I'll Only Hurt You If You Let Me . / Uta @ Yomo
i'll only hurt you if you let me . / Uta @ Yomo
hurt, by definition, comes together with pain.
pain is familiar. pain is something that ghouls as species have known for longer than they’d remembered each other’s faces, what little they saw of them, when the masks were cast off. renji observes more than he speaks, notices the wounds and torn skin already patching itself together in a gruesome display of rank: back then, they’d been considered a dangerous threat to the CCG, or to the general public.
humans. ordinary humans whose bodies broke and didn’t mend.
bodies that did nothing similar to what uta’s system is beginning to try, under the influence of whatever it is that kept that clownish smile plastered on his face. excitement? seems likely.
he waits until the open tissue is all healed, black ink molten across a pale canvas. there’s a revelation in the way uta’s eyes reflect the dim moonlight. fluorescent signs sprout from the tall buildings, further narrowing the already reduced space in this back alley, cascading them in bright hues and deep contrasts, their shapes a pair of protruding anachronisms in the urban landscape.
this privacy - the pause that follows feels loud enough to drown everything else: noise of artillery, debris moved around and across the asphalt, disaster and what comes with chaos. even the rattling heartbeat in his ribcage which hadn’t ceased to plague him since they first laid their fists onto each other sinks deep into oblivion. he picks up where uta left off, his voice returning to its usual listless baritone, “it won’t be pleasant, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
there’s childish amusement in this, in the thrills uta seeks. he’s never understood it, always drawing a blank when he tried to sympathize with it. what he knows, however, is rage. he’d tasted it on the roof of his mouth, even now, if he searched long for it. on the cusp of an old era, only uta and, perhaps itori, were unburdened by it, his baggage, his vengeful appetite.
they’d cannibalized, and they’d probably done so much worse, sins that follow them each to the grave - but it’s not all there is to it. not all there is to uta and him. perhaps he simply wants to drain it all dry: his options, the reasoning, any word that can keep his friend from self-immolation. renji paces closer.
“aren’t you cold?” he doesn’t know if uta misses him. renji’s never asked. part of him, a shallow part, believes that uta’s unselfconsciousness is indicator enough that he’d do well no matter renji’s stance in his circle. another part - a more selfish, boyish part that hadn’t entirely died out since their rooftoof talks, had mistaken these jabs and mockery for fondness, of a kind. so it often went. he exhales through his nostrils, sharp breeze cutting through loose strands of white hair. the scent of rain, drying blood, this; it’s all a grim reminder that anything could’ve gone wrong, had he not been sincere from the start.
“do you remember” renji asks, “the first time we met? it wasn’t much different than how we are now.” normally, teens outgrow their fixations. renji doesn’t think uta has dropped it entirely, but it’s still difficult to figure him out in a way that won’t piss renji off. even now, he feels annoyed. there’s time for the two of them to try and hurt the other. that entirely depends on how well uta fares from here on. a creature of terrible potential. renji lowers his knees until they’re touching the ground, hooks uta’s arm around his shoulder, working as an achor, and eases him back to his feet, eye to eye, just like it’d been a decade or so ago.
“it was like this, too.” his lip twitches, the birth of a smile, one that he’d thought long lost. “you can walk, let’s go.”
@antinomos
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‘ men who live by the waterfall cease to hear it, ever heard of that phrase? ’ is what he offers, fingers idly skimming through the pages.
the monthly statements are a formality, mostly managed internally. numbers tell no lies — numbers are exact, constant, always true to what they represent, unlike the humans that arrange them in fine paper and leather folders. suguru gives a last glance at the paper and turns his attention back to her, ‘perhaps i’ve got playing the pious deity to these monkeys down to a fine art so well that i no longer hear them complaining about their diminishing shares. ’
the view outside is painted in dull oranges, perfectly content with being swallowed by the quick-spilling dark of the night. there’s always been a mean air about her, too. as if cut by the same razor, their sharp edges complemented each other in funny ways. the carpet snaps shut in his hand, back pressed lightly against the windowsill.
‘ well, diminishing is too generous. they weren’t getting any more than what they deserved as creatures at the bottom of the food chain. scavengers like them did always make for greedy little things, and this cult is run precisely because their ambitious bellies are filled with misguided faith. so on. ’
‘ it’s rare for you to point it out in that way, however. ’ suguru’s gaze is bold and unflinching, peering up from beneath the veil of dark bangs and shadowed by the setting sun. it’s in that moment that all truth is stripped bare, he thinks, because the otherworldliness of the room pushes him further into honest curiosity: ‘ am i thinking too much, manami? ’
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stay out of trouble . (Gino @ Kogami!)
perhaps it’s the late hour making him charitable.
or maybe the common sentiment shared among enforcers - masaoka and kogami specifically, that gino ought to be kept on the sidelines of all that hides in the shadows. unlike their own hues, his can still be maintained, can strive for salvation. as for the rest of them, well, they’ve already become familiar with the robotic voice dialing central, the reply back unlocking the weapon’s potential to paralyzer, at the very least, and in the worst cases, at the darkest hour of their minds, there’s no other way out but having their guts rained on ther companions. gruesome, but that’s their reality, one that gino should never know.
smoke clouds the space between them, standing side by side, and it’s perhaps the familiar ambience, like how it’d been in the past, which sapped his ability to reason when reason was the wisest thing to do. and remain quiet, for certain.
‘ trouble is a broad word. ’ he swept a hand across the air, bracelet come to view, ‘ as far as i’m concerned, i’ve been navigating in trouble for a while now. ’
guess the joke didn’t land well, he thinks, catching a glimpse of gino’s face contorting in something akin to anger, disappointment, defiance all at once. and isn’t it a dangerous feat, that he’s able to come bare with his emotions in the blink of an eye? it’s a weakness in the eyes of a predator like kogami, someone who’s always on the hunt for something, a ghost, or a memory. for any other person, honesty is freedom. it’s a distraction to himself, to let his thoughts wander. he picks up where he left off, sensing the tension embroidered in the seconds that he let the pause drag on for too long, so he offers gino a smile, once their gazes are locked.
‘ i get what you mean. it’s not the first time you’ve mentioned it. not the first person, either. you’ll probably hate to hear it, but masaoka has been insistent about it, too, in his own way. ’
the more you chase after something, the further away from your own skin it drives you; it’s crossed his mind that whatever becomes of him, of his raw flesh and bones, it can’t be anything pretty. when he set on this path, he accepted whatever outcome resulted of it. doesn’t mean he won’t give anything less than a calculated performance, that he’s received the devil’s gesture and returned it in kind.
how to tell gino this, and that, and every other thing that comes after? there, suspended in air, balconies away from the other offices, it feels almost as if they were standing at the edge of the world. kogami’s gaze drops momentarily, welcoming the vertigo. he feels the treacherous birth of a smile, mirthless, and whether it’s the will of the fall - primal desperation, or the absurdity of this, bitter flavor of vengeance, he isn’t sure. but he wanted to say it no matter what.
gino deserved that much.
‘ you’re asking too much of me. i can’t give this up, you’ve known it for a long time. but i can promise you this: when the time to take the leap comes, i won’t drag you down - you, or inspector tsunemori or masaoka; you name it. think me a fool, if that’ll give you peace. curse me all you want, i’ll accept it. ’ if this hunger will be the death of me, then so be it. @lustraveil
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