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[recursive]

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FIRST!!!! idk after the goodwill event

[kugisaki]

Is this Okkotsu Yuuta?

𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍:

[recursive]

( the structure of the culling game doesn't make for much downtime. though meant to last as long as necessary to run its course and accomplish its goal, taking time to rest or refuel really only opened one up to the risk of attack. many players have already been overcome, stretching themselves to their physical and mental limits to avoid such a thing — yuuta personally doesn't have the same qualms. somewhere outside the barrier of the sendai colony, late afternoon begins to wind into evening, and he finds a place under a half-demolished overpass to take a breather. he removes his sword from its place at his belt, sliding down a crumbling concrete pillar to sit with the sheathed katana resting at his shoulder. they rise and fall as he heaves a long sigh, his eyes slowly lidding shut. he's not going to sleep now, though he wouldn't have any concerns doing so; one of the first dozen sorcerers he'd killed had been one who'd thought himself clever in sneaking up on him when he was resting. big mistake. )

What do you think about all of this, Rika?

( he doesn't really project the words; he just mumbles them to himself, his lips barely moving around the syllables. this isn't an uncommon occurrence for him — after all of these months, he still talks to her like he'd used to. perhaps it was the only way he had to cope with the distinct absence of something that had once been there, which had been there since they had been kids lording over the local playground or when her last living remainder had been caught around the spool of his unwitting curse until he'd finally unraveled it and let her go.

he'd let her go, but letting go is so much harder than that. he would've never imagined it would feel lonelier after he'd set her free than when she'd made it her personal mission to keep everyone away from him. so when others weren't around to hear him, he'd kept talking to her like normal, and that had been that.

until she'd spoken back.

it doesn't happen often, and he has no way of anticipating when it will, but sometimes the things he says seem to catch and transfer, drifting between the veil of the here and the hereafter in a way that she can reply. how he feels about that is still something he's working through. he worries it means that he's still doing something to her that keeps her tied down to the mortal world (though he does enough of that simply by being alive), but on the other hand... he's only human. he always wants to hear her voice again, and when he does, it gives him the strength to keep going on. he carries her final wish for him with a quiet and determined devotion — he's no longer in any hurry to cut short his time here, not with the new family that he'd found at jujutsu high, but...

yes, he's still only human. ) A world of jujutsu sorcerers... ( how he feels about it wouldn't change anything about his goals. obviously, he would flatly disagree with the goals and justifications of the culling game — it came at far too high of a cost. even though people had only ever turned fearful or blind eyes to him in his very worst years, he just couldn't sense those feelings of alienation transforming into contempt and scorn. he just pities them. they are out of their depth, just as how they had been (how he had been) when his curse was at its worst. it was only natural for people to fear and flee from what they didn't understand. )

...Would you have liked to have been a jujutsu sorcerer? ( he only wants to rest for an hour, hopefully less, but thoughts of a world where they could have fought alongside one another in that sort of way could keep him company for that time. )

[feared]

[ let's assume they were kept apart on his birthday for whatever god forsaken reason — a mission they only wanted yuuta for? who knows...also please assume this comes in right at the midnight hour because of course she would be first to say this, ]

if you're awake, happy birthday
and if you're not, good morning when you see this
and happy birthday

𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚢:

[recursive]

( a blink, a pause, and then... yuuta can't help but laugh. it's a light and good-natured sort of chuckle — certainly not to be mistaken as done at megumi's expense — but in retrospect, he might question how good of a move it had been. it's never very nice to respond to someone's earnestness with laughter!

...but, still, it is kind of funny. even in this, in literally extending a request for something that he wants from yuuta, he still manages to phrase it as something that megumi can do for him. it's so endearing, even if there's a part of it that makes something in his chest ache.

there are two instances in which yuuta doesn't hesitate even a fraction of a second: when his gut instinct guides the muscles of his body to defending someone or when there is nothing to do but follow in the wake of what his heart tells him. and now his heart urges him forward with a sudden assuredness, almost hypocritical given how casual he makes it seem, as if it's something he's done a hundred times with megumi instead of right here and right now. he reaches out and takes one of his hands, then the other, the pad of each thumb pressed gently into the hollow of his hand for just a moment before his fingers flex, palms flush together, and thread in-between megumi's, the fingertips lightly tracing the lines of metacarpals raised to the surface of the skin. )

Perceptive as always, ( he says, tone soft and warm. his hands are a little cold — a symptom of a thin frame and poor circulation. are megumi's that much different? he's always wondered. )