#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴜɴᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴀʙʟᴇ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛᴡɪꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ❞ ◌ ᴅᴇꜱᴘᴀɪʀ ¦ 「 Kazuichi 」

[not-bcring]

Starter For  -  ✩   「   @from-across-the-stars​   」   ✩

「 ☆ 」   Pain.

Ever since THAT day, pain has become Kazuichi’s reality. Even more than it already was. Now, with no escape from the suffocating feeling, he finds himself chasing it. Craving it. Like a rabid dog chasing its own tail, racing around and around in circles despite there being nothing but more frustration when it realizes that reaching its goal doesn’t feel any better than racing towards it. That when it’s grabbed, it’ll only lead to more anguish. To blood and harm of his own making, frothing over an open wound that he keeps picking. Picking and picking and picking until his entire body is nothing but oozing, gaping sores... and yet he continues to pick.

Continues to eat away at himself. Disgusted at the pleasure he finds but unable to do anything but indulge in it. What else IS there to do but intoxicate himself in the feeling? But surround himself in decay and destruction and DESPAIR for however long he’s able. Far too cowardly to free himself of this torment, lest there be an end somewhere far along the horizon... an end that part of him hopes waits for. Waits for those he used to call friends to possibly stumble towards, as if he might meet them there. As if he deserves to, after all the satisfaction he’s gotten ensuring that those around him never get the chance. Yet part of him revels in it.

This newfound power... This newfound strength... Seeing the fear in someone else’s eyes rather than his own. Not being as afraid as he used to be. Being the CAUSE of the violence that never seems to stop plaguing his life. Watching blood spill by his own hand... It’s- amazing.

That rush. That nausea that twists his stomach and makes him lose whatever he’s managed to force down when it becomes too much... It’s all he needs. Just his machines and his shame and the wreckage both leave in his wake. Everything and everyone else is in the past; his memories of Hope’s Peak feeling like another life. Belonging to someone better. To someone who was foolish enough to believe in a future... To believe someone like he could possess one. But Kazuichi knows better now. He knows better. He knows better. He knows— .... 

❝  Gundham...?  ❞  

Wide eyes take in a sight he hasn’t gazed upon in forever, arms hanging limply at his sides as Kazuichi stumbles out of the shadows he’d been skulking within. Having been following the sound of what he thought was merely going to be yet another victim for his violent desires, the pipe he’d been planning on bludgeoning a skull with slips past his fingers with a deafening clatter on the debris-strewn ground. Fractured remains of buildings surrounding them, robotic Monokuma plague the area like a virus. The large robots continuing their destruction at the command of the speechless mechanic, ignoring him and the man his disbelieving gaze is riveted on— Kazuichi had made sure to program a precautionary bubble of space around himself, so the machines wouldn’t interrupt his fun unless prompted.

They might as well not even be around, Kazuichi paying them no mind as he feels something odd stir within his chest. Memories pricking at his mind, faintly at first— before his head is practically splitting open with them, Kazuichi barely able to think past the recollection of Gundham’s touch. His kisses, his words, his patience, his protection, his kindness, his LOVE— The hope he’d given Kazuichi. The excitement he’d provided for a future. It all rushes through Kazuichi like nails clawing down his brain, breaking into his chest and splitting him open, baring his guts for all to see. Bleeding and disgusting and oh-so-wonderfully PAINFUL as it hits him just how long it’s been since he felt this emotion. How he knows that he’ll never be able to feel it the way he used to... But- the fear is also there.

A terror that makes him feel small. Vulnerable. Helpless.

PATHETIC.

He can’t have that... Now can he?

As if possessed, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his lucky wrench, caked with blood from a previous kill. Held tight in a bruised-knuckled grip, Kazuichi’s body tenses as he eyes Gundham like a cornered animal, despite all evidence pointing that he should have an upper hand on his own turf. Strange as that may be when against an opponent that even now, Kazuichi can’t help but admire. But see as someone so far above him. So much stronger than he ever was... Than he could ever be.... He wants to hate it. NEEDS to hate it. Yet all he feels is the desire to race into Gundham’s embrace. To wake up from this nightmare. 

He wants Gundham. Wants him so badly he feels like it may KILL him... Wouldn’t it be such a terrible thing, to lose Gundham forever? To be the cause of it? To watch his beloved— ... former beloved bleed out in front of him, thanks to his own hand? To be the reason he can no longer feel this spark of— something... He doesn’t know if it’s a craving for his own destruction, or his own cowardice, that spurs him onward. But something deep and primal within him knows that Gundham is dangerous to this new sense of being that he’s forced to accept. He’s a THREAT... He needs to be taken care of. Maybe, if Kazuichi is lucky, he’ll just die instead.

He deserves to die instead of Gundham.

He wants to die instead of Gundham.

He wants to die. Just let him die. KILL him. JUST KILL HIM ALREADY—

Kazuichi doesn’t realize he’s attacking Gundham until he’s already blindly swinging at him, inexperience and panic making his movements clumsy. Unable to see past the tears, to think past that singular thought—  ❛  KILL ME! KILL ME BEFORE I KILL YOU!  ❜  —to even breathe aside from shallow, quickened breaths that threaten to exhaust him already, Kazuichi doesn’t feel confident in his chances. His machines are better equipped for taking down strong opponents.... but this isn’t a job for machines. Gundham is going to die by HIS hand, or not at all.   「 ☆ 」 

[not-bcring]

(( Tag Dump - Kazuichi Souda ))