pspsps | stsg: hs edition | are we growing up or just going down?

stsg: hs edition | are we growing up or just going down?

[the room itself is fine, suguru supposes. the comforters covering the twin beds are a little faded; the chair wedged between the desk and a very, very small window has a stain upon its seat that he would rather not look at, much less think about, but all in all: it's fine. nothing to write home about, but certainly nothing to complain about.

the company, however, is another matter entirely.

suguru watches his so-called partner make a beeline for the bed closest to that very, very small window—and then flop back on it, arms spread wide as he presumably tests, like. the springiness of the mattress. who knows. it isn't as though suguru pretends to understand anything that satoru does, though he'd told himself, upon their first meeting, that it would behoove him to try. there were, after all, few people he didn't get along with; even as he'd endured satoru bounding about their classroom, asking obnoxious questions and doing his best to take up as much of the available space (and air) as possible, suguru thought that surely, surely, a fellow sorcerer would never number among them.

and yet.

it's the little things, with satoru. the way he'd stretched his legs into the aisle on the plane, forcing people to step over them even after a stewardess asked him, politely, to keep his limbs in his space; the way he'd spent the entire trip to the hotel complaining about being sent halfway across the country to deal with a curse that won't, he's sure, even be worth his time; the way he'd claimed this bed without so much as sparing suguru a single look—and it doesn't matter that suguru didn't, doesn't, care which bed he calls his own for a night or two? just as it doesn't matter that some part of him is relieved, in a way, to avoid the awkward, overly polite push-and-pull (no, no, it's fine, i don't mind, i mean it) that always accompanies these situations. there is a proper way to go about this.

there is a proper way to go about everything

but satoru is either blithely unaware of this (unlikely), or determined to buck against it at every available opportunity (highly likely)—and thus suguru, for the umpteenth time, presses his lips into a thin line, biting back the reaction he's sure satoru seeks. it simply isn't worth it.

(two days; two nights. that's as long as suguru needs to deal with this before they head home—where he will continue dealing with this, yes, but at least others will be around to distract him. each time someone sighs, or snaps, or rolls their eyes, it's nice to know he isn't alone.)

so: silence, then. suguru, setting his carry-on bag atop what he supposes is his bed before unzipping it, removing his neatly folded uniform, his neatly folded pajamas. the pajamas he leaves beside the pillow; the uniform he turns to hang in the nearby closet, hoping that most of the (inevitable) wrinkles will fall out by the morning. he isn't a stickler about neatness—not really—but if he's to question locals about the strange goings-on, a good first impression, he's sure, will open far more doors than a bad one.

and seeing as satoru remains stretched out on his bed, his own suitcase resting upside-down on the floor, suguru has a feeling that he is facing an uphill climb.

which he will worry about tomorrow. for now, as he calculates just how much time they have before nightfall (because while it's too late to do anything serious, it would be prudent to at least familiarize themselves with the scenes of the alleged crimes):]

We're leaving soon. [a pointed statement, paired with a pointed look.] I wouldn't get too comfortable.

[in fact, consider, like... getting up? brushing that messy mop of hair?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[This is a waste of time.

Satoru spreads himself on the bed and looks up at the ceiling. The paint is cracking. For the next two days, he's going to be stuck in this hotel room with Suguru Geto being polite and responsible and organized, and all Satoru is going to have to entertain himself is an off-white ceiling and a large paint chip that's sure to fall on his face at any moment.

And the TV. He lifts his head off the bed to check it out. It's small, but it looks like it works. Given that this hotel is mediocre at best, it probably doesn't have any good channels. But maybe he can rent something that's sure to get a rise out of Suguru, because it's about time that Satoru gets under his skin. He's fed up with the way Suguru keeps ruining his fun by doing things like sending apologetic glances to every person on the plane who was subjected to his existence, or, now that they're finally here, trying to get him up and out of this hotel room even though they just arrived.

He'd groan, if he didn't think that Suguru might find some satisfaction in that. Instead Satoru reaches across the bed to the nightstand to snatch the remote before Suguru extends his weird unpacking habits to tidying the hotel room.]

What for?

[He turns on the TV and begins flipping through channels, not bothering to look at Suguru.

This is an easy mission. Satoru is positive that he'll be able to track down the curse without doing all the annoying by-the-book work of looking for residuals or asking people if they've seen anything strange lately. His Six Eyes will take care of the search, and his technique will take care of the rest. There's no point in going out to do any of the preliminary nonsense that Suguru has in mind. It'd be a waste of their time.

He stops flipping channels when he finds a drama that seems annoying, then turns up the volume.]

You trying to show off? Don't bother.

[Yaga should've sent someone else. Satoru had said as much to him as soon as it was clear that he was stuck going on this mission. Satoru could exorcise a low-level curse in his sleep if he felt motivated enough. There's no reason to send him to take care of something so easy.

And even if he has to go on these low-level missions because they're required for all first years, he could've done it on his own. Satoru doesn't mind training with other people because it gives him a chance to show off what he can do, but why bother working with them? He's already the strongest jujutsu sorcerer to enter the school in generations; he already stands alone. Suguru is only going to hold him back from doing what he needs to do and achieving what he needs to achieve, if he keeps cramping Satoru's style by prodding him to do things the right way instead of the best way: not lifting a finger until he has to, and then obliterating curse after curse until his clan and the higher-ups finally get off of his back about his progress.]

I already know you're a suck-up.

[He glances over at Suguru to give him a smile that is meant to irk, then tosses aside the remote so he can dig in his pocket for his shades. Yaga's been hounding him to wear them more often now that he's taking on missions and using up more of his energy, but Satoru prefers to pull them out whenever it'll be most jarring — like when he's sitting in a dim hotel room and watching TV. No one likes people who wear sunglasses inside.

He puts them on, then makes a show of making himself more comfortable on the bed, reaching back to fluff a pillow before settling back into his reclining position. Just in case Suguru needs a little extra defiance to go with that insult.]

Edited (i had to clean up my mess from tagging after hours...) 2022-02-07 13:26 (UTC)

[this isn't a difficult mission. even suguru recognizes this, just as suguru recognizes that, if everything he's heard is true, satoru could handle this mission alone—but then again, so could he? this simply isn't about that. yaga sent them here, together, for a reason, and suguru has a sneaking suspicion said reason has more to do with fostering some sort of relationship than simply following school regulations. they're meant to work as a team.

too bad, then, that satoru's favorite hobby is apparently being absolutely insufferable.

and suguru does try to understand him, in this moment. he does. as he zips his bag closed, setting it off to the side, suguru considers the day's many annoyances: the long flight, the difficulty flagging down a cab at the airport, the shitty—because yes, fine, he'll be honest—room they're forced to share. nothing has been easy.

but this, suguru thinks, is the main difference between then: he thinks of others, while satoru thinks only of himself.

(how much empathy, then, can suguru be expected to show? satoru is a dry well in a bone-dry desert; suguru wouldn't peg himself as a pessimist, per se, but no amount of water is going to fix that. everything evaporates before it hits the bottom.)

and yet that doesn't explain why satoru's desire to annoy is so strong that it almost comes off as hostile. you trying to show off? he asks. i already know you're a suck-up, he says, and suguru wonders: how? why? his fastidious approach to unpacking aside, he's never been a braggart—and he's definitely far from a kiss-ass. in middle school, he was just, like, on the cusp of cool: easy to approach, well-liked by almost everyone, but not someone invited to every group outing. he was normal.

but it's like satoru is allergic to normal. instead of going out to walk about the town for an hour or so before grabbing a bite to eat—doing what is expected of them while being somewhat friendly, trying to have somewhat of a good time—he'd rather remain in bed, glasses on and television volume turned up far, far too high. their poor neighbor...

(suguru's poor sanity.)]

And I know you're a pain.

[spoken coolly, and calmly, and paired with a (strained) smile, even as his last thread of patience is stretched thin, thin, thin.]

We don't have to make this worse than it is. Let's do what we were sent here to do, and then we can go back.

[why not play it by the book just this once? show the higher-ups that they can—while showing the people affected by this low-level curse that they matter.]

[There is some satisfaction in being called a pain, Satoru decides, even if Suguru insists on delivering the comment evenly, as though Satoru is a mild annoyance at best. It isn't the reaction he wanted — he had figured that if he bothered Suguru enough, Suguru would leave and bring his sense of responsibility with him — but it's better than the tolerant silence of a few minutes ago.

It doesn't, however, stop Satoru from raising the TV volume a little more, wondering if he can find the breaking point that he knows must exist under Suguru's surface. Everyone has one; Suguru just happens to be more patient than most people, a fact that pisses Satoru off. It's like Suguru is trying to prove that he's better than him by being all righteous about this mission — and about jujutsu as a whole. But maybe that's what happens when you pluck a student from a non-sorcerer household and stick him with someone who's been living this life since birth.

It makes sense. Satoru knows he's intimating.

People either fear him or they want something from him. Suguru fits in there somewhere, even if he is infuriatingly blank in the face of Satoru's antics. Why else would he try to steer this mission according to the book? Why else would he use polite words and smiles, and act like the might've wanted to be Satoru's friend, in the beginning? He's either sucking up to the higher-ups or trying to make sure Satoru doesn't beat his ass into the ground the next time they train together. (Which Satoru will.)

Better to nip this before it goes too far. Better to call out Suguru's behavior for what it is, instead of letting him think that that he's is going to give in. Better to get under his skin than pretend any of this matters.

It's not like Satoru is here to make friends or bond, anyway. He isn't on this mission to hang out. And even if he wanted, for some stupid reason, to try, it wouldn't go anywhere. No one gets it — and someone who grew up in a normal home doing normal things, instead of spending day after day learning how to be the best, isn't going to be the exception.

This is case in point. Satoru hasn't had many opportunities like this: a hotel where no one is looking over his shoulder. A TV he's free to watch as much as he wants. A break from training, and nothing to do except relax and watch a bad drama. Part of going to school means finally having some freedom to do whatever he wants, instead of having to follow everything his clan lays out for him. And when this mission is over, it's back to rules and lectures. Satoru wants to live a little before he has to deal with teachers and higher-ups all over again.

Hence:]

You're the one ruining this trip. All you do is nag.

[Is his tone a little childish? Maybe. Satoru rolls over on his side so that his back is facing Suguru and his attention is on the wall instead of the TV, wondering if he should take a nap. Maybe if he falls asleep, Suguru will leave him in peace and go perform for an audience of one — himself — instead of forcing Satoru to witness just how mighty his desire to obey all the rules truly is.

...Then again, maybe Satoru should go with him after all. Not because he wants to witness Suguru's attempt at being an exemplary student, but because one trip around town should put Suguru off of his company enough that he finally stops asking him to do stuff.

Besides, Satoru kind of wants something sweet to eat.

But he's already dug his heels into the ground so he can't just turn around and become compliant. It's a matter of principle. And Satoru refuses to make anything easy on Suguru. So! With a glance over his shoulder, he asks:]

Wanna fight for it?

[What's a little collateral damage in the grand scheme of getting one's way? A fight would count as training, and if their neighbor in the next room happens to suffer for their argument — well, that isn't Satoru's concern.

Suguru will refuse, Satoru assumes, since he's determined to be boring, so he preemptively asks:]

Or are you afraid you'd lose?

[He would. There's no doubt about that.]

Edited (i'm going to edit everything always............but i know you know this already) 2022-02-08 05:01 (UTC)

[with satoru, childishness comes standard; suguru doesn't expect his classmate to be reasonable at the best of times, let alone now, and yet there's still something incredibly irritating about satoru rolling away? satoru telling him that he's nagging when he has, in fact, spent the majority of his day resisting the urge to do such a thing, both because it isn't his place and because it will only make things worse. he isn't insensitive; he isn't uptight; he doesn't think that asking for an hour of satoru's time, at most, is asking for anything at all, given all he's been forced to contend with.

but here is satoru, making a point of huffily ignoring suguru—and the television that he was so very eager to watch.

it's just... stupid? all of it. acting out for the sake of acting out, which suguru can't quite wrap his mind around even as he feels that he should. he was a child, once; he remembers the little things he would do to demand his parents' attention when it slipped away, when they pretended as though they didn't see—but that is not this, suguru thinks as he lifts his hand, digs his thumb between his brows. everyone's eyes are always on satoru.

