2026-02-12: Why Does The Caged Bird Sing?
- Log: Why Does The Caged Bird Sing?
- Cast: Tsubasa Seki, Kurou Ryouhara
- Where: Siren Alley, Yumezaki
- OOC Date: 2026-02-12
- IC Date: Mon, Sep 24 2012
- Summary: Kurou takes time off school to mind the shihaisha's prisoner. Despite his own experiences, he resists first Tsubasa's demands to be let free, and then their desperate pleading. Tsubasa struggles to understand why they have to withstand all this pain, and Kurou tries to understand Tsubasa, in turn. He takes care of them as well as he's able, while they're helpless... and eventually, they're even ready to accept his help.
- Content warning: Kidnapping
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
OST: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8pLhIc3Cehw Silent Hill F - The Bird's Lament
Tsubasa sits in the shadow of a vast statue of some terrifying kami, slumbering mechanical; six arms hold six weapons, tethered to the floor with six chains secured about six wrists, and its jaws drip some substance into a bowl before it. Before it, as well, is the throne: a grand chair made of folded iron and strap anchors. There they are secured, with a weighted collar and iron and jade encasing their hands. At the headrest, there is a two-piece helmet; unsealed, it splits down the middle, hanging to either side of their head.
And they are under constant watch.
They have made few requests of their captors, and those few are entirely biological; they are given neither autonomy nor privacy in them. It's mortifying, to Tsubasa, to have water lifted to their lips and be bid to drink; to not even be able to hold their own glass, or bowl, or whatever. Largely, they have tried to doze, though their position's too uncomfortable for anything approaching real sleep; their muscles scream, being held in this chair so long, but there's not far they can shift their position like this.
Perhaps they ought to be flattered. That boy knows how dangerous they are, in a forgotten alleyway like this, where demons come to play and work. At any point, they could don their feathered cape and... and...
... well, they can't do anything, like this. Dozens of cuts across their skin, in the fragile stage of healing, ensure that struggling too ferociously will only make things worse for them. At this point... they probably couldn't even stand, under their own power alone.
Their eyes blink open again, though, as a terrible grumbling wakes them.
They don't realise, at first, that it's their own damn stomach.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
To be held captive is to have much of one's dignity stripped from them. And yet, Kurou -- for all the cold comfort of it -- would say the level of security surrounding this Ryouhara prisoner also speaks to a high level of respect. It respects the threat Tsubasa potentially poses, and how if they were given an inch, they would take more than a mile.
With grim conviction, Kurou understands no leniency can be granted. But a captive must still receive suitable care.
In habitual silence, Kurou approaches the statue and the prison under its vigil. His manner as a shinobi has become an instinct so concrete that it may seem, especially to the fatigued and not-quite-asleep, that Kurou has suddenly appeared by Tsubasa's side somewhere between moments of awareness.
He unfolds a small end table beside the throne, and begins setting out a tray of food. The scent of freshly grilled chicken, sweetly glazed, is strongest, with the air nearby suddenly warm from the steam rising off of parts of the selection: yakitori, dango (white, not festive), tempura...
The common theme here is that all of this food is one a stick.
Kurou sets down cup of water complete with straw, ice clinking inside. And of course, of course, a kettle that wafts with the grassy scent of tea.
The final addition is an origami card stand. Kurou slides a card into it, containing a schedule of minimal required fluids and calories to be given and at what intervals, with a small note on ensuring proper food groups at given. There is a cartoon drawing of a phoenix-like bird wearing a mask to decorate it, colored in bright orange, red, and yellow crayon.
Is... is that supposed to be Tsubasa...
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Someone's working, to the side of them. Tsubasa looks back that way, with a deep scowl; a table. And there, that wretched boy sets out...
Their nostrils flare; they know what it is. But they just look back, the other way, their scowl deepening.
"What time is..." They mumble, their voice hoarse and gravelly; they look as good as they sound, sweat and strife disrupting the concealer over their body, more of those stark pale scars displayed against their tan skin than is hidden. (They don't smell great, either; but apparently, they're too high a threat to be able to fucking shower. As if they'd climb right out the window? ... though, like, obviously they were gonna climb right out the window.)
Their gaze finds the window, though; they find, finally, it's light out.
Tsubasa grunts.
"... you should be in school," they say, without looking at the boy working beside them.
