jigokulogs | semi-closed 🔪 sometimes it's better to lose than compromise

[ They've grown used to the sound of breakfast being made early in the morning. Usually Nishitani, up and about, singing poorly and letting Bastard in from his nightly rolls-- it's domestic, familiar. Easy. A studio apartment with a shitty futon mattress tossed on the floor of the living room. ]

[ When Nishitani wakes up in his own room, with a door, Andy at his side-- the sun is bouncing in through a window, and the sounds of movement a floor below them-- laughter, of a young woman, and the stern tones of an older man. He looks down at himself. He only has his arm inked in, the rest of his body is free of the tattoos he suffered so long for-- ]

[ Yawning, stretching, Nishitani rolls back over. He's 15, the shrill creek of cicada's out his window mean it's summer-- which means he's sleeping for a while longer. ]

Edited 2022-06-11 05:22 (UTC)

[ She’s slow to stir. It wasn’t like that before - she hardly ever slept before all this, and even if she did, it was the restless and shallow sleep of a woman who knew her nightmares were waiting for her. But, crammed together on that shitty futon with him, some nights she sleeps now. Quiet, dreamless sleep. And it takes her a few moments to swim to the surface of her unconsciousness, unsure why it feels vaguely like something is off as the world settles into her awareness. Is that the sound of laughter?

Andy sits up, all tousled hair and bleary eyes as she squints into the sunlight peaking in from the window. Her vision adjusts. And it hits her suddenly.

This isn’t her shithole apartment in hell. This isn’t any place she recognizes. And when she turns sharply to look for Nishitani at her side, he’s - ]

Fuck!

[ Startled, she jerks away, hissing the curse out under her breath. Is she dreaming? Is that…? The tattoo on his arm is familiar. He’s familiar. But that’s not… Andy pinches her own arm. Hard. Nothing happens except a sharp pain. ]

What the fuck.

Keep it down or the old man'll figure out you're here. [ Nishitani grumbles, rolling onto his side so his back is facing Andy. He hasn't even opened up his eyes. He never does with the girls he brings home-- especially when they're stupid enough to fall asleep after the hook up is over. ] You'll have to leave through the window.

[ The look on her face goes from bewildered to annoyed, then exasperated. Alright, she gets it — this is probably some cursed hell bullshit, because it would obviously be too much to ask for her to just fall asleep and wake up in the same fucking reality. Also? Fuck going through the window.

Instead, Andy irritably hauls herself to her feet, rummaging around a little as she helps herself to the half-sleeping teenager's clothes — gods forbid she confronts any of this with her tits out — then pointedly opens the door and starts heading downstairs to find out what the ever-living fuck is going on around here. ]

Hey-- wait! [ Nishitani bolts upright when Andy goes for the door, spurred to movement even if it means jumping to his feet ass naked and grabbing onto this chicks wrist. ] The fuck do you think you're doing?

[ There’s a fleeting glimpse of the centuries-old warrior queen in her when he catches her wrist and she turns to look at him, stormy and imperious - but then she just exhales, dragging one hand down her face with a disgruntled little noise. ]

The fuck does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to figure out what the hell is happening. [ Her eyebrows pinch. ] You clearly don’t know shit. You don’t even remember me, do you?

[ Unlike the Nishitani she knows now, the Nishitani here is different. When she glares at him-- he lets go of her wrist and takes an involuntary step back. ] You're just some bitch.

[ It surprises her a little - how easily he lets go - but as she looks at him now, she supposes it shouldn’t really surprise her at all. The kid is a long way off from the man he’ll be in a few decades. Even if they do have the same damn foul mouth.

Dryly, with a pointed little look: ]

You’re lucky I’m your bitch, or I would’ve taken that personally. [ She nods in the direction of the door. ] Who’s downstairs?

No one special. [ Petulant, a teenager who doesn't want to have the life he has here clash with the life he has out in public. The people downstairs are two of the most important people to Nishitani, but still, for looks, he brushes them off. ]

[ The dream shifts, the home cracks. Nishitani doesn't respond, as if this might be normal, but for an outsider looking in-- the dream shifts, sticky, like tar, to either prove Nishitani right or prove Nishitani wrong. ]

[ Enma’s balls - she hates this curse shit. Is she the only one concerned with the house fucking cracking? Apparently so. Gods. ]

Fuck this. [ She’s turning to leave again - but then she hesitates, turns back around, grabs Nishitani by the arm and pulls him along with her as she makes a second attempt to go downstairs. ] We’re getting the hell out of here.

