(semi-open) hello stranger

[softshoes]

Who ⬤ Yujin Mikotoba & friends, old and new
What ⬤ Closed & open substory, mingle, & mini-event prompts
When ⬤ July
Where ⬤ Around Jigoku-cho
Content Warnings ⬤ n/a for now
Notes ⬤ spoilers marked, please see Mikotoba's spoiler opt-out; if you'd like a custom starter / want to wildcard hmu via PM or at smithsyndicate!

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[softshoes]

[The bright smile on Sholmes' face is one that Mikotoba has seen countless times, any new wrinkles notwithstanding. It's contagious: as it always was, as he expects it will always be. There's a fondness in Mikotoba's voice, too, and with Sholmes' hand held securely in his own, he tugs him nearer to the center the dancefloor.]

You needn't be so humble. [He gives the man's hand a squeeze as he shifts into position, his other hand coming to a gentle but steady rest on his friend's back.] A dancer is really only as good as his partner.

[And as he's been instructed to lead, the onus is on him to work out how, exactly, to dance to this new tune. Fortunate, then, that slipping back into place with Sholmes will always feel right, no matter where or when the two of them are.

Onstage, the bakeneko closes her wide, cat-like eyes and continues to croon out her wistful melody:

'It seems so good to see you back again,
How long has it been?'

Too long, thinks Mikotoba, leading Sholmes through their first tentative steps. Something about all this-- the music, the glow of those hanging lights tumbling over the familiar planes of his friend's face-- is making him feel so terribly nostalgic.]

To think that all I was looking for was a flatmate.

[retroductions]

[Drawn to the dancefloor, his stride is long and as casually confident as usual, and as they near its center, he turns to face his friend. The man shifts easily into position, as does Sholmes; dancing in a formal setting is not his forte, nor has he plied the skill with any frequency outside of his deductive "dances," but it is not a talent easily forgotten, long hammered into him in his youth. And held onto through the years by some turn of miracle, never once ejected from his mind.

Perhaps for occasions precisely like these.]

Then it is fortunate, indeed, that my partner is—and always will be—quite excellent.

[Said with no shortage of fondness and bolstered with the assuredness of this being truth rather than flattery. He has years' worth of experience with Yujin—living with him, setting off together on investigations, of riotous laughter and fierce arguments, of wonderful celebration and most profound grief, all of it forming a solid foundation of unshakeable trust and friendship—that this has always been a foregone conclusion. Still, it is a line of thinking that tugs at his memory, guides it gently down a nostalgic path, much the way he is being led with a few tentative steps as the song's melody washes across the dancefloor.

Sholmes follows Mikotoba's lead in both dance and in conversation.]

Oh, I have not forgotten how desperate I was for a flatmate, all so that I would not be hurtled out the front door of 221B for not paying the rent in a timely manner.

[Some things do not change, and Sholmes perhaps does not possess quite enough self-awareness to honestly criticize his teenage years — which feel so surreally distant they may as well have belonged to someone else altogether. Still, he recalls his feelings on the matter then with clarity: it was a practicality to share a living space with a complete stranger, more than it ever was a desire. Maybe he had been more hard-headed in those days. Sure that he could take on the world by himself, and that he needed to rely upon someone else to provide fifty percent of the rent was its own kind of offense — by no fault of Mikotoba's.]

I remember thinking that you were a strange man to have accepted a living situation with someone you had just barely met, and that much younger than you. I was sure you would be up and gone in a few months' time at most, but I would simply deal with the consequences of finding a new flatmate once that came to pass. I admit, it was not much of a plan at the time.

[softshoes]

[Together, guided by Mikotoba's steady hand, the two of them sway and turn through the unfamiliar, yet comfortable, tune. And as Sholmes steps through his own recollections, his partner's smile turns wry.]

Me, strange? [Mikotoba chuckles.] Speak for yourself! You were far, far stranger. With the sort of introduction I received from my classmate, I wasn't sure what to expect from my new flatmate.

[The Sholmes from that first impression-- already working in the laboratory, despite his age-- feels like a far-off memory now, almost two decades gone. Mikotoba remembers being bewildered by the young man. He also remembers, his occasional obstinance aside, Sholmes' passion: for his experiments, and for every new case that crossed his path. A man unlike any other Mikotoba had ever met, in Japan or England.]

A first-class young chemist, yes. But a greatest detective to be, well. That, I'd have never imagined.

[He hums, content. The man before him has grown older, and his stories have grown more well-known, but Sholmes himself hasn't changed a single iota otherwise. If not for the graying hair on Mikotoba's own head, he'd have begun to wonder if he hadn't stepped back in time right alongside all their reminiscences.] It was but a temporary solution for me too, Sholmes. At least initially. [Out of habit, his next words are just a bit quieter and softer.] One day, when I'd saved up enough of my stipend, I'd be leaving: moving into a flat with Genshin or Seishiro instead, perhaps.

[His gaze flickers away from Sholmes'. With everything that's happened thus far in Jigoku-cho, he's had no time to reflect on any of the final revelations from Van Zieks' trial. Back then, Genshin and Seishiro had been Mikotoba's anchors-- adjusting to a brand new world, and navigating the shadows of his own grief, had been a task his 27-year-old self had often thought insurmountable. But now?

At the end of it all, it's still Baker Street that comes to mind when Mikotoba thinks of home. Sholmes alone stands beside him, his truest friend, his great partner.

Mikotoba's expression softens with fondness. He's choosing his words carefully. God knows his face is saying more than enough without them already.]

I am... endlessly grateful, that that day never came to pass.

[retroductions]

[As they take a slow turn ‘round the dancefloor, swaying to the sound of the music, it truly is as though his mind is flung back into memory: a young, somewhat headstrong hospital chemist, who had not quite made his calling as a detective official, meeting an older man from a foreign country he, admittedly at the time, knew so very little about. How blasé he had been about the meeting—polite enough, of course, to leave a relatively positive impression—treating it more like a necessity than a potential friendship that would blossom strong enough to sweep them both up in its fervor.]

As am I.

[He faintly and simply agrees with his friend’s overall assessment. The tinge of melancholy at the mention of Genshin and Seishiro is not missed, but Sholmes opts not to linger on the subject — not tonight, when he would rather shoo away all shadows of regret and sadness to preserve the sanctity of this dance, this final stretch of a marvelous night.]

I would be lost without you, Mikotoba. No doubt you already know that. But how many times have I relied upon you during one of our many cases to keep me not only safe, but successful in my investigations? I should be only half as fortunate in all my outcomes without you at my side. A fact I learned quite quickly, as soon as I witnessed your boundless enthusiasm.