ryuwrighthistory | Empatheias IC inbox

[ Today in Verens, there is a very . . . strange newcomer stumbling through Verens. The Disciple grits his teeth as he trudges down the streets, trying not to let the pounding in his head disorient him too much. He'd seen it then, he'd seen— something that stirred up whatever it was that was now causing a great deal of pain in his skull. And then he looked up and his surroundings were different — everything was different.

Old Bailey. He'd just have to get back to Old Bailey and get a better look.

Of course, nothing around him looks quite like the London he knew — or, at least, the London he'd come to know over the past few months trailing in van Zieks's shadow. The Disciple frowns, lifting a hand to his head again, as if that will lessen the pain or tell him something. Silently, he wanders the quarters of Verens, sticking to the shadows as best as he can and craning his neck at buildings here and there. ]

[The Disciple's wandering will take him down the neighborhood of Naruhodou and Holmes' residence. The door to their home opens with Naruhodou exiting, looking a little disgruntle. Holmes' mood has not improved much since his return and he needs to resupply on food and cleaning supplies, maybe a dryer or fan considering how everything keeps getting soaked by Holmes' man-made rain.]

Wonder if there's a way to put an umbrella on his head....? [He's looking over his list, not looking where he's going and ends up getting his foot caught in the crack of the pavement and starts to fall.] Uwah!!

[ At the sound of his voice, the Disciple lifts his head up, craning his neck. That was . . . yes, the defense attorney from overseas. The one van Zieks never referred to by name, the one that only made Vortex chuckle in that ominous manner, the—

. . . one that was apparently completely uncoordinated. For some reason, this doesn't seem to come as a complete surprise to him.

Without even thinking, the Disciple springs forward in one swift, fluid movement, arms out and ready to catch the attorney before he collides with the ground. ]

[Naruhodou shuts his eyes, expecting to hit the hard pavement, but he never reaches it. Instead it felt like someone had a hold of him.When he opens his eyes, he comes face to face with an imposing masked figured in a hooded cloak.] Ah-!

[He makes a noise in surprise, completely caught unawares.] I uh-- [Is he about to get mugged!? Wait, he just saved him. Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.] Ah erm, t-thank you!? [He is too flustered to properly make any coherent words right now.]

[ The Disciple doesn't respond to that flustered outburst of gratitude, just tilting his head to one side at him briefly. He straightens up, helping the attorney to his feet, then pulls back. If he's coherent enough to thank him, he's coherent enough to stand on his own two feet.

He crosses his arms, giving him a long look from behind the mask. This . . . is the same attorney from London, isn't it? He couldn't be mistaken on that front. The Disciple lingers on him for another moment or two before turning his attention to the residence he'd emerged from. ]

[Oh he...he's not very talkative is he?] ... [What is it about him that seems...familiar? Which makes no sense since he's never met him until today. He looks to the house when the masked man looks in that direction and then back to him.]

...Um, were you looking for something?

[ He turns his attention back towards the attorney, giving him an unimpressed look — or at least, it would be more apparent if it weren't for the mask. As it is, he uncrosses his arms and lifts a hand in a shrug-like gesture.

It's cut off pretty quickly though as another wave of pain hits him. The Disciple shifts that hand over to his head again, shaking it slowly. ]

Ghh . . .

[He's momentarily surprised by the movement, but he's soon coming over to his side upon realizing he was in pain.]

Hey- [He was about to say a name, but he doesn't actually have a name to say. So he'll just put a hand on his shoulder.] Here, sit down here if you need to. [He directs him to the front steps of their home.]

[ It seems as though he's going to be stubborn for a moment, remaining tense and unmoved at his touch — but then his head throbs again and he lets out a soft hiss. Grudgingly, the Disciple allows himself to be directed to the steps, carefully lowering himself down into a sitting position where he keeps one hand at his head while the other rests on the step, gripping it tightly. ]

(...Why can't I shake this strange feeling? This man...who is he?)

[He watches him in silence, wondering what was hidden beneath that mask. He wanted to ask something but he was uncertain whether he should and risk making his headache worse.] ...Would you, would you like to come inside? I can make you some tea. It might help.

[ Come inside? At that, the Disciple turns his head back towards the residence again, giving it a more critical onceover. It wasn't London, it wasn't Old Bailey, and whatever was in there wouldn't be what he was looking for. But . . . this attorney had been there, too. And maybe that was enough to get him closer to whatever it was in London.

Wordlessly, he pushes himself up, turning towards the door. Despite the time of year, there's a soft, warm breeze that rustles through as he does so — a bit of determination on his part, perhaps. He takes a few steps forward and then looks back over his shoulder, as if to ask him whether he was coming or not. ]

[That sudden warm breeze, with all intentions to warm up the area, only causes Naruhodou to freeze, hot and cold now clashing with each other. He's stares at the Masked man, looking very lost and confused, his hand subconsciously resting on the hilt of Karma at his waist.] ...

