#karezaru

hey haha

small victories in Kamurochō take very different forms every single day. A month ago, it was Yagami at his door, finally convinced of the necessity of a check - up after a streak of restless nights; last week, it was the conversation that set at least a bi - weekly appointment basis, and today it happens to be a mild improvement in Yagami's physical condition. It could be going faster if Yagami himself not only allowed it but also took a brief break from his work (and its associated dangers), but one must be patient.

still, when he hears a muted hiss from the body beneath his hands, Tetsuo sighs. Maybe he'll just have to drag Yagami in here by the front of his shirt more often.

❛❛ Commendable, ❜❜ he begins, digging his thumbs into Yagami's rhomboids and working out the tension in them, ❛❛ how you just undo every bit of progress I make between appointments. Is there any way your next case could be more ordinary? Maybe less taxing on you? ❜❜ He follows it up with the heel of his hand, following the muscle's length inward towards Yagami's spine.

she can imagine it so clearly. when it happens, will she feel the same? that sickening numbness, as she lies in a pool of her own blood. sticking to her hair and tattered clothes, the color red flooding her subconscious. that cold,  cold sensation. a jarring shift, chilling and ruthless, going from everything to nothing. tiptoeing the line between life and death.  back then, though, shams is certain she didn’t feel this way. all she could think about those years ago was survival, clinging to the weak flutter of his heart, a dying butterfly. clawing her way up to the skies.  anything to escape that harrowing sensation, a kind of desperation all humans feel in the face of certain death, spurring her on. but now— emptiness. sinking deeper into the abyss, that all - enveloping darkness. that awful feeling of pure helplessness. ever since she was released from touto hospital, that is all she feels. helpless.

the dissonance between what she needs to do and what her body will physically participate in is growing stronger. she has to get up, needs to. @karezaru hasn’t said anything yet about the steady decline of her mental state, hasn’t made any claims of noticing, but she knows he can see it. she knows he can tell something is wrong. and it’s risky. very much so. it’s a gamble, the greatest one she might have ever made, even worse than that time eight years ago with tsubasa kurosawa's little game. it’s a gamble, all or nothing. because, really, what would she do if she got him dragged into the mess she finds herself in? to tell him about the depth of her past is one thing, but to introduce him to the world of the iranian mafia is another. she was still healing from all it had put her through, she knows khabib continues to walk a path he does not want to follow. the gain after the loss hits him everyday, embracing him with a burst of energy so violently overwhelming that his wellbeing becomes entirely irrelevant. how could she possibly put yagami through something like that? how could she put the others?

in the middle of the taxing endeavor, she almost fails to notice the presence of a certain someone, standing just a little farther away.  almost, because it’d be impossible for her to miss him, that heavy gaze of his. and before she can think the thought to do anything else, she's locked eyes with him, arms still placed on the bed. not daring to say anything, afraid to part her lips, she simply sits there. in silence, like a deer in headlights. for some reason, she can’t really read his expression. she's a little too tired, a little too caught off guard. she's a little too worried they'll start arguing again. she can only blink, worry surely evident in her furrowed brows, as the seconds tick on and on. tense, tense, tense. and then he sits down next to her on the bed. the one they share every night, so why does his closeness fill her with unease? ❝    you're doing it again.    ❞    he delivers the words quietly, his hand reaching for hers. ❝    can't you just—    ❞   

she snaps. shams doesn't want to, but that is what happens. ❝    stop.    ❞    she sighs. ❝    you don't understand.    ❞   

she feels eighteen again. the same frustration she used to feel, she feels it now. standing in front of a council full of the most dangerous men of the organized crime world, dissected to see how useful she can be. a blessing of being such a prodigy. a blessing she never once asked for, one she was simply born into. born with all these abilities, doomed to live behind the rest. all for a pair of eyes that never seem to see the things that really matter. and she remembers how during those times, she used to see a light. a blinding light, really. the light has been close, always. so close she can almost touch it. it burned her skin, but she doesn’t falter. she doesn’t look away, eyes seeing through the blindness and reaching out for something. something alive. and now, twenty two years later, the world decides it's time to take her as she's finally understood what alive means. it's almost laughable if she didn't feel like crying. and now yagami stands in front of her, looking at her with a look she hopes she understands far too well. the silence between them is full of something unspoken, until she hears his voice: ❝    okay, so i don't understand. explain it to me.    ❞ 

the last time she had talked with kaito she remembers the tears blurring her vision, uncontrolled and raw. all she could do was just cry and cry. she wishes the world would stop picking those who do not deserve it, but it's useless. suzuyo isn't naive, after all, but it drains her— that type of rage that takes away all her strength and makes her want to tear something, but she can’t. without a chance to change the impossible, there’s always someone else dictating if it’s possible or not. those faint glimmers of hope? what were they for? mockery, it turns out. and no matter what, she knows shams is a badly healed wound that she won't want to get rid of. can't get rid of.

she moves slowly across the floor, like she can’t quite control her movements anymore, but tries to find something, and she doesn't even know where it lies. somewhere, for sure. she tries to focus on the silence that she's missed, not the one of her ever - present thoughts that keep her up at night. and as if someone had decided to read her mind, @karezaru appears in front of her. she frowns, eyeing him carefully. he's looking at her like that again; the same way everyone seems to be looking at her. it drives her mad. and yet, there’s shame in being seen like this. especially by him. it's not as though any of them have ever scolded her for it. they wouldn’t, she hopes. but his gaze alone is enough to stir something uncomfortable, almost enough to convince her that she should present herself differently. before she turns around, she speaks. ❛ will you stop looking at me like that? it's pissing me off. ❜ and he's pissed her off plenty, really. a thick silence falls between them and she can feel him studying her.

she's aware that yagami knows about her avoidant stances when he sees them, and boy has he seen them multiple times before, and hers is a desperate attempt to shield herself from any pity. the tone of her voice is nothing other than annoyed. ❛ what? ❜

i know i should be sorry.

the winter sun has long since dipped beneath the clouds, a manta ray of golden sunshine thinning out across her shoulder blades. her kitchen is cast in comfortable darkness; shadows slipping down her sweater sleeves, dancing on the tablecloth. she rubs the tender space beneath her eyes. it’s nice to be together like this, silent as if in mediation, a ritualistic practice of peace. in the same room, in their own worlds, no less unfeeling of each other’s presence. well, except that's not really the full case. her eyes move over to @karezaru as she watches him in front of the stove, clear he's struggling. something smooths over her face; her lips are pursed and her brown eyes simmer with something she can't really put her finger on.  swirling like the spots of sunlight on the wall just behind her. it’s brief, easy to miss: a single tug of her lips. the tiniest little smile. as she moves over to stand next to him, she can't help but raise an eyebrow, a mild expression of disbelief painted on her face. as if he's read her mind, he tells her: ❛ it doesn't add up. we're missing something. ❜

she responds instantly, the desire to say something she knows will only annoy him more refusing to leave her. ❛ oh, we? i thought you said you wanted to make us something nice. ❜ at that, she watches him turn his head at her, exasperated. she'll admit it. zereshk polo was never the easiest dish to make, especially if someone wasn't too familiar with persian cuisine. and the barberries that come with it takes an annoyingly precise way to make, but it really is worth it. she can't help the laugh that leaves her as she looks at him, however. truly, she's mostly watching him intently. watches his expression shift, drinking in the twitch of his brows, how the color of his eyes flickers in the light. now she definitely feels more timid than before. she shakes her head, then, knowing what will come next. she's being really annoying now, but she can't help it. ❛ truly terrible for a great detective to have trouble figuring something like this out. ❜

now she knows she's really struck a nerve after she sees the look on his face. and just like that, a burst of giggles bubble up inside her throat, muffled into the cotton of her own sweater. ❛ sorry, sorry. seeing you like this is just really funny. ❜ she tilts her head again, looking at the pots in front of them. ❛ it's mostly just the barberries that are a bit difficult at first. once that's done then we can leave it by itself. the rice and chicken is really simple. ❜ she hums, then, as she looks at the pan he's currently focused on. once that's done it really is much more straightforward. instinctively, her hand reaches out, fingertips ghosting over his skin as she guides his hands to the correct way of stirring the berries; adjusting them. it might have been just an excuse to touch him, that she’d let herself be greedy for once. she knows if chizuru were to see her, she would've rolled her eyes at her. at the thought of her, she thinks of the conversation the two have had and shakes her head.

THERE IS NO MISTAKING THE ATTENTION OF ETHEREAL GOLDS ; LIKE SUN INCARNATE EXISTING WITHIN, EYES ECHOING THE VERY GLOW! &. all of that attentiveness is focused upon him now, every word he spilled listened, taken in. warnings, questions about whether she truly wants to insert herself into chaos. ( those who know her the best, both existing &. gone, would hum in amusement at this kind of query ever aimed at her. ) in truth, there is only but one path always for her.

&. he is now a witness to that very same path, as he is finished, that is when lush lips curl into a mixture of something sun-soft, &. determination forged from steel. ❝ i am grateful for the heads up, ❞ angelic melody comes, just on this-side from an amused hum, before her tongue dips into that calm certainty of hers; ❝ but if i am honest, i already had my answer prepared, before you got to double-checking if i understood the risks. ❞ a pause, before there is the sight of a slight smirk that responds to challenge, always, ... hands crossed over her chest &. the signature tilt of her head being the final touch, ❝ so, whenever you're ready. ❞