jikan_rpg | [closed] come home with me

Entry tags:

[closed] come home with me

⌛ Who: Scaramouche & Kazuha
⌛ What: Plum blossom date
⌛ When: Early February
⌛ Where: Wakayama
⌛ Warnings: Smooches finally, Smol naked idiots

[It's become commonplace for Scaramouche to find himself over at Kazuha's home, ever since the samurai had gotten one of his own. His visits so frequent, often spending the night, that he's begun leaving things there - no reason to carry them back and forth even if teleportation was something he was capable of. Given what had happened the past month sleeping isn't something he often allows himself when he does end up staying, though Kazuha has managed to get him to do so a few times. The concern of what would happen if he had another nightmare far too present in his thoughts most nights.

So when Kazuha asks him to visit he thinks nothing of it, the request to bring more makeup than what he had laying around the man's home only garnering slight suspicion. Not once since he's known the other Inazuman has he ever seen him wear any, so for the samurai to suddenly ask is odd. Perhaps he was going somewhere later in the day? The Harbinger can't think of much reason past that, though he can't see much reason why the man would suddenly need to wear any to begin with.

For once when he arrives at the small village in Wakayama he doesn't immediately busy himself with climbing the tree in Kazuha's yard to enter through the window. For once he knocks like a normal person, waits patiently for Kazuha to open the door and let him inside. The neighbours are likely staring from that fact alone, though he doesn't bother looking back to see.

He takes a moment to slip his zori off, before turning pointedly towards the samurai. Hair recently cut, drawing all the more attention to the gaze he has fixed on the samurai.]

Since when do you wear makeup?

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I know I don't need to.

[But he does anyway, since while Kazuha cared little for material possessions, it seemed worth it to do a thing or two for others at times. Kazuha wants for nothing, save maybe a companion. Scaramouche, Diluc, even Vennessa make him feel a little less alone in the world. He just spends some time looking back at the other Inazuman fondly as he helps him into the haori, his heart warmed and pleased that his object of affection approves of how he looks.

Kazuha touches his hands to Scaramouche's chest. How calm and slow he must be, since he can never feel his heartbeat, never hear it. He wonders if he will today— a silly thought, fleeting as he pulls his hands away and steps briefly to gather the outfit he had picked for him.

It's notably not red either, in shades closer to what Scaramouche wears.]

I made some wagashi last night. You are free to pick which ones you want from the kitchen later.

[He might be spoiling him a little. Just a little.]

[Scaramouche can't hold back a sigh, a shake of his head following. It's not entirely uncommon for Kazuha to spend on him, he pays for food when they go out, sake when they're simply spending time together, even an entire outfit one one occasion - though he'd balanced it out by buying one for the man in return. Still these were all things he didn't need, a habit he didn't want the samurai getting into on a regular basis.]

Yet you do it anyway.

[Tone light yet scolding. The immortal gently rests his hands against Kazuha's wrists, colour faintly returning to his face. He's not certain what exactly the samurai is searching for, nor does he get much time to think on it, Kazuha moving away to pull out a second outfit.

He looks it over, folded neatly, pattern only just visible enough. Much like the kimono Kazuha had chosen to wear this one sports more blues and purples, accents of gold as his own outfits tended towards, though lacking in any red. It was no lie to say it would look good on him when it was something he likely would have considered purchasing himself.

Are his own preferences so obvious or was he simply spending far too much time around the other Inazuman?

A matter for another time he thinks, removing his own clothes hurry into the outfit selected for him.]

You make it sound like I have a sweet tooth.

[He does.]

I enjoy it.

[That at least is the simple truth. Scaramouche can lecture him all he likes, but he still will enjoy doing things for him. He could maybe blame it on his principles of subservience as a samurai, but really it's just that he enjoys spoiling him a little.

As Scaramouche busies himself with undressing— he steals at least one glance —Kazuha busies himself with his accessories. He doesn't have ears pierced normally, so he can't often wear earrings, but for this occasion he clips on two long, dangling red earrings. It's a sensation he's not uses to, and he can't help but tilt his head back and forth like a curious child.]

