swordhardy | NOCT OVERFLOW

[Experience doesn't drive his actions, instead frustration is a motivator, once again he has found himself tethered by a red thread. Aware that at the other end he would find another hapless victim of this land making myth come to life, Giyu finds the idea of another encounter exhausting. Apparently, it is a lot more tiring to become acquainted with a stranger than to rush about the islands of Marilla in an attempt to keep his distance. Swift-footed, not only does he make great progress through the beaches but he takes paths that would be hazardous to most, downright inconvenient or ridiculous but necessary to unwind the thread.

Through some beach huts, over them, several times around a beverage stand, back to the beach then all over the shopping center, even areas that would require someone able to breathe underwater, Giyu would not make finding him easy, it was a way to give himself some reprieve from this world's whims. He knows by now the price of freedom came with bonding, whether physically or emotionally, it didn't matter, it just has to happen.

Some solitude is needed to prepare himself.

Even surrounded by crowds, he can still find himself alone, especially when he is so adamant to continue trekking through the island of Filia. Heading to the transportation terminal he weaves through posts and fencing before making a round back to where he began. But he is aware that this cannot go on forever, he is sure the person at the other end seeks their freedom, and so Giyu relents and stops his march allowing himself to be found.

While most of these islands remain lively playgrounds for native and Gembonded alike with festivities still to be found, and naturally people engaging in summertime activities, there are some secluded areas. Giyu finds himself a lonely patch of beach to wait, sitting with his gaze fixed on the horizon, his arms around his knees pulling them close, his figure doesn't stand out. His locks free in the soft breeze barely hidden by the straw hat over his head, he appears much like any other beachgoer. It's his actions that spell he might be a little different. Giyu does not turn despite the sound of approaching steps, his greeting comes in the form of a water bottle set at his side. An offer to an exhausted hunter.]

[ This one's a tricky tail. The thread never seems to get smaller, a constant wind of red acting as an endless yellow brick road. No reward only serves to encourage him to continue, stubborn streak growing the clearer it becomes that the other party is running from him. A challenge, ehhh? Rokurou Rangetsu never turns down a challenge, even a silent one.

The hunt continues. Undeterred, Rokurou plucks through beach huts and streets, shopping areas and streets, the samurai hunts. Back to the sands it is—the string finally begins to lose its loops, tighter when he tugs, showing that the distance between him and his quarry has finally shortened. Finally got exhausted, did they? Hueh hueh hueh, mark off another one for a Rangetsu win.

Clad in swimtrunks and a tee, he's looking much different from the last time they met—but there's no change in the wide smile and strut as he follows the lead, breaking into a jog when he spies the straw hat and the final end of the red string of fate. For a while there it felt like it was going to go on forever; daemons have excellent endurance, but even the most patient man's gonna groan about running all over a hot island all day with no reward. ]

A-ha! [ his pleased little crow comes with the stomp of his foot; he stands in front of Giyu with hands squarely on his hips. ] Finally, I found you, you rascal.

[ Giyu......... the fates have not been kind to you............... ]

[The view of the horizon (along with the setting sun) blocked, a shadow cast over him, it takes a moment for his sight to adjust. Giyu raises his hand ever slightly as if to impede whoever has taken the spot before him from coming closer, unnecessary it seems because the same distance remains constant but the familiarity of that voice warns him that this may hold true long. Words are met by a prolonged silence from him, while he may not be uttering a single word there is recognition in his gaze is clear, and the memory of their previous encounter . He has not forgotten the chase, when he lowers his hand upon the sand he begins to push himself back away from Rokurou.

Not expecting to see this face, this person, in actuality Giyu had completely forgotten this man. He didn't even ponder over his absence, for him Rokurou Rangetsu was irrelevant, that is, until now. Now that they are face to face once again, when he is feeling pressed to flee it brought back all the discomfort of that time in the alley but he does recall he managed to make a retreat once, surely he can do that again.

Only a glance at his hand, his pinky, where the thread is tied neatly into a red bow tells him that fleeing would only get him so far for so long.

The reprieve he had given himself would not be enough to handle this, it's a feeling that settles in but at least he has stopped trying to widen the distance between them. He lowers his gaze, then motions towards the water bottle: a peace offering (that will hopefully allow some normality). Assured in that fact that this man would not attempt to engage in battle given the circumstance he braces himself for whatever else will come.]

Hey hey hey. Don't worry, I'm not going to eat you.

[ Because the sight of the man before him scooting back along the sand is way too reminiscent of a mouse backing into a corner.

As if to prove his point, the daemon drops his ass down onto the sound with a small oomph, crossing his legs and resting elbows on knees. A position he'll recline back into after taking the offered bottle, willing to take the olive branch considering how hard this guy's been trying to avoid him. ]

I didn't think this would be you, [ said as he lofts a hand, allowing the thread to wisp down lightly onto the sand with the gesture, ] but I'm not surprised. I really wanted to challenge you.

[ Maybe the gods took pity on him, unable to chase down the prey he happened upon in random alley one day. Even so, there's a time and a place for everything, and relaxing on the beach doesn't easily segue into hotblooded manly battle. ]

[The odd choice of words do little to alleviate his concern, he comprehends they're not meant to be taken literally, he was never in danger of being consumed, but rather he knows of men who can only find meaning through battle. He is not willing to entertain such whims, nor would he fight anyone for amusement's sake. He would only draw his blade when necessary.

His intention and reasonings had not been made clear, he blundered through their previous interaction as he found this man to be oddly persistent. Even he knows the feeling of unease. His words had fallen on deaf ears.

Currently, Giyu keeps an unblinking gaze glued to the man at the other end of the thread, not even the red string fluttering down upon the sand distracts him, an attempt to navigate this interchange with caution. However, he is now without a sword, so likely another challenge would not come.]

