[Kyosuke watches Juzo across the short distance, allowing the rain to distract him. He listens to the steady fall onto the pavement, feels it against his skin and soaking through his clothes.
It occurs to him that he doesn't remember Chisa--the Despair wearing Yukizome's face--with such potent displays of emotion. Temperature fluctuation, a display of fog, but this... He pulls his hand out of his pocket, holding it out to watch raindrops pool in his cupped fingers.
This was all Juzo.]
Sakakura.
[Some of his anger coils tighter as he tries to focus on that growing pool of water in his hand.]
The Sakakura I know isn't a coward.
[But what did he know at this point? Clearly he had gone years without seeing something so dangerous, so treacherous. He can't even sort through the amount of things Chisa has told him over the years. She had been the head of their intelligence division.
His fingers twitch with the urge to curl them into a fist. What he would give for something that overwhelmed his attention--something that would force away all other thoughts from his head. Pain could do that. Physical pain to block out the mental. That was probably what Juzo wanted, offering to die like that.
...No. That was succumbing to Juzo's narrative of being a coward, and he had already denied that verbally. He takes a shuddering breath, hissing out another question and almost faltering at the end.]
no subject
It occurs to him that he doesn't remember Chisa--the Despair wearing Yukizome's face--with such potent displays of emotion. Temperature fluctuation, a display of fog, but this... He pulls his hand out of his pocket, holding it out to watch raindrops pool in his cupped fingers.
This was all Juzo.]
Sakakura.
[Some of his anger coils tighter as he tries to focus on that growing pool of water in his hand.]
The Sakakura I know isn't a coward.
[But what did he know at this point? Clearly he had gone years without seeing something so dangerous, so treacherous. He can't even sort through the amount of things Chisa has told him over the years. She had been the head of their intelligence division.
His fingers twitch with the urge to curl them into a fist. What he would give for something that overwhelmed his attention--something that would force away all other thoughts from his head. Pain could do that. Physical pain to block out the mental. That was probably what Juzo wanted, offering to die like that.
...No. That was succumbing to Juzo's narrative of being a coward, and he had already denied that verbally. He takes a shuddering breath, hissing out another question and almost faltering at the end.]
Are you going to make me a liar, too?
[Are you going to take that away from me, too?]