againstdespair | IC Contact

[It's that stupid network thing's fault. Juzo wouldn't have remembered White Day otherwise; he's never bothered celebrating it or anything. That's for guys who have interest in the girls who gave them chocolate. He hadn't gone entirely without chocolate in his own school days, but of course he'd never had any reason to reciprocate.

He shouldn't this time, either. This is wrong and he knows it. Kyosuke is taken, officially. Juzo's been treating it like he has been for years now, so there's not that much difference, but it is finally official.

. . . But he'd been given something on valentine's. And maybe he wants to give something back. Just once. The one and only time, the last time he'll ever indulge this feeling.

So whenever he gets home, Kyosuke will find a package waiting for him, of two dozen freshly cut red roses. This isn't from a florist; the roses obviously came right from a bush. They have thorns and everything. They're not expertly packaged or arranged. But they sure are big and beautiful.

No note or indication of where they came from, though.]

Edited (Wtf Dreamwidth don't post my comment half finished) 2017-03-14 08:12 (UTC)

[The next night, Juzo has a very different reason to contact Kyosuke.

It's fairly late in the evening when he tentatively sends his voice through the crystal connection:]

—Munakata.

[He "sounds" exhausted and bleak.]

[A response doesn't come right away; the roiling fog in Kyosuke's head effectively blocks out the desire to immediately answer that hum coming from his amulet.

His face is in his hands, fingers raking through the tips of his hair, when he finally concentrates long enough to acknowledge the message.]

Sakakura.

[He doesn't sound much better through the mental connection. There's a pause before he makes an attempt at composure.]

You've heard?

[He aches immediately upon hearing Kyosuke on the other end of the line. The throbbing beat he lets slip through the connection, helpless to hold it all back, isn't Despair, but grief and fear: a faint, cold rhythm like a bad headache being dulled with a pack of ice.]

. . . Yeah. I heard. I've seen it.

Where are you?

[Seen it. He shudders at the further confirmation that this wasn't a bad dream, dread seeping through the connection. Tengan was right. He wasn't lying. Of course, he had known that the moment he had seen Tengan's code, but denial could run incredibly deep. And then months of relative bliss in this other world just ... made it all that much easier.

Just how far had he fallen?

It occurs to him belatedly that he hasn't replied yet, and he lifts his head long enough to stare at the buildings around him.]

The Administrative Quarter.

...They wouldn't let me see her.

What?! Who? —Forget it. Munakata . . .

[God, he doesn't know what to do. The air around him feels cold and almost solid with tension. He just wants to help him. He'd do anything for him, but he doesn't know how to do a fucking thing.

Finding out earlier that he hadn't survived the Killing Game—maybe he hadn't consciously thought it at the time, but he can feel the knowledge now, painfully sharp in the back of his mind, that he knows how to die for Kyosuke more than he knows how to make him happy.

At least these days.

Juzo takes a deep breath, eyes closed and fist curled tight around his crystal.]

I'm coming to find you. Give me some directions here.

[He clamps down on his thoughts the moment he hears worry in Juzo's mental voice. He can't deal with it right now. It's so much easier to shut out empathy and focus on goals. That was why he had doggedly persisted in trying to see Chisa--it had kept him from sitting alone with his thoughts, until he was finally, firmly, turned away.

So he sets a goal as he pushes himself to his feet.]

Meet me in the Merchant's Square. By the clock tower.

[He doesn't know where Juzo is coming from, but he needs to get away from his current surroundings.]

I'm on my way.

[He wonders, briefly, what if anything would transmit through the connection if he lifted his crystal to his lips and kissed it. But he can't risk that, even if the answer is probably "nothing."

This isn't a romantic moment, anyway. He hates himself for even having these thoughts right now. How fucking disrespectful can you get? Juzo berates himself in the privacy of his own head as he heads out of his apartment, and keeps it up all the way to the clock tower. How shitty a beat friend is he, honestly? To even have that in his mind? About his best friend's boyfriend, after hearing the awful truth of what she'd been through? About his other best friend while he's vulnerable? For fuck's sake.

And yet it's his love that carries him to the clock tower, that drives his determination to soothe Kyosuke however he can. To make it through this no matter how bad it is. He can't deny that.

It doesn't take too long to find their meeting spot.]

[With the clock tower looming over the square, it's an easy landmark to find even with daylight long faded from the sky. It's late enough now that the majority of the townsfolk have returned to their homes, allowing him to walk to his destination without veering around people to avoid contact.

His suit is mussed from sitting out in the police station steps, but he's at least attempted to put his hair back into place during the walk. He was sure he could deflect some of Juzo's concern if he at least looked somewhat put-together.]

Have you been waiting long?

[Of course he was late. Even when he was the one who had arranged the meeting, he still managed to be late.]

[Ah, there he is. The square is quiet right now, with Juzo the only person in the immediate vicinity, perched on a bench and slumped over his own knees. He hasn't been here long, but he's been here long enough to space out. Being alone with his thoughts right now isn't going great for him.