I won't fight. I told you before.

[Perhaps, in his own way Giyu is just about as stubborn as the man seeking a fight.]

You can't now, can you?

[ An easy lob back, acknowledging the fact that Giyu clearly doesn't have a sword. Daemon he may be, he has little interest in fighting another swordsman who doesn't have his weapon; Rokurou deflates a little, lips set in a childish pout. ]

But ... you're a swordsman, aren't you? You don't even want to spar? It doesn't have to be to the death.

[ Even if that's the ideal, Rokurou's long since learned that most men don't relish the idea of being romantically offed during a brutal, sweaty clash of glinting blades. ]

I don't get it.

[ Truly, he does not—if the perplexed expression etched across his face is any indication. ]

[Impassive in the face of fluctuating expressions, Rokurou's childish pout does little to garner sympathy from Giyu. As he stated, he simply does not wish to fight, with a blade or not.]

And that would satisfy you?

[While he may not see the error made in his particular choice of words, anyone else could comprehend that they can be misconstrued into an offer made to cross blades in the future. Rather, in this case, even Giyu comprehends some people cannot be easily sated. If he gives in to this man's desire there will only be a push for more. It's also why he makes no mention he does train, practices, and has sparring sessions with another.]

Maybe.

[ It's almost too easy, how the pout curving his mouth into a frown flips back into its comfortable smile. He can't make any promises on if he'll be satisfied with just one battle ... but they'll never know if they don't, right?

But without a sword, there's no remedy for it now. He'll tuck what sounds like defeat into the back of his mind for now, satisfied that he's managed to wriggle in a little bit more, before offering his hand out to the other man. It's the same hand with the red string affixed to his finger. ]

Here. It won't go away without Synchrony. Aaah, unless you'd like to stay tied to me~?

[ The suggestive tilde lingering on the end of his words is palpable. ]

[That's the most non-committal answer he could have received to his question, there is no inclination one way or another, yet he still holds on fervently to his own suspicions. There won't be an end. As long as he remains in this world, perhaps, he will always come face to face with this man.

The hand offered, a reminder that he is presently trapped, is not immediately grasped. He understands his predicament, either way, he won't enjoy what happens. However, the sooner he gets this done the faster he can be free of this man.

Yet he doesn't make the necessary move as he gazes at the open palm, eyebrows slowly knitting together in apprehension.]

I am aware, I don't have to hear it from you.

This is only so that we are free of each other.

[For once he speaks unnecessarily, all his actions have made it obvious he would rather not have much to do with the man keeping him company but he gives. He gingerly reaches out and places his hand in Rokurou's]

[ H'ohhh, prickly. A verifiable cactus. The daemon grins, gleam of tooth and gum behind stretched lips that never falter, a resin mold for his mouth's lack of twitch or falter. ]

What else would it be for? [ eyebrow cocked, ] You don't like me very much.

[ A little something he's managed to pick up from their whole two encounters. While he might have a knack for noticing details, that much has been plain.

Yet it doesn't stop him from circling his fingers over Giyu's hand in a firm clasp. Synchrony is a sluggish trudge, like kickstarting a sputtering engine that doesn't quite want to start. Rokurou doesn't have much to give anyway, inner waves as tepid as Giyu's outer demeanor. ]

Why did you wear a sword if you dislike fighting?

[It's unsurprising his distaste is obvious when he is aware that he clearly broadcast his sentiments when it came to this particular individual. There is a lack of doubt or lingering confusion involving this man. He knows by their virtue alone it is unlikely they could ever get along. There is a distinct line that separates them, possibly beyond their ideologies when it comes to wielding a sword.

As fingers caress over his skin until a tight hold anchors him firmly more than any thread ever could Giyu's shoulders stiffen, there's a prickling feeling across his flesh as unease floods in. He isn't frightened by the man before him which leaves makes it difficult to comprehend the source of anxiety.

It's tempting to jerk his hand free. He doesn't, he can't.]

I am resolute in the decision I made years ago. That blade is my own, tied to it are the duties I bound myself to. I have my own battles. And while I live I will fight for those that cannot. I won't see others suffer.

[Being more honest than he expected himself to ever be in front of this man is astonishing, while he never had any intention to deceive him he was resolute to avoid speaking to him more than necessary. Yet, he broke that vow he made to himself.]

This won't work. Release my hand.

[ Tension continues—almost perplexingly so. The moment their fingers touch the other man bristles like a cat, all sharp edges and dangerous still. It's interesting, if only for the fact that Rokurou has done nothing other than hold his hand, with permission. Intriguing, even. Maybe it's some sort of instinctual warning in the man, that a daemon is no one he should be holding hands with. ]

So strict. [ is he talking about the way he lives by his blade, or the fact that he already wants to let go? who knows. ] If that's what you want.

[ And Rokurou does let go. His fingers hover close, however, because the red string between them has yet to dissipate. Considering it's been less than a minute, that doesn't surprise him. ]

But I don't think that was enough. Would you like to stay tied to me after all?

[He knew the thread would remain, that meager touch, those pitiful seconds of having his hand held. They had not produced manna, it seems impossible between them, they failed to sync but then he did not expect the result to be any different. Understanding how synchrony functioned he found that the best results came when there was a positive association with the person.

Or if he was eager to bond with them.

He holds no such sentiments towards this man. It's the opposite.

His gaze levels itself on Rokurou before his eyes flicker to the lingering hand over his own. There the thread remains uniting them. No, it is not enough, it could never be but the question makes it clear he has to give or remain attached to this man for who knows how long.]

That question is unnecessary.

[The answer remains the same, given the chance he would have left already.]

But I don't believe this will work, we cannot synchronize.

NOCT OVERFLOW

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