adsum | npc contact.1

( ORI WHAT THE FUCK IS CUTE ABOUT THIS, IT'S PUNISHMENT FOR MAKING KOMAEDA CARE, PUNISHMENT FOR MY HUBRIS.

punished for having people near him because he's just that lucky, is what he thinks when he turns his head to look back to speak to him. instead, it's the color red mixed with the smell of blood that stands out before the school shifts into that dilapidated hell they're all accustomed to. komaeda's mind blanks out for a moment, frozen in place until he blinks right after — the fingers that held rokkun's hand twitch as he turns on his heel, taking a step back, but keeping his eyes on...

what? what will he see? rokkun's shadow? him? holds my head, not my hurt comfort meme. )

[ I forgot this was supposed to be a cute thread, I've never written a cute thread in my life

He sees Shadow Rokkun... All black, featureless, hands that pass through one another because in this state, neither can touch one another. He doesn't leave, though, standing in front of Komaeda, head bowed, hands raised in front of his navel and staring down at them.

... ]

( robbed... robbed... komaeda tried.

this is a reminder that he shouldn't have gotten involved, he should have just kept his distance, he shouldn't have done anything. he's used to do this so he doesn't need to care, shouldn't care, but he can't stop his legs from running away from the incident — but that's because he's running to the bathroom right next to this classroom, and he's going to hit the glass with his prosthetic so he can come out of there, because he's not wasting any time. he ain't even supposed to be running, but you know, once he's back in the real world he's going to run to rokkun?

ROKKUN, HE'S HERE, HE'LL CARRY YOU. )

[ The glass shatters and Komaeda blinks, opening his eyes to find himself in the real world, his hand firmly in Rokkun's hand as the fabric of Rokkun's sleeve tears, three long gashes open and bloom red, blood spilling down the sides of both their legs, hot and red.

The ground tips.

Komaeda finds himself back inside void Yogen. ]

( so remember when i said i'd be 100% okay with amami getting gored to shit by the imps as long as he doesn't straight up die? on request, a sacrifice is being attempted.

the ruckus outside is probably audible from the seat by the door of 3-B, which i'm saying amami sits in now because that makes it easier for him to excuse himself in the middle of class to check things out.

not that he'll get to see much once he steps into the hallway and the red in his peripheral catches his eye, turning his gaze to see a nauseating wound as the hallways crumble into uncanny versions of themselves. still, what he does see is important, because he's going to be seeing it again when the colours register in his mind, and he sees the silhouette of komaeda booking it down the hallway (again), and thanks to rika, he doesn't actually need to go anywhere to break his mirror shard, blinking back into awareness in front of the bloody scene. )

[ Amami makes it back to the real world, just in time to see the skin in the front of Rokkun's throat open up and spill out.

Guess what's going to happen!! ]

( does komaeda regret meeting him? how can he regret someone he doesn't remember, how can he regret someone who hasn't done anything to make him regret. he didn't answer that question properly, but it does play in his mind — if something like him didn't exist, rokkun would be fine right now, why does it seem like every time he tries to give something a chance... it wasn't meant for him to have. this builds character, this makes komaeda realize once again he shouldn't take part in other people's lives —

oh rokkun, there were things he wanted to know, things he wanted to do, whatever fake life he had planned komaeda was willing to listen. his type of hope also made komaeda curious, wondering where it would take him, and yet, the only thing komaeda continues to witness is their hands held together in some sick and twisted time loop.

he should let go, he'll do what he can to let go, he won't impose his existence on him if that's what it means to free him from his grasp. he tries again, a second time, getting to his feet. even during this unfortunate event, this unlucky scenario he's found himself in — talent is talent, and he's quick to turn his head when he's rushing past the ultimate within the void realm with him. )

Akira. Akira Fujioka, 3-C, bring him here!

( he's irritated, he's annoyed, but he rushes to the bathroom next door — he cracked the first mirror he saw before, so he goes for the middle to break that. once he's back into reality with a blink of his eyes, his hand tightening onto the other's own — )

Edited 2021-06-22 08:07 (UTC)

( okay well now the imps might as well get him anyway just because, tf. does amami have the rock he wanted...

either way, he takes in komaeda's words seriously, and when he next breaks the mirror, shuts his eyes tight. turns on his heel, and bolts down to the other end of the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of class 3-C and slamming the door open. )

Akira Fujioka?!

( he don't know this kid, but he's just going to yell the name and hope someone responds. )

okay, so, Akira got run over by a bus,

oh ok, that's alright because komaeda and amami realize this is just a bad dream and wake up

[ The timeline splinters—-

In one, Komaeda and Amami open their eyes, lids leaden with sleep and the dappled summer sun that makes waking slow, enveloped by the smell of earth and grass upon which they lay under the shade of the wisteria. In between them lays Rokkun, eyes closed and breathing deep and steady, still asleep. He is whole and unharmed, his wrists bare and unmarked. It feels safe. It feels...

... ]

[ In another, Akira hears his name, stammering out an apology to his teacher who is just as bewildered as he is, nearly overturning his chair in scrambling out of the classroom in response to Amami's yelling. His left arm is in a sling, and one of his feet drags as he pulls himself to the door, stomach clenching at the sight of blood, at Rokkun who still hasn't let go of Komaeda's hand even as he doubles over in shock and pain, his hand a vicegrip in Komaeda's.

He should let go. He should've let go, one hand to clamp over his throat and stem what blood he can, the other to grab at whatever is trying to burrow into his neck and fling it aside, but he only has one free hand and he weighs his options.

Blood spills down his front as he wrenches something off his neck, fingers digging deep until he can feel them puncture and give, hot and wet as his own blood that coats his hand. He sidesteps, the image of a """soccer ball""" in his mind as he brings his foot down hard and feels something crunch beneath his shoe— scoop, toss, leg sweeping and shin slamming something that hits the ground thirty feet away. The one on his arm skitters up his shoulder with needle claws, digging in so Rokkun can't shake it off but he doesn't mean to— he turns and drives the shoulder straight into the wall, gritting his teeth against the screech that sounds right against his ear.

His knees give. His breath gurgles through his throat. ]

( no, he has two free hands, because komaeda's going to let go to assist him in some way, it's him following what rokkun does — he pays attention to the way he moves, where the pain must be stemming from, and if he manages to get a good idea, he'll follow up on it. he recalls being asked would he apply here if he knew this is what he'd be doing now, at the time, he didn't understand — instead, he gave his innocent reply of helping people's hopes. it still checks out, he may be an untalented, a piece of the normal crowd, but there's still hope inside of him, and komaeda thinks how much of a waste if...

plant just a little despair so that the hopes of those who witness are able to grow from beneath the dirt into something amazing. that's why rokkun suffers through this, because he'll grow stronger, they all do, the extent of their hope makes it so.

he reaches forward, his attempt to catch the other with one arm around his waist once his knees give out so that he doesn't fall to the ground. it's painful to do so, especially since it's the arm he's previously stabbed himself with in order to help someone else, so komaeda trembles. people are so fragile around him, so he doesn't understand the idea of holding someone close like they're precious to you. it's the last thing on his mind as he holds him in concern and anticipation of what'll happen next, and if rokkun makes any hint that there's something near his ear, komaeda isn't against using his prosthetic to reach out to whatever it may be — if he feels anything, he'll squeeze without a care in the world, he's not thinking too much — really, his body is only responsive gestures towards what will cease the pain.

when he thinks about speaking, his words are caught in his throat, he thinks it's a waste of time too, he finds it unfair, but it's when he feels eyes behind him that he doesn't even make an effort to turn around. he knows that amami went and pulled akira from class, there's no way he didn't — ultimates like him are competent, they're able to get things done, they're what brings hope to this cruel world, sometimes bad things happen to strengthen others. )

Hurry up, Fujioka-kun! ( there's urgency in his voice, his eyes won't move from staring at the expression rokkun wears. ) Do what you did to all the others...

