fifteen minutes later finds choso on yonder rooftop, settling into some little niche amongst the tiles that has evidently served as The Break Area, if the battered cans filled with old and new cigarette butts are any indication. he starts off the time-honoured ritual of adding to the pile by striking a battered little match, a tiny pinprick of light like a guiding beacon for wayward sorcerers and their improbable stingrays. ]
( He comes like the most foul of disney princesses, legs crossed as he sits astride the back of his curse. It brings him to hover nearby Choso, his gaze keen as it settles on him. Without a word, Geto leans over to hand the still warm box of his leftovers, and then he climbs down, joining him on the rooftop. )
Is this where you spend your time?
( The stingray hovers for a moment then vanishes again, Geto humming as he starts to pat down his own pockets. )
[ it is with a lit cigarette clenched between his teeth that choso accepts the box with all the reverence as if it were a benediction from on high. (and maybe it is in some small, strange way, with the way his lips curl up in the faintest semblance of a smile as the warmth seeps into his palms.)
being busy inspecting the goods, he only watches Geto Suguru with half his attention, following the man’s journey from manta to rooftop from his periphery. choso, he thinks unbidden of the cats back in neo-tokyo, sleek and graceful for all their vitriol and claws. ]
Not— [ he starts, and stops, counting the sleepless nights since the 19th before amending: ]
Not usually, but more lately. It is peaceful. No one bothers to climb this high in the late hours.
[ as Geto pats about, choso holds out a slightly-squashed olive branch in the shape of a cigarette carton, edges all softened by impact, like it had lived a little too long in a busy guy’s pocket. its label reads as some common brand, noted only for its easy affordability. ]
( He stops patting, reaches out to pluck a cigarette from the packet with only the slightest hint of reticence. In his efforts to be more ... something it feels strange to decline. And while it's not his brand he hangs around Silco and his odious cigar fog enough that he won't be too put off. )
It's nicer than some of the other places I've taken to smoking. ( A mild comment, again unused to sharing but aiming for an easier comradery. ) When I was younger a friend and I would hide behind the trashcans at the school. I was the lookout.
( He holds the cigarette between his teeth, easy. )
That’s prime delinquent activity right there. I didn’t take you for a delinquent with that kind of face.
[ naughty lads and lasses. calling on every little tv drama he’s seen, choso cannot help but wonder if they smoked in the gymnasium or in street alleys too. truancy and delinquency and juvenile law-breaking, oh my.
but he’s not enough of a hall monitor to deny a man a light. from within voluminous sleeves, choso produces an equally-battered lighter. he calls on more movie memories as he flicks it to life and holds it out to Geto with hands cupped, the very image of a gokudo to a superior. ]
( Ever so slightly amused as he ducks closer to light the end, the fall of his bangs briefly covering his eye before he straightens himself up again, sweeps them aside. )
A wicked one? ( There's the slightest hint of mischief in his gaze. This is not Geto attempting to be anything but a vague shithead. Not cruel, but not necessarily kind either. The middle ground of his morality. ) Surely all evil villains must start somewhere. Why not smoking on school property?
[ in the time it takes to light Geto’s cigarette and in the moment after, choso looks at the sorcerer with a consideration he hasn’t held since the first day they’d met over a giant boar’s corpse. he looks at features thrown into relief in a small flame’s light, looks at the shape of them softened by the forgiving dark.
a lifetime ago in a ruined tokyo, this had been just another face, another arrangement of parts lined up under careful stitching. a year later of life and experience has taught choso some of what humanity sees. ]
A beautiful face. The kind that humans would kill for.
[ his tone is easy, objective; this is not a compliment, but facts laid out by an observer, idle as a guest of an art museum. the cigarette balanced easily between lips and teeth slurs choso’s words only slightly, eerie face wreathed in smoke. ]
( He blinks slow like a cat, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. ) Ah.
( And then, a sniff. )
Haven't you heard I'm reformed these days? No using my pretty face to ensnare people into my evil schemes. I hardly even have mischievous ones! But it's been a while since someone called me beautiful, so I might as well take it.
[ the problem now as it wasn’t then is that now, with humanity’s grime under his nails and soot in his lungs, now when Geto Suguru moves and his mouth curls just so, choso cannot watch for long because something else thrums deep in his bones like a damnation.
so he looks away, choso does, drops his gaze and hoods his eyes as he takes a draw, staring instead on the leftovers box nearby as the old familiar taste of smoke settles on his tongue. ]
You’re cleaning up well enough. Yuji likes you, which speaks more for your character than you can.
( And Geto cares for the boy, but he doesn't think it says very much about his character. He has changed, but he hasn't. He's just better at controlling the brutality inside of himself now. Effort being made.
But Geto is not the only one worried, so behind the plume of his cigarette smoke his gaze turns a little more pointed. )
And how are you holding up?
( Ever so slightly strained, but!!! Isn't he trying? )
( Some part of him immediately feels like pulling away. Choso is not his responsibility, and Geto wouldn't even say they tolerated each other. And yet there's something that has him merely pulling another lungful of smoke in, quiet for a second before he speaks -. )
That's one of the more unfortunate parts of being alive. The being left behind. ( Delivered with the weight of someone who ran before he could ever feel like that again. ) But you need to keep going regardless your feelings on the matter. That means eating, resting. All those pesky mortal things that hold us back.