(are they, though?)

which means it's little surprise when satoru, brat that he is, decides to suddenly switch tactics, trading avoidance for annoyance. wanna fight about it? on the one hand, no; their less-than-friendly terms mean that any kind of fight is bound to end poorly—but on the other hand, as suguru considers getting satoru out of this room, and grabbing something to eat, and putting an end to this slight headache before it becomes a full-blown migraine...

(...plus, like. he wouldn't lose? he wouldn't. satoru looks down on everyone around him, and it's about time it bites him in the ass; suguru would like nothing more than to see the look on satoru's face after he's laid out flat on his back, attempting to piece together how, exactly, it happened.)

so: a beat. a blink. suguru, bending down ever so slightly as he brings his hand to his ear.]

Oh? Did you say something? It's hard to hear you from up here.

[you little shit is left unspoken, but definitely implied. this is, quite honestly, one of the most immature things suguru has ever done; it would be far, far better to simply walk out of the room and allow satoru to go back to staring at the wall, but everyone has their breaking point—and that television is so incredibly loud. turn it down, satoru! or get up. either way...]

Why don't you try again?

[It's no secret that Satoru enjoys when people rise to his bait. Whether he's frustrating Yaga or calling his upperclassmen weak, he likes when he elicits a strong response to his antics: anger, frustration, annoyance, and even hatred — all of those reactions are better than the deference he normally receives and the expectations with which he's usually saddled. For all that he wants to revel in being The Strongest and stand higher than his peers, Satoru craves a bit of normalcy. Every once and while — and only every once in a while — he feels as though he sits behind a thick layer of glass through which no one can reach. And even rarer still, he wonders what it would be like to smash it down.

Instead of accepting that desire for what it is, Satoru takes his moments of weakness, shoves them to the back of his mind, and doubles down: he doesn't want anyone to get near him; he doesn't want the glass to break. One day he'll be truly untouchable, and then the point will be moot anyway. No one will be able to reach him. Satoru will always stand alone.

But that knowledge doesn't stop him from seeking attention in the only way that he knows how: by being a little shit. Piss off someone enough times and they'll abandon any sense of reverence or awe; annoy someone enough and they'll forgo their expectations. Act loud and obnoxious, and people will start looking — not at what he can do, but at him, in all his annoying glory. Satoru learned that lesson back at his clan, and it's made his life a lot easier, even if it means people get tired of him quickly. That, at least, makes everyone lay off.

And it should make Suguru leave him alone — eventually.

For now, Satoru feels pleased to hear Suguru rising to his bait with a provocation of his own. Sure, he's irked. He knows that Suguru heard him just fine and he's well-aware that Suguru is giving him a little taste of his own medicine. But he also feels a thrill at the prospect of advancing this argument — and validation in proving that Suguru isn't immune to childish behavior. He can pretend to be a ideal student all he wants, but he's not so perfect after all.

Neither is Satoru. He may feel proud of himself for provoking Suguru into showing a little childish behavior, but his own irritation clouds his judgement. He should ignore Suguru, or at least make another comment or two to continue instigating, but Satoru does neither of those things. Instead, he shoves off the bed, hopping to his feet and turning to Suguru with a threatening grin.]

Why don't you come closer?

[This is your invitation, Suguru! But don't worry about accepting it — Satoru is too impatient to wait for a reply. He's the one who steps forward, moving to grab Suguru by the arm with the intention to hoist him up and over, aiming to throw him back on the bed. Just a friendly toss! No technique necessary! Satoru is confident he can pull this off without using his Infinity to avoid retaliation. Besides, it's more insulting to be overpowered without the help of sorcery than it is to lose to Satoru's superior techniques.]

[suguru knows he's made a mistake the second satoru stands—because this is the opposite of what they should be doing. of what he should be doing, really, for as simple as their mission seems—as eager as satoru is to dismiss it entirely—there is still a curse on the loose, threatening the lives of innocent people; the least they can do, as representatives of both their school and sorcerers as a whole, is act like mature adults.

and yet.

it's as much that grin on satoru's face as it is the confidence with which he reaches out to grip suguru's forearm? as though this will be so, so easy; as though suguru won't, or can't, put up much of a fight, hence the distinct lack of satoru's technique. you're not worth it, says satoru's everything. let's just get this over with.

that, at least, suguru can agree with.

suguru, unlike satoru, isn't so caught up in himself as to underestimate his opponent; he knows just how quickly satoru can move, knows that he'll only have a split-second to throw satoru off-kilter before satoru sees what he's up to and adjusts accordingly—and thus suguru steadies himself, shifting his weight back to his heels only when he spies satoru's grin grow that much wider. satoru, certain that victory is at hand. it would be a lie to say that some part of suguru doesn't enjoy taking full advantage of it, twisting his hand as he drives his arm far enough forward to grasp satoru's forearm. a sharp tug forward, so that satoru's knees hit the edge of the bed as he stumbles a step closer; a knee pressed to the center of satoru's back the moment he lands, face-first, on the bed; a careful (but none-too-gentle) twist of satoru's arm as suguru pulls it upward, ensuring that satoru can't try much of anything without some serious pain. stay still.

(maybe, just maybe, if satoru paid less attention to himself and more attention to those around him, then satoru would have known that suguru prides himself on his hand-to-hand skills. alas.)

but once suguru is certain that satoru is going nowhere fast:]

Close enough?

[a perfectly pleasant tone, because never let it be said that satoru is the only little shit in this hotel room. come on, satoru! say uncle.]

[When Satoru steps forward and moves in for the grab, he embodies surety. There is no hesitation in his movements, no preparation for what he assumes will be Suguru's slow reaction time. Satoru learned to fight by hand long before he had a grip on his techniques. This is nothing. Suguru is nothing. Satoru will excel because he's stronger, faster, better.

He will win because he has to. What other option is there for The Strongest, except to be the best? Untouchable, as he smiles in the face of his victory; infallible, as he braces himself and reaches for the hold.

And utterly wrong, as Suguru proves faster — as Suguru seizes him and easily gains control. Satoru ends up planted on the bed, his shades digging into his face, a grunt escaping his throat, and a bruise forming along his ego. He wriggles enough to feel a sharp protest in his arm, threatening damage if tries to retaliate.]

You fight the same way you unpack your clothes.

[Tidily! Efficiently! Super boring! He yawns, just in case Suguru needs extra context clues. This is a small consolation: at least Satoru knows he wasn't far off in his original assessment. Suguru's movements were too clean, too diligent — all the hallmarks of someone with something to prove.]

Get off me.

[His voice is muffled by the bedspread, but Satoru makes no move to lift his head to enunciate clearly. Not because he's sulking — though maybe he is, a little — but because he feels thrown off. Frustrated that Suguru has the upper hand, annoyed that he misjudged him, eager to punch that pleasant tone out of Suguru's mouth — but also vaguely unsettled, an uncomfortable feeling gnawing at his stomach.

(It's the thought of what it means for The Strongest to be so easily thwarted by another first year. It's embarrassment, and the way that he feels stupidly small laid out like this — vulnerable, when he should be anything but.)

Satoru could use his technique. He should, just to prove a point. Just to reorient himself, and make Suguru eat his pleasant words. But for all that Satoru is unconcerned with the mission and confident in his abilities to end it quickly, he isn't stupid. He still struggles with the immense drain of cursed energy his techniques impose; he doesn't want to risk overdoing it just because he wants to knock Suguru to the ground.

Not yet anyway.]

I'm getting something to eat first.

[Consider this as close to an uncle as Satoru is willing to give. He'll go on this dumb outing and he'll make sure Suguru regrets asking with his brand of compliance: complaints, endless chatter, and plenty of detours.

Satoru doesn't like being told what to do.

And he really can't stand losing.

But on the list of things Satoru dislikes the most, Suguru is now at the top.]

[it takes some degree of maturity to admit defeat; suguru doesn't expect satoru to display anything of the sort—and yet suguru still finds himself somewhat disappointed, as he loosens his grip on satoru's arm. somewhat. perhaps some small part of him hoped that satoru would simply laugh this off? would admit that, yes, he was a bit rash; would admit that, yes, suguru did have a point. everything would be so much easier, if that were the case.

but satoru, instead, chooses to be as childish as ever—and suguru feels a twinge of disappointment (disgust?) as he releases satoru's arm, allowing it to fall back to satoru's side as he, himself, draws back from the bed. it's not like this matters. were it a real fight, satoru would be restrained, if not dead; they both know this, which is why there's no real reason for suguru to make a point of it as he straightens his jacket before heading for the door. satoru can remain on the bed, for all he cares. satoru can wallow in his defeat. suguru is (as he reminds himself time and time again, in the time it takes for him to grasp the handle of their room's door) thinking only of cold soba, because goodness knows he's earned it.]

Then hurry up.

[come on, satoru! suguru isn't about to stand around and wait; he is, in fact, already halfway down this hallway by the time he hears the door click closed behind him, and that's fine. really. even if satoru decides to remain on his bed for the remainder of the evening—even if their long-suffering neighbor decides to lodge a noise complaint, given that neither of them bothered to turn off the television—then it's fine; as he mashes the button for the elevator, suguru is prepared to do whatever needs to be done.

(and while he waits for the ding that is the elevator reaching their floor, and/or the obnoxious noise that is satoru's voice, suguru shoves his hands into his pockets and thinks: the same way i pack my clothes? how ridiculous. he fights as he needs to; he does what he must. he isn't predictable...)]

[Even though Suguru doesn't spare him another glance as he leaves the room, Satoru still pulls a face as he pushes himself off the bed. He takes his time adjusting his shades and smoothing out his clothes before he meanders to the door. If Suguru wants to leave without him after all that fuss to get him to go in the first place, then fine. Satoru doesn't need his company. He'll find his own way around, grab some food, and march right back up here to watch TV.

He isn't going to hurry.

...Except he thinks about Suguru going off to do responsible things, happening upon the curse they're supposed to be hunting down, and getting himself hurt because he's too much of a suck-up to wait until tomorrow to go snooping around. Suguru may be decent at hand-to-hand combat, but that will only get him so far. When it comes time to face off against a curse, he'll probably himself in trouble, and then Satoru will never hear the end of it from everyone back at school.

This is exactly why he should have been sent alone.

But he's stuck with Suguru, and therefore stuck with the task of making sure he doesn't get himself killed to make a point, so he leaves the hotel room with the TV blaring. While he doesn't rush, he walks fast enough to catch up to Suguru as the elevator arrives. As soon as the doors begin to open, he barrels right past him and into the elevator, eager to beat him at something.

And since being first inside gives him full access to the buttons, he strongly considers pushing a few wrong ones for added irritation. Tempting as it is, he doesn't want to suffer being confined with Suguru for longer than needed; he's already had enough of sharing space with him for the day. Instead, he limits himself to pressing the Lobby button, and immediately after, the Close Door button. For kicks.]

I bet you only eat healthy foods.

[He speaks as the elevator doors fail to close on Suguru, to his mild annoyance. Satoru leans against the wall, looking up at mirror that hides the security camera. His hair is no longer artfully mussed, thanks to their scuffle.]

I'm right, huh?

[He follows up without pausing for a response, tousling his hair while he speaks, and groans to show how put-upon he is by his assumption.

Why did Yaga have to send Suguru? There's no way Shoko only eats from the important food groups. He should have sent her instead.]

I'm not eating anywhere weird.

[At least not without a placating stop at a convenience store for something palatable first.

Satoru has had enough healthy food to last him a lifetime. Back at his clan, that was all he was allowed to eat because it was his responsibility to stay healthy, grow up strong, and have no fun at all. But that was before Satoru's techniques developed in full. Once they started taking a toll on his energy, fast-acting sugars became important for replenishing it — and that was all the clan needed to finally supply him with sweets. He has no plans to go back to the bland life — not even for the sake of a mission.]

[let it be known that suguru feels some degree of shame as he stands here, keeping his hands in his pockets even as he senses a certain someone shuffling down the hallway. it isn't like him to turn his back? it isn't like him to let a loser's words get to him, but satoru is just—he's grating. intentionally so. everything about him seems carefully calculated to ensure maximum annoyance, and while suguru is determined to work out why, it's a bit like standing in the middle of some child's birthday party, holding a slice of cake while watching the star of the show have a meltdown for no discernible reason. there is one—there must be—but all of that screaming, and stomping, and spotlight-hogging...

