recolle | [OPEN] Have I carved enough my lord?

[OPEN] Have I carved enough my lord?

WHO: Soujirou Katsuki & YOU
WHERE: Various places around town + in dreams
WHEN: 18th - 22th-ish
WHAT: Nightmare + Dreamscape
WARNINGS: Blood & gore, some headless asshole running about, chronic illness, quite possibly suicide-by-friend

***

i. Ikeda-ya (Dream) I met a man who lost his mind

[Whatever nightmare you might've been trying to escape, your flight appears to have landed you in a darkened building that smells rather strongly of blood. Even in the gloom, it's possible to see it splashed in black ribbons across the white surface of the shoji, which in many places are torn or simply kicked down.

There are muffled sounds in the distance suggesting some kind of commotion, possibly still ongoing battle, but inside the building in itself it is eerily still. Except what was that? A motion just outside, a harsh exhalation of breath, a tense voice speaking words that are just beyond hearing. Follow the adjacent wall, and you'll look into the yard outside just in time to a tall, wild-eyed man pinning a teenage boy to the ground. There is a flash of white and blue stained with more blood, and Soujirou - Souji - decapitates the man in one smooth arc of his sword.

The memory is meant to end there, as the head of the fallen foe spins through the air and lands with a sickening thud on the ground. But instead, the huge bulk of the fallen man's body, headless and missing one arm, gets up and lurches in the direction of whoever has invaded the dream, wielding sword he snatched from the boy's unresisting hands with his blood-smeared one. The youth on the ground lets out a terrified scream, and Soujirou's face is white with shock in the darkness.]

Watch out!

ii. Hospital (Dream) In some lost place I had to find

[This dream is a far cry from an old-fashioned Japanese inn drenched in blood and shambling corpses. There is nothing particularly dramatic about the scene at all. There's just Soujirou, curled up and alone on a hospital bed. It's not just the vulnerable posture; he really is a lot younger here, maybe 17 or so. He's got a nasal cannula affixed to his face to supply him with extra oxygen, and the constant beep of an oxygen meter is the only thing that breaks the silence

He winces when he realizes he's got company, instinctively pulling the sheet covering him further up his chest. But then he gestures a bit listlessly to a chair apparently meant for visitors.]

You can stay here until I wake up, I guess. Usually something that'll make me, but they're pretty boring dreams apart from that. [With how tense and uncomfortable he seems, 'boring' doesn't quite appear to be the right word, but humor him.]

iii. Somewhere in Recollé (Dreamscape) Follow me the wise man said, but he walked behind

[There's someone following Soujirou.

It's not a monster, nothing like the nightmarish apparitions some people have been haunted by. It's just... a man. Early thirties, perhaps, though the wrinkles around his eyes and across his forehead signifies someone who has aged further through sleepless nights and gnawing worry. He wears old-fashioned Japanese clothes, like everyone else out of Soujirou's memories, and wears a thick pair of round glasses.

He carries a sword. He doesn't take his hand off the hilt.

Every time Soujirou goes outside, he sooner or later appears. Walking behind him, next to him. One of the faces in a cluster of strangers, rushing by in the opposite direction. His face is grave at all times, and there is a terrible edge of desperation in his gaze. Every time he moves closer to Soujirou, he can see his hand tighten around that sword.

He never stops following. After days and days of it, without so much as a single word or direct acknowledgment of this constant companion, Soujirou is starting to get desperate. That's probably the reason why he grabs the first person to pass him in the street, be they friend or complete stranger, and loops his arm in around theirs, falling into step with a cheerful smile that is more than a little strained.]

Can you walk with me for a while? Please?

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Holy fuck.

[ honestly, decapitating people really isn't majima's speed anyway so the whole start of this thing was gorier than he was expecting but the fact that the headless corpse is wandering towards him is a whole other level.

oddly enough, though, he's not scared -- a fact he finds surprising, too. after this month, after his memories, blood doesn't really bother him. the idea that someone might decapitate someone is pretty crazy but he's got other shit to worry about. namely not getting skewered by the fucking headless samurai nightmare warrior. luckily for them (?) they're in a battle and i'm gonna assume there's some other stray swords around so he'll just. grab one of those.

the way he holds it though -- soujirou should recognize it pretty easily. it's the same way sakura holds hers. the same way okita souji held his. (this is what happens when your canon has a shinsengumi au and they dont want to remake the models for holding swords when they make a new game and now we all magically swordfight exactly like our shinsengumi counterparts.) he runs, recklessly, at the corpse to engage it in battle which seems highly stupid, but fight or flight and guess which he picked. ]

Are there gonna be more of these things?