[Did his heart skip a beat? No, he must be imagining things, this world playing emotional tricks on him. Slowly, he comes back to reality and quietly walks ahead of him to open the door for the Disciple. It's a quaint living space if not a bit clutter and damp? A cat comes out to greet them both as Naruhodou closes the door behind the Masked man once he was inside.] ...The couch should be fine. [He should have more to say, but the words aren't happening.]

[ He steps inside, lip curling briefly at the sight of the clutter. The cat is a welcome distraction, though, and as he sits down on the couch, he absent-mindedly holds a hand out in its direction.

His eyes stray back over to the attorney though — more specifically, to the sword at his side — and he tips his head to one side slightly at it. There was something— like something at the tip of his tongue, something just out of reach.

That train of thought is interrupted by another throbbing pain courtesy of his head, and the Disciple grimaces and pulls his hand away, bringing it back up to his forehead. ]

[Wagahai the cat, cautiously comes closer to the extended hand, but soon stops her approach when his headache returns. Naruhodou continues to watch him, which probably seems rather creepy how he's just staring, without saying much of anything. Soon as the stranger puts his hand back on his head though, he remembers he was suppose to make him tea.

And so he disappears into the kitchen and comes back a few minutes later, tray in hand with cups and a teapot. He pours the guest his tea in silence and then offers him the cup. As he does so, he goes back to staring at him.] ...This may be a strange thing for me to ask of you but, have we met somewhere before?

[There, he finally asked, eventhough what he really wants to know answer to, is still sitting in his gut.]

[ He takes the cup carefully, sipping at it slowly so as to not burn his tongue. The staring doesn't seem to bother him much; he does it so often himself that it's hardly anything unnerving when someone does it right back at him. Though it does help to have van Zieks around to do all of the talking, given that he's off-putting enough to shut most people up.

At that question, the Disciple looks up from his cup and nods slowly. Of course they've met. He was staring then, too, even in court. He gives him a quizzical look for a moment and then huffs, eyeing his cup again. After a moment, he lifts it up and shifts it in his hand to hold it much like van Zieks would his wine glass, and then looks over at him pointedly. ]

[There may have been just the slightest sound of his own teacup cracking a little. He wasn't applying that much pressure on it though, just that he had gone rather tense when the stranger just nods to his question like it was the most obvious thing.

And that motion...he's only ever seen Prosecutor van Zieks make that gesture with a cup in hand.] (But what does that even mean...? Why won't he just say something?)

[Somehow he ends up kneeling in front of him, without thinking or realizing he's doing it.] ...Could you take that mask off? Please? [He sounded desperate, as if he wanted to be absolutely sure, that he wasn't just hoping that maybe....]

[ He pulls back at that request, frowning, and sets his cup down. He couldn't put the simplest things together? No wonder he'd struggled in court. Despite the desperation in his voice, the Disciple remains unmoved, shifting away from him abruptly.

Unfortunately for him, that movement startles Wagahai, who'd been sniffing at his cloak with a great deal of curiosity. Taking a bit of the cloth into her mouth, she races off, tearing the clasp loose in the process. The Disciple snaps a hand up, trying to keep the cloak on, but the cat is already gone and the cloak with her. His lip curls again and he runs a hand through his hair, trying to maintain his composure. ]

[It's a good thing he hadn't poured himself a cup yet, because he just dropped his cup and it made a dull thud on the rug. He knew, he knew that this place could bring even the dead back to life, and yet still, seeing his best friend sitting in his own living room catches him off guard. The lights around the room flicker from his shock.

He's been here for almost two years now, already grieved and accepted his death and now--]

Asougi...!! [He hasn't called out for his friend like that in so very long, never thought he would even be speaking to him again. He could feel his emotions well up inside, but...there was something not quite right. What were those clothes he was wearing? And why the mask? And that cold silence he gave him...] I...how? What's happened to you? [Suddenly the flood of question just kept coming.] ...Why haven't you said anything to me?

Edited 2017-12-07 06:47 (UTC)

. . . Asou . . . gi?

[ The name seems foreign when he says it, questions it, voice rough with disuse. He falls silent when he realizes that he's spoken, but it doesn't really matter here, he knows. Vortex would never find out — probably.

Asougi . . .

The Disciple grimaces again, bringing his hand up to his head. There was something there, something behind that name. Another face behind another mask? ]

[His gesture confuses him. It's as if he didn't seem aware of himself. His eyes widen as something dawns on him. Back on the ship, the supposed cause of death was being struck in the neck after being pushed into the corner frame of the bed. What if...what if it wasn't the killing blow and instead...well, that just opens up a whole lot of other questions he wants answers for, but for now--

He grabs Asougi by the cuff of his sleeve, with concern on his face and dread sitting inside his heart.] Asougi, have....have you lost your memory? [...] Do you even recognize me? [At all?]

Edited 2017-12-07 07:14 (UTC)

[ That was an easy enough question for him to answer — the first one, anyway. The Disciple nods slowly in response, keeping one hand at his head. The pounding wasn't going away this time. Asougi, Asougi . . .