H-hey! Let go of me! [ He's naked, and in his mind, his uncle and Sara-nee are still downstairs. He struggles against her-- but when they make it to the bottom floor, there's an inch of blood on the floor waiting for them, an old man face down with a gunshot in his back; a young girl, tied up, with the side of her head caved in. ]

[ The dream shifts again, Nishitani is dressed, still young, rushing over to them both. ] Wait! Wait! I said wait! Give them back!

[ She’s seen a lot of terrible violence in her lifetime. Delivered it herself sometimes. Been the victim of it, others. But she’s never grown completely numb to it, even after nearly seven thousand years, and the sight that greets them downstairs is enough to stop her in her tracks. ]

What the fuck happened?

[ It’s a rough whisper, more to herself than anyone else. Gods, the girl… All that fucking blood. ]

Who did this?

No! It didn't happen like this! [ A crack, again. ]

[ Rain, the blood around their ankles shifts-- rain, blood, rain, blood-- both. An alleyway, behind a convenience store. They stand, soaked, the rain, the blood, a slog. A head, behind the dumpster, her leg. The pink hearts of her socks, the girl, her head: there, fully, shucked away to hide. Nishitani sees her. ]

Sara. [ A croak, how can he speak? His sister is dead, brutalized, because of him, because of Uncle. A love of his, taken, killed, forced from his hand, into a void: for everything he's ever let go of has scratch marks in it. He understands, because he leaves the boy who did this to Sara in the same state he left her.

Scratch marks, over his forearms, prove it. The blood, the crunch of bone, the snap-- ]

[ It happens like that, first. ]

[ She can hardly see at first, disoriented by the way the dream shifts, the blood rain pouring down on them, plastering her hair to her face — but as she scrubs at her eyes, she can start to make it out. The limbs. Body parts. Oh, merciless gods, those pink socks... She thinks about the sound of laughter she'd heard when she woke. A young girl's laugh. Something lurches uncomfortably in her chest. ]

Nishitani —

[ Turning to find him, she half reaches out before stalling midway, hand hovering in the air between them. Hard to know what stops her — the sight of those scratch marks, or the distinct and sudden sound of bone snapping. ]

[ Nishitani can never see Sara again. ]

[ Sara, behind that dumpster, Sara, assaulted, choked, head split open, undignified. Top of her class, Sara-nee, holding his hand when he was 3 and didn't understand the world, Sara-nee, smiling at him. ]

[ She's gone, killed by Takashi-kun, a member of Nishitani's rival gang, a gang Uncle B was investigating, a gang under pressure, and who sent a message. ]

[ Takashi was 16 when he killed Sara-nee. Nishitani was 15. He waited the two years it took for Takashi to get out of jail, barely fucking sentenced because-- a child, he's just a child, but what he did to Sara-fucking-nee-- ]

[ Beside Sara's body, at the dumpster, Takashi-kun. Assaulted, choked, head split open, undignified. ] She's gone.

[ The knot in Andy's gut tightens. Twists. It almost surprises her, that thread of something like grief she feels, deep down. After all this time, all those bloody centuries, maybe the part of her that's capable of feeling anything in the face of such tragedy should be dead. But it's still there. Stubborn and painful. Worse because she fucking cares about him — and fuck, but human lives can be so ugly, so short. Those two bodies, youth cut down in its prime, it's a cruel reminder. Sometimes it makes her wonder why they even try —

She can't even fight this. Whatever this is, however much of it is true — it happened already. It happened to him, to Sara, to the boy who killed her and was killed in turn. And now all that's left is the trauma and the nightmares, come home to roost with the fucking blood rain.

Her hand finally closes around Nishitani's arm. ]

I know. I'm sorry. [ Her voice is quiet and rough. ] I'm so fucking sorry. [ Her grip tightens ever so slightly. ] But this isn't real. And we can't stay here.

