[So this is what they meant by that eerie, pieced together message on the network- A glitch.
What a strange thing, to know what it's like to cease to exist. That's how it all started, at least.
It was in midday on that shitty, shitty glass-bottomed boat, the only vessel of its kind that he's hated with so much, that he started to notice something strange. The edges of his fingertips began to fade, something that he watched with dull eyes, mostly because he could never have imagined something so horrible. Then everything changed, all of a sudden he felt there and the next second, like he was gone...
And the going, it was painful. It was painful, to disappear. Like every particle inside him was being ripped apart and then dissipated, burnt in something like hot oil.
There was darkness for a while, and when everything was clear again, there were monsters. More irritating than terrifying, mindless drones he could not reason with, the gatekeepers of this bizarre cybernetic world. At least they are gone for the time being.
He returns home quietly; the blood from his hand smears onto the doorknob as he turns it, and Sakamoto winces in pain as he realizes how sore it is.]
Honey~! Ahaha.
[That sound is like more of a cry for help than a laugh, honestly.]
[ It was not the first time a "glitch" similar to this had happened, and frankly, Katsura was tired of that excuse. He was still set in his way about tearing CERES apart. Nothing had convinced him from this endeavor— little did he know that in his attempt in doing this, something very important to him would be lost..
But not today.
Today, Katsura stood on both of his legs and with a kind pf passionate anger in his eyes that was near alarming. Maybe his glitch wasn't as bad as Sakamoto's, or maybe he had built up more of a resistance to what this place did to them from being here longer than his world-mate, but who knows.
Scattered papers filled the living room, also covered with small fingerprints of blood and dirt. His time in the glitch hadn't lasted as long as Sakamoto— he had enough time to at least wash up and patch himself up before going back to his plotting.
The sound at the door alarms him, as he never knows what to expect from CERES, but also wants to be prepared. He creeps into the hallway cautiously— Sakamoto can probably not even hear him with how quietly he is moving.
He stands in the hallway, still holding his sword, even when he sees Sakamoto, he doesn't even lower it. Was he losing his mind? ]
State your business here. [ It looked like Sakamoto, but was it really Sakamoto? So many times he had seen specters of those he loved: Shouyou-sensei in the snow, Gintoki getting murdered before his eyes. All a figment of his imagination due to Tellus' unstable atmosphere.
Was Sakamoto like that too? Zura was tired of getting fooled. ]
[Sakamoto has to smile, because otherwise he'd just cry instead. While he was fading into darkness, the thought of Zura or any of the others facing the same thing was more painful than going through it himself. Had their friends, Gintoki and Takasugi, experienced the same dreadful nightmare just before their beds fell empty?
He doesn't know.]
Hah?
[That sound is so obnoxious, such typical Sakamoto. He holds up his hand as though he's guilty, and although they're bleeding still.]
Business? Damn! I dunno!
You know, you know, I'm a business man~! I got all sorta business with ya.
But mostly funny business.
[He keeps his arms above his head, although his smile is kind, sincere.]
Good ta know yer still around, goofball. ♥
I hope it hasn't been too quiet, while I've been gone.
[Zura will notice little things that would tip him off- Even through the blood, Sakamoto's scar is in the right place. He's sweaty and tired looking, smiling despite the evident wear and tear that's worked its way into his muscles and his body, and he still continues to joke around.
Even though everything's terrible- That's him, alright.]
[ It's hard for him not to notice those small things that make Sakamoto who he is, but with everything that CERES has apparently done, it's tricky for him to trust anyone or anything. He wants to fall into his arms and weep, release all of this worry and stress that has filled is body from the start but.. — He doesn't.
What he does do is lower his sword and talk in a hushed voice, head dipping in a slight bow. ]
Don't worry me like that. [ You weren't home. You couldn't contact him. He thought you could have been dead. ]
[With little regard for his own safety, he trots over to wrap an arm around his friend, pulling him close enough so that their cheeks are touching. His face may be dirty, but that doesn't stop him.]
You've got no reason ta worry!
[He wiggles the other arm around his friend too, albeit awkwardly, as he's trying to avoid being stabbed too.]
I'm a big, biiiiig cheat.
I'll cheat anything! Even death. We've met head-on a couple o' times before.
He's a sore loser, that old bastard. But I'll do all I can-
[Sakamoto's voice softens here, because he knows he's been careless, although he doesn't admit it outright.]