I never implied such. I was just telling you about the wagashi I made and offering to share them. Certainly I can't eat all of them myself, and how embarrassing would it be if bakeneko can't taste sweets?

[He stops playing with his earrings after a moment, moving onto pulling a red necklace tight around his throat.]

As long as you know it's not necessary.

[It's not something the immortal can talk Kazuha out of, changing him in a way more drastic than he'd been complaining about earlier. He doesn't suspect that this will be the last time things are done for him, purchased for his benefit, though he hopes that as much as it's enjoyed, Kazuha realizes it's not a necessity. He can't stop him, but he can voice his thoughts.

Scaramouche slips on the layers with a practiced ease, turning to Kazuha only once he gets to his obi. Eyes settling on the jewellery the samurai is adorning himself with, and he feels a mix of awe and disappointment. It takes a moment for him to recall the obi held tightly in his hand.

The kimono fits nicely, soft fabric and not overly heavy, warm though he doesn't need it, colours matching well with his dark hair and bright eyes. Silently he holds out the cloth, he could wrap and tie it himself, but having someone else do it would provide better results. It slightly defeats the purpose of not having the samurai use his hands more than necessary, but his nails are dry enough that tying one obi should be fine.]

That doesn't sound like my problem. If you can't eat them all on your own perhaps you should make less.

[Though he's likely to take a couple, since there were supposedly too many.]

Maybe I also enjoy having you eat things I made.

[Kazuha is teasing him a little, though it's a truthful admission. He'd made them with Scaramouche in mind, and he shouldn't hide it really. He hopes the other man was noticing the special attention he gives him.

Scaramouche doesn't even need to ask— Kazuha's eyes fix on the obi in his hands and he's over by his side again almost on reflex. He takes it from him, his fingers brushing against his, and he wraps it around him with gentle practice, moving about him until he pulls the knot taut in the back.

Finished, he settles his hands on his hips, smoothing the fabric out.]

You look very lovely in this.

I suppose then I can take one. Your cooking is decent.

[A bit of an understatement, but he does enjoy the meals that Kazuha cooks when he is around. That the samurai is making sweets himself rather than asking to go somewhere is a bit new however. An expansion on his cooking skills, Scaramouche can only imagine.

The immortal's breathing stops momentarily as hands smooth over his hips, gentle, forcing him to shut his eyes to focus. A few maples fading into his hair in the process. His own dressing is complete, the haori can be pulled on afterwards, leaving the both of them with only one thing left to do before heading out - Kazuha's hair.

He finds his own hands moving to rest atop the samurai's, twining their fingers only to pull them back and away from his hips.]

I'd look good in anything, but it helps that you taste isn't that poor. Are you sure you have nothing in mind for your hair?

Thank you, I do take pride in my cooking.

[Having access to his own kitchen changed things a bit for him. Cooking by the campside is something he's perfected, but just having a kitchen to his disposal again at all times meant that Kazuha's enthusiasm for cooking is at an all time high. Scaramouche isn't wrong to imagine he's expanding his skills.

They just happen to be things he thinks Scaramouche may like.

No small bit of pleasure flutters in Kazuha's chest seeing the maples pop into Scaramouche's dark hair, his smile lingering on his lips even as his hands are pried away. The immortal always gave him mixed signals like this— subtle rejection, but not quite.

He hums, his fingers rubbing against Scaramouche's gently.]

I'm sure. Just a few maple pins, that's all. I trust you to pick out something you think looks good.

[He tilts his head, looking at his face.]

Should I kneel?

You do tend to make that quite clear.

[The amount of times Kazuha offers to cook, choosing to do so over the option of letting another rings clear enough. It isn't done solely as a means to survive.

For a moment he considers the stars in Kazuha's hair, how pins seem unnecessary, the potential of the stars drowning them out - but that's purely an issue for now. Once the Inazuman left to meet whomever it was he was attempting to impress they would fade, leaving just the maples and accentuating his outfit even more. Something he needs to keep in mind.]

You're putting a lot of faith into my capabilities. What if this person does not share my tastes? And if you wouldn't mind.

[Scaramouche removes his hands from the samurai's to allow him to sit. A few ideas rolling around in his mind as to what he can do that will work well with the desired pins and the outfit Kazuha was already dressed in. His hair was a decent length to do something a bit more eye catching than his usual pony tail, and having it flow free seemed much too simple for the occasion.]

When it comes to these matters, I trust you the most. I have complete faith anything you choose will be perfect.

[Mainly because this mysterious person is none other than the Balladeer himself, but Scaramouche seems to be oblivious to that still. Kazuha can't help but feel a little apprehensive, a little sad for the other man. He's said as much that he's shared intimacy with people, but he wonders if he ever felt anything for them.

Kazuha sits, his hands folded neatly in his lap as he looks down at them. He debates wrapping his hand, putting the scar twisting up his arm out of sight. Scaramouche doesn't seem to mind it, though he can't know for sure.]

I was in love once. I didn't realize it. [He says it before he can stop himself, his thoughts shifting back to the one person who had been so important to him before, who made him feel like he wasn't alone. His fingers smooth over his palm, where the scar is the thickest.] This scar... it's an ugly reminder.

[It's a lot of trust being placed in his hands, even if it's no more than a simple task. Allowing him complete control over something that could very well not suit the one all of this was for. Kazuha's heart is soft, too caring, he wonders if it would break if he didn't do his job well enough for this courting to be effective. Would the samurai be upset with him like he had been at the Gala if things didn't go to plan.

Scaramouche reaches out, brushing his fingers lightly through the strands of white hair. A fleeting touch before he moves to grab some pins, a comb, before seating himself behind the man. As confusing as his own feelings are on the matter he needs to do a good job.

The confession sheds some more light into Kazuha's past, comb stilling halfway through his hair.]

But I thought--

[The conversation they had shared on just how the samurai had obtained his scar had been brief, he hadn't bothered to question further into what had been placed forth, hadn't needed more explained to him at the time. The burn from a dying Vision belonging to a friend, someone important, a would be lover if only the samurai had realized. He finds his face twisting into something ugly for a moment as he returns to pulling the comb through hair.]

Sometimes it's difficult to realize the importance of someone while they're present in your life. In loss it's easier to recognize things... or so I'd imagine. At least you know what to look for now.

[He thought what?

Kazuha wonders what the other man was going to say. He hadn't elaborated the kind of relationship he had with his friend before— Scaramouche never asked anything further about it, so he didn't talk about it. Why did he feel compelled now? Because he has a new object of affection? To give him a warning?]

I have a better idea.

[But does he love Scaramouche? That's impossible for him to even know. He is very dear to him, a love as a friend at least. They are not together, might never be together, and surely he thinks that in the face of rejection his romantic feelings could still fade with time.

He has known the immortal nearly as long as he knew his friend and not even a kiss has passed between them. He can't know, so Kazuha just strokes his palm, remaining still as Scaramouche brushes his hair.]

I should have told you a long time ago. I didn't think I'd ever begin to heal. I just thought I'd feel that way forever.

Why? I would never have asked you.

[It's a strange thing to be given more detail into the samurai's past unprompted, something he never would have known, wouldn't have asked had it not been brought up. Was there reason Kazuha suddenly saw fit to tell him? Context perhaps, for how he feels now about this mystery person. Or for what he could feel yet isn't certain on. Something he didn't believe he'd ever feel again? Why offer him this information?

The immortal keeps his mouth shut, uncertain as to what he's supposed to say, what Kazuha wants to hear from him. He keeps himself focused on pulling his hair back, with twisting and pinning as he searches his mind for some sort of answer.

This must be something friends do. But his life had been one of secrecy, of needing to keep everything hidden away from the world and closing himself off from others, he isn't meant for moments like this. Moments where he's required to care, to offer soothing words or advice when he so often avoids speaking with people unless necessary. Yet he feels the desire to try.

Kazuha was important to him, someone he's come to enjoy the company of enough to want to keep him in his life. If the man was confiding in him then the least he could offer was an attempt.

He doesn't know love, not as far as he knows, but he does know loss. He's felt it before when he'd lost someone close to him, he feels it from the Gnosis - the feeling coiling around him, crippling when he gives it enough attention. What can he say?]

