You aren't exactly a normal sword. [Yukio says, quietly encouraging.
Off to the side, Miki is in her dog form, nosing through some piles of assorted junk.
She brushes against a shard of mirror, and--]
[It's night, it's winter, the wind whips at your hair and howls quietly between the buildings. This part of town is abandoned, old crumbling apartment buildings and deserted streets. You grab the railing of the apartment's roof, climb over it to stand on the crumbling edge of the roof.
"A fall from this height is sure to kill me." You say, quietly, to no one.
Your hands shake, holding the railing behind you. Your heart pounds, you look down eight stories to the pavement. Cold sweat runs down your back.
(An imperial treasure, a cultural treasure, considered one of the best-preserved and most beautiful swords in the country still, even a thousand years later.
Tsurumaru is quiet after the memory passes, waiting just a moment for Yukio to collect himself before he speaks,)
It's... complicated. [he doesn't want to give all the details.]
I needed answers, and that was the only way to get them. [but that isn't quite the expression of someone just brushing that off as some kind of training, or answer-gathering necessity.]
I didn't say that. [Tsurumaru could handle a complicated explanation, Yukio could explain it clearly and simply if he wanted to, but he really doesn't.]
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There was nothing you could do against them?
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cw: attempted suicide
Off to the side, Miki is in her dog form, nosing through some piles of assorted junk.
She brushes against a shard of mirror, and--]
[It's night, it's winter, the wind whips at your hair and howls quietly between the buildings. This part of town is abandoned, old crumbling apartment buildings and deserted streets. You grab the railing of the apartment's roof, climb over it to stand on the crumbling edge of the roof.
"A fall from this height is sure to kill me." You say, quietly, to no one.
Your hands shake, holding the railing behind you. Your heart pounds, you look down eight stories to the pavement. Cold sweat runs down your back.
You take one step forward. You let go. You fall.]
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(An imperial treasure, a cultural treasure, considered one of the best-preserved and most beautiful swords in the country still, even a thousand years later.
Tsurumaru is quiet after the memory passes, waiting just a moment for Yukio to collect himself before he speaks,)
You're alive.
(Explain.)
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It wasn't... it wasn't what it looked like. [Not exactly. It didn't work, after all.]
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(Kind of like... how he just let Yukio run into the barrier that first week. He won't press Yukio to say or do anything now.)
But silence allows the imagination to wander. Without explanations, conclusions are drawn.
(So it's up to Yukio if he wants to elaborate or not now.)
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I needed answers, and that was the only way to get them. [but that isn't quite the expression of someone just brushing that off as some kind of training, or answer-gathering necessity.]
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(That he can't handle a complicated explanaation?)
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He's a menace. He's literally just trying to see if he can make Yukio uncomfortable.)
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I needed to see if I could die.
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try to grab Yukio's ear???)
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It's normal.
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(Still holding it, btw.)
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(Alive.)
Was it a miracle?
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I don't know what happened.
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(no subject)