He glances over at the attorney, mask hiding his confusion as he furrows his brows. This wasn't anyone, just another face across the bench. But if that were true, then why does his heart seem to tighten at the obvious concern on his face? The desperation in that second question causes him to pause, hand tightening just a bit around the mask. Slowly, he pulls it off, setting it down to the side before resting a hand over half of his face again, as if that would will away the evergrowing pounding in his head.

His eyes shift over towards him, but there's no recognition there. ]

[He held his breath when Asougi finally removed the mask and he could see his face properly. When he turns to look at him though, his heart sunk, right into the pit of his stomach. There was no warmth behind those eyes, just this emptiness. The lights all stop flickering, a darkness now spreads throughout the room, as if night had come early. Wagahai, agitated by the sudden darkness decides to flee upstairs.

It's not his fault, it's not like he wanted to forget, he couldn't help it. It still doesn't lessen the pain he felt, that his own best friend didn't recognize him...like he was just another student, passing through the crowd.

With shaking hands, he detaches Karma from it's strap, gripping it tightly in his hands, seeking comfort and strength through it.] We... [His head hung low, unable to look at Asougi properly without falling apart.]

We had gone to trial together. You were suppose to defend me in that murder case, but I chose to stand for myself, so you wouldn't have to risk losing the exchange program for my sake. We narrowly won that case, and celebrated by having beef nabe that night. That was when you asked me, no insisted that I come to the Great British Empire with you.

So we set out for Great Britain together, you practically had me be a stowaway just so I could come with you. I was stuffed inside that closet that whole time. It was cramp, and we were always hungry because we had to split our meals...but we would spend all night, talking about what we'd do once we reached the British Empire and how you...you thought I'd be a great lawyer. [He squeezes Karma.] Those talks, being with you, it was worth all the trouble, because...[He bites his bottom lip. How can you forget me? He ends up shouting in frustration.] Because you're my best friend!

[ The darkness doesn't really help matters much. The Disciple grits his teeth, trying to shake off the growing pain in his head as the attorney speaks. Why did all of that seem to strike some sort of chord in him? Why did his head feel like it was screaming, and his heart was practically ready to burst out of his chest? His eyes stray towards the hilt of the sword, staring at it as if staring at a fixed point would make everything better — or at least make everything stop.

Instead, his gaze is drawn to the red headband tied to the hilt. He stares at it quietly, still, though he looks startled when the attorney shouts out at him. The Disciple draws his breath in sharply at that. ]

Best friend . . .

[ He says the words softly, turning them over carefully like some sort of revelation. Something about it felt so familiar, something that was so close now. His eyes drift back over to the hilt, to the red band, staring for another long moment. And then, he mumbles: ]

. . . aka hachimaki . . .

[ It's quiet, but he still trips over the syllables even as his voice trails off. That headband, that sword— Asougi Genshin's sword—

Genshin.

He lets out a cry of pain, pulling back and clutching at his head with both hands. ]

[His shoulders fall, his head leaning into the sheathe. He couldn't reach for his friend, this is the reality he now had to live with. It's fine, having his friend is better than the alternative. Maybe with time, his memory will return, for now...he should do what he can to support him.

As he admits defeat, Asougi says something rather strange. Aka hachimaki? At least it sounded like he was trying to say red headband. Right...one time he did mix up makigami for hachimaki. No matter how hard he tried, even the simplest of tongue twisters would put a stop to the great Asougi. He had little time to think on it further when Asougi suddenly just lets out a scream.

It brings attention back to him as he looks up at him, bewildered.] A-Asougi!? [He gets on his feet, Karma on one hand, the other just hovering over Asougi with uncertainty. He settles with resting it on his shoulder. Maybe he pushed him too hard.] I, I'm sorry! Please don't strain yourself too hard!

[ His shoulders heave as he breathes heavily, dropping a hand to brace himself against the ground. It was like the sword had split his skull wide open, inviting years and years back in to mingle with the present. The wax figure, the Professor — his father, Asougi Genshin. That was it, that was what he'd been searching for all these months, from the freight ship across the sea to the dark lock up in Scotland Yard, where he only escaped by whispering into Vortex's ear.

His breathing stabilizes a bit and he loosens his grip on his head, drawing that hand down as well. That sword, Karma — that was his. He'd taken it on the ship to England despite the looks from his best friend. That red band — his headband, to remind him of his flaws, that was his, too. And this was— ]

Naru . . . hodou . . .

[ The attorney— no, Naruhodou, he knew him. Best friends, friendly rivals, partners . . . how could he forget? How could that have just been gone like that?

Asougi stares down at his hands for a moment and then closes his eyes, collecting himself carefully. When he speaks again, though his voice is still quite raw, it carries more authority, much like it used to. ]

. . . Naruhodou.

action, 12/6 (dgs2 spoilers ahead)

no subject

no subject

swoon

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject