logs | (catch-all/open) hold up, i'm invincible

Are you fuckin' stupid or something??

[Like, how many times had he told him what he wanted from him?

1. Look at me, repeated twice.
2. I wanna stick with you, repeated more times than he had fingers for, probably.

Staring back with calm determination, unimpressed.]

I ain't asking you to give it. I'm fucking taking it. Kill me if you gotta. As you can see, I'll crawl back up out the grave and to your side. So maybe stop trying to posture. You missed me, like you said.

Well here the fuck I am, Manjiro Sano.

You're on your own.

(his eyes fill again with water. no one alive has called him manjiro in so long - takemichi in his last breaths. nowadays, reminding him he's not this, originally, is not that great.

but instead, he's standing, flicking the long gone cigarette and going for the stairs.)

Fuck you, Baji.

(for leaving. for not listening. for insisting. he's a child, mikey's so old, so tired. he wonders, for a second, if baji had been alive, he'd get it at this age.

probably fucking not.)

[He'd get up, to follow him.

He was a child, comparatively. So the No You was strong with him.

But Mikey was actin' like a child. Running away from his problems; putting distance over solutions and calling that band aid a fix.

Baji already told him; he wasn't backing down.]

...you gonna treat your best friend like that? I know you don't wanna.

My best friend? You were never my best friend.

(because this fucker had been so many things in his life. his anchor, his first love, his captain. best friend feels feeble, and it feels like that to describe so many of the manji. but once they're in a more stable ground, that means mikey can kick.

it's not the temple that he aims for, although he does do the move for it, as misdirection. instead, it's his entire strength, down to the ribs. could be his imagination, but something cracked, he heard.)

[He'd take the sentence on the nose, and the kick directly to the ribs. After years of sparring with him, he should have known better. Known a decoy kick when he saw one teeing up. But considering he'd just been mopping himself up off the floor a day or so ago, his game's off. Everything is off. Wrong.

What was the point of everything he'd done and lost if Mikey was gone?

Even now, suddenly clutching at the siding of the tower, that was the prevailing thought.

...He'd definitely cracked a rib.

Looking up at him with fierce, fiery eyes, he'd hack a little-- and then spit the blood directly at Mikey's shirt, so he'd have a nice little souvenir. He wasn't forgetting him that easy.

And then, he'd continue to follow.]

You're gonna have to kill me... I won't stop. Knock me out. I'll wake up and find you. Call me names. I don't care. I won't stop, Manjiro. I won't leave you.

(worst part of everything is - the dark impulse isn't even dictating his actions, it's the slightest brainfog, even if it's still there. he's as aware of his every action as he'd ever been. it's not particularly different from what mikey's done to the entire manji when they came to look for him, once he ghosted.

making them hate him. it just hurts more, because-- it's a boy who's been gone. decades of him whispering into mikey's ear, whether real or otherwise, and he now can hear it clear as ever. decades of longing and mourning, and here he is, about to sacrifice it all over again. so, the blood only allows mikey to pierce the other's gaze, before he does go for the temple kick.)

Not a problem.

[Heh.

he'd have been stupid not to see this one coming. He'd practically dared him.

So at the same time Mikey kicked, Baji would lunge forward with his full weight, aiming to grab him around his middle into an embrace as they'd fall crashing forward; likely a hard fall and tumble, if he managed it. But if he managed it, he'd have Mikey in his arms, and it would be a little harder for him to fuss his way out.

If he didn't manage it, he'd wipe out, and his ego would be spared; he'd probably black out from hitting the roof.]

(the worst part about having lost so much weight is not withholding the tackle, he's got not that much mass to sustain it. but fuck, a little bump to the head is never going to stop him from anything. he's suffered worst injuries.)

That's all you've got, motherfucker?

[He'd wrap both arms around him, hard, and turn them, using his superior weight to pin Mikey, and going to put his forehead to the slim man's, and looking down at him with that same fire.

He's hurting now; that arm, his ribs, his stomach, his heart; but that's never held him back before.]

Don't run from me, Mikey. Stop it. Stop it.

You're an adult now. Act like it.

(he's never been particularly good from this position in a fight. mostly out of lack of practice, it's not like many people can sweep him off his feet.

and yet, all he can do is headbutt. if baji can be adamant, he can, too.)

And you're a child. This is not a movie, Baji.

Ow, fuck, you little fucker...

[Wincing, but shaking it off like rain.

His fingers would dig into his back, sink into his shirt; a nearly bruising grip on his flesh.

And he'd shift to rest his head against his neck.

...He didn't even smell the same no more.]

...I know this ain't a movie. But you said what you did to Sanzu-- you did it because you couldn't help it. Sumthin evil came over you, right? And you're tryin' to protect us from that.

...But right now, Mikey, this isn't 'sumthin evil'. This is all you; I can tell.

You want me to leave you alone? Fine.

[Sighing against his skin, thinking it over.]

Then look me in the eye and tell me you're happy I died; and that you'll never forgive me; and that you never want to see me again. Period. That means no whispers, no spies, not in your dreams, not talking to me in your head--

[Because let's face it, he did know him, and if Mikey had isolated himself then he was playing with puppets of memories, talking to friends in his drug-induced hallucinations, and sending out pawns to keep watch on everyone's health and progress; all from a high tower, while telling himself he didn't care.]