( It's a little pot, kettle considering Geto's usual mental state but that's fine. )
[ one would think choso should be used to it by now, being left behind: he sent his brothers off to die barely a day into their real, true lives, had to endure the sinking acceptance that Marcille would never return, that Toji was truly gone, that Yor would never again wander the markets. what was one more human lost to the unknown?
but yuji wasn't just any human. ]
Eating is easy, of all those pesky things. The sleeping, I cannot do.
[ he settles with elbows on knees, cigarette dangling half-forgotten between his fingers. looks up, just barely enough to catch a glimpse of Geto in his peripheral. ]
How do you get through it, when it feels impossible?
( He can't exactly tell Choso it's just that he's a very good actor. Neither can he say it's simply because his worst was just so obvious that coasting along in all that negativity gives him the aura of someone vaguely put together. So instead he only hums. )
Because there's no alternative.
( Ash flicked away, down the side of the roof. ) I'm dead, Choso-san, there's very little hope for me. And I thought about letting something finish the job. I thought about acting out enough that there'd be no other option. It would be easy, and I would be free. But what's the point? Where's the reason for it? My own absolvement? There are still other sorcerers here, and I did not do all that I did in trying to fix the world for us to just sit by and watch the same thing happen here. I keep going because if I don't, those sacrifices would mean nothing. And you have people here who need you. You have people you want to protect, yes? That means keeping yourself alive, and fit, and fighting, because if you're not at the top of your game you will have let them down.
( The only reason he even gets out of bed in the morning is because he has to be good enough to protect his people. It doesn't matter that they don't think they're his, it doesn't matter that he's ruined things. He'll keep forcing himself into survival. He has to.
And then, abruptly. )
I'll teach you meditation, when all of this is done. I know everyone thinks the robes were for show, but I did a good job at it.
[ dead. how many were dead now, back in the world they came from? toji, gojo, now geto suguru. by yuji's accounts, choso was due up next, too.
he hasn't given it much thought since then, until now. hasn't wanted to think of it, but with a dead man speaking his truths only feet away, it's impossible not to.
You have people here who need you. You have people you want to protect, yes?
choso takes a deep draw, renders almost half the remainder of his cigarette to ash before hissing it out between his teeth to billow against the stars. ]
I would like that. [ smoke seeps from his mouth, almost draconic. ] I must better myself. I must be someone Yuji can be proud of.
[ eyes flick up again, and he can't help it, twisting to look at Geto properly. this time, he can't shake it, the way he'd spoken it, let it drop like so many pebbles.
I'm dead, Choso-san. ]
I can show you how, you know. How to be a person that does things. Goes out. Helps out. Yuji likes that the most, you know? When someone is good, and tries to help. I can do that much.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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but it’s a pain to impart
so no
bother yuji with it when we get him back
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[ unless, apparently, it’s geto. ]
but also because you’re going to wear blue anyway
like some kind of weirdo
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( It will be purple the next time he sees Choso. )
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do you smoke?
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Rover-san told me to cut back but then she left, so. Are you allowed to smoke?
( On account of being an infant who doesn't chew. )
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i smoke when i want to
and i want to right now
do you want to?
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But yes, fine. I suppose I can bring you those leftovers in person.
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the roof is a good place. the monks don’t climb up that high past a certain hour.
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I'll meet you up there in fifteen.
( He's using the stingray to get up there though, so he's not climbing either. )
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fifteen minutes later finds choso on yonder rooftop, settling into some little niche amongst the tiles that has evidently served as The Break Area, if the battered cans filled with old and new cigarette butts are any indication. he starts off the time-honoured ritual of adding to the pile by striking a battered little match, a tiny pinprick of light like a guiding beacon for wayward sorcerers and their improbable stingrays. ]
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Is this where you spend your time?
( The stingray hovers for a moment then vanishes again, Geto humming as he starts to pat down his own pockets. )
It's quiet.
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being busy inspecting the goods, he only watches Geto Suguru with half his attention, following the man’s journey from manta to rooftop from his periphery. choso, he thinks unbidden of the cats back in neo-tokyo, sleek and graceful for all their vitriol and claws. ]
Not— [ he starts, and stops, counting the sleepless nights since the 19th before amending: ]
Not usually, but more lately. It is peaceful. No one bothers to climb this high in the late hours.
[ as Geto pats about, choso holds out a slightly-squashed olive branch in the shape of a cigarette carton, edges all softened by impact, like it had lived a little too long in a busy guy’s pocket. its label reads as some common brand, noted only for its easy affordability. ]
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It's nicer than some of the other places I've taken to smoking. ( A mild comment, again unused to sharing but aiming for an easier comradery. ) When I was younger a friend and I would hide behind the trashcans at the school. I was the lookout.
( He holds the cigarette between his teeth, easy. )
Do you have a light?