They're his senpai. He should really listen to them.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Realizing Tsubasa is fully awake, Kurou straightens up. He picks up the cup of ice water first, offering the straw toward Tsubasa in a way similar to one who is offering a sip of their own drink, rather than in a demand for it to be taken.
"I have brought my homework with me," he assures them, as if this should even slightly be on Tsubasa's list of current concerns. But why wouldn't it be, if they have said so? "Maintaining my studies while fulfilling my duties to the clan is a required skill."
He looks over Tsubasa carefully, noting the marks and the scars. If the smell is something that bothers him, it does not show on his face. That face betrays nothing of note, even now, in a place like this, with no illusion to who he is or where is loyalties lie.
"... Unfortunately, I cannot claim it has not affected my performance. I am unaware of your dietary preferences, and was unable to discern any potential restrictions. How do you feel about chicken, senpai?"
Yeah, he's still calling them senpai.
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Rrh..." Tsubasa growls, scowling at the straw for a long moment, their tattered pride warring with the dryness of their throat.
They take a breath, and snatch the straw up in their teeth, and drain the cup.
And they hate it.
"Whatever," they mutter, to his studies, glowering off to the side.
They should be in school, too... they wonder if their classmates are missing them, right about now. How's Jun doing...? They were going to ask him about...
... it doesn't matter.
The fact that Kurou needing a tutor makes sense now doesn't matter, either.
"I'm not hungry," Tsubasa insists, sullen and stern.
Which is the precise moment when their body betrays them, stomach growling again.
They stoically ignore it.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Kurou holds the cup in place until Tsubasa has had their fill, which turns out to be all of it. He slowly withdraws the cup and sets it back down to refill it with a pitcher. He suspected this might be the case... so better to do smaller cups in increments, for now.
The 'whatever' to the conversation ends it then and there, with Kurou seeing no need to continue it if Tsubasa has lost interest. Socially adept Kurou is not, but even he is well aware that Tsubasa is under considerable stress, and that Kurou himself is owed not a single moment's consideration, given the situation.
But to not be hungry while the stomach growls...
Kurou lifts up the chicken skewer to show Tsubasa, giving a questioning tilt of his head. He had hoped the stick-based food would feel less like being hand fed. Perhaps it does not make a difference, in practice.
"You haven't had sufficient nutrition, but your sense of hunger may have dimmed... I would encourage you to try at least a few bites. Once your shackles come off, whether by our means, your means, or those of your companions, you will want strength for your next move."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
How long has it been? Tsubasa wonders. At some point, the Dark Hour... it was dark a long time. Now the brick wall opposite the window looks lighter...
It feels like it's been an eternity.
But they are hungry; they're just stubborn. "Nnh." Tsubasa grumbles, glaring at the stick. Yeah, they may as well have not eaten for an eternity...
"... fine."
They can't really put their head forward; it impacts the collar when they try. But that collar's at least loose enough to let them chomp the chicken off that stick, chewing it angrily. Chomp... chomp...
It doesn't really make a difference. They're not really in a position to appreciate him trying, either.
"... why?" They ask, when the chicken's gone. "Why you still holdin' me? That piece a shit boss a yours already told me what he wanted from me... I can't do shit 'bout it like this. Jus'... let me go."
They tell themself their voice is firm, not pitiful.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
With Tsubasa's agreement to try, Kurou closes the gap where the collar will not allow it. But while Kurou has no intention of making the situation more uncomfortable than it is, he is still Kurou, with his intense and awkward stare, watching the angry chomp and chew to ensure that Tsubasa does not drop any that need to be cleaned up, and that they are not left with an empty stick shoved in their face.
Although, if they wanted to chew on it, Kurou does not see why that should not be permissible, either.
(No one wants to chew the stick, Kurou...!!)
Once Tsubasa is finished, Kurou makes a second offering of water to wash it down with.
"Because the shihaisha wills it," Kurou says. This time, the way he meets Tsubasa's gaze is with intent rather than awkward lack of awareness. "And I trust the shihaisha's will."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Tsubasa... takes the water, too. They hate it, but dehydration is a huge problem, right...? ... people like this probably wouldn't bother with taking them to hospital.
"Tch." Their sceptical noise begins deep in their throat, before it impacts the back of their teeth. "Right, you're fuckin' brainwashed... what, you reckon you can tie me down long enough I start talkin' like you? Not happenin'... just let me go."
And all a sudden their bindings clatter, as Tsubasa strains against them, in their attempt to lurch forward. "LET ME GO!" They yell, having apparently found their volume again.