...well, you know. suguru is only human; the urge to step to the side and simply enjoy what he's been given is understandable, on some level, but suguru knows that giving into it won't solve much of anything. better, instead, to step into satoru's shoes, even—especially—as satoru darts into the elevator the moment the doors slide open. juvenile! doubly so, as the doors shake back to life a split-second later—but suguru calmly slips a foot forward, catching the sensor (and taking a breath) before stepping straight inside. satoru, too, is only human; it's merely a matter of understanding him.

(and thus, as suguru listens to satoru's silly jabs, suguru thinks of what it cost satoru to lose in their shitty, shared room; suguru considers the possibility that satoru—who is, so far as suguru can tell, alone more often than not, in more ways than one—just doesn't know how to act around others. is his defiance meant to impress? is being difficult his attempt to involve himself, albeit in some roundabout way?

it isn't everything, suguru knows; satoru is far more layered than he'd perhaps prefer others to believe—but as the elevator reaches the ground floor, one last ding echoing in this small space as the doors roll back, suguru feels somewhat more centered. it's a start.)]

Yeah? [calm acknowledgment of satoru's point before suguru steps into the dingy, decade-out-of-style lobby.] And what's "weird" to you?

[he could pick another fight about this, if he felt like it; he could continue rubbing salt into satoru's wound—but as he glances over at his partner, taking in the artfully tousled hair that any mother would fuss over, he decides against it.]

We passed a ramen shop earlier.

[it's not soba; it isn't exactly healthy. a little bit of give and take...]

[Satoru isn't weak, but if he had to pick one minor problem with his techniques — one small hindrance to his climb to the top — it would be the inability to turn off his Six Eyes. He never has the luxury of a break. The sunglasses, when he chooses to wear them, help a little, but they only block the vibrancy of cursed energy; they don't black it out completely. Satoru's eyes are always on.

As the elevator clanks downward, Satoru has no choice but to examine Suguru's cursed energy.

He's already had plenty of time to stare at it, thanks to Yaga's boring lessons giving him nothing better to do. He knows the feel, the look, the way it's tinged by the energy of the curses Suguru consumes. Sitting in a plane next to him meant that Satoru had to immerse himself in it; he couldn't shut it out, no matter how tired he grew with having to share his space.

Now, however, Satoru dips his head and allows his sunglasses to slide down the bridge of his nose so he can study it willingly. He assesses it with the hindsight of having lost the scuffle; he looks for proof that Suguru's win was a fluke.

He finds no blatant weakness. Suguru's energy remains bright, brimming with a contained force.

But there's no way that Suguru is strong — not like Satoru. Satoru looks down at his own hand, proving it to himself by staring into his well of potential. He wouldn't lose, if they were fight again. He'd come out on top.

Satoru stands alone.

When the elevator doors finally open, Satoru hangs back, this time refraining from shoving past Suguru. He rubs his eyes, pushes his shades back up, and follows him into the lobby.]

Ramen?

[He repeats the word as though he's entirely put-upon by the suggestion, taking the opportunity to fall back a couple of paces. He trails behind Suguru, planning on dragging his feet throughout their walk to delay their attempt at being responsible.]

That's the best you got?

[It isn't weird, not even by Satoru's standards. If anything, it's a little considerate; Satoru isn't so caught up in himself that he can't recognize a nice gesture in the form of a meal suggestion. But that's exactly why his reflexive response is to reject this meeting in the middle; he doesn't want to pretend to be friendly, when there's no way they're going to get along. After this mission, everything's going to go back to the way it was, anyway. There's no point in pretending otherwise.]

You gonna ask for a bunch of vegetables in yours?

[That's how he imagines Suguru's tastes: a pile of healthy veggies, Suguru saying, May I kindly have some more? with a polite smile, while he simultaneously pushes away a dish piled high with desserts. Boring! Just like the rest of him!

But he relents enough to hold back further complaint, an acceptance in the way he continues to follow Suguru without digging in his heels. As they exit the hotel, he points in the direction of the corner with his thumb, indicating a convenience store.]

I'm stopping there first.

[For a drink! And for the sake of adding unnecessary stops to their trip.]

[suguru sets a measured pace, refusing to leave satoru in the dust even as he refuses to fall back beside him. not that it would matter, really. satoru is, as suguru recognizes, being deliberately, childishly slow; were suguru to attempt to match him step for step, then satoru would either come to a crawl or zip right ahead—because when it comes to children, it's impossible to win? it's simply a matter of giving while allowing them to think that they're taking. silly stuff.

but it's better than fighting, suguru reminds himself—and besides, isn't this somewhat of a concession on satoru's part? the jab is halfhearted, at best; he could certainly cause a scene if he thought ramen was a truly distasteful option, and yet here he is! quietly—for him, anyway—following right along.

it's not quite a victory; it's still enough for the corners of suguru's lip to tick upward, though satoru can't see his smallest of smiles.

(it's probably a good thing.)]

I'll just take yours.

[because he has a hunch that satoru is going to pile every green-adjacent thing onto a plate and shove it far, far away. like anything even remotely healthy will kill him! more childishness—but suguru does, in fact, cross the street after casting a glance back satoru's way, leading the way to the convenience store that's apparently so important. small concessions... tiny rewards for okay behavior...]

It looks like you're going to ruin your appetite, anyway.

[he's calling it now! but once they step inside said store, suguru still takes a step back, allowing satoru to slink over to whatever cooler captures his attention.]

[As he trails behind Suguru, Satoru expects him to get on his case — to remind him of the responsibilities they're supposed to be making their way toward fulfilling and nag him into picking up his pace. And that's what Satoru wants — more of Suguru's annoyance, more of his opposition. But his antics become harder to keep up when Suguru acts infuriatingly compliant, rather than demonstrating his willingness to fight as he had in the hotel room.

Especially since Suguru is proving himself to be somewhat useful by offering to eat any vegetables that Satoru may receive with his ramen. Satoru silently makes plans to give him all his vegetables, not just today, but throughout the rest of their time at school. He'll make a point to find him during every possible meal so he can drop a pile of green mush on his plate. And with that in mind, Satoru also decides to start ordering more healthy food — for the fun of it!]

Called it.

[His taste in vegetables that is! Suguru remains boring.

Not so boring that Satoru feels an impulse to complain yet again, however; in fact, when Satoru speaks, he does so with a grin he aims at Suguru's back, both in response to the idea of ridding himself of vegetables and Suguru's indulgence in stopping at a convenience store. Satoru feels like he's winning in some small way, discovering the ways in which Suguru can be entertaining, or at least a less persistent thorn in his side. He appreciates the new inspiration for being an irritation.]

You can have 'em all.

[Just you wait!

But once they're in the convenience store, Satoru abandons the topic of vegetables and focuses on the very important task of locating his favorite drink. It only takes a moment of glancing at the coolers before he reaches into one, selects a bottle of Zeitaku Melon Milk, and immediately cracks it open. He leans against the open cooler door, taking a hearty gulp of the sweet liquid, and caps off his taste with a pleased sigh.]

Here. [He says this to Suguru while he reaches back into the cooler to select another can, which he then tosses in Suguru's direction, to the dismay of the cashier.] Catch!

[What says, Thank you for giving me a new way to annoy you, better than a kindly tossed can of something sure to make Suguru grimace?]

Try it.

[Live a little, Suguru!]

[there isn't much to see inside this convenience store; it's practically identical to every other convenience store suguru has visited throughout the course of his (admittedly short) life, and yet, as suguru stands off to the side, suguru finds himself studying the surroundings he should—does—know by heart. racks of snacks; row after row of brightly colored drinks. he has his favorites, of course. he used to stop by a small shop on his way home from school, laughing with friends while picking out new things to try and to share.

but as he turns just in time to catch the can satoru lobs his way—and to frown, ever-so-slightly, as he notes the opened can in satoru's possession—this is the truth of it: suguru would have enjoyed this drink, once. or, more accurately: suguru would have pretended to, for when it came to after-school treats, his friends always reached for the sweetest, the saltiest, the sourest. extremes. it was fun, for them. normal teens enjoying normal things.

suguru, however, turns this can about in his hand, feeling something sink within him as he eyes its label. it seems as though everyone wants to taste more, these days? bland is bad—except that, for suguru, bland is good. to taste nothing—or something so near to nothing that it disappears from one's mouth in a matter of seconds—is a privilege, of sorts; it's why, in a perfect world, suguru sees himself subsisting on little more than ice cubes, enjoying the simple pleasure that is something sliding down his throat without leaving even the slighest trace upon his tongue. what a dream.

but this is reality—and thus suguru knows that a single sip of zeitaku melon milk will linger. his tongue will feel thick; his teeth will be coated with a thin, tacky layer of sugar, hence the look of disgust he can't quite manage to hide. yes, sure, this drink is as much an offering as it is a test; to refuse it is to run the risk of reverting this—them—back to square one, and yet.

and yet.]

If I'm taking your vegetables, you can take this.

[it's as friendly, as casual, a way as he can think to put it? it's not like he wants satoru to know the real reason why he can't stomach this drink; he doubts satoru is even capable of understanding such a thing, which is why he simply steps forward, opening the cooler door to reach for a can of smooth, black coffee. grabbing a drink is a concession of his own, even if satoru might not see it that way.

(and if blandness is off the table, then a palate-cleaning bitterness is, at the very least, an acceptable alternative.)]

Or you can try mine.

[he says as he straightens, wriggling his own can in the air—because he's trying to keep this door between them open. he is. even if it's only cracked, it's better than it being shut.]

Edited (don't look at the time) 2022-03-08 08:56 (UTC)

[For a brief, uncomplicated moment — the span of time it takes for Suguru to catch the can — Satoru begins to feel like he could have a decent time tonight, if things keep up this way. Suguru isn't so bad when he's indulging Satoru's slow pace and extra stops, and while Satoru doesn't expect him to allow the can to fall to the floor, he still feels a little pleased when he catches it. No one really cares to indulge Satoru his whims, unless they're related to refining his abilities, so despite the rocky start, Satoru is willing to let go of the fact that Suguru dragged him out here. He even comes close to freely grinning at him.

Sipping his drink with a little more restraint now that he's taken his first gulp, Satoru watches Suguru inspect the can, waiting for him to take a taste. He anticipates that Suguru will hate it, but that's part of the appeal — part of the fun. He has a taunt preloaded for that initial sip.

Because he's watching for his opening, he notices that hint of disgust in Suguru's features — sees the way he studies the label like he's reading something terrible. All of Satoru's budding feelings about this mission start to dissipate, an effect worsened by Suguru's rejection. In their place, something akin to disappointment begins to form — a stupid feeling that has no place in this interaction. They aren't friends; having any expectations beyond Suguru's irritation would be foolish.

It's not like Satoru has any problem with taking back the can and keeping it as a spare. He should just retrieve it, pay, and move on. But he's the one who's frustrated now. Taking a sip of a drink isn't so hard, is it? Suguru is so caught up in being perfect that he won't even meet Satoru in the middle.

Which is par for the course. Satoru stands alone in all matters, including his excessive sweet tooth. It shouldn't matter.

But when he tucks his drink in his arm and closes the cooler door, Satoru decides that he's going to prove something to Suguru. He's going to show him that he can be the bigger person — that he takes the matter of sharing a drink, something he hasn't done with anyone before, seriously. Unlike Suguru.]

You don't have to be a baby about it.

[Spoken as he stalks over to Suguru, seizes the coffee from his hands, and opens it. While holding Suguru's eye, he takes a large gulp of the horrible liquid and forcibly swallows it down.

Then he gags. It's officially confirmed: Suguru has terrible taste in drinks.

But the point has been made. Satoru shoves the can back at him, pushing it against his chest until Suguru deigns to take it from him.]

Edited (how can i judge you when i come back to edit TWICE bc i wrote this on the clock instead of waiting until afterhours like a responsible writer, free of distractions?) 2022-03-08 22:20 (UTC)

[life is a series of concessions. no one gets everything they want—except, perhaps, for satoru, because as he steps close enough to (rudely) pluck suguru's drink straight from suguru's hand, suguru is suddenly left wondering how many people have actually told satoru no. the little prince, issuing decrees and demands! everyone must do precisely as he says, lest he pack up his toys and head home, for there is no giving, no understanding; satoru only knows how to self-centeredly take, take, take.