[ Ah. That does it. He has time to feel sad in the midst of his anger and passion. The katana drops with a clang almost instantly when their cheeks touch, and his arms curve around Sakamoto's back. He knows that although Sakamoto appears happy, that isn't always the case. Still, it was a calming atmosphere that Sakamoto gave off by appearing positive even if he wasn't feeling it.
His fingertips press into his shoulder blades as worry exits his body— he can feel it leaking out of every pore, beginning to calm. His next statement is firm, but also trembling with emotion. ]
.. I cannot lose friends here. [ He cannot be alone. ]
[Sakamoto keeps smiling, and despite the wounds that he's acquired of the past few days, there's an air of serenity about him.
He is with a good friend, after all.]
And I cant lose you.
So don't work yourself too hard!
[He wonders, in that furry little head of his, if he can convince the other to nap while he keeps watch. There's a good chance Zura hasn't slept since this all began, especially if he's been alone.]
[ It's people like Sakamoto that seem to prevent him from acting so recklessly.. he thinks. It does help him think a little more about their situation instead of going in all self-sacrificial. Zura cannot help but feel like nobody would really care if he took one for the team with how lonely he's been most of his life.. it's weird to have somebody want him to be safe.
Zura tucks his arms between them and dips his head down so his face is buried right in Sakamoto's shoulder. ]
I want to go home. I'm tired of this.
[ He's been here for months now. He wants to go back to his mission back home where things were familiar and he lived in the country that he loves. ]
[He could lament, too, about how every passing moment he spends on the ground is like a lifetime in a cold, dark cell. How he wishes, that, just once at the very least, he could rise back up into the sky with the people most important to him...
Not to mention, he has a duty to uphold, and being unable to do anything of the sort here hasn't bode well for his mental health.
Still, he chooses to focus on his friend- It's easier than dealing with his own problems.]
We'll get back there, oi! Even if it takes months, years, a lifetime- Whatever! It's happening!
You better damn believe it.
[Sakamoto still does.]
But for now, if you're tired, you should get some rest! Take a nap, or somethin'...
[ Rest is important, and Katsura knows this, but he's too stubborn to so easily give into such a nice thought. Not after this— not when he is still angry. Zura snorts, pulling away from Sakamoto completely. ]
I won't.
[ He leaves it at that. Should Sakamoto ask why, though.. he will tell him. ]
Because... there is too much to do. [ A small pause as he walks into the living room where his own mess is— all sorts of numerous sketches and notes scattered on a coffee table. ]
Changing a place like this.. is impossible. But destroying what is corrupted in it is doable. They do not want to speak truth to us, or negotiate.. neither will I.
[ He takes a seat on the couch, folding his hands gingerly in his lap, despite how dark his words are— how akin they sound like those of a former comrade— and how all of Shouyou's teachings seem to fly out of his crooked mind for the time being.
This place was driving him crazy. ]
I will not simply sit back and be victim to this. No, I will tear this place from it's roots apart until those of innocent blood are saved and we can go home.
[ Regardless of the destruction he will leave behind. If this corporation won't be sensible to him, he won't be sensible at all.
[Sakamoto's brows furrow again, and his eyes flicker back and forth from the scribbles on the table to his friend's not-so-slowly maddening expression. Wrapping the injury on his hand with the scarf that was once around his neck, he listens to all the dangerous prattle.]
Think about what yer sayin'. And who yer startin' ta sound like.
[He walks over towards his friend, taking the seat next to Zura on the couch. Gingerly, he places a hand on the other's shoulder, gripping it firmly before massaging whatever he can touch, in hopes of alleviating some tension.]
Destroyin' shit won't get us back. If ya blow stuff up and aren't careful, you just might go with it.
Look at what happened to him, aah?
[Meaning Takasugi.]
He's totally lost it. Well! I mean, it's not like he ain't smart- That guy's still sharp as ever. But he's so miserable, Zura.
Don't compare me to him. [ Katsura tenses, feeling his well-subdued anger begin to rear its head upon being touched. His arm jolts, the back of his hand batting against Sakamoto's to encourage him to let go. ]
Don't even talk about him. You don't know anything about him.
[ You weren't there for their entire story. ]
What drives his passion isn't what drives mine. Do not put us together.
You think I don't know people? I see through 'em for a living. I'm a merchant, remember?