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[ naughty lads and lasses. calling on every little tv drama he’s seen, choso cannot help but wonder if they smoked in the gymnasium or in street alleys too. truancy and delinquency and juvenile law-breaking, oh my.
but he’s not enough of a hall monitor to deny a man a light. from within voluminous sleeves, choso produces an equally-battered lighter. he calls on more movie memories as he flicks it to life and holds it out to Geto with hands cupped, the very image of a gokudo to a superior. ]
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( Ever so slightly amused as he ducks closer to light the end, the fall of his bangs briefly covering his eye before he straightens himself up again, sweeps them aside. )
A wicked one? ( There's the slightest hint of mischief in his gaze. This is not Geto attempting to be anything but a vague shithead. Not cruel, but not necessarily kind either. The middle ground of his morality. ) Surely all evil villains must start somewhere. Why not smoking on school property?
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a lifetime ago in a ruined tokyo, this had been just another face, another arrangement of parts lined up under careful stitching. a year later of life and experience has taught choso some of what humanity sees. ]
A beautiful face. The kind that humans would kill for.
[ his tone is easy, objective; this is not a compliment, but facts laid out by an observer, idle as a guest of an art museum. the cigarette balanced easily between lips and teeth slurs choso’s words only slightly, eerie face wreathed in smoke. ]
It makes you the dangerous kind of villain.
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( And then, a sniff. )
Haven't you heard I'm reformed these days? No using my pretty face to ensnare people into my evil schemes. I hardly even have mischievous ones! But it's been a while since someone called me beautiful, so I might as well take it.
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so he looks away, choso does, drops his gaze and hoods his eyes as he takes a draw, staring instead on the leftovers box nearby as the old familiar taste of smoke settles on his tongue. ]
You’re cleaning up well enough. Yuji likes you, which speaks more for your character than you can.
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( And Geto cares for the boy, but he doesn't think it says very much about his character. He has changed, but he hasn't. He's just better at controlling the brutality inside of himself now. Effort being made.
But Geto is not the only one worried, so behind the plume of his cigarette smoke his gaze turns a little more pointed. )
And how are you holding up?
( Ever so slightly strained, but!!! Isn't he trying? )
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[ a puff of smoke, buying time. though he doesn't look to see it, he can feel the weight of Geto's gaze on him, alien and unexpected. ]
I live, still, which is more than I expected. I think I hate it.
[ a glance over, heavily hooded in sunken, deeply-ringed eyes. when did this thing last sleep? has he, since yuji left? ]
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That's one of the more unfortunate parts of being alive. The being left behind. ( Delivered with the weight of someone who ran before he could ever feel like that again. ) But you need to keep going regardless your feelings on the matter. That means eating, resting. All those pesky mortal things that hold us back.
( It's a little pot, kettle considering Geto's usual mental state but that's fine. )
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but yuji wasn't just any human. ]
Eating is easy, of all those pesky things. The sleeping, I cannot do.
[ he settles with elbows on knees, cigarette dangling half-forgotten between his fingers. looks up, just barely enough to catch a glimpse of Geto in his peripheral. ]
How do you get through it, when it feels impossible?
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( He can't exactly tell Choso it's just that he's a very good actor. Neither can he say it's simply because his worst was just so obvious that coasting along in all that negativity gives him the aura of someone vaguely put together. So instead he only hums. )
Because there's no alternative.
( Ash flicked away, down the side of the roof. ) I'm dead, Choso-san, there's very little hope for me. And I thought about letting something finish the job. I thought about acting out enough that there'd be no other option. It would be easy, and I would be free. But what's the point? Where's the reason for it? My own absolvement? There are still other sorcerers here, and I did not do all that I did in trying to fix the world for us to just sit by and watch the same thing happen here. I keep going because if I don't, those sacrifices would mean nothing. And you have people here who need you. You have people you want to protect, yes? That means keeping yourself alive, and fit, and fighting, because if you're not at the top of your game you will have let them down.
( The only reason he even gets out of bed in the morning is because he has to be good enough to protect his people. It doesn't matter that they don't think they're his, it doesn't matter that he's ruined things. He'll keep forcing himself into survival. He has to.
And then, abruptly. )
I'll teach you meditation, when all of this is done. I know everyone thinks the robes were for show, but I did a good job at it.
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he hasn't given it much thought since then, until now. hasn't wanted to think of it, but with a dead man speaking his truths only feet away, it's impossible not to.
You have people here who need you.
You have people you want to protect, yes?
choso takes a deep draw, renders almost half the remainder of his cigarette to ash before hissing it out between his teeth to billow against the stars. ]
I would like that. [ smoke seeps from his mouth, almost draconic. ] I must better myself. I must be someone Yuji can be proud of.
[ eyes flick up again, and he can't help it, twisting to look at Geto properly. this time, he can't shake it, the way he'd spoken it, let it drop like so many pebbles.
I'm dead, Choso-san. ]
I can show you how, you know. How to be a person that does things. Goes out. Helps out. Yuji likes that the most, you know? When someone is good, and tries to help. I can do that much.
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that icon is so cute.
you earned a whole smile, geto-kun; take it to the grave
gonna keep choso around like a lil tamagotchi
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