againstdespair | IC Contact

[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.]

[For a moment, he does.

He'd like to think he can give Kyosuke at least that much. Following a direct order should be easy by now. In the brief silence, the entire sky both sounds and feels like it's falling down around them.

But what's the point? What's Kyosuke going to do, forgive him for being a lying, cowardly fuckup because he managed to keep his mouth shut for two seconds? Yeah right. This is already the end. This is what he'd lied to prevent, and in lying, he'd sealed his fate and ensured that it would happen someday. It's his own shitty luck, and his own goddamn fault, that that day is today, right when Kyosuke needs it least.

He doesn't have a thing left in him that Kyosuke does need.

The realization makes him feel empty and sick. The only thing he's ever had inside of him is gone now, and he doesn't even know how to begin to dig down and find something else to replace it.

Around him, the heavy, cold wetness in the air finally begins to pour down as rain, soaking him—nice complement to the lightning, huh? They'd always been a good team.]

—If it'd make you feel better to kill me, do it.

[He wants to feel more numb than he already feels. As it is, with everything culminating to this moment, he can still feel sick when Juzo offers himself up for death.

Mostly because some part of him is willing to take him up on the offer.

He hates that it's come to this. Even believing that Juzo isn't a Remnant of Despair, there's still enough anger inside of him to fuel that desire. This isn't what he set out to be.

But that was exactly what he'd become, with the right kind of encouragement and the right kind of goal. A killer. A leader of killers. All because of...]

Killing you would not accomplish anything.

[The air is thick with ozone, but the lightning has subsided for the moment. His quiet words may be lost in the roll of thunder, barely pushing through his agitation.]

...And you are not worthless. Don't say it again.

[The words probably don't help. Everything inside him is still too tightly wound, too intent of violence, to truly sound sincere.]

[It helps, and it doesn't help. It helps and it hurts. The easing of the lightning doesn't ease the rain cascading down Juzo's neck and under his collar, soaking his bangs. It's never been a mystery to him why grief and despair have this emotional effect. Right now, it's just a bitter reminder of the event that lies behind all of this.

After another silence, he shakes his head and lifts one hand to push his bangs out of his eyes. Pointless, because they just flop right back down again.]

. . . Can't even die to make you feel better.

[He wants to cry, but he doesn't. That kind of thing is so stopped up inside of him that, even though he can feel the cork wiggling in the neck of the bottle, so to speak, it doesn't mean anything's coming out.

His eyes close instead. Maybe he'll open them to find a sword through his gut.]

[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.]

Are you going to make me a liar, too?

[Are you going to take that away from me, too?]

[God, every time he thinks he hurts as much as he can possibly hurt, Kyosuke just has to go and prove him wrong, doesn't he? The realization of just how powerfully he's disappointed Kyosuke with his cowardice feels like a tidal wave crashing into his body and dragging him under to drown. The way he sounds right now. That was all Juzo. That wasn't Despair's doing; it was Kyosuke's own best friend hurting him that badly. He's known for years that he fucked up bad, but the reality of it is so much worse than he could have imagined.

This isn't what he wants to be. He doesn't want to be a coward. He doesn't want to have only his life to offer as a sacrifice to placate this pain. Whatever happened to being best friends?

Is he too much of a coward for that, too?

Juzo still doesn't cry. But his voice finally cracks, and the rain only pours down harder around them, even as he finally takes a few steps towards Kyosuke.]

. . . Munakata.

I'd . . . I'd do anything for you. But I can't tell you I'm not a coward. Shit! What else would you call me?! I gave in to her! I let myself be blackmailed by Enoshima—none of this would have happened if I'd had the balls to stand up to her back then! I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I can't even tell you what you wanna hear. I can't even do that for you!

[The coil of anger in him curls tighter as Juzo explains. It's a strangling pressure, building into another peal of thunder above them. Blackmailed. Why would-- Why would--?

His hand feels cold as the rain pours harder, rainwater overflowing from his palm. He doesn't move as Juzo approaches, continuing to stare at his twitching hand as if it holds the secrets to this entire nightmare.

It's ironic that he finds himself so affected by happenings of their world when it's been at the back of his mind for months. To think that he could willingly ignore years of despair and hardship and not expect this kind of blowback.

Juzo's apologies barely penetrate the haze of despair growing inside him.]

...You still haven't said what was so important that you would lie.

[To me.]

[There we go. There it is. Juzo knew it'd be coming the second he admitted to the blackmail.