But he's not alone anymore. Despite everything, the chill damp of the air around Juzo begins to warm and dry a little when he spots Kyosuke and gets to his feet to greet him. Not that he knows how to do that. Hug him? Part of him wants to and doesn't know how. Instead he just gives his poor slightly ragged friend a look up and down as he shakes his head.]

If I was, I didn't even notice.

You look the way I feel right now. Maybe a little better, but—

[But he's not better. Juzo knows that. He trails off and shrugs, avoiding direct eye contact.]

[Kyosuke stares straight ahead, taking in Juzo's appearance before looking through him. He blinks some of the weariness from his eyes, focusing on ... well...]

You said you saw it. What did you see?

[His voice is calm, but the air around him is markedly colder than the rest of the square. It's a far cry from the fires he'd created when he'd first arrived, his emotions tightly bridled.]

[Every part of Juzo is on high alert right now. When has he ever seen Kyosuke like this? Even though he has no idea what else he'd expect at a time like right now, he can feel the icy grip of concern in his chest, as chill as the air surrounding Kyosuke's body, which Juzo can feel as he steps closer.

His hands curl into hard fists, then relax; he'd burned through so much pure rage earlier. Probably for the best. Now he can focus on Kyosuke.]

. . . I saw what Enoshima did to her. To Yukizome. I—went to Kamukura and made him show me. I had to see for myself that it was true.

[Of course it was Enoshima. He had already come to that conclusion, but hearing it said by someone else just made the situation that much more real. He takes a deep breath and releases, eyes intense.

Just how far did the taint spread?]

How long ago did it happen?

[He's already got his suspicions there, but he wants to hear what Juzo has to say. Would he hang himself with his own words?]

[He feels like a soldier reporting to a superior right now, but there's some comfort in that, too, even if it's a comfort he hates. It doesn't feel good to be better at this than being a comforting friend. But maybe the rest can come after the facts are out of the way.

He takes a deep breath, keeping the eye contact this time.]

As far as I could tell, it happened the day we couldn't get in touch with her. When you came back to the school from overseas.

[That long ago. Before the actual creation of the Future Foundation. It made a horrible amount of sense.

If the root was tainted, everything else that came out of it ran the risk of being the same, didn't it?

When did Tengan find out? Was that why it seemed like he lost his resolve to continue the fight?

The air temperature continues to drop around him as his paranoia grows.]

...When we were investigating Enoshima.

. . . That's right.

[His senses are clamoring for attention at this point, his anxiety rising with every moment he spends watching Kyosuke's expression. He can feel that chill. He hears the tone in his voice and can only begin to guess at everything it might mean, but not a single guess is reassuring right now. His own body begins to bristle with faint white static.]

Munakata. They can save her.

[His hand twitches at Juzo's latter comment, and he settles it by slipping it into his pocket. Save her? Save her? He tries to clamp down on the anger that threatens to slip out, working his jaw in silence to give himself something to do.

Chisa--Yukizome? Chisa?--was gone before he returned to the academy. That meant he had never seen her after giving her that assignment. The last time he had seen the real Yukizome was before the Tragedy.

Everything after that was Despair. The tears. The moments in confidence. All fake. All lies.

Every. Single. Moment.

...She had even died a Despair. That-- that stung particularly hard, rivaling the more intimate moments that came after, in Verens.]

Save her from what? From Verens' justice?

[Kyosuke can smell ozone when he speaks. He couldn't keep down that rising anger after all.]

From what Enoshima Junko did to her!

[Juzo's close enough to smell it too. It hits him suddenly that he doesn't know Kyosuke's tells yet; he doesn't know enough of his emotional reactions to know what that smell means. But God, it scares him. For Kyosuke's sake, for Chisa's sake. Chisa, who had been everything they'd despised and fought tooth and nail all these years, but whom he can't see as anything other than a victim after watching that memory of how it came to that. They hadn't known. He hadn't known the true sick extent of Enoshima's power.

The real Chisa never would have done the things she did as a Despair. The real Juzo had been fully in control of all of his mistakes. How can he hate her, even now?

He wants her back.

Juzo refuses to give in to the desire to look away; his own hands make tight fists, jaw tense.]

She needs help! Shit. Munakata—do you have any idea how much I hate choking on my pride like this? Going to them to save her? But she's still in there! Yukizome—she's still inside. I don't care what we have to do to save her. It wasn't her fault!

[What was Juzo even saying? Was this tied into Naegi's wayward hope that he could somehow rehabilitate the Despairs? Had they sold that to him as a viable option?

His desire to have her back warred with his dulled resolve against Despair. It was a tough battle, marked only by his prolonged silence.

But did he even know what he was getting back?

Komaeda, the one he had come closest to trusting, had told him how to identify a Despair--to no avail. Kamukura, the one apparently offering this chance, had known about Yukizome's situation.

What was this? What was all of this?

They had all been lying all along.]

Sakakura. Stop talking.

M—

[No. He'd been given an order. Juzo bites down hard on the rest of the name. There's bitter despair rising in his throat, bubbling in his chest; is this really what it's come to? Kyosuke would turn his back even on Chisa for his ideals . . . ?

Juzo deserves it, of course. But Chisa? If only Kyosuke had seen. He'd understand then. He'd have to. He's reasonable. He's caring—everything up to this point had happened because he'd cared so damn much about the world and everyone's happiness—

The space between them right now feels like two cold fronts meeting over a vast ocean. The air around Juzo goes cold and wet, so humid the water begins to condense out of it, beading in his hair and eyelashes, trickling down his chest.

Juzo swallows.]

. . . Munakata.

Edited 2017-03-17 00:58 (UTC)

[Good. The relative silence is a relief from the talking, from the barrage of lies. It makes the faint crackle in the air all the more audible, the clashing of airs and emotions roiling despite Kyosuke's utter stillness.

He doesn't know what he would have done if Juzo had continued talking. His sword is all too close, too convenient, to be ignored. All he would have to do is slip it out of his pocket, flick the switch, and--

His jaw clenches minutely. No. If he's going to even harbor such thoughts, he needs to settle something else.]

When I arrived. At Hope's Peak Academy. I took reports from you and Yukizome. On Enoshima.

[The words come slowly. Deliberately.]

Now I know why Yukizome lied.

[Of course.

The pieces that fell into place for Kyosuke already finally fall into place for Juzo, too. Of course. He deserves this, he knows that—he had made the choice to lie. Compared to Chisa, who had been stabbed in the fucking brain and made the decision under those circumstances, Juzo has, what? His cowardice to blame? Nothing better than that? His sick, years-long hopes that hadn't yet faded at the time? His desperation to keep Kyosuke in his life even as a friend, more important to him than being honest with him?

So Kyosuke thinks he and Chisa were Despair bedfellows. He's got no one to fucking blame but himself.

His expression unfolds like a piece of crumpled paper. The horror might as well be an open wound on his face.]

—I'm not one of them. I. Munakata—I lied. I lied because I'm a fucking coward, not because I'm Despair!

[It's not what he wants to hear.

What did he want to hear? An admission? Confirmation that everyone around him had been a Despair? That everything he had been working towards was sabotaged from the very beginning?

If he focuses on that thought, he knows he'll feel sick. To ensure no one else ever had to experience what he did, he swore he would eliminate despair. He would embody hope and become its sword--its judge, jury, and executioner.

The air bites, tense and electrified, as he pins Juzo in place with a disbelieving stare.]

A coward. A--

[He can't repeat it.]

Is that your excuse?

[A bolt of lightning arcs off to strike a lamp post several yards away.]

THERE'S NO EXCUSE!

[He may as well have been hit with the lightning himself. Juzo's body goes rigid, the space around him exploding into sparks—white, bright blue, like a particularly violent sparkler. They don't hurt, and he wishes they did.

So this is how it all ends. He should have ended it back then. Think how much suffering he could have saved Kyosuke? Chisa? The entire world? Were these years inbetween, this stolen friendship, was it worth it?

There's a deep-down, diseased part of him that whispers, yes, and Juzo hates himself for it.

The pain in Kyosuke right now hurts worse than the end of Juzo's own life. He can take this, even if it crushes him—but Kyosuke, having to deal with this betrayal? Right now, right after Chisa. Juzo wishes he knew how to control his emotions by now. He could wrap Kyosuke in his love, which had never been good for anything else. It probably wouldn't be wanted, but even the slightest chance of easing this burden off his shoulders would be worth it. Instead, all he's got is his own shitty excuses and the truth of his own treachery. He tries to take a deep breath but can't; it sticks in his chest, so that he has to take another, and another, each shallow suck of air making the panic rise within him.]

You—you think that's what this is, Munakata?! There's no excuse! I betrayed you. I lied to you! I never deserved the trust you put in me! I've tried—since then—! I've tried to be good enough! I swore I'd never fail you again the way I did that day! I can't. I can't! I always fuck it up! It's not an excuse, it's that I'm worthless!

[Even before Juzo really gets started, Kyosuke knows he's messed up.]

Stop talking.

[He can't handle it.

He'd told himself at the beginning, before arriving at the square, that he couldn't handle Juzo's emotions. Not now, not when he was so tightly coiled over-- losing Chisa. Juzo's words were like chisels to his defenses, far too effective because of their shared history.

Why had he asked? Shutting out his own emotions was easier in silence, without the Juzo's passionately hammering away with ... self-blame.

He wants him to stop talking. It doesn't matter, he wants to yell. It's too late! Nothing you say now will change what's happened!

But more than that, he wants to reject what Juzo is saying. He doesn't want any of it to be true.

It's the same deep denial that acted as a dam for all these horrible revelations.]

Stop. Talking.

[He's not yelling. Or at least, he doesn't think he is.

It's the thunder above that's to blame. And the lightning crashing around them.]

3/14; delivery

3/15, evening; voice

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