recolle | (Closed) Like drunken fist but with swords

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ghost in the shell: togusa

(Closed) Like drunken fist but with swords

WHO: Jirou and Togusa
WHERE: The park
WHEN: 1/2
WHAT: Togusa wants to see Jirou swing his sword around and is willing to pay him booze to see it.
WARNINGS: Jirou is a drunk. Otherwise it's a safe thread.

Jirou normally was not the type to go out of his way to do something strenuous. Mainly because that was likely to sober him up. He really saw no reason to do that when his entire goal in life was to be drunk. So very drunk.

This was why he'd told his friend that he wanted to have alcohol brought to him if he was going to show off how to use his sword. Three bottles of sake. One before he started and one after. Then one for later of course! There had been a good reason for picking the number three, you know. Jirou was a drunk but he could be quite the clever one when he felt like applying himself.

Humming a little, he sat on a bench with an impressively long sword leaning next to him. And by impressively long what that meant was that the blade and hilt came out to be over six feet tall. Definitely not a normal sword length!

When he saw his friend, he waved.

"Hi Togu!"

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This little gettogether was driven by stubborn curiosity more than anything else. Togusa thinks of the cliched picture of the skilled swordsman, and Jirou is the last person who would come to mind. But here is this incredibly charming, high-spirited man who nonetheless seems to have great skill with an unconventional weapon.

So, an opportunity to get to know a friend better, and to maybe rectify some of the contradiction that Jirou seems to be. Togusa raises a hand in a wave, his other hand clutching a bag with the promised bottles. Togu. Around Jirou, nicknames seem to be another constant. Okay, he'll take it.

"Jirou. It's good to see you!" The glass clinks as he puts it all down. "Brought you some of my favorite, figured it was a good price."

Jirou threw his hands up in the air with a triumphant cry. "Yay! Sake!"

Leaning forward, he fished through the bag until he got one of the bottles. With the ease of an expert, he opened up the bottle and was drinking from it without a care for the fact that he didn't have a cup or glass. Technically he did have a cup but he was just fine with this.

"Waaaah! So tasty!"

He giggled and then patted the spot next to him on the bench. "Sit! Sit!"

They're three different flavors of the same brand. Togusa's favorite is that apple-flavored one, but he will admit that he got three different kinds just to see if everything was back now. He smiles and shakes his head as he sits down next to Jirou.

"Guess that means the flavor of sake came back alongside rice?" He chuckles at Jirou's enthusiasm, it's infectious. "I almost want to thank Retrospec for the experience. It's easier to appreciate things once you've lost them for a little while."

"Sake-chan is back to normal. I'm so happy!" He laughed and had another drink. Because he fully intended to finish this bottle before he started to show off. Just to make sure the tank was full as it were. Something something finely tuned engine. He couldn't remember how that saying went.

"I don't want to thank them. It was mean and uncalled for to break the flavor of alcohol! It didn't do anything to deserve that!"

'Sake-chan' gets another laugh out of Togusa, he really can't believe it. "Of course I'd rather they not be involved in our lives, at all. But the appreciation is a wonderful feeling."

"When we got blue back, my friend Koutarou and I just went on a painting spree. I don't have anywhere near his skill, but it didn't matter. We churned out whole sheets of childish scribbling or even fingerpainting, in every shade of blue we could find. It was fun. Like we hadn't really appreciated blue until then."

"Awwww! That sounds like so much fun! I just went on a shopping spree myself."

Because that's far more in his realm than art really. Even if he kind of was a work of art himself. Jirou giggled then patted his sword. "By the way this is the sword. It's me actually!"

Complicated right?

Togusa pulls the greatest face. "Oh, not again! Okay. Kenta had some trouble explaining this to me, so," he holds out a hand. "One thing at a time. The memories Retrospec is giving you, they're of- being a sword?"

He laughed, obviously not at all offended by where this had gone. "That's right. This sword right here. I'm this sword. Jiroutachi is the name."

"Kenta had mentioned something about tsukumogami, and, I'm familiar with the stories." A pause. "Never about a sword, though."

"Are you two the same? Gained souls through extended use?"

"Yep! Apparently there are a bunch of us! I don't know all the details yet but now we have these human bodies and we hold our sword selves."

He patted the sheathed blade. "Like I said, this is me."

“But, I guess, what about you? That’s all well and good for the life that Retrospec is making you remember, but you’ve got a life now. The sword stuff is neat, something I know I cant even fathom, but you’re more important than that.” Togusa cant hide the note of concern overriding his confusion. Something about the whole story that Kenta told him has not been sitting well with him, but he camt figure out what it is that bothers him.

