ROKUROU ᴍᴀʟᴇᴠᴏʟᴇɴᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴋ RANGETSU (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
swordhardy) wrote2021-03-18 09:35 pm
swordhardy) wrote2021-03-18 09:35 pmEntry tags:
NOCT OVERFLOW
OVERFLOW & EVENTS
swordhardy) wrote2021-03-18 09:35 pm
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but there's a sense of familiarity in that, and in his name and the shape of his hand he places against his chest. broad, likely calloused. hands that resemble his own, as much as that not-quite-cursed energy does. yuta's head tilts gently as if to hear the sound of his name better, the sharpness in his eyes softening back into the typical boy next door who could definitely use another nap or two, even if he can't quite tuck away the general unsettling vibe that always seems to hang around him like his personal rain cloud. ]
Ah, Yuta Okkotsu. [ he dips into a bow a little stiffly, caught off guard by the greeting, but still eager to meet someone new. ] I'm not really sure how being soulmates work, but it's nice to meet you, sir.
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[ The string moves as he raises his arm up, a thin flutter of crimson following along with the gesture. Intriguing—it's yet to fade, seemingly content to stay in place as a link between them for now—but Rokurou doesn't seem to mind. ]
But I do feel like I should do something ...
[ He did, after all, go out of his way to find the person on the other end of the string. Had he truly considered what would happen after finding them? No, not particularly. The instinct that whoever it would be had be strong was a simple, irresistible one. But he's always been the kind of man to miss the big picture in favor of the smaller details.
Even if that niggling itch remains, a mild baseline of tickling intuition. Curious, he scans the boy again, pausing to rub his chin. Aaahhhh, well. If there's something there (there is), he'll pin it down sooner or later. ]
How about I buy you a drink? Or ... wait, how old are you? [ he squints, suspicious—the guy has a youthful face, but the air about him is ..... aged. those eyebags offset that young appearance in delightful contradiction. ] The legal age is sixteen here but you're a gembonded, aren't you?
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[ the string is snug on his left ring finger, the same finger that he wore rika's ring on. it hangs around his neck as a reminder now, tucked beneath his shirt against his sternum. there's probably something to be said about that, about how the people he's fated to meet seem to end up in some kind of unfortunate circumstance: rika first, then gojo, and perhaps, later on, yuji. there's a wry twist to yuta's smile as he looks down the thread, but the sadness that had entered his eyes fades when he looks up again. ]
I'm seventeen, [ said with a bit of laugh, soft and tinged with the kind of awkwardness that suggests that he's still relatively new to the drinking scene and with being bought a drink in general. he reaches up to tug the collar of his shirt down just enough to reveal the amethyst gem embedded between his collarbones. ] And yeah, I am.
[ though, really, after yesterday's fiasco (which he's still trying to piece together? sort of?)— ]
... You don't have to go through the trouble, but I'll take some tea, if that's okay?
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That's no trouble at all. [ his mouth tilts, smile comfortable as he watches how the string floats between them, a seamless flutter with every small motion, ] I'm not going to let you get away before figuring this out.
[ Not the string itself, of course—the reason it's connected them. Too curious and too self-aware, Rokurou can only wonder why he's connected to anyone with all of his past sins and self-inflicted misfortune. Odder still that it seems to be to a decently normal guy (itch itch itch itch itch)—expectations were that whoever would be on the opposite end of his string would be deeply fucked up in one way or another. ]
Maybe it's just random. [ a low contemplation spoken out loud, mostly meant for himself, before it's shrugged off. attention turning, he gestures toward the end of the street, ] There's a place over there that has a good cup.
[ He'll lead the way, expression brightening into something quite boyish and almost innocent, ]
They have my favorite snack, too—candied sweet potatoes. I could eat six bowls of 'em! Hell, I could probably eat at least ten if I tried.... you ever have them before?
[ Maybe .... snack soulmates?! ]
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[ i’m not going to let you get away before figuring this out. it makes yuta pause, despite the casual tone rokurou said it in, makes something prickle at the back of his neck. not out of fear, but something more similar to anticipation, maybe. he wasn’t thinking about leaving to begin with, but it almost feels as if there’s something more than just the string that keeps him there. the prickle at the back of his neck is replaced with a burn that has nothing to do with the heat, and yuta nods in agreement as he falls into place next to rokurou, the string hanging loosely between them. ]
I have, yeah, [ he thinks of the roasted sweet potatoes he had overseas, the memory bringing a nostalgic smile along with it. ] But I think it might be a little different from what they have here. [ he laughs quietly, sheepish— ] Ah, well, I guess that kind of applies to everything else in this place.
[ his grin turns a little crooked; dryly, ]
Between you and me, I think we could probably go for twenty.
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[ As promised, that earlier mentioned shop isn't far at all—it's a snug place off to the side of the main street, Easy to miss, it hides among the flashier buildings in its humble wood paneling and unassuming painted sign. A small menu as well, posted on a board against the wall, offering a variety of blended teas and a few snacks that are easy to eat.
The server offers them tea right away, a simple green blend that's on the house for every customer. Kicking off, Rokurou orders just two servings of the candied sweet potatoes, though from the short laugh the woman gives it's obvious that he's been there before and she knows better than to expect just two orders. She trots off to put the order in, leaving Rokurou to turn his gaze back onto Yuuta.
