warintheextreme | [For Takatora]

When I left the grounds of the Kusugami clan, the home of my forebears, I had every reason in the world to believe that it was the right choice.

Sure, I had to leave behind my name, and my claim to a long line of men and women who had protected humanity at any and all costs. Sure, I was more or less damning my little brother to a life and responsibility that he had no desire for.

But I'd always known that Aguri was more suited to the Makai life. And I'd always known that my strength, my power, my focus, lie elsewhere.

So I left them behind. I still wear Aguri's ring (as I'd had to give him mine when I forsook my place in the line of succession), and I know that if I ever needed him to come to me, he'd know. So it's not as if I was totally excommunicated.

I still had to take an assumed surname, though. Of course I did! Makai records and human records are not the same thing. There are records of Kusugamis throughout history doing things that are not generally considered... proper, by human standards.

And anyway, I want to succeed, or fail, on my own merits.

So I enrolled in university. I fabricated myself a false past in which I am an only child lost my parents at a young age.

My classes are going well, and I'm glad for that much, because everything else is proving to be surprisingly complicated. From needing to sleep at night so I can go to class during the day, to the constant low-grade fear that there might be Horrors on this campus and I could do nearly nothing to defend myself or anyone else against them...

And now, to add insult to every tiny injury, now I have to fight with this infernal machine that is adamant on keeping my limited money from me, and refusing to give me anything to eat in return.

"Damn thing." I mutter under my breath. I've got the front panel of the input pad open and am trying to figure out which combination of wires will actually deliver my food, or return my money. Either would be fine.

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"I wasn't warned." I say absently, still absorbed in my focus. I think I've just about got it, and I glance up at the stranger when he tells me he doesn't think my efforts will be fruitful, my upper lip pulled back in a sardonic snarl.

"We'll see about that."

I turn my focus back to the machine, but I'm aware of him now, standing almost too near me, inappropriately so. Do I know him? Is he in any of my classes? "Hm?"

I do believe he just asked me out to eat with him. Not just to accompany him to the cafeteria inside the dormitory- though I know it exists, I have never been, and anyway, it would be closed at this time of night.

"I would rather have my money back first." I say calmly. "My funds are limited... Ah!" I grin, to myself really, when the machine trills at me, and then the sound of falling coins.

"Success." I whisper, sweeping the returned coins out of the tray at the bottom of the input panel. It's returned two 100 yen coins more than I had initially put in, so I reach up to set those two on top of the machine, intent on returning them once I get the front panel put back together.

I can't tell if he's saying no, if he is dismissing me, or if he is simply delaying the offer until his focus is reclaimed. So I wait, and watch, as he... actually gets his money back, and then some, setting 200 yen on top of the machine while he puts it back together.

I wonder if he simply does not need the money, if his efforts were more of principle than of need.

I consider pocketing the coins, to give to him later, but refrain from doing so. Instead I just turn slightly, and lean against the side of the machine, hands in my pockets, posture at a casual slouch.

Hair, that I have been working on growing out, just covering my eyes.

"Impressive."

His voice is a low rumble when he... seems to be praising me, and I wonder why he even cares. I start to piece the panel back together, putting the wires in place and screwing the input pad back on and generally leaving the machine exactly as I initially found it. Then, once that's done, I reach up for the two coins I had set aside, and put them back into the machine.

"There." I lift my right hand, gripping the length of my fringe, stroking and tugging slightly- straightening it and centering the presentation of the streak in my hair. It's a habit I've had since it was long enough to do so, and I'm very good at it. Then I slightly tighten the hold of the tie in the back of my hair, brush both hands down my shirt (a simple button-down in a fine light green plaid) and turn to face my erstwhile audience of one properly.

"Thank you." I accept his praise, staring intently into his eyes for just a moment before looking away.