Jirou tilted his head now. Yep, he had no idea what his friend was talking about. "I don't know what you're asking honestly..."

Maybe if he talks it through better, Togusa can figure out what bothers him. "Retrospec is presenting you with this story. A sword that became a person, and that person, what Kenta said was given a human form to be able to fight on their own."

"That's all well and good, but what does it have to do with the you of now? Jirou."

"Why can't they both be me?" He tilted his head but it was clear he wasn't the least bit bothered by finding out that there was another version of him. Or a past him. Or maybe him that he didn't remember.

"I don't see why accepting this other life as my own erases my life now."

"Is it easier to think of because you've already been reincarnated once, in a sense?" Togusa supposes. "From the soul granted to the sword, into a human body, and now into another human form?"

"I actually accepted it before I knew any of that. From my first memory." Jirou gave a shrug and looked up at the sky as he finished his alcohol. "Everyone has their own way of thinking about it. I just didn't see any reason why I should be troubled over whether or not any of it was me. It's just all me."

Togusa looks at Jirou very thoughtfully. "It's a much simpler way of looking at it, to be sure. If you can accept it," Togusa waves his hand, "then I apologize for bringing it into question."

"There are a lot of people who fear that Retrospec is trying to over-write our current selves. But we can see that the changes they make are reversible. So, maybe when these other people are fully developed, they can leave us."

Jirou waved his hand and stood up, taking the sword and unsheathing it so he could rest the sheathe against the bench again. Seriously the blade was enormous. Way longer than your average sword.

"I don't think they're overwriting anything honestly. I'm still me. I still have all of my memories of this life." Jirou shifted the sword.

"Are you ready to see this?"

Togusa greatly appreciates the lighter change of topic. It's refreshing to see Jirou's perspective on what is happening to them, even as Togusa retains some of his own worries. He rubs his hands together and shifts on the bench.

"Absolutely. This is so far away from anything I've seen before." His gaze pans across the length of the blade. "How can you even lift that thing?"

"My new muscles."

Who totally lifted his shirt up to show off an impressive six pack and hard pectorals? Was it Jirou? Yes. Yes it was. He smiled as he did then lowered his shirt again before taking a breath and stepping back...a lot. Just so he couldn't hit him accidentally.

"Make sure my sheathe doesn't fall if you would! Thanks!"

"Uh-" Thank you for that, Jirou. He's used to the antithesis of body modesty out of Mariko, Jirou still throws him for a loop. The man has zero shame. "It's like what happened to Tatsuo." Best comment he can come up with.

He does as instructed, and keeps a hand on the scabbard, making sure it doesn't slide to the side. Togusa falls silent, ready to watch whatever it is that Jirou feels ready to show him.

Jirou was about to move when he...

...he felt Togusa touch the sheath of his sword.

He froze and then slowly looked at the man. "Could you lift your hand then touch it again?"

...Jirou what?

Togusa's brow wrinkles very tightly, but he does as instructed, letting go of the scabbard, giving Jirou a second, and then touching it again, just like he had before. He says nothing, hoping to not distract Jirou from whatever he is figuring out.

He blinked and then slowly walked over and held out the blade carefully.

"Gently touch the blade. Please."

He could...feel this?

Somehow, he knew this was where it was going. Togusa is exceptionally careful, just like when he was testing out Dante's sword. But he gets the feeling Jirou is looking for something very different than Dante was.

It's me.

Togusa keeps his hand flat, making sure to touch the side of the blade, keeping fingers away from the edge. An uncertain tremble makes his fingertips slide over the solid metal, just an inch.

Jirou gave a little laugh as he pulled his sword back and looked at it. That was...not what he'd expected to happen. "I can feel your hand on my sword. I can feel the moment you touch it and the moment you stop."

It was...amazing.

Togusa is still speechless for a few seconds, because how!? His mouth falls open and he shakes his head, not in disbelief, but in shock. "You, and Kenta, you said, that you were the swords. You are. Still?"

"They're still a physical part of you?" He is struggling so hard to try to understand.

"Well yes. This is me. I am this."

Jirou touched the blade of his sword fondly then stepped back. Stepping into an attack stance, he started to cut through the air as if he'd been using this sword his entire life rather than just a few months.

Only now he was sure he felt closer to this blade than ever. It really was...him.

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(Closed) Like drunken fist but with swords

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