( if he connects the eyes of that mystery person within the science club room, and then the eyes during student council match — madison was sane enough, that's fine, just like that, or even the docile set of people that stood in wait. komaeda doesn't care. )

Save him, turn him into one of them, it doesn't matter what you do.

( looks up because the timeline's already splintered but.

when amami finally does look, finds himself thrown into the other side, cracks the surface of the glass again, the nausea rolls through his stomach all at once. even so, he's not one to hesitate — only falters a moment through the entire thing, and if akira hasn't already gotten moving, amami will make him.

taking akira's wrist, he pulls the other boy forward behind him — sharp and sudden and meant to get the point across more than actually take him anywhere, and he lets go as soon as he's made his point. knows better than to actually drag him into the midst of this mess if it's not where he's wanting to go. but with akira directly behind him, he makes to run back over to the other two. blood rushes in his ears, his vision tunnels, and all he sees is the sickening red that stains the scene. he swallows down his hesitation, doubts, fears, closes the distance, and if there's any other indication of movement on or near the other two, that's what he zeroes in on, focusing first on not having the situation get any worse. on not losing anything more. otherwise, he'll make to try and help komaeda, to hold rokkun up so they can get him... somewhere. the nurse's office, maybe, but really, anywhere is better than here.

he doesn't know what akira is meant to do in a situation like this, or what komaeda is talking about, but he knows they have to do something. )

[ Akira isn't sure what he's meant to do either, until Komaeda says "turn him into one of them" and it snaps into place, like a rubber band against one's wrist. It's his wrist that he uncovers, pulling back his sleeve once he's close enough, tunnel visioning just like Amami does so that he doesn't even think before he pulls his keys out of his pocket, flicking off the cap of a little keychain shaped like one of those mini grasses repair kit screwdrivers except instead of a screwdriver, there's a blade inside that Akira drags across the inside of his left wrist. ]

-—not dead yet! Don't you give up on him too early...!

[ What he did— does— with all the others, he could only do once they're dead, and Rokkun is still hanging on, with each heave of his chest and gurgle in his throat, the attempt to remain standing on his own feet even when his body won't obey.

The blood drips down Akira's wrist, thin threads trailing down his palm and the lengths of his fingers as he lifts his hand for Rokkun's face— it becomes real thread, solid, weaving in and out of the torn skin and cartilage of Rokkun's throat and closing it up, scabbing over in a matter of seconds.

Akira Fujioka is good at sewing. In a sense. ]

I... ( it comes out hesitant, like he doesn't know what to believe, but for him... ) won't...

( "-—not dead yet!" is what he says, and komaeda solidifies the idea into his mind understanding that's how it works. the person in the room that day must have already been dead, turned into one of those creatures during the deathmatch. he has to be dead, and to hear him say this reassures komaeda in ways that he never thought he'd have to experience. he's used to it... people dropping like flies, and maybe that's why he was ready to accept that he lost him too, another body added to the pile of corpses because of his existence.

he keeps his eyes on rokkun, not wanting to turn away from him — rushed steps that come closer, and it's the display of akira's hand, the blood that thickens into strands of string to weave itself into the make-up of his skin. it's an experience that komaeda's too acceptant of, but that's probably due to his own background of supernatural luck that anything can happen at this rate. it's pretty amazing what someone can do with blood, quite talented, if komaeda can think that at the moment as he blinks slowly to drink in the sight of what's happening.

is that all it takes? he wonders, as he watches the area scab over, and wanting to make sure this is real, komaeda lifts one hand to lightly brush his fingers over the scabbed location. his mouth parts wanting to speak, but nothing comes out, open, close, open, close... he isn't sure what he wants to say, but he follows with manners first. )

Thank you... Fujioka-kun.