Hearts are resilient. It may never fade completely, but it will get easier to bear. I've seen it. You aren't so weak as to allow it to control your life.

[The silence that descends between then afterwards seems to stretch on forever. Scaramouche said it himself— he would have never asked him. Kazuha flushes, his cheeks and ears reddening in embarrassment. So he wasn't interested in knowing more about him. He'd only made things awkward. The samurai tries not to dip his head, if just to avoid a scolding, but his lashes lower, obscuring his eyes as he turns them downward.]

It changed me as a person. Though I suppose they are. It hurts less these days... but yes, not completely.

[Just like his scar, sometimes the ache comes back, throbbing like it's new. Those are his hardest days, in which it's difficult to rouse himself out of bed. Scaramouche is usually gone by then, easy as it is to assume Kazuha is just sleeping in.

He sighs deeply, then tries turning his thoughts back to his plans. He'd find the right trees, growing closer to his home than he'd initially hoped. It made things convenient in a way. If things go well, he can invite him back to home for lunch. If it goes poorly... then at least there isn't a very far walk back to home.]

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up.

[A smile smooths over his face again. Everything will go right.]

Didn't mean to bring down the mood. I can almost feel a chilly shift in the air.

[The way Kazuha responds isn't what he had intended, not meaning for the samurai to think he couldn't share things with him if the mood struck. He simply doesn't know how to handle moments like this, but it's something he may have to learn. A requirement of friendship, of trust perhaps. He may have little desire to speak of his own past in detail, but it's clear that Kazuha in some sense wants to.]

I didn't mean it like that. You can talk about it if you want, or about them... whatever. I just-

[The immortal lets out a sigh, pushing in the final pin to keep the bun he's made out of Kazuha's hair in place. It's difficult to place the words that will best describe just how lost in all of this he really is. Friendship had been something he'd been pushed to acknowledge, something he isn't sure he'd have admitted even at this point had he not been stared down by eyes filled with hurt.

Pushing some of the stars away he clips in some of the desired maples and tries again.]

I don't know how to be someone you confide in.

Edited 2022-02-11 06:02 (UTC)

Mmm.

[Kazuha hums his response, understanding now. It wasn't that Scaramouche wasn't listening, it was just that he didn't have much to say about it. His abraisiveness is just due to the fact he thought he should say something without knowing what to say.

He can feel the final pin sliding into place, his hair feeling wound tight on his head. The samurai reaches back, fingers briefly touching the finished bun, before he slides them over the immortal's palm and draws his hand away, pulling it forward a bit. It's an awkward way to hold his hand, but he laces their fingers together, keeping Scaramouche close.]

That's fine. Just listening is fine enough.

[He turns his head, looking fondly back at him.]

How about that walk? You can tell me a little bit about what's going on in your life. You never talk about yourself.

[There's the faintest huff as Scaramouche finds his hand being pulled away, lets the other Inazuman hold it despite the odd angle. It's a comfort he allows himself to sink into.]

I can't say I'd be good at that either.

[Not in this context, merely listening to tales of the past, of feelings and things he's incapable of experiencing. Not being expected to offer up anything in return seems odd for what he understands of friendship, not being required to comfort even if he was terrible at that to begin with. And Scaramouche doubts he could hold his tongue if he actually had something to say, appropriate or not.

A walk sounds like it could do wonders right now, getting the samurai to turn his attention to the nature around them so he could sort through his thoughts. Perhaps forget he mentioned that he was struggling with something as simple as friendship.

He pulls his hand from Kazuha's grip, sliding on the haori for the outfit he'd been talked into before standing and holding it out again, expectant.]

That's because there isn't much to talk about. I don't do anything special.

[The way that Scaramouche holds his hand out again almost seems reflex now, maybe something trained into him. Kazuha isn't sure if he should be embarrassed or proud that he's influenced the immortal to expect this from him. Either way, he takes the comfort of feeling the other man's soft palm against his own.

