NOCT OVERFLOW

[swordhardy]

OVERFLOW & EVENTS

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[swordhardy]

[ There's no remorse or sorrow to be found, from the dameon's posture to expression. It's all very matter of fact, as though he might be telling a story that belongs to another man. When the words come, it almost does feel that way—there's strong dissonance between who he used to be and who he is now. A life far away, belonging to someone who would hate the daemon sitting beside Shinsou now on principle alone. The Rangetsu hunted the daemons that tried to scuttle onto their lands; it's laughably ironic how he's become one since, even more so that he feels more comfortable this way than he ever did when he was human.

He senses Shinsou's hesitance. Appreciates it with a little wry smile, even if he finds it unnecessary. If he hadn't wanted him to know he wouldn't have said anything. It's quite easy to omit what you want, depending on how you phrase what you're saying. Even now, with what seems a load left out in the open, lacks so much context and detail.

When the cup is held forward in the curve of the young hero's hands, Rokurou tips the bottle and fills it. ]

True enough. My clan had its own particularities, too.

[ Already brandishing the bottle, Rokurou tops his own cup off before returning the base back to the table. A moment to mull over what Shinsou's told him in turn. This isn't the first time he's heard of that society, he realizes—where heroes are some kind of profession—but he's again struck with how problematic that structure could be. Once you start commodifying heroism, it seems to him that it can bring with it a slew of both class and moral quandaries ... and he has to wonder if some villainy could end up a direct result of such a structure. The Abbey back home was the direct progenitor of several of its own foes. Velvet, the so-called Lord of Calamity herself, is only one vengeance-riddled figure.

But—eh, what does he, the farthest thing from a hero, know? Maybe it works back where Shinsou's from. Fighting from a young age is incredibly familiar to him, so he doesn't blink at the thought of just how young one could be before delving directly into danger. ]

Is that what you're trying to be? A professional hero?

[ It is stupid that they don't allow them to drink when they're putting their lives on the line, but that goes unsaid. ]

[formant]

( the phlegmatic way by which rokurou recounts the details of his past speaks even louder than the words themselves. it's easy enough for shinsou to admit that his own abrasions are far less grievous, but the circumstances which had produced them had been extremely different. was it easier to become apathetic to hardship when the world that you lived in made so many more things harsh and difficult? the place where shinsou comes from seems almost mild and mundane in comparison (which is a crazy thing to think, considering what sort of place it is), or at the very least his own life there had been. with less to harden his heart, the comparatively minor wounds persisted, stubborn to heal properly; he doesn't give indication to them often, but the keen and insightful can catch glimpses of them through gaps in his usual stoicism.

it's always been a front, regardless — a carefully-developed defensive mechanism. beneath a stony-faced countenance, shinsou has a soft heart that was honest to a fault, an entangling streak of sentimentality that had never tangled his feet or his tongue even a fraction as much as it had here.

rokurou obliges to refill his cup, and he nods, both in gratitude and in acknowledgement of what he said.

his is a society with more than its fair share of problems. shinsou has experienced facets of this that most people don't even realize, having borne the brunt of discrimination and unwarranted suspicion for nearly his entire life. perhaps it should have made him bitter of the whole construction of it all, more incisive and critical of a social architecture which alienated people who were born with bodies or intrinsic abilities which were either inconvenient to others or perceived as threatening or overly dangerous. give him a few years back home, and maybe he would get to that point; he had already nearly had to give up on his dream of becoming a hero because his quirk was spectacularly poor at fighting giant robots (the yardstick by which the school with the most exemplary hero program measured by, apparently). a surprising number of villains had once wanted to be heroes, but for some reason or other had failed. but as he is now, he is still blindered by his own youthful idealism and internal drive to do good; he still wants to be every inch the hero he believes he can be, the kind of hero his mentor would be proud to have put himself out on a limb to train for a second chance.

maybe that's his own miniature rebellion against hero society: becoming a hero would force people to come to terms with someone with a quirk like his attaining such a position of power and renown. but, considering it was just playing back into that society at large... it really wasn't much of a rebellion at all, was it?

he'd probably continue to think about it more, either here or if he ever returned back to the life he'd left trailing off back home. but he's still as dead-set on his goal as he's ever been, as dogged in his determination as anyone else with a chip on their shoulder and everything to prove. )

...Yeah. ( he pauses, taking a sip of the sake before continuing. he holds it in his mouth a moment longer than usual, attempting to better judge the complicated combination of taste before once again giving up. ) I don't have much experience, though. I'd only just gotten my transfer approved at my school. I, uh - didn't pass the first entrance exam.

( he shifts in place, slowly turning the cup of sake in an aimless fidget — anyone who spends any amount of time with shinsou would pick up that he tended to worry at things with his hands. ) I know other people can think it's a pretty weird thing to want to be. Professionally, at least.