(that's what the "friendly" offer was, at its core: satoru hoping to catch suguru in yet another situation only he would find amusing. it wasn't anything like suguru splitting altogether gross snacks with his friends; satoru's laughter would have been mean-spirited where suguru's friends' laughter was light—and yet there's still a stab of something as suguru watches satoru crack open his can. something akin to the shame he'd felt in the hallway ten or so minutes ago, because a single sip wouldn't have killed him.

but if life is a series of concessions, then it's about being mindful of them? keeping enough of yourself for yourself. suguru isn't always great at that; satoru, at the very least, unknowingly pushes suguru to be better in this one way.)

and so the sight of satoru choking like an overdramatic child is—it's as cathartic as it is stupid, honestly. the coffee isn't that bad; this is just satoru once again being ridiculous—and after daring to chastise suguru, no less, hence suguru's admittedly unkind snort as he takes back his drink.]

Why don't you take your own advice? [god!] You don't have to be a baby about everything.

[but here we are, that tone suggests, though his expression remains relatively mild. here we are.

ah, well.

if satoru is going to snag any snacks, he'd better snag them quickly; satoru strides right to the register, placing his (open) can atop the counter and gesturing back to the fool somewhere behind him. one can of coffee; two cans of melon milk (and whatever else satoru dares to dump on the counter while suguru apologizes for opening their drinks in the store). he's paying.]

[As soon as Suguru turns around, Satoru sticks his tongue out at him and pulls down his lower eyelid. He'd have happily made the face while Suguru was looking, but since he's so determined to pay, Satoru settles for mocking him with only the cashier as witness.

Him, a baby! After he took the sip that Suguru offered! What a joke.]

You know who can't come up with their own insults?

[A dramatic pause.]

Babies!

[Satoru can do this all day. But he does want a snack, so he leaves Suguru to his polite apologies and quickly peruses the shelves, searching for a treat that'll restore his energy in a pinch. He settles on a bag of konpeito, which he then brings to the register. Waving it in the air, he says to the cashier:]

This too.

[Then shoves it into the crook of his arm, next to his can of melon milk, so he can dig in his pocket for money. Suguru covering the cost of the drinks is not only dumb, considering Satoru's access to his clan resources, but it's also mildly offensive. Satoru has no interest in letting him pay after all that resistance to sipping a drink. He isn't going to let Suguru pretend he's some kind of upstanding human being, when in reality, his guise of politeness is fake. And annoying!

Finding a bill, Satoru grabs it and pulls it out of his pocket, revealing it to be 5000 yen. Far too much for what they're buying, but Satoru isn't going to stand around waiting for arguments from Suguru or change from the cashier. He tosses it on the counter and turns to leave with his melon milk and candy, intending to hang around the entrance of the store, savoring his drink without Suguru for as long as it takes him to decide if he wants to keep the change.]

[truth be told, suguru is counting on satoru grabbing, like, five bags of something, simply out of spite. it would be the childish thing to do? the pettiest possible option—except that, as satoru comes close enough to throw money to the cashier, suguru only spies a single bag of candy before satoru breezes right past him. huh. as reasonable as this bill is un reasonable, for when suguru glances down at it—

—ugh.

the cashier, as if on autopilot (and/or eager to see these teens hurry out of their quiet store), reaches right for it; suguru, however, is quicker, snatching it off the counter while offering the cashier a somewhat strained smile. it isn't their fault. there's no reason to take anything out on them, hence the quiet deliberation with which suguru pays for both drinks and snacks—with exact change, of course—before stepping outside.

...and what is he supposed to say? he holds his can of coffee in one hand; he holds satoru's 5000 yen bill in his other, and truth be told, he's tempted—very tempted—to shove it into his pocket. not to keep; he's neither rude nor greedy, but it would be satisfying, in a way, to pull this money out of his pocket after dinner and pay for satoru's bill. see? he would say without saying. if you want me to play the part of chaperone for this class trip, i'll do it.

but that would be just as petty as sweeping snacks off a shelf—and so suguru holds out the bill here and now, patiently waiting for satoru to take it back. there's no sense in making a scene.]

We're not far, [he says, simply, because it seems safer than addressing anything convenience store-related.] The first incident happened a few streets away. A park. It should be empty by the time we get there.

[so take this money and let's! go!]

[By now, Satoru expects Suguru to reject all his gestures, well-meaning or otherwise, so he's completely unsurprised to see him hold out the bill. He lets Suguru stand there with his hand extended for a long moment, not bothering to move as he considers whether he should rebuke the bill's return or take it and toss it in the trash along with his nearly-empty can. Both seem like great options to him; he's tired of Suguru's need to win everything.

In the end, he opts to snatch it from Suguru's hand, crumple it up, and shove it into his pocket — only because he assumes that Suguru expects him to do the opposite. Whereas at the beginning of this trip, Satoru was wholly focused on annoying Suguru to death, he's now entirely motivated by the urge to prove him wrong.

Hence why he says:]

I know that. I read the file too.

[Just in case Suguru thinks he's completely winging it out here! Which would be a fair assumption, because Satoru doesn't exactly present himself as the most studious or responsible; it stands to follow that he might have neglected to read through the details of their mission. He'd normally be fine with Suguru thinking as much, as he doesn't want more expectations on his shoulders, but this is his new brand of contrary: showing Suguru that everything he thinks he knows is probably wrong.

Satoru takes off his glasses and shoves them in his pocket so he can take a nice, unfiltered look at their surroundings.]

This way.

[Because look! Thanks to his Six Eyes, he even knows the quickest way to get to the park. He was going to let Suguru take the long way so that he could make a bunch of stops to delay their goal, but Satoru's zest for being an annoyance has been tempered — for now.

He downs the rest of his drink, then tosses the can in the trash in passing, directing Suguru toward a sketchy looking alley. This route will lead them to the park, which still contains enough traces of the curse that Satoru can detect them from here.]

Weird. [Said offhandedly, Satoru momentarily forgetting his grudge.] I think the curse might've come back to the scene.

[The energy seems too fresh, at least from this distance, but Satoru will know for sure when they're closer. Still, it's strange. Though some curses stay in defined areas, wreaking havoc on whomever happens on to their territory, this curse's trajectory was spread out, as though it was mindlessly moving onward throughout the town, claiming victims indiscriminately. None of the details said anything about the curse doubling back.

If the energy is fresh, then this implies intent — one that might go beyond the abilities of a low-level curse.]

[i read the file too, satoru says, and what relief suguru feels as the bill is plucked from his hand (one less thing to butt heads over) is tempered by a sudden surge of frustration. he wasn't trying to provoke; he wasn't trying to insinuate anything more than that they really should get a move on, but it's starting to feel as though satoru's default state is squared up. how is anyone supposed to avoid disagreements when satoru will stop at nothing to start one?

but as suguru watches satoru turn—determined, it seems, to take the lead this time—suguru once again does his best to step into satoru's shoes. what would make someone so eager to fight? attention? a deep-seated need to prove something to the world? or maybe striking first is some kind of defense mechanism; maybe satoru has dealt with worst case scenarios long enough to expect them, to prepare for them. it might explain his less-than-stellar attitude...

...or it might be that suguru is reaching, trying too hard to find some sort of rationale when there simply isn't one. it's a very real possibility; suguru admits as much to himself as he takes a swig of his coffee, savoring the bite of it, but the fact of the matter is this: suguru refuses to believe that satoru is incomprehensible. there is a reason for, an order to, everything, even the strangest of people; there is always something to understand.

and suguru will find it—later, perhaps. when satoru is not pointing out an oddity that suguru can just barely feel—and then, after focusing, just barely see. for all of satoru's faults—too many to count—never let it be said that he isn't talented.

but while suguru hums in acknowledgement, his brow pinches as he thinks back to the file that, yes, they both read.]

The last attack... [hmm.] By the river. Three days ago.

[and the river is a good distance away, meaning that there's no easy explanation for a curse wandering all the way to it before wandering all the way back. they could be dealing with two curses, he supposes. that would be the logical explanation. two curses, each one inadvertently covering for the other—but if there is one curse, and if it retains some degree of memory...]

It's supposed to be a Grade Two, isn't it?

[semi-grade 1, at best. it's why they were both sent to investigate.]

[The closer they approach, the more Satoru is confident of his initial assessment. He sees, with increasing clarity, that the energy is not just fresh, but recent as of mere hours ago, judging by how strong it still appears — and feels. He counts back the hours, and wonders if it's possible that the curse's return to the park corresponded with their arrival.]

Yeah. [Said distractedly, none of his earlier attitude in his tone.] But there's no way. Look.

[As they emerge from the alleyway and onto the road that will lead them straight to the park, it's clear: the way the energy snakes around trees and benches seems deliberate — not the hallmark of a mindless curse. There's a purpose to its path; Satoru just can't determine what it is.]

That's the work of a special grade.

[Maybe! Satoru isn't positive, but now that he's sure that the curse is long gone, even if its traces aren't, he is remembering all his (very valid!) grievances with Sugruu.

Thus, a grin as he turns his eyes on Suguru.]

You scared?

[Because guess who isn't? Satoru, that's who! He was made for this — literally! — and has nothing but confidence in his abilities. In fact, he's a little excited to prove what he can do against an challenging curse, versus something weak and easily overcome.

Turns out he's now glad he was sent on this mission — even if it means being forced to spend it with Suguru.]

[a grade two is an easy enough curse to handle; a semi-grade one might pose a bit of a challenge, depending on the nature of its attacks, but is ultimately manageable. a special grade, however, is—well. contrary to what satoru may believe, given suguru's prolonged silence as he studies the park just across the street, suguru is not, in fact, scared. he knows what he can do; he knows what satoru is capable of.

but confronting a special grade curse without knowing anything about its abilities? coming in completely blind? they're at a distinct disadvantage—and suguru can't help but to think of those who might wind up caught in the crossfire. this is by no means a small city.

and satoru is by no means a careful, thoughtful individual, hence suguru's sidelong look.]

For you. [a quick glance up and down the street—and then suguru is pressing forward without satoru, making a beeline for the trash can by the park's main path.] Your reflexes are worse than I thought.

[hey, satoru! remember when suguru pinned you in all of two seconds? because suguru sure does—so come on, punk. as soon as this can of coffee is where it belongs, suguru is heading deeper into the park itself, scanning for residuals while picking up on the strange silence. not a soul in sight, he notes. weird. even at this time of night, people should be darting through this park on their way home; there's no reason for it to be well and truly empty.

hmm.

satoru is (presumably) somewhere behind him; suguru continues to pay him little attention, focusing instead on summoning a small, dopey-looking flyhead to his side. it flits about for a second or so, regaining its bearings, before zipping toward the playground off to the side. there! a sentinel, stationed by the slide.]

[Satoru doesn't have a lot of experience with socializing with other teenagers. Up until he started school, his exposure to peers mostly came in the form of kids from the other clans, none of whom liked him. He hadn't liked them either, though that was less because of who they were and more because he had been preemptively instructed to see them as rivals who would never be able to reach his level. They'd take everything from you, if they could, he was warned every time he was paraded before their guests. He was rarely left alone with any of them, but the few times he was, it was clear that friendship was off the table.

The problem is always the same: Satoru exists on a plane that no one can hope to reach. And he's fine with that — he really is. It's what he's always known, and it's what he will continue to know as he rises higher and higher — until he's truly unreachable.

But something has been nagging at him ever since Suguru turned down his drink — a feeling that grows when Suguru tosses out that insult, salt on his wounded ego. He doesn't know what it is, but he thinks it has to do with the fact that no one has ever told him he's lacking in skill before.

No one has ever insulted his abilities. It wouldn't make sense. Satoru is the strongest. He's been trained since birth. If he wanted to, he could have Suguru laid out on the pavement without so much as blinking.

Suguru's words shouldn't bother him. His rejection shouldn't matter.

But, as Satoru trails behind Suguru, he realizes that they do.

Maybe he feels a little foolish. Or maybe he's a little embarrassed.

Maybe his feelings are hurt.

Or maybe Suguru is just irritating! And Satoru has to restore the balance by annoying him right back.