Before he leaves the bedroom, he pauses to take a pair of geta from the closet, carrying it with his free hand down the stairs until they get to the entrance. He bends, settling the geta onto the genkan in front of the other man, before he steps to slip on his own pair. They're not notably tall compared to their usual shoes, but considering neither of them are quite tall, the inch on them helps still.]

At the very least, I'm certain you do a bit more than me.

[Kazuha's days are filled with cleaning his home these days, fixing up parts that had fallen into disrepair during its vacancy, and little domestic things like grocery shopping and getting acquainted with the neighbors. When he doesn't have that on his agenda, he simply goes wandering for a while, exploring the lands around and searching for inspiration. Sometimes he returns with pages with fresh lines of poetry.

There is not much going on in his day.

With that said, he opens the door and lets Scaramouche step out first.]

[Scaramouche slips into the footwear and steps outside as Kazuha holds the door for him. The samurai was right, the outfit choice was significantly warmer than what he'd arrived in, only able to feel the chill of the air against his face. A wave of warm comfort washes over him and he thinks that yes, a walk was just the thing needed to move on from the previous subject of conversation. Squeezing his hand, Scaramouche tugs forward, little regard to where exactly they should head.

There isn't much that happens in the days the Harbinger doesn't spend with the other man, simply more training in the magic of the world, of refining his skills until they were acceptable to his standards. He'd gotten a job, or rather would have a job once he finished learning a spell he's been told not to talk about. Healing, something he wouldn't normally gravitate towards, but finds he's oddly good at it - more than he ever thought he would be at least.]

I train, much the same as I do when I'm with you studying. When I'm not doing that I'm making sure an idiot god doesn't starve, same for my bugs. Like I said, there isn't much there to talk about.

[That wouldn't quite do. They were heading in the complete opposite direction of where they should, the samurai getting dragged along a couple of steps before he squeezes Scaramouche's hand back, firmly rooting himself in place for a moment. It'd cause them to come to an abrupt halt again, but he didn't have much choice.]

I just like listening to you talk.

[He turns his head in the opposite direction, moving to tug him along. He's more gentle with the other Inazuman than he was with him, but he's firm with him.]

I have a path in mind. It should bring us by some trail side shrines. It's a pleasant sight.

[The main attraction for Kazuha wasn't the small shrines. He cared not for Nippon's gods, even if he had respect for them. Worship is another matter, even for someone somewhat pious like him.]

[They don't get far before the samurai is pulling him to a stop, confusion passing over his features as he turns to look back at the man. Normally walks lacked a destination in mind, though that didn't seem to be the case for once as he's directed towards another path. He offers no resistance in the change, having had no location in mind to begin with - if Kazuha wished to look at shrines then he has no issue with it.

The admission that Kazuha enjoyed listening to him is somewhat surprising, not seeing much value in speaking of the mundane aspects of daily life. He doesn't know how to make any of it sound interesting, something that doesn't seem to be an issue if the other Inazuman was being truthful about it.]

So you want to listen to me going on about how I spent hours practising the same one spell? I'd rather you not fall asleep on me, Kazuha.

[Enjoy hearing him speak or not, Scaramouche can't imagine that would manage to hold anyone's attention.]

[Now on the right path, Kazuha relaxes again. The immortal doesn't seem like he's suspicious at all, offering nothing on their change of direction. Their new path has been traveled a few times, a small groove in the ground for them to follow away from his home and further into nature.

The samurai simply ignores the commentary on how interesting his day is. For the most part, he thinks that it just sounds like nothing because the other man is putting in no effort to make it something.]

Is that so? It must be a difficult spell you're learning. How do you feel? Do you think you've made any progress?

[He smiles at him, briefly adjusting their arms so he can look one around Scaramouche's, slotting their fingers back together once he's done. It's a much closer way to hold him, one that brings him almost right up against him.]

[It's a strange change of positions, fingers still laced together but his arm held in such a way that nearly presses him against the samurai's side. The Harbinger briefly wonders if Kazuha is cold, seeking some bit of extra warmth from the only thing nearby, but the time they had just spent getting the mortal ready tells him that can't be the case. The other Inazuman wouldn't have gotten an outfit just for later in the day to not pick one that would be sufficiently warm enough for the weather.