[It is very rare that Sakamoto gets angry, but that comment does get under his skin. Perhaps it's because he's drawing upon the fact that Sakamoto didn't go through what they did, and while that may be true...
Who is to say he didn't go through just the same, or even worse?
He's never said anything about his past.
Sakamoto isn't one to talk about things that make him sad.]
It doesn't matter what your passion is. I don't mean ta say that your passion doesn't matter, don't take this the wrong way-
[Even when he's irritated, he's still diplomatic.]
But you're actin' crazy.
If you wanna be that guy, the man who brings Japan back in full swing... You've gotta calm down.
[ His fingers coil, curving into his kimono as he sits there, squeezing his eyes shut stubbornly, not wanting to look or hear Sakamoto at all at this rate. Sakamoto is the last person he wants to hear tell him what to do on a subject matter such as fighting. Sakamoto was strong, but he had changed from when they were teenagers. Zura, though, still hung onto the spirit of who he was ten years ago.
He whirls his head around to finally look at Sakamoto. He isn't one to really yell during an argument, but one thing that gave away his temper was how intense his eyes looked. ]
What do you suppose we do? Sit back and allow this, and this, and this to happen..!? I'm tired of being toyed with! I don't want to bark anymore, I want to bite and put an end to this!
[ He doesn't want to be weak. ]
You and nobody else can sway my decision..! Either you are with me or not.. and if you are not, then..— [ You'll really be alone. ]
His lips are shut tightly, drawn together in a thin, fine line. Zura and Sakamoto have never seen eye to eye when it comes to this sort of thing, and although usually they can agree to disagree...
The intensity slowly builds in his chest and in his ears, and in his eyes too, because they don't waver from Zura's, not at all, not one bit. Of course he isn't going to fight, he can't, not like that anymore. Perhaps that is his own fault. True! He wouldn't deny it. He lost his ability to fight in that way a long time ago, because he chose to do the thing he felt was best
And he wouldn't change a damn thing about it, because he still believes that he made the right choice.
But it is the very notion that he isn't worth listening to, which is somehow easier to tolerate when they're in a big group of people and he has to play the fool, that's wearing his patience thin right now. Every other time, perhaps, he's been able to make some kind of excuse when people treat him poorly- He chooses to mediate, the sacrifice is all worth it somehow, etc etc.
Usually he can ignore this kind of anger and move onto something else, but he's stuck. Stuck in one place and left to feel angry about that too.
As much as he loves to talk, sometimes the best way to leave a mark is to not say anything at all. Strange how quickly this man can change from fiery hot to ice cold, but the change is there, marked by the way he promptly lifts himself off the couch and picks his coat up off the rack he dumped it on earlier.]
Would you rather be alone? Than have me here.
I can leave, if you'd like.
[He sounds so polite, which is the most telling sign of how he truly feels.]
[ He didn't want to say it cause he didn't want to hear it, but Sakamoto said it, so he heard it anyway. He sits there in silence, head dipped down and hair obscuring most of his pitiful looking face. He hadn't expected this kind of argument with Sakamoto, but maybe this was his way of showing that he had enough too.
The breath that he takes rattles his lungs, obviously stirred up by so much emotion. He practically takes a gasp of air to breathe better— no, he cannot imagine somebody else walking out on him. He hated thinking about it.
In a soft voice: ]
I'm sorry.. [ One hand lifts to hurriedly wipe away from warm tears that are beginning to form on his face, not looking at Sakamoto. He really had lost control of his emotions just now, hadn't he? ]
I'd rather die by your side than succeed by myself. [ At this point, it was true, but he was so focused on making a point how important it was to him to rescue everyone and send them all home than the words that were coming out of his mouth. ]
[Sakamoto feels a pang of guilt in his chest, as he's never been quite so openly angry with a friend before, only baring his teeth at people who don't deserve his kindness (that's a very short list). He understands, too, the desire to save everyone, to ensure that the other captives make it out of here as well.
After all, nobody intended to be here in the first place.
With a sigh, he sits down near Zura again, idly taking a strand of hair and brushing it from the other's face. Sakamoto lets his index finger linger behind Zura's ear, and instead of addressing what actually bothered him about the samurai's words, he decides to move on.