[Soujirou on the other hand, once the inevitability of the memory breaks down, looks sickened and horrified by what just happened. It's honestly as much the shock of the violence that keeps him frozen for a second there, as the absurdity of seeing his slain enemy get up once more.

But yes, there are indeed swords present for Majima to snag. They are currently in the hands of the two other spectators to the scene, but needs must and all that. The shorter of the two - Shinpachi, not that Soujirou remembers his name yet - lets out an offended Oi! as his sword is snatched away, but he quickly gets busy with backpedaling the fuck away from the shambling aberration. He's not going to squabble about a sword just now.

Majima's question at least snaps Soujirou out of it somewhat.]

I don't know! He's never done that before. [Which sounds stupid, but look, this is not how the memory goes? He moves in closer, trying to get an opening which won't endanger Majima as well, just as the headless man lurches unexpectedly to the side and swings his sword at Majima's head.]

[because i love to die so OF COURSE--

Of course Kashuu struggles in this scenario. It's not just the gruesome show of a headless, armless man pinwheeling his way. It's the familiarity. It's the broken blade. It's the familiarity of this building - the stench of iron, the low-hanging moon, the way that lantern oil and blood soak into the shoji screens and woven tatami.

It's the phantom feeling of blood against his body, of that precious person who had held him so passionately spitting out blood onto him, onto his hand, onto the floor, all down the front of his already bloodied haori. That frigid fear disorients him, and it's pure instinct that kicks in to guide his motions once Soujirou shouts.

He draws his blade, blocking a strike and not hesitating even a second before he goes in for a strike of his own.]

—What the hell is this thing, huh?!

[CLEARLY NOT HUMAN or they're just cursed with really weird nightmares, either way.]

I- I thought he was human.

[Soujirou has to shake his head to clear it of the numbing shock that's lying like a blanket over his thoughts. True, the man in the memory had been terrifying, and so had the act of cutting off his head, but this is different. Nothing like this ever happened before.

Without having to think about it, he moves in between the shambling corpse and the boy on the ground. But the thing is apparently not interested in them right now. It takes Kiyomitsu's blade in a glancing arc across its torso, before staggering off to the right suddenly. It grasps at something on the ground, coming up with its own head hanging by the hair from his sword hand. The tip of a broken blade is still clenched between its teeth, even though Soujirou is sure that it's supposed to have flown off somewhere.]

It's got-! [That's all he manages before the corpse charges for Kiyomitsu again, swinging head and sword all in one motion.]

[It's impossible to ignore the blade swinging at him on many different levels. One, because it's obviously horrific - the gruesome sight of a decapitated man swinging his own head and a broken blade would be enough to unnerve almost anyone.

But the blade itself, and seeing it come at him in an offensive way like that - seeing it handled like this in general - draws forth a heavy and horrible feeling that settles in the pit of his stomach.

Not that he has any time to ponder, of course. The blade swings, he dodges, blade raised. The edge of the broken piece slides against the side of his own whole sword, and the shriek of metal-on-metal is profoundly unpleasant to his ears. Still, though-- still. He has to focus. Being overwhelmed in battle mentally is the first step toward loss.

So he focuses on something more tangible for now, less personal than the problem directly at hand.]

Get that kid out of here!

[Even though there's a small part of him that wants to retort, "Why? It's just a dream!" every other part of him is already way ahead of Kiyomitsu. Grabbing the boy by the hand and pulling him with him, he practically shoves him into the hands of the bigger of their two spectators, both still watching in apparent horror and confusion.]

Take care of him

[There's two of them and they both have swords; they should be fine. He doesn't have time to go anywhere with the kid, not when his friend is still right there, fighting some kind of undead horror.

The swung head is making an unpleasant gurgling, wheezing sound, as if it's trying to breathe through a throat not connected to any lungs. It dribbles blood around the bit of sword, its eyes open and focused. At least the body doesn't seem to go in for anything like finesse while fighting, opting for simply wailing mercilessly on Kiyomitsu with its one good arm, head and sword moving like clubs.

Managing to catch the sword against his own as he dives forward to help, Soujirou grits his teeth as he's shoved back against the wall.]

Take a leg off. [It seems like the most practical way of stopping it at this point.

[If he let himself stop to think about it, he'd probably be sickened to some degree. Not even a full year ago, he'd been an entirely normal human - the sort of person to wrinkle his nose even at the realistic violence in video games. Never one for screamer-style horror, for the blood and gore flicks. The first time he recalled a battlefield, he had to actively keep himself from thinking about the stench of bodies burning and the heavy smell of iron.

Now, hearing Soujirou say something so brutal - albeit practical - is less a call to alarm and more a call to action. Following a guiding hand has become more and more natural to him thanks to the memories he's recalling, and his mind barely has time to catch up before his body automatically carries out the command.

He darts forward with more speed and sureness than an entirely normal human would be capable of. With that same certainty - not a lick of hesitation - he brings his blade through the air in a sweeping sideways arc. It slices through the undead man's leg as easily as one might take to paper with scissors. He can feel the warmth of it, the resistance of the bone.

The figure makes a horrific noise, lurching forward but unable to balance. It's entirely open for Soujirou.]

[If he had even a moment to think, to realize what he'd just said, he'd be horrified. Even if this... this thing is barely recognizable as one anymore, it used to be a human once. Even if it's just a dream, that doesn't make it any less gruesome.

But he has no time to think, no time to do anything but react and do what feels necessary. Maybe that is also why, once he has an opening, he doesn't go for any of the remaining arm. That would be the sensible thing to do, since without any arms at all there's no way for it to wield a sword.

But the moment he has the chance, all he can focus on is that repulsive grimace, the glint of metal in its mouth, the eyes which seem to be looking right at him. The swipe is wild and impulsive, but somehow manages to land with enough precision and force to split the head open with a noise like an ax encountering a particularly meaty coconut.

The body wobbles for a moment, and then slowly topples backwards. Soujirou wobbles a bit too, and then has to press the sleeve of his uniform to his mouth for a moment to stave off the urge to be sick.]

Like this memory wasn't gross enough. [Is he laughing feebly or just kind of choking? Hard to tell.]

[Gruesome is definitely a good way to put it. Even though he's slowly becoming somewhat desensitized, it's still a bit of a shock to hear that sound, to see the blade sink through this creature's head, and to watch it topple backward, dead. ...Dead twice-over now, maybe?

He doesn't dwell.

Instead, he darts forward, at Soujirou's side in a second. He steps expertly around the fallen form, and reaches out to lightly touch his elbow once he's close enough to do so.]

You okay? That was-- a lot.

[To say the least... He's still on high alert in case zombie man decides to make a third revival appearance, but a fair chunk of his attention is anchored firmly on Soujirou now.]

[ This scene makes Sakura uncomfortable for some reason.

Deeply so. But she can't put her finger on why.

Ever since she had the memory that she collapsed on the floor of a Japanese styled inn, she just really disliked them now.

But in a flash, her sword comes out in one smooth motion. She slices the body lurching towards her into pieces beyond repair. Sakura grimaces. ]

Yeuch. You okay?

[ Sakura address the boy, who runs away in terror, yelling all the while. ]

Huh.

[Well, that... sure was a thing that just happened.

Soujirou looks away from the carnage of the shredded body for a moment, trying not to be sick. (What happens when you're sick in dreams, anyway?) The boy can't actually run that far, not without leaving the yard, so he ends up just cowering behind Soujirou in the end. But both him and the two other spectators - two other warriors in Shinsengumi uniforms off to the left of Sakura - don't do much more than that. They're memory people, and the memory was supposed to end at the beheading. Currently Soujirou's mind doesn't know what to do with them, and so they just stare at their comrade and this newly arrived woman.

Soujirou drops the sword he's holding, shuddering.]

Thank you. I don't know what just happened, but... thank you for dealing with it. [His chest feels tight, painful, and he's far too aware of his own breathing.] Are you okay?

I'm fine, I'm just...

[ Sakura looks around the scene, the discomfort on her face readily apparent. ]

I walked into one of those fog things again.

[ It wasn't just the fact that she walked into a memory, it was the fact that she walked into a memory that seemed way too familiar. She clutches her sword just a bit tighter. She walks over carefully towards Soujirou, as if trying not to disturb anything as she does so. ]

I thought it might have been mine, but I thought otherwise... Soujirou-san, this is your memory?

[ She pauses, just in front of him. ]

It's mine.

[Soujirou shifts uncomfortably where he stands, and the blood-soaked ground squelches underfoot. He's just going to... shift to a somewhat dryer spot, awkwardly maintaining eye contact.]

Usually I watch the boy and that man fight from over there- [He gestures to behind the two warriors staring at them, right where a couple of shoji screens have been smashed wide open, and there are a lot of blood smears on the ground.]

Then I- I cut that man's head off, and the memory ends. [This is not the pressure on his lungs that he's used to. It feels sharp, rattles with every breath, and his mouth tastes like blood.] Do you have... memories that look like this?

Hmm...

[ She ignores the squelching on the ground, if only because that seems oddly familiar too. ]

Not the same content, but...

[ Sakura sighs and closes her eyes, as if remembering something unpleasant. Her eyes flutter open again after a second. ]

A Japanese inn with blood stained shoji screens. I've grown to dislike that.

I don't like it much either.

[He huffs out a wan little laugh, and then feels something catch in his chest in the process. Trying to keep himself from coughing, he keeps talking with a strained and slightly raspy voice.]

There's another memory too, I think it's from this place as well. I think... before this memory, someone hurt me somehow. Probably that man. [He nods toward a mess of blood.] So I have a memory from after this battle, of someone taking care of me. Still same building, but it doesn't feel so awful then.

Was it a gentleman with strong arms and a gruff voice telling you that it was gonna be okay?

[ Sakura laughs gently, a hint of bitterness there. She really doesn't like this memory at all, because it's so viscerally painful for her. In the chest. And her thought. Coughing blood. And it seems like But she does notice that Soujirou's struggling to breathe. ]

Do you need to rest?

[ She says, gesturing towards a nearby stone bench that's thankfully not covered in blood. ]

... Pretty much, yeah.

[He looks around, and it's almost like the memory has frozen around them a bit, in a way. It doesn't know how to go on, although he feels sure that somehow it'll twist itself into a nightmare again soon enough. He feels... tired.]

I might as well. Come on. [He grabs her arm gently, needs something to hold on to, and at least there's blood on her too after she cut apart that zombie samurai or whatever he was. He can't do too much damage, as he walks the both of them over to the bench.]

Was it really this place? That you remember, I mean. Or did it just look a lot alike? Was it really here? [He's not sure if he hopes it is or isn't. Maybe if it is, it'll be nice to have someone who remembers something similar - someone, that is, who remembers being a person rather than a sword in this place.]

I don't know.

[ Sakura helps Soujirou on the way to the bench, gently helping him along. He's in real bad shape and it worries her. This memory must really take a lot out of him. ]

I don't like thinking about it too much. One minute, I'm fighting. The next, I'm on the floor coughing blood. Sometime later, I remember being taken away by a man with strong arms and a gruff voice.

[ She makes sure that he's settled down on the bench before sitting there herself. ]

Don't think too hard about breathing, just... calm down and let the air come back into your lungs.

[ spoken as someone who may know the pain in that chest a little too well. ]

[There is a momentary impulse to snap at her as she talks him through how to calm down and breathe, as if he doesn't already know. But he holds it back. She can't know that how much he's struggled with respiratory issues for years now, after all. Instead, he just smiles weakly.]

It's okay. I'm used to dealing with this kind of thing.

[To prove it, he spends a few seconds on his usual breathing exercises, although it doesn't do quite as much for what is bothering him now. Which is stupid, since all of what is happening right now isn't actually real.]

That's... so weird though. Your memory seems so similar to mine. [And she'd received the same sword as he had, too.] I don't remember collapsing or anything like that, but... [His hand goes to his chest.] I do remember problems breathing afterwards, and my mouth tasting of blood, and lying to the person comforting me about where the blood came from.

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[OPEN] Have I carved enough my lord?

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