Well, what does it matter? This is the end anyway; he can't possibly drive Kyosuke away any more than he already has. He was right before: there is no excuse. Anything he says here will just hammer home the point of how pathetic he really is.

He could refuse to answer, but that doesn't feel right either. Maybe it's his selfishness talking, but he's spent so many years laboring under some sick hope that the matter would be taken out of his hands after all, that Kyosuke would find out and Juzo would be free of his burden at last, even if it meant being rejected and tossed aside. Now that it's come to this, shouldn't he just get it all out? The thought fills him with a years-old dread so powerful it sickens him—but he can't shake it.

It's time.

Except the thought of just coming out and saying it at a time like this is fucking laughable. So much so that he actually does laugh. The sound bubbles bitterly out of his throat, choked and wet; he squeezes his eyes closed even tighter.

But then he opens them, meeting Kyosuke's gaze.]

. . . Fine. I'll show you. How's that? You wanna know so bad—you deserve to know just how pathetic I am. Come with me to that tree with the creepy memory powers, and I'll show you exactly what happened. That good enough for you?

After this—I won't expect you to ever talk to me again. I won't ask, so don't worry.

[He blinks slowly, uncomprehendingly, when Juzo actually laughs at his words. His confusion isn't so pronounced that it makes its way past his blank, numb mask, but it roils inside of him and twists at the tension built up.

What-- How was he supposed to take that reaction?

He has to steady a breath that comes too fast, dropping his hand back to his side. Focus. Focus on the request.

The tree of memories. Of course. The tree would be a more neutral party in this entire mess. He knew that it could bring memories to mind vividly with little trouble, regardless of where or who they came from.

It was something to do. Something to advance towards.

So he gives no verbal confirmation to Juzo. Instead, he turns heel and walks towards the tree.]

[It's not a long walk, but Juzo spends every second of it wondering if he might be sick. He hates the old fear living inside him, coiled like a snake in his guts, sending its poison through his veins. He should be over this by now. He should be stronger. He shouldn't feel so choked with terror at this stupid thing, this meaningless bullshit that he knows intellectually isn't as big a deal as it feels. But the fear has crystallized in him over the years until it's become a diamond he just can't chip away at.

He doesn't break the silence. What would even come out of his mouth if he tried? He doesn't know, and doesn't want to find out.

He knows what kind of petal to look for. By now, he's heard how this place works, and that he can more easily find what he needs by using a targeted approach. What he needs, right now, is Despair. Of everything he'd felt inside himself on that day, what he'll never forget is the taste of Despair he got—the first he'd ever truly felt. He'd thought he'd known what Despair felt like before he met Enoshima Junko. He'd been wrong.

Silently sorting through Peromei's petals, it doesn't take him that long to find the one. It's still the most powerfully despairing memory he has, after all. He's never been able to escape it, and tonight is no exception.

Juzo's fingers curl tightly around the petal, a fine tremor of fear rippling though his body. The rain, following their brief path to the tree, doesn't let up. Fat heavy drops slide cold and slick down his neck and chest.

Finally he forces his fingers open and turns to Kyosuke and extends his hand, offering up his own doom in his palm.]

Go ahead. Go ahead and take it.

[If only he could stop his voice from shaking just as much as his body is.]

Edited 2017-03-17 23:27 (UTC)

[The walk does little to ease the tension inside him. He vaguely wonders how long he can function at this level, so tightly wound that anything that looks at him the wrong way may see the business end of his sword. (Or a bolt of lightning, as the storm above could attest.)

But otherwise, his mind is blank. It's easier that way. Focus on the goal. Don't think of anything else other than the end destination.

Even framed by bitter rain and thunderclouds, there's something majestic about the tree. A memory of high school--of graduation day--rises unbidden, and Kyosuke shudders with the effort to keep his emotions in check. His teeth grind together as the glistening petals remind him of happier times.

Did he really have to go that far back for a happy, hopeful moment? It seemed like everything after that was tainted--too close to the proposed mission that ultimately cost him Chisa.

And possibly Juzo, too.

So he's almost glad when Juzo finally turns with the petal in hand, not meeting his gaze in favor of staring hard at the tiny object. He curls his fingers around it, already feeling a pang of discomfort as it glows.]

Edited 2017-03-18 01:30 (UTC)

[The memory that unfolds . . .