[ He doesn't want to admit that he isn't well— just like how he didn't want to admit how lonely he was (and still is) as a child. It's such a sign of weakness, and unlike some people he may know, Katsura's pride laid partially in his strength. But he had been here for much longer than Sakamoto had been. He had seen so many terrible things, even though they weren't real, they felt real— like he had gone through even more trauma.
For some reason, Katsura wanted to carry the burden of saving everyone. He didn't want to share it with anybody else. Maybe it as to be recognized and admired as a hero like he always wanted to be back home— the hero reformist that saved Japan's valuable culture and older traditions. He's too stubborn to so easily ask for help.
He doesn't look at Sakamoto, tears flooding down his face at hang at his chin. He doesn't even know what to say at Sakamoto, so he just reaffirms his identity: ]
—I'm Katsura. [ Katsura, the general position. Not Zura, the guy who could relax because Gintoki could handle it since he was around— those words they spoke as children when he was trying too hard. He needed to remind himself who he was when he felt weak. ]
[Sakamoto recognizes the signs of distress, because he had always been so peripheral back then, and not as entirely motivated by glory of winning a war. What pulled him through those dark times was the ability to be fighting alongside people he admired, people he knew were going to make a difference, and people he hoped would see him as an equal.
As a friend, somebody they cared about.
He opts to avoid words at this time, as Zura isn't likely to listen to him or change his mind about anything at all, not when he's feeling down like this. Reaching out, he grips one of the other's wrists very gently, in an attempt to pull it from the other's face. Insistently:]
[ Katsura doesn't seem to pull his hand back when Sakamoto decides to grab him by the wrist, honestly a bit surprised that he would boldly touch him right now. He can only pull his gaze at Sakamoto, though the corner of his eyes were pricked with tears.
The words he speak captivate him for a brief moment, sweeping him into a mild state of confusion. Tatsuma is complimenting him? Just like that? Unlike Gintoki, Katsura was concerned about his strength. Gintoki just wanted to do good for people so they wouldn't suffer like he does. Katsura, though, wanted to be recognized and adored for the things he could do and the strength he possessed.
He has to ask to be sure: ]
W..What? Ah.. [ He pulls his gaze to the ground, but allows Sakamoto to hold his wrist if he wants to. ]
I suppose I am strong when it comes to losing a Jenga game.. Or when I have to hold myself when the bathroom is occupied. [ ah. Then, with some more confidence, he looks back up at Sakamoto: ]
Yes, my bladder is very strong. [ Zura no.. that's not what he means. ]
[Sakamoto fights the urge to reach out and pull Zura in, to hold his hand as if they were something more than friends. Friends can hold hands too, right? Yes, yes! Of course! Why is he being so silly?
The gears visibly turn in his head. Despite his attempt to quiet those strange ideas, he does laugh in response to Zura's peculiar choice of words.]
Ahahaha~! No, no!
You've always been a sore loser. That's not what I'm talkin' about.
[He's laughing so loudly, he doesn't even hear the bladder thing.]
You've been through so much, Zura. And still, ya don't throw in the towel! While some may call that stupid-
[ You've been through so much, he says. Nobody ever recognizes that about him. Nobody ever really tries to show sympathy for what he has gone through— back home or here‚ but right now in this moment, what Zura hears from Sakamoto almost surprises him. His throat tightens up slightly. He doesn't know what else to say, so his hand inches closer to Sakamoto's until his fingers delicately curve around Sakamoto's hand.
He closes his eyes and squeezes Sakamoto's palm, turning his face away from him again, mainly because he is beginning to feel a small smile form on his face and his cheeks beginning to burn. ]
[Sakamoto takes note of the way Zura's fingers curl around his own, relinquishing a sigh of relief as he does. He's finally managed to say something that stems a somewhat normal, predictable reaction from the other.
Make no mistake, this isn't some carefully planned gesture, a ploy, sales pitch. He's believed this truly and very deeply for many years, and perhaps that's why he's been kind enough to let all the others' grievances roll off his shoulders.
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cereal-verse
What a strange thing, to know what it's like to cease to exist. That's how it all started, at least.
It was in midday on that shitty, shitty glass-bottomed boat, the only vessel of its kind that he's hated with so much, that he started to notice something strange. The edges of his fingertips began to fade, something that he watched with dull eyes, mostly because he could never have imagined something so horrible. Then everything changed, all of a sudden he felt there and the next second, like he was gone...
And the going, it was painful. It was painful, to disappear. Like every particle inside him was being ripped apart and then dissipated, burnt in something like hot oil.