Tell me you wish I was 100% gone from your life; every memory, all the inside jokes, the firsts; and fine. I'll do it. I'll go.

But you gotta look me in the eye, or it don't count. Tell me you don't love me no more.

...

(he's good at the gaslighting, not so much the straight up lying. he can't do what baji's asked him, so instead, the empty eyes simply goggle at each and every word. for fuck's sake, baji knows him down to the mental illness.

he can't do it. instead, he slowly frees himself from the grip, as if he's given up the fight. he has, in a way, only to find another strategy.)

... Can you walk?

...yeah, I can walk.

[He's relieved.

But he hadn't intended to give up, anyway.

He'd get to his knees, guileless, and start to push himself up. If Mikey attacked him now, that would be that. He'd dropped his defenses, and he was tired.]

We're going somewhere.

(maybe, just maybe, with the mistake he's about to do, he might show a smidge of mercy and help the other up. he must be so fucked, with that cracked rib, his arms, his headache (twice). it's the least.)

Call Takemichi. Tell him to meet us at my door.

Um-- okay.

[He accepts the help, in a rare show. He's been in worse shape before, but nothing quite sinks into the bones directly like a Mikey hit, and he's feeling it. He'd definitely give another soft hack and take a hard breath before dailing up Takemichi--

To say that he was with Mikey, and Mikey wanted them both. To meet by his door; and no, he didn't know more than that.

His tone would be gruff, but calm; vaguely optimistic. The breathing a little labored.

But progress. This was progress.

Once the call had happened, he'd follow Mikey. As requested.]

(the trip to the shadowlands is never a comfortable one, always dangerous, tempestuous, and nerve-wrecking, but eventually, they make it. mikey'd take most of the steering, and well, hopefully, that makes them even, with how sore his arms are with trying to keep a boat afloat in the storm.

in front of his door he stands, sitting on the floor and staring a little at his own hands. he's silent, waiting for takemichi to arrive as he tries to dry his own hair, back to the door.)

[The call ends, and Takemichi takes a deep, lengthy breath. Then he starts to run. He doesn't slow down until he sees Mikey and Baji in front of the door.

It's true. They're really here, waiting for him. Of course, Baji wouldn't lie like that. He has no reason to. But Takemichi still hadn't been able to believe what he'd heard. For Mikey to actually ask for him, even through Baji, is a miracle.

A miracle you never could achieve, whispers that little voice.

Takemichi opts to ignore it, instead focusing on his soaked sandals as he stumbles to a stop and gasps for air.]

I... [Breathe. Breathe.] I'm here!

...yo.

[Greeted, sitting out front, picking at something at his knee. He still felt like shit, so he was mostly focusing on posture, on keeping his lungs free and clear.

But hey, now that the gang was all here...

Getting back to his feet slowly.]

Now that you are, maybe Mikey will tell us what the hell this is gonna be about.

[And it better not be another escape act, though something was niggling at him; something dark, which seemed to stick a finger right in his fresh wounds and wonder why Takemichi even needed to be here.

Which was fucking stupid-- of course he did. The kid had something. Something none of the rest of them did, something vital and alive that Mikey needed. And he'd never begrudge anyone that, so why was the back of his mind hissing one? This place and it's fucking tricks.

Shaking it off as exhaustion, he'd give Takemichi a nod.]

(he's just going to roll his eyes to baji's comment, before coming into his feet, no greeting other than a motion for them to follow inside. within his door, the scenario is none other than the familiar dojo where mikey grew up in. all in its place, and if it wasn't all messed up like all the doors were, it could have been a good place to live in.

better than the ruins of a house he nests in, poorly renovated and falling apart. no penthouse for him yet.

once they're secured and the door closes, mikey is just walking towards the back, fingers touching the wood of the exterior part of the house until he turns around and speaks.)

Both of you are shit at taking directions. I decided on something. You two want to help, then you're going to help, and you want to talk, then we will be able to talk, and I don't need to be around you for that. That minimizes the risks. We're becoming soulmates. That way, you two get what you fucking want and I don't need to be around you for that, so you two can leave me the fuck alone.

(and, so, he'll guide. further at the back, there's izana. it's not truly him, naturally, as the image flicks and dances before their eyes. tan skin, empty eyes, grin, and the earrings matching the back of mikey's neck.)

Touch him.

[Baji gets a sloppy, barely-there nod in return, the best Michi can muster as he fails to catch his breath. His body's desperate cry for rest isn't about to stop him now, however, and he dutifully follows the others through Mikey's door.

Straight into a scolding.

He can feel his heart squeeze at the thought that he rushed all the way here just to be pushed away again, just to get another earful about how dangerous Mikey is. (Honestly, what more can the guy do to him? Kill him? He already did!) Takemichi curls his hands into fists at his sides, and just as the pressure begins to burn in his palms, he hears the last word he could have ever expected.

The tension evaporates from his body, and he blinks, properly confounded.]

Soulmates? Mikey, what're you... talking... about?

[Michi trails off, wide eyes locked on Izana's image.]

Oh.

(catch-all/open) hold up, i'm invincible

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