[ Nishitani startles when touched, transfixed by the gory scene splayed out in front of them. The boy he killed, while still just a boy himself; someone close enough to be his sister, the catalyst. ]

[ Looking at Andy, this young boy he's become has tears in his eyes, scratches on his cheek, a busted lip. Takashi didn't go down easy. ]

[ But Nishitani took him down regardless. ]

Where can we go without her? I won't leave her!

[ The tenderness she feels to see those tears is almost unbearable. It hurts. It hurts terribly. And the feeling of powerlessness, her inability to do anything — to change any of it — that tastes like bile in the back of her throat.

It's all she can do to come and crouch in front of him, putting herself between this boy and the awful things that were done to him and by him. Her hand is a little rough when she reaches up to thumb blood away from that split lip, but there's love in the gesture, and love in her face when she looks at him, her heart like a fresh wound. ]

You can't do anything for her now. You can't. It's done.

But she's my sister-- [ Not really, not by blood, not that Nishitani cared. The gang he'd been rolling with, they'd laughed at him for how attached he was to Sara. They pushed him around, they teased him, they talked about how nice Sara-chan must be in bed-- ]

[ He should have stood up for her. He should have been to her birthday. He should have-- ] She's my sister!

[ Blood never really matters with these things, does it? She knows. She knows that better than most. Family is still family. The grief of their loss still hurts just as much. Maybe even more. And she can't help a pang of selfish guilt. Should she have known about this? Should she have asked? Would she know what to do or say now, if she had?

Maybe there's nothing that would make any difference anyway. Loss is like that. It just hurts. Sometimes forever. It's all she can do to reach out and pull this wretched boy in towards her, folding him against her body like she might be able to shield him from some of that terrible pain if she just holds him tight enough.

Quietly, echoing him: ]

She's gone.

[ The young boy he is cries, screams, fights against Andy because there's nothing else he can do. Sara is dead, she's gone, and it doesn't matter what he does, she's gone. ]

[ So live, live as loud, as bright, as hard as one can. Take life, and take, and take, and take, because some kid not even out of high school will take it from you otherwise, some senseless act of violence will overcome the survival drive every human has. ]

[ Nishitani doesn't know this yet. He will, in the years between now and then. ]

[ She lets him cry. Lets him scream and fight against her embrace. It's all she knows how to do. All she's ever done when faced with the same kind of awful loss. Cry, scream, fight. Like a ritual, over and over again. A futile ritual. Until she was too tired to fight anymore.

All of it gives her a painful kind of understanding she's not sure she really wanted. A terrible, half-unwilling insight into the man that this boy will become. The one that shares her bed. The one that almost died for her — and already died for someone else. She thinks about the fearless, reckless way he lives — how ready he was to accept his own fucking mortality — and it makes her tighten her grip on the boy in her arms, holding him closer. ]

[ He holds onto Andy, tight, fingers clawing at her back. He sobs, until he can't-- and the blood, the rain, the water around them cracks again. They're no longer in an alley. A school, instead. Uniforms, one Nishitani refuses to wear, but he's at the school gate, waiting. It's raining, but he doesn't have an umbrella ]

[ Sara, alive, her hair nearly to her waist, her eyes so bright that in the sun, he swore they were gold, not brown. She's walking out of the entrance with a group of friends. She sees him-- them. ]

[ And still, she waves. ]

[ It's jarring to see the girl there. Even more jarring than the shift in reality. She can still see her body too clearly — broken, left behind the dumpster. Those pink socks. But she's here too. As if none of that had ever happened. It's unsettling. Leaves her feeling a little unbalanced. This nightmare, this curse — it knows how to fuck with your head.

The scene is innocent enough. The girl's waving to them, smiling. Andy can't fully explain her trepidation, or why she tries to reach for Nishitani again, to hold him back from going to meet her. ]

She's waiting for us. [ Nishitani grouses at Andy, stepping out the cigarette he'd been working through. He straightens, looks at Andy, and it's clear he's not seeing her, he's seeing something. That crying, vulnerable child is gone, here he's a snarky, ornery teenager again. ] You wanted to fucking meet her, don't tell me you're chickening out!

semi-closed 🔪 sometimes it's better to lose than compromise

ANDY / the cursed night

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