While Suguru is busy summoning his curse, Satoru occupies himself by opening his bag of konpeito, making sure to crinkle the bag as much as possible in the process. Sure, this mission is suddenly a lot more serious, but the curse isn't at the park, and for all that Satoru is aiming to provoke Suguru, it's in both their interests for him to snack a little.

He reaches into the bag and grabs a piece, then poises to launch it at Suguru's head while he's preoccupied with watching his curse fly away.]

Yeah? You wanna see —

[He cuts off, though his hand remains in the air, konpeito held in his fingers, waiting for the delivery of a quip that will not come. His attention moves from Suguru's head to the playground. First, the slide, near which Suguru's curse hovers, and then the swings.

Fastened to the swing on the left — the one closest to them — is a small piece of paper.]

Hold on.

[The piece of konpeito doesn't make it into the air, nor does Satoru pop it into his mouth. He drops it to the ground and begins walking toward the swings. This time, however, his steps are slow — cautious.]

Is that a talisman?

[It's shaped like one. But it doesn't feel like one. In fact, Satoru isn't getting a read on it at all, as if it's a black hole of cursed energy — everything sucked inside, leaving nothing for him to sense.]

[it would be easy to say that suguru pays satoru little attention—but that would be a lie. even as suguru wills his curse toward the epicenter, of sorts, suguru remains almost painfully aware of satoru? of the way he stops mid-sentence; of the way he willingly wastes a piece of candy, allowing it to slip from his fingers as he approaches that which suguru missed.

ah.

but while suguru is sure there is hell to pay—while suguru is somewhat resentful of it, given the fact this his curse would have alerted him to the so-called "talisman" in a matter of seconds—suguru remains calm. what matters, in this moment, is that which they are both focused on: that bit of paper imbued with some sort of cursed energy. a warning; a notice. someone—something—is watching them.

suguru takes in a quiet breath.]

Satoru.

[a softly spoken warning, which satoru is sure to be resentful of. he found it, after all; he's allowed to draw closer to it—except that suguru is here to serve as a yaga-esque stand-in, of sorts. a worrywart. he knows that he's meant to keep satoru in line, which is partly why he tamps down his own discomfort, his own fear, as he steps far enough forward to take his place by satoru's side. they're meant to be teammates, no matter the twists and turns they face.

they're meant to be teammates.]

If it knows we're here, it knows where we're headed next. [and next? and next. maybe it left such markers at the scene of every crime; maybe it's waiting for them to head to a particular area, hence the beat before suguru deigns to ask:] Can it sense us?

[in any way. satoru might be able to tell.]

[Whether a talisman or not, the piece of paper is eerie. Satoru, normally difficult to unsettle, feels his stomach flip uncomfortably as he nears it. He senses everything with his Six Eyes, and this should be no exception, but it remains a strange void, even as he moves closer.

The talisman itself may not prove to be dangerous, but the curse that left it definitely is. Any excitement Satoru felt at the prospect of showing off what he can do against a special grade begins to dissipate. If the curse is able to hide a piece of paper from him, what else can it shield? What else can it do?

Not that he plans on conveying his anxiety to Suguru. Satoru isn't supposed to be afraid — he's supposed to be untouchable — and so he doubles down on his determination and renews his desire to annoy Suguru.

It isn't all that difficult to do, especially once Suguru says his name like that. There's merit to his warning tone, but Satoru doesn't need another Yaga getting on his case. He's here to do a job — and part of that job is making sure that Suguru doesn't get hurt (and get him in trouble in the process) because he insists on walking in stride with someone he can't match.

But first: Suguru's question. Satoru refocuses on the residuals, attempting to read the energy for insight into the curse's techniques. It would be easier if he could see the curse itself; and it would be less taxing if Satoru had worn his shades all day, or been permitted to rest instead of starting the mission early. He blames Suguru for the headache that begins to build behind his eyes.]

Yeah. I'm pretty sure it can.

[The energy betrays an advanced awareness. If it were not for his Six Eyes, Satoru would assume the curse is with them at this very moment. But it isn't, at least not within Satoru's range.

Which means it knows who, exactly, is hunting it.

So: with his building anxiety, the knowledge that the curse is aware of him, specifically, and his annoyance at Suguru — in addition to the fact that this is what he is expected to do, given all that he is and will be, and given his role in jujutsu society at large — Satoru takes a long step forward, pulling ahead of Suguru.

Then he expands his Infinity, cutting Suguru off from both the paper and himself.

He grins at him from over his shoulder.]

You snooze, you lose!

[Or: stay there, so Satoru can swallow his fear and oh-so-casually reach for the piece of paper.]

[that scrap of paper isn't going anywhere, and yet suguru continues to watch it, warily, as satoru confirms his suspicions. a curse sensing, and undoubtedly tracking, their movements? a curse intelligent enough to assess them from afar, biding its time until it pinpoints something it believes it can use to its advantage. the smartest move, as suguru sees it, is to fall back, stationing weak curses as sentries throughout the city while they work together to pinpoint their opponent's location—

—which means, naturally, that satoru chooses to press forward. alone.

but for all that suguru expects this—satoru, acting as though he is the only person who will be affected by his rash decisions—suguru still finds himself caught off guard, jerking his attention back to satoru just in time to catch that grin. you snooze, you lose! a childish taunt that tests suguru's preternatural patience, prompting yet another flare of annoyance—and movement. suguru, closing the distance between them in two long strides; suguru, reaching for satoru as satoru reaches for the curse's calling card, because suguru has always been one to care for those who seemingly care little about themselves.

it isn't until his fingers come within an inch of satoru's arm that suguru realizes the futility of reaching for the untouchable.

not that he understands the entirety of satoru's technique; they've yet to engage in a conversation that satoru does not seek to ruin within the first five minutes, but suguru knows that, if there is a list of things that satoru is determined to keep out, he is somewhere near the top? highlighted; underlined.

and yet.

it's fabric suguru feels, brushing against his fingertips. satoru's sleeve, which suguru instinctively grabs, grips, even as his eyes widen—because this shouldn't be possible. this is a fluke, of some sort; this is the universe and/or the curse playing a worrying trick, and if suguru doesn't take full advantage of it—if suguru doesn't hold on—then satoru can and will shove him away.

there's been enough of that.

and thus suguru tamps down his surprise, eyes narrowing as he attempts to pull satoru back. a short, sharp tug, just as satoru makes contact with the paper he should simply leave.]

Will you wait?

[though it's probably too late, all things considered. this contact has thrown suguru off balance, dulling his reaction time; satoru remains more than capable of grabbing the charm before suguru can attempt to tug him back once more.]

[Satoru hears Suguru move. He senses him reaching — feels him attempt to close the gap between them. He tries to focus on feeling smug, anticipating the moment that Suguru will make contact with his Infinity, because it's easier than nursing the anxiety that comes with stretching out his hand and attempting to grab an object that defied his Six Eyes. He thinks about what he'll say, when Suguru comes up short — a gloat that will deflect the seriousness of this situation; a brag that will keep him grounded.

But then the unthinkable happens: Suguru grabs his sleeve.

In the fraction of the second between Suguru grabbing and Suguru tugging, Satoru's mind stutters. His fingers brush the talisman, but he neglects to close his hand. Suguru pulls his sleeve, and Satoru's arm moves with the motion, pliant. His body follows, facing Suguru with wide eyes, mouth agape. It happens quickly, but in the moment, everything seems to move in slow motion. Satoru is hyperaware of the threat that is the piece of paper; he's hyperaware of being pulled away. And then he's entirely focused on Suguru, caught in his grip.

Whatever the talisman is, it shouldn't be capable of messing with his Infinity. The curse may be strong, but nothing in its residuals indicates that it is able to interrupt techniques. And even if it has one of the few tools that are capable of negating cursed energy, as the talisman suggests it might, it isn't here to use them.

Suguru's admission into his infinity has nothing to do with anything going on in the park.

It has everything to do with Satoru. Satoru let him in, even though he was specifically trying to keep him out.

Heat rises to his face, a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. With a tug that he intends to be sharp but feels more awkward than anything else, Satoru pulls himself free of Suguru's grip and takes a step backward. This time, he makes sure Suguru really is barred from entry into his Infinity; he makes sure he doesn't accidentally let him in.

It has to be because he was tired — or too distracted by the paper.

Maybe he needs a little more training after all.

He attempts to steady himself with frustration.]

For what? We've got to look at it.

[It's dangerous to leave it hanging around, especially in a place where kids will find it. They need to remove it.]

You're the one who dragged me out here, remember? You wanted me to be responsible.

[That's literally what he's doing! Working, just like Suguru wanted! And of the two of them, Satoru is best suited for touching dangerous things, so! Suguru could have saved them both the unexpected and uncomfortable lapse in Infinity.

Satoru folds his arms.

But he doesn't go for the paper again. He remains rooted in his spot, annoyed but effectively subdued, waiting for Suguru's bright idea on what to do next.]

[the paper takes precedence, of course. keeping satoru from it until they can determine what, exactly, to do with it is matters far more than satoru's feelings on the matter—and yet, as satoru turns toward him, suguru's annoyance (why must satoru insist upon doing everything himself?) is dampened by discomfort. satoru's wide eyes; the flare of color in his cheeks. there's only a few seconds to study such things before satoru twists away, but it's more than enough time for suguru to realize that satoru, too, was—is—taken aback by the contact. he neither expected nor appreciated being touched.

which makes this almost intimate, albeit in the worst possible way. suguru, walking in on satoru during some deeply private moment; suguru, seeing some part of satoru that he has no right to see. not that it's his fault? reaching for satoru was reflexive; suguru never intended to make satoru uncomfortable, but as he pulls his hand back, there is still the sudden, stupid urge to apologize. i'm sorry, he almost says, fingers curling to his palm. i didn't mean—

but satoru speaks first, trading flippancy for frustration—and suguru bites his words back, fingers relaxing as he brings his hand to his forehead. if satoru is determined to assign blame, rightfully or no, then an apology will only fan the flames.]

I still do. You said it yourself: we have to look at it, [he says slowly, taking care to keep his tone measured.] Us. Together.

[as a team.

a lecture, however, is as useless as an apology, hence his slight frown as he swipes his bangs from his eyes. there's no telling what will happen once the piece of paper is removed; prolonged contact could prove harmful, hence suguru's second summon of the evening: a flesh-colored, frog-like blob, blinking up at them with its bulging red eyes. curses are generally less than pleasant to look at, but there's something particularly gross about this thing? the way its neck blows up like a balloon with each breath; the fact that the limbs folded beneath it are capped off by strangely human hands.

suguru prefers not to think about it.]

Let this take the hit.

[if there is one, that is. it could be nothing, and/or curses could be immune to it—but risking a curse's unnatural life is better than risking satoru's, especially if his infinity, for whatever reason, is on the fritz.

and it isn't as though the curse is allowed to have an opinion on the matter. it hops closer to the swings with single-minded purpose, brushing past satoru—before hopping right atop the swing the talisman is attached to? nimbly twisting about in the seat, fingers of its back feet securing it in place as it uses both of its front feet (hands?) to pluck the bit of paper free.

which is followed by—nothing.

or: nothing that suguru can sense, aside from a brief, barely there spike in cursed energy. a good thing; something that still makes him feel somewhat foolish—all as curse remains in place on the swing, breathing in and out before it slowly holds out its prize.

suguru watches it.]

...Anything?

[as in, did satoru's superior senses™ pick up on anything at all? suguru hopes that they did every bit as much as suguru hopes that they didn't.]

[Still reeling from the touch, Satoru is slow to roll his eyes in response to Suguru's insistence that they work as a team, but he manages it, albeit a half-second belatedly.]

Whatever.

[Let Suguru call forth his curse and take matters into his own hands. If he's so eager for partial credit, then Satoru might as well just relax — which is what he wanted to do from the beginning.

While Suguru summons his curse, Satoru takes out his shades and puts them on, blocking out as much as he can of Suguru and his cursed energy — effectively closing himself off from further strenuous work, and giving his eyes a break.

Through his shades, he watches the grotesque curse, keeping his attention on it as it hops toward the swing — and then makes contact with his Infinity, brushing up against it with its disgusting body. For a moment, he entertains the idea of attempting to exorcise it to make a point — an entirely bratty impulse that even he recognizes would go too far. But as it hops on the swing and uses those strange human hands to pull the paper free, Satoru has no choice but to admit that using the curse is a good idea — lending weight to Suguru's insistence that they work as a team, a fact that is difficult for Satoru to swallow.