( . . . spans slightly more than that clip, starting with Junko's defeat of Juzo and exclamation that she knows his weakness, his secret feelings, before continuing to that, and then on to the point where she demands Juzo betray Kyosuke in exchange for her silence. But that's a good glimpse of it, right there.)

Juzo watches.

He'd half planned to turn on his heel and be already walking away, maybe even completely out of sight, by the time Kyosuke was done watching. But his legs are like jelly, his feet like stone. He can't move. He tells himself, as soon as he sees the disgust on Kyosuke's face, when the memory is over—then he'll leave. He'll run if he has to, to get the fuck out of here before Kyosuke can say anything to him about it. Maybe Juzo's resigned now to the end of their friendship, but that doesn't mean he wants his last memories of Kyosuke to be the dawning horror on his face when he realizes his best friend is a coward, a homo, a rapacious vulture who'd circled him all these years under false pretenses—

Somehow, even the memory of Kyosuke screaming at him to stop talking is better than that.

But he can't do anything about it yet, no matter how much he tries to move his legs. He's frozen with the same deep terror that had settled in his bones that day with Enoshima in the rain, where he made the wrong choice knowing it was the wrong choice because he was too locked up with fear to make the right one.

So he watches, his body tense, drenched with rain.

And there's one tiny fluttering part of him deep down inside that, despite the abject horror of everything else, thinks: I'm finally free.

Kyosuke knows. The worst has happened at last.

Juzo never has to feel this fear again. He just has to wonder if the misery of a life without Kyosuke will be worth it.]

Edited (wow) 2017-03-18 02:16 (UTC)

[The tension inside him turns painfully cold when he experiences Juzo flat on his back with Junko staring down at him. Even knowing that Juzo is alive and inches away, there is still that lance of dread in knowing how close Junko was to his friend.

Then there is the singsong accusation. A phone shoved in front of him, showing-- first a picture of himself, and then one of Juzo with said picture in a frame. Taunting scribbles on the glass, mocking laughter from a crowd of faces.

Juzo. Begging for it all to stop.

Kyosuke doesn't realize he's trembling until he tries to let go of the petal. He thrashes his arm violently to one side as he drops the petal, the action punctuated by lightning above them.

But his anger and upset are not aimed at Juzo. No, Junko and the laughing crowd earn his ire, for--

For using Juzo's feelings against him.

Distantly, he knows he's shocked by the revelation. (There were no signs, were there? Or was he blind to that as well?) But presently, the rage is boiling over. This isn't how he would have wanted to learn something so important. It should have been a happy moment, celebrated despite any awkwardness on both sides. They were friends, weren't they? He should have found out--

Exactly like he did with Chisa.

A retching gasp escapes him as he makes the comparison. The chaos and misery all come full circle, with what should have been two of his happiest moments with his best friends ruined by Despair.

Ruined by her.]

Sa--

[His shoulders shake, and he has to cut himself off.]

Juzo.

[It's a whisper. A plea.

Don't let her take anything else from us.]

Edited 2017-03-18 07:58 (UTC)

[The way Juzo envisioned this going, he was already gone by now. But here he's gone and fucked that up too, like he does everything else—

Once in a while, maybe it's for the best.

He does manage a couple steps backwards when Kyosuke tosses the petal aside. It's only been raining for the brief time they've been standing here, but the ground already feels squishy beneath his feet, and he stumbles when he steps back, barely catching himself. At least, he's going to blame the ground for that, not his own clumsiness in his wound-up desperation to escape the situation. Of course, by the time Kyosuke whispers his name, he hasn't managed to make his escape yet. He's barely even started. As quiet as the word is out of Kyosuke's mouth, he's close enough to hear it easily.

Juzo would have told himself that there wasn't much Kyosuke could say that would stop him in his tracks. It would have been a lie—who is he kidding? He's fucking helpless to deny Kyosuke anything. Any attempt to stop him from leaving would have worked, even if it had been the shout of disgust that Juzo had expected. But, that aside, there's not much that would have cut his escape off shorter than this—his name, on Kyosuke's lips. The one word says so much more than wait or stop would have. It pulls Juzo's heart up into his mouth. He can feel his body crackling with another sparking line of static again and he knows it's red or orange this time, not blue.

The rain doesn't stop, but it begins to ease, just a little.]

Munakata—

[Even though that's all he's ever called him, it feels wrong in response to this. Still, it takes a few tries to get it right.]

K. K . . . K, Kyosuke.

[His face feels so fucking stupid right now. He's painfully aware of how open it is, compared to his usual closed-off scowl.]

I . . .

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