( the gears in komaeda's mind are turning, slowly, and despite the situation they're in, he can't help but laugh even though he doesn't want to. a sort of defense mechanism as he looks at rokkun trying to keep him up so that he doesn't fall — with that chunk taken out of his leg, he doesn't seem so keen on letting go. )

( it only takes an instant to happen, but the entire moment feels like an eternity, passing in slow motion as thin red threads weave through rokkun's skin with hypnotizing precision, pulling together parted skin and closing the wound before his eyes. amami's breath catches in his throat as the scene unfolds, staring at the scabbed over lines of skin all the way up until komaeda's fingers come to lightly trace along them. it's then that he seems to snap out of it, looking up to rokkun's face — trying to read his expression, his state, if he's alright — and, almost more importantly, to akira beside him. he blinks, opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but pauses before the words come out. rethinking his approach, and to match komaeda's own laugh, his expression turns somewhere between relief and apology. )

Thanks, Fujioka-kun.

( he doesn't know what led to all of this, or how things ended up here, but it looks like komaeda knew the right person to call for. right now, that's what's important — that, and making sure that rokkun is okay from here on out. he's still in a pretty rough state after all, even if his throat is no longer ripped wide open, so amami's going to make an effort to support some of the weight from the side his bad leg is on if rokkun will let him. )

[ Hearing his name makes him freeze, both times that it happens, and he ducks his head with what might be guilt or shame or nerves from being watched and stared at, never liking attention drawn to himself and this? something like this isn't something he can just walk away from after without being asked about it, he knows it, he knows the safest thing for himself would've been to keep it to himself, but for Rokkun—- ]

...I can't let him die, [ is what he mumbles, dropping to his knees to roll up Rokkun's pant leg, realizing the wound is too far up his thigh and that he's better off just pulling the scraps of fabric away from the wound and working with what he can see. ]

Can you two lay him down? It'll be easier.

[ The blood won't pool to the legs and undo the work Akira's trying to do, taking hold of his keychain to slice his wrist again so his own blood can run afresh, because if Rokkun bleeds out faster than Akira can stich the blood in, there isn't much he can do. Rokkun himself looks pale and in shock, but he can breathe again and he tries to lift his hand to touch his throat— his hand brushes against Komaeda's instead, who'd been touching that scab, and that's just as well because the scab is still raw and delicate, liable to fall apart. This is only a temporary measure, and although Akira works on stitching up Rokkun's leg and then arm, he cannot bring back missing flesh. That's something Rokkun's body will have to do on his own. ]

( it runs through his mind of how akira can't let him die, and yet, had komaeda never entered that room in the first place... this wouldn't have happened. it settles in his mind, making itself a home there where it doesn't move from, and his lips purse into a straight line as he removes his hand from how fragile the piece is. part of him wants to smack rokkun's fingers away from it as well, but that'd be rude to an almost dying man, especially a dying man that he's assisting with amami to lower him onto the floor.

for someone who can sew, in a sense, is right.

he settles down onto his knees, just a small distance away from rokkun and akira, and his hands rest in his lap because he doesn't know where else to put them. komaeda pauses, his eyes glancing down at rokkun's face, before drifting towards amami next, and then finally towards akira's handiwork with his blood. he takes a steady breath to bring himself back to normal, closing his eyes to settle in the darkness before he slowly opens them. )

...Everything that happens here, are we all capable enough to keep it between us?

( it might be too much to ask, but it's something sensitive. a moment of weakness, this newfound information that comes from akira's abilities, and amami being witness to it all. he doesn't know if rokkun's conscious enough to understand what's happening at the moment, and he should know better than to talk considering his position. )

This sort of hope is a rare experience, we should truly be grateful to watch it flourish in this manner.