There was darkness for a while, and when everything was clear again, there were monsters. More irritating than terrifying, mindless drones he could not reason with, the gatekeepers of this bizarre cybernetic world. At least they are gone for the time being.
He returns home quietly; the blood from his hand smears onto the doorknob as he turns it, and Sakamoto winces in pain as he realizes how sore it is.]
Honey~! Ahaha.
[That sound is like more of a cry for help than a laugh, honestly.]
I'm home.
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But not today.
Today, Katsura stood on both of his legs and with a kind pf passionate anger in his eyes that was near alarming. Maybe his glitch wasn't as bad as Sakamoto's, or maybe he had built up more of a resistance to what this place did to them from being here longer than his world-mate, but who knows.
Scattered papers filled the living room, also covered with small fingerprints of blood and dirt. His time in the glitch hadn't lasted as long as Sakamoto— he had enough time to at least wash up and patch himself up before going back to his plotting.
The sound at the door alarms him, as he never knows what to expect from CERES, but also wants to be prepared.
He creeps into the hallway cautiously— Sakamoto can probably not even hear him with how quietly he is moving.
He stands in the hallway, still holding his sword, even when he sees Sakamoto, he doesn't even lower it. Was he losing his mind? ]
State your business here.
[ It looked like Sakamoto, but was it really Sakamoto? So many times he had seen specters of those he loved: Shouyou-sensei in the snow, Gintoki getting murdered before his eyes. All a figment of his imagination due to Tellus' unstable atmosphere.
Was Sakamoto like that too? Zura was tired of getting fooled. ]
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He doesn't know.]
Hah?
[That sound is so obnoxious, such typical Sakamoto. He holds up his hand as though he's guilty, and although they're bleeding still.]
Business? Damn! I dunno!
You know, you know, I'm a business man~! I got all sorta business with ya.
But mostly funny business.
[He keeps his arms above his head, although his smile is kind, sincere.]
Good ta know yer still around, goofball. ♥
I hope it hasn't been too quiet, while I've been gone.
[Zura will notice little things that would tip him off- Even through the blood, Sakamoto's scar is in the right place. He's sweaty and tired looking, smiling despite the evident wear and tear that's worked its way into his muscles and his body, and he still continues to joke around.
Even though everything's terrible- That's him, alright.]
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He wants to fall into his arms and weep, release all of this worry and stress that has filled is body from the start but.. —
He doesn't.
What he does do is lower his sword and talk in a hushed voice, head dipping in a slight bow. ]
Don't worry me like that.
[ You weren't home. You couldn't contact him. He thought you could have been dead. ]
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You've got no reason ta worry!
[He wiggles the other arm around his friend too, albeit awkwardly, as he's trying to avoid being stabbed too.]
I'm a big, biiiiig cheat.
I'll cheat anything! Even death. We've met head-on a couple o' times before.
He's a sore loser, that old bastard. But I'll do all I can-
[Sakamoto's voice softens here, because he knows he's been careless, although he doesn't admit it outright.]
To make sure that he doesn't come out on top.
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He knows that although Sakamoto appears happy, that isn't always the case. Still, it was a calming atmosphere that Sakamoto gave off by appearing positive even if he wasn't feeling it.
His fingertips press into his shoulder blades as worry exits his body— he can feel it leaking out of every pore, beginning to calm. His next statement is firm, but also trembling with emotion. ]
.. I cannot lose friends here.
[ He cannot be alone. ]
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He is with a good friend, after all.]
And I cant lose you.
So don't work yourself too hard!
[He wonders, in that furry little head of his, if he can convince the other to nap while he keeps watch. There's a good chance Zura hasn't slept since this all began, especially if he's been alone.]
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Zura tucks his arms between them and dips his head down so his face is buried right in Sakamoto's shoulder. ]
I want to go home.
I'm tired of this.
[ He's been here for months now. He wants to go back to his mission back home where things were familiar and he lived in the country that he loves. ]
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Not to mention, he has a duty to uphold, and being unable to do anything of the sort here hasn't bode well for his mental health.
Still, he chooses to focus on his friend- It's easier than dealing with his own problems.]
We'll get back there, oi! Even if it takes months, years, a lifetime- Whatever! It's happening!
You better damn believe it.
[Sakamoto still does.]
But for now, if you're tired, you should get some rest! Take a nap, or somethin'...
It looks like ya need it.
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I won't.
[ He leaves it at that.
Should Sakamoto ask why, though.. he will tell him. ]
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Why be so stubborn about it?
["You're scaring me."]
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[ A small pause as he walks into the living room where his own mess is— all sorts of numerous sketches and notes scattered on a coffee table. ]
Changing a place like this.. is impossible. But destroying what is corrupted in it is doable. They do not want to speak truth to us, or negotiate.. neither will I.
[ He takes a seat on the couch, folding his hands gingerly in his lap, despite how dark his words are— how akin they sound like those of a former comrade— and how all of Shouyou's teachings seem to fly out of his crooked mind for the time being.
This place was driving him crazy. ]
I will not simply sit back and be victim to this. No, I will tear this place from it's roots apart until those of innocent blood are saved and we can go home.
[ Regardless of the destruction he will leave behind.
If this corporation won't be sensible to him, he won't be sensible at all.
Not like that is hard for him. ]
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[Sakamoto's brows furrow again, and his eyes flicker back and forth from the scribbles on the table to his friend's not-so-slowly maddening expression. Wrapping the injury on his hand with the scarf that was once around his neck, he listens to all the dangerous prattle.]
Think about what yer sayin'. And who yer startin' ta sound like.
[He walks over towards his friend, taking the seat next to Zura on the couch. Gingerly, he places a hand on the other's shoulder, gripping it firmly before massaging whatever he can touch, in hopes of alleviating some tension.]
Destroyin' shit won't get us back. If ya blow stuff up and aren't careful, you just might go with it.
Look at what happened to him, aah?
[Meaning Takasugi.]
He's totally lost it. Well! I mean, it's not like he ain't smart- That guy's still sharp as ever. But he's so miserable, Zura.
It's like there's nothing! Nothing inside of him.
You wanna let yourself get like that?
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[ Katsura tenses, feeling his well-subdued anger begin to rear its head upon being touched. His arm jolts, the back of his hand batting against Sakamoto's to encourage him to let go. ]
Don't even talk about him.
You don't know anything about him.
[ You weren't there for their entire story. ]
What drives his passion isn't what drives mine.
Do not put us together.
My cause is noble. His is not.
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[It is very rare that Sakamoto gets angry, but that comment does get under his skin. Perhaps it's because he's drawing upon the fact that Sakamoto didn't go through what they did, and while that may be true...
Who is to say he didn't go through just the same, or even worse?
He's never said anything about his past.
Sakamoto isn't one to talk about things that make him sad.]
It doesn't matter what your passion is. I don't mean ta say that your passion doesn't matter, don't take this the wrong way-
[Even when he's irritated, he's still diplomatic.]
But you're actin' crazy.
If you wanna be that guy, the man who brings Japan back in full swing... You've gotta calm down.
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He whirls his head around to finally look at Sakamoto. He isn't one to really yell during an argument, but one thing that gave away his temper was how intense his eyes looked. ]
What do you suppose we do? Sit back and allow this, and this, and this to happen..!? I'm tired of being toyed with!
I don't want to bark anymore, I want to bite and put an end to this!
[ He doesn't want to be weak. ]
You and nobody else can sway my decision..! Either you are with me or not.. and if you are not, then..—
[ You'll really be alone. ]
T—Then..
[ He just stops right there. ]
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His lips are shut tightly, drawn together in a thin, fine line. Zura and Sakamoto have never seen eye to eye when it comes to this sort of thing, and although usually they can agree to disagree...
The intensity slowly builds in his chest and in his ears, and in his eyes too, because they don't waver from Zura's, not at all, not one bit. Of course he isn't going to fight, he can't, not like that anymore. Perhaps that is his own fault. True! He wouldn't deny it. He lost his ability to fight in that way a long time ago, because he chose to do the thing he felt was best
And he wouldn't change a damn thing about it, because he still believes that he made the right choice.
But it is the very notion that he isn't worth listening to, which is somehow easier to tolerate when they're in a big group of people and he has to play the fool, that's wearing his patience thin right now. Every other time, perhaps, he's been able to make some kind of excuse when people treat him poorly- He chooses to mediate, the sacrifice is all worth it somehow, etc etc.
Usually he can ignore this kind of anger and move onto something else, but he's stuck. Stuck in one place and left to feel angry about that too.
