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

[ascends]

[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?]

Comments

[ascends]

[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.]

[mugen]

[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.]

[ascends]

[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...)]

[mugen]

[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.]

[ascends]

[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...]

[mugen]

[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.]

[ascends]

[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.]

[mugen]

[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!]

[ascends]

[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.]

[mugen]

[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.]

[ascends]

[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.]

[mugen]

[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.]

[ascends]

[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!]

[mugen]

[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.]

[ascends]

[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.]

[mugen]

[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.]

[ascends]

[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.]

[mugen]

[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.]

[ascends]

[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.]

[mugen]

[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.]

[ascends]

[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.]

[mugen]

[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.]

[ascends]

[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.]

[mugen]

[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.]

[ascends]

[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.]

[mugen]

[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.)]

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[ascends]

[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.]

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[mugen]

[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.]