( his words say one thing, but the way his eyes glance off to the side says another. not the best way to go about it, but komaeda does it to make sense of it, accept it. though his luck was probably the cause of what happened, it's the only thing he has to mask everything so far. )

( oh, man, when amami tried to help, he was expecting this to be a matter of walking — bending down? while helping hold someone else's weight? that's a whole other matter entirely, especially as the adrenaline that had driven him through this situation begins to wear off, and a feeling like razor blades cutting their way out of his chest begins to settle in to replace it. what's he gonna do, though, say no? he spares a grimace towards akira, and bites his tongue, but it's with a pained expression and a shaky exhale as he helps lower rokkun onto the ground.

doubt flickers across his expression not at komaeda's initial request, which he'd more or less already decided for himself, and more upon the words that follow. amami's eyes shift to try to meet with the his but, upon failing to do so, he gives a short sigh, answering without hesitation. )

Don't worry — I won't say anything unnecessary.

( just what would he be accomplishing if he did... worrying rika? painting a target on the back of someone who he just watched save a life? there's really no reason for this to go beyond the four of them. )

But I do want some kind of explanation after all of this. ( after rokkun is safe, that is. )

[ There's a rare rush of gratitude Akira feels for Komaeda when he asks to keep what happened a secret, but he can't help but flinch when Amami asks for an explanation. It's not like Akira owes them any explanation for the blood sewing, but if he were hard pressed to ask... especially when he too wants to know what happened to get to this point, when he was pulled out of his classroom to see Komaeda standing there and the indomitable Rokkun half collapsed and bleeding out.

Did Komaeda try to...? That doesn't make sense.

He finishes up what he's doing and breathes out, his blood patched onto another's body and leaves him pale and lightheaded, so he keeps sitting instead of getting back up onto his feet, nodding vaguely.

From the ground, Rokkun also makes some noncommittal groan, but its hard to tell whether that's one of consent or one of pain; patched skin saves a life but shredded flesh still hurts. ]

( komaeda's not going to agree or deny akira's concerns or worries, all that he does is stare down at rokkun who seems to have difficulties speaking, or... he's just in pain. yeah, that's actually valid. they lift from him to akira, seeing as he stays in place as well, and as much as he's cut open his wrist to offer his blood to his friend... it must take a lot out of him mentally and physically. is he tired too? exhausted like everyone else?

it's not what he expected, but rokkun has mentioned briefly that akira was good at this sort of craft — not what komaeda was thinking, but it makes sense when it comes to those... creatures from the deathmatch, and one of them in the science club room. )

...

( there's not much komaeda needs at the moment when it comes to information, he knows where to find akira when the time comes — if there's a thought gnawing away at his curiosity, it is easy to bully it out of him. he contemplates what to do from here, and part of him thinks that he should wipe his hands against his pants, stand up and then to leave accordingly. he doesn't do good in this situations given the fact of how his personality is, how he acts, and how he wants to say something about hope to ease his own mind. besides, he's got confirmation on what amami's end, akira's silence speaks a lot, and rokkun's gurgles are ignored, unfortunately so he believes it's enough.

sorry amami, you're the voice for this thread. )

( he sees the flinch, watching akira closely with sharp eyes, but doesn't comment. he wants answers, but frankly, now isn't the time, and he knows that. more important right now is the state the two of them are in. )

Are you gonna be okay?

( collective "you," as his eyes glance between rokkun and akira. amami's pretty sure the anemia alone isn't going to kill him, but it can't be helping either, and his eyes flicker to the cuts he's used to patch rokkun up in the first place — making sure they've closed on their own as well. )

[ They're going to be okay, yeah. Akira just needs a moment to catch his breath, and then— since Komaeda seems mentally checked out— asks Amami to help him carry Rokkun downstairs. By which I mean Amami has to carry him while Akira ???lifts Rokkun's feet or something, but at least it's just down one flight of stairs to the nurse's office so she can look at them all distraught, like "why did you bring him to me, he needs a hospital" she'll call for an ambulance herself

We'll all be fine. ]

npc contact.1

full navigation

https://i.imgur.com/BPeK0FT.png

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject