our plans.

the blood was fake. i'm all right.

yes, i'm alive! would you please come over here and give me a hug?

i didn't think i'd survive it, either.

i knew you'd come back for me.

we had to make it believable from the start.

there was no other way.

i should have told you.

i tried to get a message out to you.

they said you'd moved on, so i figured i should, too.

i wish i had all the answers for you.

i know you expect me to be okay with this, but things have changed since you died.

[name]... i thought you were dead.

will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?

i'll never leave you again.

i swear on my life, this wasn't supposed to happen this way.

i take it you got my message.

everything got out of hand.

they didn't tell you?

glad you could make it.

i'm sorry i didn't reach out to you sooner.

all of a sudden, you come back into my life.

i'm back and better than ever.

i don't want to hear your excuses.

[yamuenai]

because i simply have no idea where to place this on hishima's carrd , i will post it here : the full name of shinjuku's conductor is never revealed , but for my part , i have named him MATSUNAE UMEICHI ( 松苗梅一 ) . his name contains 梅 " plum tree " in obedience of the group's hanafuda theme , & his birthday is in february , also in obedience of the hanafuda theme . for the most part he is simply addressed as ' matsunae ' , but hishima may refer to him as umeichi from time to time .

[yamuenai]

— Philip Schultz, from “The God of Loneliness.”

[yamuenai]

@krillcount : "there’s no secret remorse there. i simply don’t have it in me." tsuki wakes up and chooses violence every single day

her voice is scarcely more than a murmur echoed in the cavernous tunnel , swallowed by the constant drone of water rushing somewhere unseen . hishima scrutinises her outlined form from his spot on the steep concrete apron of the river's channel , attempting to discern IF THE WORDS ARE INTENDED FOR HIM , a six-metre chasm between them that seems indelibly etched into his psyche — as though the measured physical separation can salvage their RAPIDLY DETERIORIATING emotional divide . 

the steel in her voice triggers a prickling discomfort that ascends his backbone , his teeth grinding against the acid drop of a REALITY CHECK that forms a hard edge against her radiant resolve . it's a sentiment he feels had been plucked directly from his past , parroted far in the future by the peculiar properties of the shibuya river .

" a grudge against Them isn't unique to you , " he retorts , words steeped in palpable cynicism . " & your erasure at Their hands won't be unique , either . "

[yamuenai]

assembling hishima's dialogue from game cutscenes & once again astonished by how utterly savage he is . ' your fatuity never fails to make me smile , ' facing certain demise & still prioritizing the chance to call shiba a dumbass .

[yamuenai]

“There’s a thin sheet of glass between me and life. However clearly I see and understand life, I cannot touch it.”

— Fernando Pessoa

[yamuenai]

his eyes betray the brief flicker of surprise at her touch, only for the icy resilience he wears like a shield to swiftly reclaim its place . the crimson curve of red's meticulously lacquered talon traces a trail from the glistening brim of her drink & straight to his Soul , for how his hair stands on end where her nail hovers . an undeniable THRUMMING , more than the bassline in the air , picks up between them ; it tugs him aflame by the hazy tangle of want he could lose himself in , & YET , & YET , & YET .

" i was , " hishima responds, sharp & concise. HE LACKS ANY REASON TO DENY IT ; his intention with her that evening have always been unambiguous . his whiskey tumbler hovers tentatively at his lips before committing to another drink . " are you in pursuit of a repeat performance ? "

in that initial , unexpected exchange of glances , hishima had absorbed far too much of her: since leaving shiba aloft his puppet strings , he's found it impossible to confront his own reflection . chasing her , then , could only be considered an alcohol-fueled act of self-destruction , well aware of the idiocy but advancing tentatively regardless , as if cautiously extending his hand into the maw of a lion could somehow coax it not to strike .

WHY , THEN , DOES HE DO IT ONCE MORE ?

last week had been practically wordless: a familiarity that stripped her down the instant they made eye contact— a feeling that must have struck him, too, because he came to her, and then there was just instinct and their bodies moving together beneath a dim halo of light.

she hadn't anticipated him coming out swinging (but should have, considering her type) and so isn't ready for it, the remark earning him a puff of laughter, half shocked, half sincere.

       "yeah, i was," she agrees playfully. she's got her ember-dark eyes locked onto him in a way that can only be a challenge, live-wire boldness mixed with inexperience. if he's trying to push her away, then he's failing; she's not cowed by his abrupt remark; pointedly, tsuki draws one of her glossy nails forward, claw-link, setting its tip laden with potential on the back of his hand. ready to make a mark. happy to add an eleventh to the ten she's already etched into him. "and you were all ears for it."