This isn't particularly new; they've been dealing with screaming like this on and off every few hours, really.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
"No," Kurou says of brainwashing, his tone soft. The word could nearly be happenstance, the way he is focused more on moving the cup back to the tray and assessing Tsubasa's current state of being.
Conclusion: angry. Tsubasa demands to be released, then demands it at a roar. Kurou endures it, unflinching, until the last echo of it has faded.
Only then does he continue, his voice no louder than it was a moment ago, even if he finds it harsher for the vacuum of silence left by Tsubasa's yell.
"You scream. And keep screaming. It is... important, to scream when you are trapped. When you hurt. For a while... I could not scream. But he showed me there was a path to the future where I could."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Good for you, asshole," Tsubasa scowls, their own tone lowering back down. "What, you want me to ring child services? Sure. Get me the FUCK outta here and I'll go GRAB A PHONE, why don't I?!" Their tone spikes to volume again, as they rattle, against their bonds.
(What's obvious here, where it wasn't before, is the fact that they have breasts; their compression shirt's been cut away, underneath their tank top. Their voice, too, is far more identifiably feminine when it raises above its normal rasp. But they said they weren't a girl!)
The problem is... as they fight against the chair they're affixed to, they're aggravating the dozens of cuts across the outside of their arms and legs. (They charged straight into Mugen Setsuna, you see.) And that, perhaps, explains the bloodstains on the armrests...
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
"That would assist neither of us."
Kurou is not, demonstratively, the most socially intelligent boy to ever walk this earth, and Tsubasa's particular situation is not one Kurou has encountered overtly enough to be aware of its existence. Something is different about Tsubasa. The breasts do seem new, but it would far be from the first time Kurou failed to notice such a quality. Their voice keeps rising to a frequency that seems... unTsubasa.
Hm. In his lack of social graces, Kurou is, regrettably, staring.
At least until Tsubasa begins to give their skin new marks in their struggle. Kurou turns to his school bag to procure a small first aid kit.
"If you wish to use pain to assert existence, then I would like to suggest antiseptic, Seki-senpai. ... You... are Seki-senpai, correct?"
Did he mistake who he was talking to...? Is this a different person?
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
You and me both, huh? Tsubasa thinks, bitterly.
"Q--quit starin', asshole!" They snap, when they realise that he is. Their face feels hot, but it's at least not as obvious on their face, between the scars and the tan. "LET ME GO!"
In their struggling, though, there's one thing he notices -- those healing cuts, leaking blood. They stop, at least, when he pulls something out.
"You're a shit interrogator," Tsubasa growls, sullen, "an' I'm the fuckin' King a th' Dutch."
If he doesn't recognise them, they're sure not about to help.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Told to stop staring, Kurou lifts his gaze easily up to Tsubasa's face instead. Except he realizes this is still staring at them, and he looks up at the statue instead. He wonders how long this is supposed to go on before he is 'allowed' to look at them again.
He decides on the next time Tsubasa speaks, where he resumes inspecting their cuts, and wets a cotton swap with a bottle of antiseptic.
"My apologies," he says. "I can ask you more questions. I am curious about a number of things." He pauses. "... This is not relevant to those thoughts, but... you are... a King...?" He says, tone growing increasingly uncertain. As opposed to a queen, is what he means, but perhaps he is even beginning to remember Tsubasa never claimed to be a boy, only not to be a girl.
The gears are turning behind his blank eyes, but he's run out of options from his known experiences.
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Don't gotta be a boy to be a king," Tsubasa insists. "Sure as fuck ain't no fuckin' queen, anyway." THEY CAN READ HIS THOUGHTS! ... no, they're just sensitive as to why he might be sceptical of their crown in particular.
"Tch... already told asshole prime, anyway. I ain't tellin' you nothin'." Aside from the thing they just told him?! Apparently he gets the gender education for free. (Does Tsubasa not realise how identifiable that is all on its own? There really aren't that many out-and-proud Xes out there.)
They're watching what his hands are doing real carefully, though.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Kurou, who had begin to move toward Tsubasa to treat their wounds, pauses again. His gaze wanders to one side, and then the next. Those gears are working overtime. They are being overclocked right now. Not a boy, not a queen. Not... any of these things... A king can be either...
For as little as Tsubasa is saying, Kurou is already realizing the holes in his worldview with this. There are gaps. That's not unusual for him. He's coasted by a lot of his recent life not worrying about things he does not understand.