It isn't simply stubbornness that makes him resist cooperation. Satoru has plenty of valid reasons to avoid it, ranging from the expectations on his shoulders to the destructive nature of his techniques. As a child, he heard it over and over again: Other people will hold you back. Or, as he looked longingly at other children on the rare occasion that he was permitted to venture out: There's a bounty on your head.

Satoru is meant to be in front, shielding the rest.

That's what he thinks about now, as Suguru proves himself useful — as his curse takes action and Satoru is forced to accept that he is right. Together, in this instance, would have been better. And yet, as he scans their surroundings yet again, confirming that the curse is out of range of his Six Eyes, he thinks of the bounty, and remembers why other people should stay out of his way.

Especially considering the problem at hand — determining the purpose of that piece of paper — is one that can't be solved by Suguru's curses. Hence Satoru's brief glimpse over his shades and a shrug of his shoulders — the paper is still a mystery.

Except...]

Did it do that before?

[He means the blip of cursed energy — the anomaly within the void that is the talisman. He doesn't know, because he was too busy being distracted by Suguru getting through his Infinity to pay attention. If it did, then it could be a clue — an indication of the purpose the object served. But Suguru messed that up.]

You pulled me away before I could tell.

[And guess who's responsible for Satoru's lack of a read on the object? Suguru, that's who! And maybe that isn't fair, considering Suguru had a good idea and Satoru didn't give him a moment to suggest it, but he's officially done with Suguru calling the shots, showing off, and touching him. He can keep the paper, or have his curse eat it, or maybe eat it himself. Whatever he wants to do!]

I'm going back.

[He's done! Forget ramen, forget strange objects, forget the curse. Satoru is already walking away, content to leave Suguru behind. There's a TV calling for him and a headache he has to nurse.

And maybe — maybe — in the back of his mind, Satoru knows that splitting up is a bad idea. Maybe he wants Suguru to follow, so that he isn't at risk while Satoru is enjoying what's left of the evening. But he doesn't allow himself to think about that too deeply — he simply walks, and leaves the rest to Suguru.]

[praise is neither wanted nor expected, in this moment? let alone from this particular person, because even if satoru were capable of looking past himself—an impossibility, suguru is certain—satoru would still choose to pick, and to pick, and to pick. no one will ever be as good as he is, in his mind; no one is capable of even coming close, which is surely why he is diametrically opposed to playing nice with others. he simply doesn't see the point.

and thus, as suguru watches his curse offer them that scrap of paper, suguru steels himself for whatever is to come. better safe than sorry is, perhaps, not a part of satoru's lexicon—and understandably (though shortsightedly) so; someone who can shield themselves from the world at large has little need to be cautious.

(or so suguru assumes. it isn't as though suguru knows, and truth be told, it isn't as though suguru cares—because even if satoru is determined to be reckless, suguru, as his partner, is here to keep him in check as best he can. it's the right thing to do.)

but instead of offering some obnoxious laugh and/or comment, satoru merely asks a pertinent question—albeit one suguru doesn't know the answer to—before seeking to shift the blame. not entirely undeservedly, suguru knows; the memory of that unexpected touch still makes him feel strangely ashamed of himself, for whatever reason, and yet it's— well, what is it? who, if anyone, is at fault? if yaga were here, he would undoubtedly make it clear; he would undoubtedly be disappointed in both of them, because as satoru turns away, suguru is aware of a single, simple fact: there are no winners here, for they've yet to understand how to act like a team.

alas.

which makes satoru's attempt at a hasty exit a bitter pill to swallow. it would be easy to blame satoru for it, of course; suguru is, honestly, tempted, but as he wills his curse to draw that paper back to its chest, he feels as though this entire evening has been a comedy of errors. there are other spots to check? victims' families to observe from a respectful distance. leaving everything here would be both foolish and shortsighted—]

Satoru.

[a beat—and then, with the sound of suguru's footsteps picking up pace behind him:]

Satoru!

[maybe he shouldn't be so familiar; what started as an honest attempt to foster some degree of friendliness may have painted him as an unapologetic ass-kisser, and yet, as he hurries after satoru, suguru isn't quite sure what else to call his classmate. they should be on a first-name basis.

(they should be friends, of some sort.)]

That's it? [it sounds like an accusation, of sorts, which isn't made any better by suguru's choice of follow-up as he draws closer:] You don't want to try anywhere else?

[meanwhile, behind them both: suguru's curse, croaking as it hops along after them.]

[Under normal circumstances, the usage of his first name would remind Satoru that Suguru is a suck-up, and he'd be apt to say as much. On the heels of that unexpected touch, however, it makes Satoru uncomfortable all over again. Few people use his given name so casually; even fewer use it after making physical contact with him. Hearing Suguru say it now feels strangely intimate, despite the tone — a fact that keeps Satoru walking forward instead of immediately whirling around in response to Suguru's pointed questions.]

Why? Scared of going on your own?

[He speaks as he continues moving ahead, unconcerned about whether or not Suguru will be able to hear him. Only after he finishes the gibe does he turn around, though he doesn't plan on acquiescing to Suguru's desire to continue investigating. They've seen enough. The curse isn't anywhere nearby, and Satoru has had his fill of Suguru.

Raising his eyebrows and giving him a smile as taunting as his words, Satoru digs into his bag of konpeito and holds one up, as he had earlier.]

Su-gu-ru.

[He over-enunciates each syllable, then pulls a face to demonstrate exactly what he thinks about being on a first-name basis with someone who wants to play at friendship only when it suits him. But not, for example, when Satoru tosses him a can and invites him to share.

On the last syllable, he flicks the candy in Suguru's direction, punctuating his point.]

I'm tired of looking out for the weak.

[Including none other than Suguru himself! Weak, annoying, bad taste in drinks — there's only so much that Satoru can take. Satoru reaches into the bag again, fully intending to continue to pelt him with candy until he either leaves or chases him to the hotel. Either way would be a win!

(Except, as Satoru aims for his face, he knows that's not entirely true — and hopes that a piece of candy to the eye will piss Suguru off enough for the latter.)]

[if suguru has learned anything, during their (admittedly brief) time together, it is this: satoru is a child. there is no real reason to appeal to his better judgment, for no matter the validity of the argument presented to him, he will continue to place himself first, to put his wants above others' needs—and it makes sense, in an altogether twisted way. stand atop a mountain and the surrounding area—the world as a whole—seems so small; it's difficult enough to pick out individual towns, let alone the people living in them.

but that is why suguru is here.

that is why suguru dodges the first konpeito before blocking the second, holding his hand in front of his face—because it would be easy to be like satoru. it would be easy to pretend as though nothing, no one, matters; maybe it would even be nice, ignoring the weight sitting atop his shoulders, but suguru has never sought the easy way out. protecting those who cannot protect themselves—that is his responsibility.

even if it should be theirs, but far be it from suguru to launch into yet another lecture in the middle of this street. they are what they are; suguru must deal with the hand he's been dealt, hence the press of his lips as he stares satoru down. i'm tired of looking out for the weak

(suguru thinks of stopping satoru from touching the talisman; suguru thinks of the look on satoru's face as the curse on the swing blinked back at them both, seemingly untouched by anything, everything.

suguru swallows.)

rule number one, as yaga made clear: no splitting up. no separating. they were sent to serve as a duo; they should not try to tackle anything individually—and yet, as suguru considers the other crime scenes that he has committed to memory, suguru thinks less of satoru and more of the faceless mass that is depending on them.

on them.]

...So go, then. If you think you're above this.

[this isn't how suguru envisioned entering sorcerer society. he'd thought—well. maybe it was his fault, expecting others to simply be grateful to be part of some greater whole; maybe he should have stopped to consider what it would have been like, being born into such a world as opposed to just outside of it.

alas.]

People are counting on us. [one last Look before he forces himself to turn, to shove that hand into the pocket of his pants.] I'm not scared to admit that I need more information.

[even if he's to collect it alone.]

[Satoru doesn't hesitate. This is another lesson that was drilled into him in his childhood. Hesitating to deploy his Infinity or launch an attack could cost him — or those around him. Every choice that Satoru makes, he reinforces through quick action, whether it's a decision to scuffle with his annoying classmate or reach out for a dangerous piece of paper. Satoru acts, reacts, and moves — and he does so with the conviction that he will succeed.

Watching Suguru turn around, however, Satoru finds himself on unsteady footing. The goal was to goad him into following; the plan was to finally catch a break from this mission, a chance to relax and recover from his startling lapse — from Suguru invading his Infinity. He knew better than to expect Suguru would make any of this easy — Suguru has already made it more than clear that he only cares about bolstering his image by spearheading this stupid campaign to tire themselves out before they really start on the mission — but that doesn't mean he knows what to do with the aftermath: Suguru walking away. Suguru choosing to work alone.

This is what he wanted, Satoru reminds himself — a moment's peace. A chance to go back to the hotel room and play the TV as loud as he wants. A little bit of normalcy, instead of obsessing over the fact that they're being tracked by a special grade who understands the limits of his techniques. He doesn't need to worry; when the time comes, he'll put the curse down without any trouble at all. But he doesn't resume his walk. He hesitates, watching Suguru walk away, and feels annoyed with himself for his inaction.

In an attempt to cover his indecision, he tosses another piece of candy Suguru's way, though it's halfhearted at best; the piece falls to the ground long before it reaches Suguru, bouncing along the pavement. His reply is equally lacking in energy, and belated, but still he says:]

I got all the information I need already.

[Barely a protest; barely a retort at all. But true, to some extent; Satoru isn't one for knocking on doors and hanging out around the general public. He knows what they're dealing with now, and he has a pretty good idea of what it can do. The rest is up to fighting, and that isn't happening tonight.

Still, Satoru doesn't follow, nor does he retreat. He wouldn't say that he sulks, either, but he doesn't not sulk. He simply sits right there at the entrance to the alleyway, his back against a wall, keeping tabs on Suguru's cursed energy and making sure the special grade doesn't return.

Because if it is watching them — if it is tracking their movements — it'll sense when he leaves Suguru behind. And it will probably make a move.]

Whatever.

[Grumbled to himself as he tosses aside the bag of konpeito. He looks up at the darkened sky and pretends to be very busy examining what little he can make out of the clouds above — all the while playing a game of sentry that his clan would be horrified to see. Satoru isn't meant to guard; he's meant to lead.

But they're not here to see him, and Yaga isn't here to scold him, and Suguru has already made up his mind. So here he is: The Strongest, sitting on unfamiliar ground, resolved to trail behind a classmate who shouldn't be worth his time.]

[by the time they shuffle back into the lobby of their hotel, feet sore and stomachs full of (shitty) ramen, even suguru must admit that wandering about the city was, quite honestly, a waste of their time.

not that suguru actually admits such a thing, no matter how many needling comments he is—was—forced to endure? slightly awkward silence is, after all, far, far better than sharing that he is both flummoxed and frustrated, for satoru is sure to be anything but a supportive partner; satoru is sure to crow as loudly and as often as possible, and listen: the fact that it is deserved, on some level, does not make it any easier to bear. suguru is only human.

suguru is only human.

which satoru enjoys being a step above, apparently, so—sure! fine! far be it from suguru to feed into such delusions of grandeur; the smarter option is to simply feign exhaustion as they first board the elevator, then stroll down the shabby hallway leading to their equally shabby room. it's fine. really. even as suguru swipes the keycard, pushes open the door, flicks on the lights to spy a small puddle of muddy water pooling atop the far bed—

—yeah. it's fine.

just let me handle it, he sighs, as though (feigned) resignation will make up for the swiftness with which he pivots on his heel, heads back to the elevator—because god, but he does want to leave this room behind him? he does want to leave satoru, if only for a time. at least the concierge is paid to pretend to care; the apologetic smile they offer suguru as they set about searching for vacancies is strangely, embarrassingly comforting, though suguru resists the very real urge to lean closer to it. he isn't a flower; this employee isn't the shadow of some sun. this is just— he is just—

well.

it doesn't matter, in the end. booked full, the concierge informs him, plasticky smile firmly in place while watching his shoulders drop. i'm so sorry for the inconvenience—and we would be more than happy to offer you a partial discount, but if you wouldn't mind the slight inconvenience for one evening...

this is where suguru should object, of course. it's expected. he has every right to raise his voice, to slam his fist upon the counter, to demand a new room, if not a full refund with additional credit—and yet, as suguru tiredly eyes that all too fake smile, suguru finds himself matching it.

not at all, he says, perfectly calm and perfectly pleasant. one night won't kill us.

