Cursed Womb: Death Painting

He wondered if the spread was too much for his older brother. He then fell into a rabbit hole just by wondering if his brother needed to eat. He wasn't quite like him, born a human and consumed curses...Yuuji's brain began to melt over the minute details between him and Choso.

The front door opened, and Yuuji perked up. He met Choso at the door with a warm smile, "Welcome home. It's about time. Dinner's ready."

Moving inside, the tantalizing aroma of home-cooked food hit his senses. Mouth instantly watering from how good it smelled. Mind instantly bringing up those memories that had played in his mind just as he was realizing that Yuuji was his blood brother. Memories that they can actually make together now. Even if his other brothers were missing. They would forever be missing, but he didn't hold that against Yuuji. He never did.

He takes a handful of the flowers, crushing the petals underhand as he yanked them free. It didn't really hurt, but the spot tingled like it might grow back.

When Choso opened with such a blunt question, Yuuta's expression was owlishly surprised for a moment.

His gaze lingers on the crushed pieces falling to the ground. Even if they began to grow on him, it wasn't like they posed much of a threat.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

It was not the original reason that Choso had approached to speak with Yuta, but they were quickly becoming a distraction. His neutral expression was unmoving as he looked the other over.

" The rules of this new game involve retrieving your innate abilities from a group of magic users known as The Stars, " Kashimo speaks up, the wooden staff slowly tapping against the ground.

" But there is no consistent pattern for how your power returns. I've seen all matter of warrior in this city. I've come across useless idiots as well.

"Alright. But battling to the death holds no purpose. Take that as you will. I don't mind if you kill me, but that will bring you consequences later when I come knocking on your door again."

He tilts his head. His hair spikes do not budge an inch with the movement.

Of course Toge had the other second years that showed up to lean on, and Gojo should things get dire for some sort of stimulus, but even he had low energy days where he needed a more relaxing enviroment.

Thanks, I wonder what happens to people when they get the chance to leave this place, do they just kinda...disappear?

Best to be optimistic.

Made sense, blood manipulation and all.

Or maybe he was a vampire? Inumaki had no evidence they were real. Yet.

He watched as Toge explained how his living space was empty of roommates now. Choso thought about meeting Immeral in his townhouse and understood the sinking feeling of loneliness.

L.L. jumped when the weapon was thrown toward him and clattered against the wall before he was snatched from the carpet. He reared back and slammed it against the door knob in desperation.

Everything within the room itself should be feeling the effects of the aging. The paint on the walls should be curling, the wood should start to crack and break under it's own weight. The ceiling should be cracking and collapsing on top of their hands, and the floor should be falling down into the abyss beneath. Or whatever the fuck is below them.

Yet, the room itself was still as pristine as the first day it was built. It was almost as unnerving as the monster currently regenerating limbs as quickly as they rot off.

He dodges as another limb tries to slam down on his head, only to be hit with the other that had regenerated in the short time after he had ripped that weapon away from it.

There is a loud crack as he hits the wall. Grunting and sliding down it. Blood smearing in his path down.

That hurt.

More than he was used to.

Spitting up blood gives him an idea, though.

He was going to try to poison it with his blood. But he had to get his blood inside of it without the use of his curse technique.

Damned this place, stripping it of him.

"Keep trying that door. I'm going to try to finish this thing off."

He is pointing to the coffee on the counter in front of Tsurugi.

"Oh, uh. Sorry."

He shifts to the side to let Choso past, hands in his pockets still. He's waiting for an order to take to Yuuka, hopefully as a peace offering, but he'd forgotten her preference for how sweet she cared for the coffee to be.

"Ah- thanks. It's not quite a tattoo, but that's what makes sense to most people."

He wasn't about to try to explain curse techniques to someone again. Been there. Done that. Hated talking that much. Sucked the whole time he was doing it.

So he leaves it at that and reaches to take his coffee before pausing.

He's being approached with convenience store bags in hand, the younger waving him down. As soon as Choso is within reasonable distance his hands are moving in sign once more.

He's not used to be stared at. Always being in disguise while out and about made sure of it. He looked like anyone else. Spoke and conducted the way any locals would.

Yet the stare of a man grated on his nerves like no other. He found himself getting up from his booth to go and take a seat beside the most oblivious bastard he had every intention of scaring off or eating.

A slight dip of his head in apology is all the movement offered to the other. Many thought Choso rude for his mannerisms. But who could blame the guy who had spent 150 years in a tube...

After every change of wardrobe, Yuuji approved with a nod of his head or disapproved by sticking out his tongue in disgust. Somehow, his older brother's style ended up mirroring his, and that filled Yuuji with familial pride.

He takes an outfit from Yuji and moves to change into it. Utilizing the fitting rooms once more before they departed the store. Reappearing with a smile on his face. Feeling more comfortable. Being closer to how he wanted to be.

They grins from ear to pointy ear showing their array of sharp teeth, charmed by the others offer and folded their wings to allow more room on the bench.

"It's a public place, you can sit anywhere you want."

They paused.

"You can sit on me but I won't guarantee I'd be comfortable. Whats got you looking for friends anyway? Don't got a lot of people to talk to? Though if you just got here I get it."

They queried before they took another bite of their sandwich.

"I'm pretty new to this place and don't have much of an outgoing personality. People don't tend to gravitate to the quiet types."

He shrugs.

Stepping up to cover the cost of him curating an entire new wardrobe. Yuuji was doing just fine, but he was glad to be back in his life once more.

"I would like to try things on and get your opinion."

He moved through the racks. Collecting various pieces of clothing. All falling into an urban punk aesthetic. Still favoring layering over just wearing a plain t-shirt.

Red, purple, black, white, grey. The colors began stacking up. Ripped jeans, baggy but structured cargo pants, even a pair of grey sweats. Cropped jackets, graphic tees, some with purposeless straps or zippers.

Thus began the fashion show. Choso appearing from the dressing room for approval with his curated outfits. His hair slipping from those spiked buns in the process. Similing at getting to entertain some bit of humanity. Finishing this mission with an armful of his choices.