He's quiet for a moment, tucking his hand beneath his chin as he studies the younger man. Gold is unassuming, but beneath the fringe of his bang his crimson eye takes in the figure with critical detail. Even with red-tinted vision that's stronger when sussing out prey, assessing challengers, reading energy, he isn't sure what to make of what he finds.
There's strength there. Something familiar but different. It isn't pure like the exorcists or the malakhim spirits of his world, but Rokurou doesn't think he's a daemon. It's a strange but intriguing conflict of what he knows, but he's been around the other-world block to understand that his world hardly defines everything out there. ]
There's something about you... but I can't put my finger on it. [ finally leaning back in his chair, the daemon crosses his arms. ] You're strong, I can tell that much.
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[ it feels like it's been ages since he's last been to a tea shop; he already felt a little displaced returning to japan from overseas, but being whisked away to another planet entirely has effectively skewed his estimation of time. but it doesn't dampen the initial swell of nostalgia, from the humble wood paneling of the shop to the warm scent of green tea—he's distracted enough that he nearly misses the way the hostess laughs at rokurou's modest order of two servings of the snack, and by the time he looks up, he's caught in his scrutiny. blue meets gold, and while yuta can only see the single eye, the feeling of being assessed and measured is difficult to ignore.
it's only fair if does the same, now that they're not standing in the middle of a crowded street. he's sensed something like this since arriving here—kisame's felt similar, dense and nearly stifling, like being held beneath the ocean at high tide. yuta knows better than to expect that rokurou's (or anyone else's, for that matter) would be the same, but it's like trying to find the steady trickle of water but only finding plumes of smoke instead. similar origins manifesting in different forms. more importantly, rokurou has a lot of it; yuta doesn't need to be from his world to know that he shouldn't be trifled with. ]
I can say the same for you. [ he leans his forearms against the table and glances at his hand. the string remains steadfastly tied to his ring finger; he smiles, paired with a small shrug of his shoulders. ] Maybe that's why we found each other.
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[ The prospect that the universe is looking out for him by drawing him toward those that would be a good challenge is a heartening one. Their waitress is prompt in bringing two steaming cups of hot green tea, placing on in front of each of them before bowing away. Happily taking his own between his hands, Rokurou warms his palms and inhales—a rich aroma, deeply earthy and raw. That's the good shit.
Holding a hot cup by its rim when freshly made is one thing, but he keeps his fingers wrapped around its belly, seemingly unbothered by the heat that builds beneath them. Temperature has always been an iffy thing for him, resistance to it higher than a human's by virtue of what he is.
He laughs, a low sound while he rubs his thumb against the cup's edge. Light-footed on only the battlefield, Rokurou's never been afraid to be the first to put his cards on the table. An inclination that only grows when Yuuta seems to assess him right back; how much the boy gleans, he doesn't know, and that too is testimony to who or whatever he might be.
May as well shoot his shot. Worst that can happen is that he scares the kid off; there have been plenty who cut tail and scram just hearing what he is. ]
I'm a swordsman and a yaksha—that's a war daemon, if you haven't heard the term before.
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I haven’t. [ but it explains some things. he glances at rokurou’s grip on the cup and then to the steam rising from it; he’s certain that if he were to grab his own cup, it’d be too hot for him to hold comfortably. it could be a gift from his gem or more likely, something he’s already had before coming here. the daemons he’s heard of come in all kinds, but the general consensus has always been that they are malevolent spirits in varying degrees of maliciousness, similar to curses. so it makes sense, then, that he would pick up on that energy surrounding him. rokurou’s bangs cover his eye, but if yuta looks closely, he can make out that faint red glow beneath. ] But I’ve heard of someone who’d recently come from Hell, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
[ maybe he’s being too casual about this. the normal response would have been for him to leave, but, well. he’s not exactly normal himself. not anymore. ]
I’m a jujutsu sorcerer, we exorcise cursed spirits. [ it feels strange to say it. he’d gotten so used to people already knowing who and what he is that having the opportunity to identify with it aloud feels both foreign and freeing. ] I was also trained to use a sword.
[ two for two, now: snacks and swords. ]
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Is that so? I would have guessed you were a spell-caster if you're some kind of sorcerer. [ clearly he has never heard of jujutsu sorcerers; even the term cursed spirits doesn't quite align with what he knows despite being a rather apt description for corrupted malakhim. ] Then, if it isn't too bold to ask, I'd love to spar against you sometime. I'm trying to keep my blade from dulling while I'm here.
[ He hasn't a clue if a daemon such as himself would fall under Yuta's umbrella of cursed spirits, especially since he's only been a daemon for a few years, but that hardly matters in the face of an interesting challenge. There hasn't been an exorcist yet strong enough to dispatch him (ignoring one man, but even then, it's Rokurou still standing); even if Yuta isn't quite the same thing, it's interesting. Exciting. His pulse quickens with anticipation, every nerve now honed to the boy sitting in front of him.
Glancing down at the red string tying them together, Rokurou's drawn from vivid fantasies of a grandiose battle with a sudden realization. ]
... You know, I kind of thought this would go away when we met. [ but there it is. still... being there. ] Do you think there's something else we're supposed to do?