"You had mentioned food. As in, you know of somewhere that is open and available at this time of night. If the offer still stands, I would gladly accompany you." I wince a little bit as the words come out of my mouth, then glance up at him again. "I'm sorry. I sound like a-" I was going to say something incriminating, like a manky old Priest that's used to talking to his brushes, but that would be really dumb so I correct myself with hardly a pause. "A computer or something. I don't know why I talk like that."

I think the word might be endearing... yes, perhaps that is the word, for what he is doing with the streak in his hair. Smoothing it down, making it, I suppose, more presentable, as well as himself, tightening the tie holding part of his hair back, brushing his hands down the front of his silly - but cute? - plaid shirt.

I feel a bit self conscious about my own appearance, watching him, and scratch idly at the bit of scruff that's gathering on my jawline, something father would not approve of, even at this late hour. My jeans are beginning to tear over the knees from too much wear, and my shirt is less than immaculate.

I give him a smile, before I can think better of it. "You don't sound that much like a computer." It's actually nice, hearing someone speak as formally as I am accustomed to, with the same desire to perhaps change that patter.

"I do know a place that is open, yes. It' a small all night café." It is within walking distance, thankfully. I do not need to call a car to bring me there. "And it seems like the weather tonight is favorable."

I watch him carefully, but I am already fairly certain he's not a Horror.

I hope that assumption doesn't come back to bite me, later.

I am hungry.

He smiles, and I manage to smile back at him. It's not the most familiar expression, for me to see or make. But it's very human, and I appreciate his effort though for as casually as he carries himself, he also speaks with a certain stilted measure that is familiar to me. Not Makai, but... cultured, I suppose would be the word.

"This is awfully forward." I say softly, meeting his eyes again. "But I accept, on the condition that you tell me your name. Mine is Sengoku Ryouma." The assumed surname rolls off my tongue easily- that I have had a chance to practice. But for just a moment, the Soul Metal ring on my left hand feels just a shade too heavy, just a touch too warm.

"Kureshima Takatora." I offer him, a hint of that cursed smile tugging at one corner of my mouth again.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Sengoku Ryouma." I greet him properly, pushing myself away from the vending machine and bowing formally, as it befits someone of my station, despite how much I continue to attempt to hide my station.

Once introductions have been observed, I gesture for him to walk with me, as I head for the door leading out of the dorm.

"Are you a first year as well?" I feel I should at least attempt small talk with him, as I continue o steal glances at him. He's very attractive.

He moves away from the machine to bow to me, and I offer him the courtesy in return.

He's stopped smiling already, at least stopped smiling though I can still catch the twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. A shame.

"Very good." I fall into step, just a half step behind him, but otherwise right beside him. He leads me outside, and I keep an eye out to try and remember this path we are taking, in case I should want to find this supposed cafe on my own in the future.

"Yes, this is my first year." I say. "My focus is on theoretical physics and engineering. And you?"

Theoretical physics and engineering. Those both sound so... so much more fascinating than what I am studying.

What I am required to study.

"Ah," both hands in my pockets, I slouch forward a bit, bowing my head, hiding my face in my bangs. "I am a business major." I confess, finally. Shyly. It is not my major passion, but then, I don't really know what my major passion is.

The night is warm, the moon almost full, lighting our path. There is a warm spring breeze blowing at our hair, I can feel it kissing the back of my neck. I feels quite pleasant.

Sakura blooming earlier in the day, petals scattered across our path. Ridiculous.

As ridiculous as the white streak in his hair.

He's slouching, and his voice is soft. Self-conscious, somehow. I know the tone.

"That sounds interesting. What kind of classes go along with such a profession?"

The path we are traveling is very nice. Almost picturesque. No, definitely picturesque.

Were my father here, I'm sure he'd have something to say about how beauty is fleeting and dangerous and Horrors thirst for positivity and light, they hunger for everything they can't create for themselves. That kind of stuff.

But this just feels nice.

I think I am potentially making a friend.

[For Takatora]

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