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]

[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.)]

tinyurl.com/2p8sy5zn

[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.]

https://tinyurl.com/75z8m2mv

[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.]