As much as he loves to talk, sometimes the best way to leave a mark is to not say anything at all. Strange how quickly this man can change from fiery hot to ice cold, but the change is there, marked by the way he promptly lifts himself off the couch and picks his coat up off the rack he dumped it on earlier.]
Would you rather be alone? Than have me here.
I can leave, if you'd like.
[He sounds so polite, which is the most telling sign of how he truly feels.]
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The breath that he takes rattles his lungs, obviously stirred up by so much emotion. He practically takes a gasp of air to breathe better— no, he cannot imagine somebody else walking out on him. He hated thinking about it.
In a soft voice: ]
I'm sorry..
[ One hand lifts to hurriedly wipe away from warm tears that are beginning to form on his face, not looking at Sakamoto. He really had lost control of his emotions just now, hadn't he? ]
I'd rather die by your side than succeed by myself.
[ At this point, it was true, but he was so focused on making a point how important it was to him to rescue everyone and send them all home than the words that were coming out of his mouth. ]
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After all, nobody intended to be here in the first place.
With a sigh, he sits down near Zura again, idly taking a strand of hair and brushing it from the other's face. Sakamoto lets his index finger linger behind Zura's ear, and instead of addressing what actually bothered him about the samurai's words, he decides to move on.
To go forward.]
Zura.
You're not well.
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But he had been here for much longer than Sakamoto had been. He had seen so many terrible things, even though they weren't real, they felt real— like he had gone through even more trauma.
For some reason, Katsura wanted to carry the burden of saving everyone. He didn't want to share it with anybody else. Maybe it as to be recognized and admired as a hero like he always wanted to be back home— the hero reformist that saved Japan's valuable culture and older traditions. He's too stubborn to so easily ask for help.
He doesn't look at Sakamoto, tears flooding down his face at hang at his chin. He doesn't even know what to say at Sakamoto, so he just reaffirms his identity: ]
—I'm Katsura.
[ Katsura, the general position. Not Zura, the guy who could relax because Gintoki could handle it since he was around— those words they spoke as children when he was trying too hard. He needed to remind himself who he was when he felt weak. ]
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As a friend, somebody they cared about.
He opts to avoid words at this time, as Zura isn't likely to listen to him or change his mind about anything at all, not when he's feeling down like this. Reaching out, he grips one of the other's wrists very gently, in an attempt to pull it from the other's face. Insistently:]
You're not weak.
[To be fair, he is telling the truth.]
You're one of the strongest people I know.
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The words he speak captivate him for a brief moment, sweeping him into a mild state of confusion. Tatsuma is complimenting him? Just like that?
Unlike Gintoki, Katsura was concerned about his strength. Gintoki just wanted to do good for people so they wouldn't suffer like he does. Katsura, though, wanted to be recognized and adored for the things he could do and the strength he possessed.
He has to ask to be sure: ]
W..What? Ah..
[ He pulls his gaze to the ground, but allows Sakamoto to hold his wrist if he wants to. ]
I suppose I am strong when it comes to losing a Jenga game..
Or when I have to hold myself when the bathroom is occupied.
[ ah.
Then, with some more confidence, he looks back up at Sakamoto: ]
Yes, my bladder is very strong.
[ Zura no.. that's not what he means. ]
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The gears visibly turn in his head. Despite his attempt to quiet those strange ideas, he does laugh in response to Zura's peculiar choice of words.]
Ahahaha~! No, no!
You've always been a sore loser. That's not what I'm talkin' about.
[He's laughing so loudly, he doesn't even hear the bladder thing.]
You've been through so much, Zura. And still, ya don't throw in the towel! While some may call that stupid-
That looks a lot like strength ta me.
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His throat tightens up slightly. He doesn't know what else to say, so his hand inches closer to Sakamoto's until his fingers delicately curve around Sakamoto's hand.
He closes his eyes and squeezes Sakamoto's palm, turning his face away from him again, mainly because he is beginning to feel a small smile form on his face and his cheeks beginning to burn. ]
—Thank you.
[ then quietly: ]
I think you are strong too.
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Make no mistake, this isn't some carefully planned gesture, a ploy, sales pitch. He's believed this truly and very deeply for many years, and perhaps that's why he's been kind enough to let all the others' grievances roll off his shoulders.
With a smile as defiant as the wind, he utters:]
I know.
[He always has.]
But thank you.
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right in this au he never dated celty
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