(because there is something in this town that will kill you, if we don't kill it first—and we don't even know where to begin.)

but much of suguru's (apparent) confidence evaporates as he makes his way back to the room where satoru is, presumably, waiting. it isn't that he's afraid of satoru; some part of him is, perhaps, counting on—hoping for—satoru to storm out of the building, leaving suguru to this less-than-optimal room while securing something better for himself—for all that suguru needs is an opportunity to put his humbleness on display. he is better than satoru.

except that, by virtue of hoping for such a thing, suguru is inherently worse.

and thus suguru bites his tongue, as he re-enters this shared room? steels himself as he steps into their shared space, pointedly ignoring the steady drip, drip, drip on the opposite side of the room.]

There's—a conference, [he offers, lamely, before sweeping an arm to the side.] A company rented the rest of the rooms months ago, so unless we want to try our luck somewhere else, it's this room or nothing.

[and that is that! a done deal! and yes, sure, he could offer the discount info; yes, sure, he could make A Scene of this unfortunate situation—but he chooses, instead, to merely bring a hand to his forehead, digging his thumb between his furrowed brows.]

Have you ever shared a bed?

[it's genuine curiosity!]

[Satoru told him so.

He did! A point that he makes a few times while they're eating, and then a few times more while they're walking back to the hotel — for good measure. He also makes sure to list all the fun things he could have been doing had Suguru listened when he tried to head back, up to and including the fact that Suguru could have even unpacked his bag for him. Since he's so concerned about being organized and neat.

Suguru doesn't rise to his bait, which is as frustrating as everything else he has failed to do this evening, and it makes Satoru want to prod him even more — really rub salt in the wound. He decides to be extra annoying once they get to the hotel, and plans on blasting the TV as loud as he wants and tossing his clothes all over the floor. He also resolves to sleep in come morning, because they worked late tonight — and no self-respecting Six-Eyes-seeking curse should be operational before 10 A.M.

All of these plans — and what remains of Satoru's levity — are quashed as soon as he follows Suguru into the hotel room and sees the dripping ceiling. When Suguru decides to handle it, Satoru doesn't protest — he doesn't follow and he doesn't complain. He lets Suguru leave, and then sits in the middle of the room, right on the stained carpet.

Because what Satoru doesn't tell Suguru is that he's tired — weary, in a way he hasn't been in a while, after a day of traveling and using his Six Eyes. He wants Suguru to handle it, because it's the least Suguru could do after dragging him around aimlessly — and because Satoru has used up enough of his energy already. Wreaking havoc on the hotel room, as previously planned, is pointless now that the room has wreaked havoc on itself. In fact, nothing about this evening has been what he wanted at all. No matter what Satoru has tried to do to or with Suguru, he's somehow ended up on the losing end of every situation. And Satoru isn't supposed to lose.

At this point, he just wants to go to bed.

He's sitting in that spot when Suguru returns, waiting to be told that they have to move rooms and trying to muster up the desire to make a fuss about it — to pick at Suguru some more. One last hurrah before they drag themselves to another room, deposit themselves on opposite sides, and take the night to pretend that the other doesn't exist. He's so primed to try to annoy Suguru one last time that he's completely caught off guard when Suguru says they're staying put.

It takes him a moment to respond; he's too busy gaping up at Suguru, because how can that be the answer? Did Suguru even try to get another room? Is this some kind of stupid attempt attempt to get Satoru to leave? Satoru tries to remember how much money he grabbed before he left, wondering if he has enough to secure a room on his own, or if he should just try to force Suguru out so he can take the bed. He even goes so far as to reach in his pockets to feel how many bills he has on him.

Then he looks back up — this time in surprise.]

Huh?

[The question makes him uncomfortable. It's a weird feeling, edging toward embarrassment — or maybe shame. He somehow feels like the answer is supposed to be yes, like sharing beds is a perfectly normal thing for people to do. But Satoru has spent every night of his life alone in his room, sleeping in his own bed, without anyone to bother him. He's never had a reason to share a bed.

In fact:]

I've never shared anything. [Except a drink — which was rebuked. Except a touch — which was unwelcome.] Why would I?

[He stands and walks over to his bag, trying to cover for his discomfort. He doesn't want to share a bed, especially not after Suguru reached through his Infinity. Even if Suguru hadn't managed to slip past his defenses once already, Satoru is too tired to keep his Infinity going; he isn't going to be able to keep Suguru out.]

Don't you know who I am?

[Said with as much arrogance as he can muster, while he starts rifling through his belongings — that way he doesn't have to look at Suguru.]

[it was, admittedly, a stupid question? a passing thought that suguru would have no cause to voice were he stuck in a room with literally anyone else, because the vast majority of the population has slept over at a friend's house, or drawn the short end of the stick during a school trip, or spent half a holiday listening to a relative snore in their ear. sharing space is normal.

satoru, however, is objectively abnormal—and some of it is for show, suguru is sure. some of it, like satoru on the plane, stretching his long legs into the aisle in an attempt to take up as much space as physically possible—but then there was satoru on the playground, pulling away from suguru's touch too awkwardly to offend, but too swiftly to disguise his discomfort. satoru expanding the borders of his territory; satoru withdrawing within them, falling back to his last line of defense.

satoru, shutting others out.

because that's what it all comes down to, in the end: the distance that satoru oh-so carefully keeps between himself and the world at large, which isn't so much selfish as it is—what? protective? uncertain. satoru moves through the world with all the (outward) confidence of a man who believes he owns it, and yet, when given the opportunity to prove it—to claim suguru's bed for himself, to tell suguru to sleep on the floor, to march down to the front desk and demand what he is due—satoru chooses, instead, to pull back into himself once more, clearly uncomfortable with the situation as a whole. i've never shared anything, he says, as though it's perfectly natural, perfectly understandable. a fact of life.

don't you know who i am?

no, suguru thinks, hand dropping back to his side as he watches satoru make more of a mess. aside from the boring basics, all that suguru knows of satoru are the bits and pieces that sometimes slip through the cracks; the map, such as it is, remains mostly blank, and that isn't entirely satoru's fault. suguru's efforts have been—

—well. there is a conscious desire to do better, in this moment; there is a desire to smooth over the wrinkle he'd inadvertently caused, for the sight of satoru once again seeking to put space between them—to shut him out—brings back the pang of guilt from the playground. causing new problems while attempting to fix older ones—there is so much that suguru is missing. how frustrating.

but satoru remains angled away from him, busying himself with anything other than the matter at hand; it provides suguru with an opportunity to relax, shoulders dropping even as satoru's tone threatens to heighten the tension. it's on suguru to deescalate, in this moment, and thus, after a second's consideration:]

A pain, [he says, lightly, before stepping closer to his—their?—bed. two pillows rest against the headboard; he reaches for the nearest one, fingers snagging the scratchy pillowcase.] Didn't we go over this?

[in this very room, in fact. way, way earlier—which is why suguru the suck-up goes for an under-handed toss, sending the pillow arcing over satoru's head. hitting him would be more fun; suguru would, quite honestly, love to peg satoru square in the back, but as the pillow lands in satoru's open suitcase, it's about a curious sort of consideration. see, satoru? no touching, literally and figuratively. space: acknowledged and (mostly) respected, all as suguru turns his attention to his own suitcase.]

First rule of sharing a bed: you only get half of the blanket. Don't be greedy.

[because this is happening, for better or for worse; suguru is resigned to a night of lackluster sleep and/or satoru griping about everything and nothing, so there's no sense in doing anything other than acting totally normal about this as he plucks his toothbrush from its designated pocket. synergy...

(or: giving satoru an opportunity to save face, in a way, by granting satoru the option to fall back on Obnoxious.)]

[Aimless as his search may seem, with how he continues to haphazardly toss his belongings on the floor, Satoru is looking for something specific. Unlike Suguru's smooth retrieval of his toothbrush, Satoru's search has nothing to do with personal hygiene. The object is entirely frivolous, just like the search itself — meant to distract.

Satoru didn't exactly pack with care. He piled his belongings into his bag without consideration for the future; hence, by the time the pillow soars over his head and lands in his bag, Satoru still hasn't found what he wants.

What he has found is a new, welcome surge of annoyance. Satoru is well-aware that he has spent the day attempting to ruffle Suguru's feathers and annoy him as much as possible; however, in his opinion, there is only one real pain in this room, and it's Suguru himself. Without his stupid need to go above and beyond with this mission, they might have been in this room when the leak started; they might have been able to secure a new room before the hotel filled up. Satoru is still dealing with the consequences of letting Suguru drag him around, and now he's going to spend the night doing the same.

But annoyance is better than the uncomfortable feeling of a moment prior, so he embraces it and pretends that he never felt off. He tips himself back over into action and takes the pillow in hand. Suguru may have, for whatever reason, avoided hitting him with the pillow, but Satoru has no such qualms. He prepares to turn around and aim for Suguru's head, when he sees it: the object for which he's been searching. He plucks it from his suitcase.

With pillow in one hand, and the object in the other, Satoru closes the gap between himself and the bed, then launches himself right on top of it, landing in the middle and thoroughly wrinkling the blanket in the process. He makes himself comfortable, shifting only slightly to one side and lying back with a grin.]

How's this for half?

[He then reveals the object by slipping it over his head: a sleep mask he bought specifically for the disconcerting eyes printed on the fabric. He had intended to use it on the plane for kicks, but making Suguru sleep next to it is even better.

(The sleep mask serves a greater purpose, too. It mutes everything just enough that Suguru, and the prospect of sharing a bed, seem a little less overbearing. Satoru dulls the sight of Suguru's cursed energy, and with it, the memory of contact — and reverts back to his obnoxious behavior without missing a beat.)

Feeling grounded once again, he finally chucks the pillow at Suguru, his aim absolutely perfect, because his Six Eyes are stronger than a sleep mask.]

[suguru doesn't need to turn around to know what, exactly, satoru is up to; the noise that the swaybacked mattress makes—less a squeak, more a world-weary wheeze—lets suguru know that a certain someone has chosen the childish option that is dropping directly atop it, which is hardly a surprise. if nothing else, satoru is consistent; suguru can count on him to act obnoxiously so long as everything is running relatively smoothly, and there is some degree of comfort to be found in that? satoru, serving as a strange sort of litmus test for normalcy.

but the twinge of relief that suguru feels neither prepares him for, nor eases the blow of, the pillow smacking against his face as he finally deigns to glance back over his shoulder.

ah, well.

it isn't the first time a classmate has chucked a pillow at suguru's head—and he did provide the ammo, this time, so there's no sense in getting even the slightest bit worked up about it. better this than satoru pouting in a corner, or storming out to find his own space while the curse is, presumably, still watching them from afar; suguru is more than willing to let satoru believe he's one-upping him if it means that satoru remains on relatively good behavior, because dealing with children and/or the childish is simple, really: you let them think that they have the upper hand.

plus, as suguru bends down to sweep the pillow that he will likely be forced to use off the floor before the germs claim it as their own, suguru catches sight of that sleep mask. well, it's‐fitting? leave it to satoru to bring something so silly along, all in the hopes of garnering some sort of reaction from those around him. laughter, maybe. a grimace of annoyance. suguru thinks of the stares it would have earned satoru back on the plane, if he'd ever bothered to break it out...

(but he didn't, which means that he was paid enough attention without them? maybe? suguru flashes back to his increasing exasperation each time the stewardess stopped by, reminding satoru that legs did not belong in the aisle, and suguru thinks—oh. yes. of course.)]

That's more like three-fourths.

[just sayin'! but as he calmly places his pillow back atop his fourth of the bed, pushing it against satoru's cheek in a clear order to move over:]

Weird how well that matches your eyes. For a second, I couldn't even tell the difference.

[big, blue, and peering right into one's soul... these eyes are just like satoru's...]

[For all that Satoru is tired and ready to get the worst part of this evening over with, he finds himself hoping that Suguru will throw the pillow back at him — that he escalates, so that Satoru can follow, until a little scuffle over bed space becomes a real fight. He still wants to prove that in a completely fair scrap, he'd be the one to come out on top. He wants to make Suguru tap out and retreat to bed with his head hanging low, regretting everything that today entailed.