Something to add to the samurai's tendency towards touch he supposes, unable to think of any other reasoning.]

It's tiring, but progress is being made. As with all of the magic here, it is only a matter of time before I'm able to correctly cast it.

[Magic he needs to get right the first time around or face consequences, but Kazuha doesn't need to know that. Scaramouche knows he's skilled enough to ensure things don't go wrong, being meticulous enough with even the simpler spells that putting in the time and effort is not an issue. He won't do it until he's ready, speedy as his training is.]

Once that's done I'll put more time into seeing further into time. It always gets so muddled the further I look.

[Scaramouche is always so vague with things, never really giving much details without his probing. Kazuha considers asking him, but he doesn't want to risk souring the mood.]

You're very talented with the local magic, so I imagine it won't be long. My master has me working on space manipulation, though I don't think I am very good.

[He looks over, smiling happily. Just being on a walk with him was nice, though as they begin to approach another home down the road, he notices his neighbor looking at them. Usually, Kazuha would draw his hands away when he notices other eyes on him, but today he just smiles at them and waves.

His neighbors are suspicious sorts— their critical eye doesn't bother the samurai, even as they watch them go by. For a little walk around town they're dressed very finely. It's no secret it's a special occasion.

Kazuha's pace is slow, enough that before they get too far, he hears the patter of little paws behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he spies a little bakeneko kitten with two pressed onigiri held in a basket in her paws. She holds them up, handing it to the human 'For good luck!' and then runs off again with a giggle.

The samurai laughs a little as he turns his attention back to his companion.]

Divination seems like it'd be a tricky thing. Life is sometimes unpredictable.

[The praise is almost enough to distract Scaramouche from Kazuha's own practices - a rather large step in learning the magic of this world and not something he would have thought the samurai all that interested in. His steps slow as he tilts his head, looking at the other man with a teasing grin on his face.]

You're learning Sora? And here I thought you were only interested in more mundane spells for housework. Tell me about it.

[The passing stares from the samurai's neighbours don't go unnoticed so much as ignored, the immortal accustomed to dealing with watching eyes whenever he happened to stop by. He knows they aren't all that fond of him, nearly having gotten into fights with them on multiple occasion. One of the children approaching is new however, not normally seeing any chose to interact with Kazuha when he was present.

A wish of luck, something quite confusing until he remembers the reason he's come out to Wakayama at all. Did the entire village know of Kazuha's courting attempts? He supposes they must, or at the very least some of them did to make such an offering to him. The samurai is dressed up enough that any could tell he was planning to tell this person today, if he hadn't outright told them a date.]

I see your courting is already the village gossip.

[Scaramouche shakes his head.]

It is, though what I've managed to see so far has been quite accurate. The day I started learning I saw that you were going to fight me. It's how I knew I'd win.

[Not that he needed to have a vision of a fight with a human to know such things. He hadn't seen Kazuha taking the Gnosis from him, though that had turned out alright in the end. Still, the vision had proven to him that the magic of Nippon was worth learning, much as seeing into the future doesn't always sit well with him.]

[Magic is something that Kazuha has grown to know that his companion takes a deal of interest in it, and not just as an excuse to be near him often. He takes pleasure in seeing his mild excitement, offering the other Inazuman another pleased smile.]

I was on a walk and found myself in a local deity's trap. She'd enchanted the woods to send wanderers in circles. It was only after I figured out the trick that I was able to break the spell and she offered to take me as a student.

[It's been difficult lessons so far. Learning about space and time also came with embracing them as relative concepts, and what he's found is that altering perceptions of things have been far easier than the actual manipulation of the space.

He will learn more, with time.

He can't help but flush a little at the commentary. There's some locals that have simply not butted in out of respect and politeness, some of the other villagers are more bold, even offering to bring him to a matchmaker. Then there were the supportive ones— but most of the village knows.]

I'm an outsider and young. Of course the locals are interested.

[Visions. Kazuha isn't sure he'd want to see the future. What was the point if things couldn't be changed? Are unclear? Though he does give a playful little laugh, tugging on Scaramouche's arm lightly.]

Is that so? What else does the future say about me?

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