(But it's not that. Not really. Satoru wants to fight because it would make this more palatable — because relenting and moving over would be easier, if Suguru were sore from losing.

Because contact while arguing is better than the risk of accidental touch while trying to fit together in the small space the bed provides.)

He considers instigating an argument himself, pointedly refusing to move even as Suguru nudges him with the pillow and stands waiting. He waits a beat after Suguru's comment, staring at him through his sleep mask, dragging the moment out —

But it's the pillow that ultimately makes him decide to move — to rescind all desire to cause more problems, and instead, with only a put-off of sigh to accompany the motion, shifts over until he occupies only half of the bed. Because Satoru, for all that he is caught up in himself, recognizes that Suguru is choosing not to touch him. Suguru is using a pillow, when he could be reaching out his hand — he could be pushing, testing Satoru's defenses, seeing how much more he can take.

But he isn't.

So Satoru settles himself on the side of the bed, and only then does he react to Suguru's insult. Because it is an insult! Satoru's eyes are his best feature, and he knows that Suguru isn't immune to them. No one is! To prove it, he hooks a finger into his sleep mask and tugs it down to bat his eyelashes at him.]

You sure?

[But everything is bright — Suguru is bright. Intense, in this moment — the way he's been all night. It's as though letting Suguru into his Infinity make him louder, somehow. Satoru groans and pulls the sleep mask back over his eyes, turning away from Suguru entirely. He stares at the wall instead.]

Maybe you should get your own eyes checked. Bad vision would explain a lot.

[At least he'd have an excuse for treating Satoru's drink like it was something to be despised.

He uses that comment as a segue to what he really wants — needs — to say, hoping to prevent Suguru from getting in another insult. Satoru wants the last word! He deserves it for having to sleep under these conditions. But the statement also serves to buffer the warning that follows.]

Look —

[A demand, which Satoru manages to say haughtily, despite the issue he's addressing.]

I'm not using my technique tonight.

[By choice! Or so he wants Suguru to believe. He picks his words carefully, because implying that his energy is depleted would make him sound weak. Satoru isn't supposed to have faults, or admit to gaps in his abilities, or be anything other than the perfect Six Eyes ready to be deployed at a moment's notice.

He doesn't need Suguru thinking he's an easy target.

He wants to leave it at that, his point made, but the words sound awkward, hanging between them — too much like an admission — so he adds:]

Don't get any ideas.

[Keep away from him! But also: maybe use a curse to keep watch?

Satoru can't protect either of them while he's sleeping, no matter how close they lie; he can't cushion himself from Suguru, and he can't shield Suguru from the curse. It's not something Satoru would — or could — admit out loud, but Suguru, for all that he is a brown-noser, isn't stupid, so Satoru assumes he'll get it.

He isn't spelling it out for him, either way.]

Edited (cannot believe I used a wrong word and didn't notice it while editing smh) 2022-11-21 20:09 (UTC)

[sharing a space with satoru is, in some ways, like sharing a space with a spoiled dog? a bouncy, yippy creature that takes great joy in dragging every one of its toys from the box—but only watches, confused, as someone deigns to pick one up, to toss it across the room, because there is a difference between being looked after and being cared for. something about satoru is—well. not that suguru is an expert on anything, really; there is little in this world that someone so young is qualified to dissect, and yet the way that satoru pushes, and pushes, and pushes, seemingly hoping for the one thing that never fails to catch him by surprise...

...it's sad, is all. lonely. like satoru is expecting everyone around him to admire him, just for a moment, before moving on, hence his determination to turn everything—even the simple act of rolling over—into a full-blown production. look at me.

how many do?

and maybe suguru is simply tired; it's easy, he knows, to get caught in an ultimately unproductive loop when operating on little sleep, but as satoru all but orders him to keep his distance, suguru finds himself thinking of the eyemask that he can now barely see the corner of. a minute ago, he'd been so willing to dismiss it as a tool, a toy, a ploy for attention. look at me. it seemed perfectly reasonable to assume that satoru never bothered to break it out on the plane because satoru was receiving a great deal of (negative) attention—and while that holds true, in part, suguru also considers satoru's overall state at the time? the early hour they'd met outside the dorms; the length of the car ride; the slow, slow lines they'd stood in within the airport itself, waiting for all manner of small things that suguru, while mildly exasperated by, thought absolutely nothing of. it wasn't as though he'd stationed curses about the premises.

it wasn't as though he'd bothered asking satoru about his technique, especially once satoru began acting out.

which was a mistake, even if maintaining satoru's technique is as normal, as natural, as breathing. it isn't as though satoru is a security blanket; it isn't as though satoru is a pampered pup to feel both frustrated with and responsible for. satoru is suguru's classmate—

—and there it is again: the urge to apologize for unintentional slights, which suguru suppresses with the smallest of smiles. it's not like satoru is entirely innocent; god knows he has much to learn about both teamwork and empathy, but he's still human. no one is without faults.

including suguru, of course, so:]

What? Afraid I'll smother you with a pillow? You'd deserve it, but—

[hmm. a brief pause; a moment spent studying the jut of satoru's surprisingly bony shoulder.]

Thanks, Satoru. For your hard work today.

[and as suguru has a hunch that this is something that would be better for satoru to process alone, suguru wastes no time turning toward, and then stepping through, the open bathroom door. some people, you see, like to brush their teeth before bed! some people will refrain from saying a word about others choosing to ignore this rule, because something, something, it's important to pick one's battles.

plus, like. as the sound of running water fills the room—suguru, clearly seeing to his dental hygiene—a small, hunchbacked form soon hops across the carpet to settle atop the air conditioner unit on the far side of the room. hello again, satoru... staring at the far wall means staring at that thing, which, while stationed beside the window to serve as a sentry, still occasionally dares to blink over at the bed...

🐸

anyway, feel free to complain as suguru first makes his way back to his side of the bed, and then settles atop its very edge while seeing to the rest of his nightly routine. tomorrow's clothes: laid neatly atop his suitcase. phone: charging. hair tie: plucked free from his bun before placed just beside said phone.]

[Satoru doesn't want for much.

Growing up, he had everything he could desire. Any time he'd ask for the latest toy or game, it was procured for him immediately, set on a table for him to find upon entering his room. If he chose to skip out on important meetings or show up late to lessons, he wasn't chastised. He wasn't bound by many rules, and the few that were in place were meant for his protection. He had it easy. He has it easy now that he's away at school, too. All it takes is a phone call asking for money or an improvement to his accommodations and someone from the clan will be there within hours, holding out a wad of cash or a TV, bowing deeply, and then leaving without waiting for a word of thanks.

The only rule that really mattered was the one that kept him bound to clan property: under no circumstance was Satoru to leave without supervision. There were numerous reasons for this, the foremost being the bounty on his head. It was too dangerous for him to be out in the world by himself before he could reliably use his techniques; often, it was determined to be too dangerous for him to venture out even if someone could supervise.

He was nine when he broke the rule — old enough to understand the consequences and young enough to ignore them entirely. Slipping away was easy; no one watched him all that closely. Seizing his freedom was more difficult. Once he was away from the clan, Satoru didn't know what to do.

Getting to town wouldn't be difficult. Satoru could see the clustered cursed energy in the distance, and so, unable to think of another place to go, he approached it. The problem was his destination — it was, Satoru soon learned, foolish to go to an area filled with people. He attracted too much attention. It wasn't long before he was approached; it wasn't long before he was taken.

He doesn't remember the man's face now, but he does remember the way his energy looked: dark, threatening, but incredibly weak. He wasn't scared, not even as they neared a vehicle. When the man jerked him by the arm and tried to force him inside, Satoru concentrated really hard — harder than he ever had before — and the car, the man, and a signpost were all brought together, violently converging on each other until they were crushed beyond recognition.

He was found shortly thereafter, staring at the aftermath, with sirens beginning to wail in the distance. His hand was taken, and he was bundled up into the back of a car and driven to the clan.

Upon arrival, the elders greeted him with excitement. Satoru had demonstrated his true potential. It was a monumental day. His training would be altered to match this new development. They would call a meeting with all of the clans so he could prove he now had command over Limitless. He had to go to bed immediately so his energy would be replenished in full. He'd receive a breakfast of all his favorite foods in the morning — everything that would keep him energized for the day to come.

No one scolded him. No one asked him why.

It was for the best. Satoru didn't understand why he left the clan that day, or why, upon being brought back to his room, he refused to sleep. He didn't know why he turned his nose up at all the sweet pastries lining the breakfast table, or why, as he was led to the meeting with the clans, he told himself he wasn't going to show anyone anything.

He also didn't know why, once in front of an audience, he did exactly what he determined he wouldn't, and demonstrated his technique.

All he knew, as the clans began to speak in loud voices, arguing about the future, is that none of what had happened felt right.

He didn't know what he had wanted when he left the clan that evening — but he knew he hadn't been given it, whatever it was.

Lying on a creaky hotel bed, all these years later, Satoru is once again thinking about getting in the last word. He's ready to prolong this conversation, the back-and-forth that seems inevitable whenever he and Suguru get to talking about anything, and delay both his rest and Suguru's further attempts to be responsible. But then Suguru says it, and all insulting comments die in his throat.

Thanks, Satoru.

Satoru stills, feeling suddenly tense — suddenly unsure of himself. He feels out of place in this bed, this room, this partnership — he feels like Suguru is reaching through his Infinity all over again, that behind him, Suguru's cursed energy has grown somehow larger. All at once, he feels uncomfortable, uncertain — unsettled. And underneath it all, faint and yet present enough that it amplifies the rest, Satoru feels —

Warm.

He doesn't know what to say. He opens his mouth, even as Suguru relieves him of responding by heading to the bathroom, but then closes it again. His throat feels too dry to call out, so Satoru lies in silence and stares at the wall in surprise — in wonder.

No one has ever thanked him for his hard work before.

And now Suguru Geto, perpetual killjoy who doesn't even like him —

Suguru thanked him.

It's too much, Satoru decides. After a long day using up most of his energy, he doesn't know what to do with any of this, so he decides to try to ignore it completely. He kicks off his shoes and takes off his uniform jacket and chucks it across the room. He nestles himself back on his side of the bed, the covers pulled up high and a disgusting curse burning through his blindfold.

He turns over.

Unbidden, that old memory surfaces — the very first time he broke a rule. The very first time he acted out, and found that for all he was he had misbehaved, no one really looked at him. No one really talked to him. No one even fussed over him.

These are not the thoughts that he wants to be mulling over when he should be sleeping. And yet, by the time Suguru makes his way out of the bathroom and goes through what Satoru can only assume is the same boring routine he follows every single night — by the time Satoru is looking at his back, his hair, and all around him, the vibrancy of his energy — he impulsively says:]

Hey —

[And then, with a beat betraying his indecision, he adds:]

Suguru.

[He says his name without a taunt imbued within it. He says it like they're friends.

But then it's on him to finish his thought, and Satoru has nothing prepared for this moment. He feels like he needs to say something, but the words don't form — and when he thinks that he probably knows what he should say (There's nothing to thank me for, or Sorry, or even, I'll try extra hard not to kick you tonight) he feels too unsteady to say anything at all.]

Forget it.

[And he should leave it at that.

Except, he huffs — then pulls down his sleep mask and forces himself to look at Suguru as he blurts:]

You didn't try my drink.

[It's a question, though Satoru doesn't phrase it as such. It feels easier to frame it as an accusation than to express a desire to understand — why Suguru rejected him, only to turn around and offer him something no one has before.

Satoru had wanted something, when he tossed that can in his direction — just as he wanted something when he was nine-years-old and on a journey he didn't understand. And he had assumed that he wouldn't find it here, because Satoru, it seemed, wasn't meant to find it anywhere.

But Suguru thanked him.

And Satoru, watching Suguru in the dim lighting, wonders if that's what he wanted all along.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

stsg: hs edition | are we growing up or just going down?

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tinyurl.com/2p8sy5zn

https://tinyurl.com/75z8m2mv

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ax27VgI-lVE

i love that you linked a vine......we're era appropriate now

next up: a playlist of songs i downloaded off limewire, ft radio ads and a virus

brb updating my livejournal

stop... i feel actual nostalgia

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