As Tsubasa watches him carefully, it is as if someone pressed pause on Kurou, and only upon Kurou, and has walked away from the remote indefinitely.
Until, finally, his attention finds Tsubasa again.
"I did not realize that was an option."
His gaze wanders away again, brow knitting just slightly, with what must follow with such a revelation: the need to determine does this apply to me directly?
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Uh." Tsubasa grunts, as they watch Kurou, and Kurou kind of -- stops.
"You... you good?" They ask, honestly kind of weirded out, and -- if this is some kind of strategy, like, fuck it, whatever, just stop acting like your soul left your body that's WEIRD?!
But he didn't realise it was an option, and Tsubasa of course feels again the spike of fear of being pinned down with an unknown quantity in front of them; they don't know if Kurou's going to be cool.
On the other hand... Tsubasa ripped their closet apart a long time ago.
No goin' back now.
"Yeah, man. It's fuckin' -- X-Gender, people what ain't dudes or chicks. Some of 'em are in between those two, some of 'em are both at different times... people like me ain't neither one. I jus' run with the dudes when society insists on classin' me one or the other. I ain't no fuckin' girl, man." They say that, but their chest is still, like -- bumpy?? Is that allowed??? "Got that?" They ask, incisively.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Is Kurou good? He misses the question. Maybe his soul did leave. When it finally comes back enough for him to speak, he seems to be threatening to abandon his body again for the realm of deliberation and reflection.
His pupils grow as Tsubasa explains, and his attention snaps on them like a cat who sees a moving string. New information might as well be a laser pin's dot for the young shinobi. "X-Gender..." he repeats, trying the word on as he slowly nods along.
"Neither. Or both. Or..." Kurou's eyes lose focus again as he looks into forever. Because that is what this conversation demands: this is not a third thing. This is third through infinity things.
He's doing his best.
"I have dressed as a girl before," he mentions in his own musing, and one might have to imagine in his specific case this was for shinobi reasons (because it was), "But that did not make me feel like a girl... Does that mean I felt like a boy...?"
He makes himself remember where he is as attempts to begin cleaning Tsubasa's freshest cuts. "To some days feel like nothing... Or to feel instead like..." He shakes his head. Some things even he may not be ready to say. "No, I think that is different from the 'X's you describe." Even 'neither' is not the same as 'empty', after all. "Yes, I think I 'get it'. Thank you for explaining, senpai."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Fuck if I know," Tsubasa shrugs, as well as they can, right now. "Ain't no one can tell you what gender ya feel like. Lotta people try. They're pricks who don't know shit."
Distracted by suddenly giving a tutorial on gender to their captors, Tsubasa is caught off guard by the, "ah, hsss! Shit!" There's the antiseptic. They squirm in that chair, but it's not like they can push him off.
"Great... great you learned somethin', whatever..." They grit their teeth, looking down to his work on their arms. (The bleeding at least isn't bad; they're not able to move enough to open the wounds too badly, apparently.)
How ridiculous is this? They're out here talking like -- like they're casually learnin' their kouhai a thing or too! "Fuck," Tsubasa hisses, through their teeth, their eyes shutting tightly. ... maybe they really hate antiseptic.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
"A question only the self can answer, yet a question so rarely prompted in the first place..."
As Tsubasa says, people will try to tell you the answer. They do it from the very beginning. How strange to think of the logic of it now when he never questioned it before... They have, indeed, given him much to think about.
"Sorry," Kurou offers when Tsubasa understandably goes hissing in pain -- or maybe a different frustration, the second time. "But it will be more uncomfortable in time if they are left unattended." Blood loss would add even more discomfort to recovery, if not in the immediate future, but at least that is less likely to be a concern. Tsubasa is very much a fighter, and Kurou could see them rending themselves in an attempt to escape if the shackles slackened even slightly.
It is why he would not even himself suggest to Shiryuu a more comfortable imprisonment.
"... I will resume proper interrogation. What makes you keep screaming?"
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Yeah, man, people don't tell you the rules then get mad when you look at 'em. Sucks." Tsubasa might not have put it that way, natively; but they've learned a thing or two about how frustrating not being able to sort things logically is from their girl, man.
They grimace, looking at that antiseptic. "It... it's cool," they say, their voice a little weaker. "I know 'bout infection an' shit... I guess you're not tryin' to kick my ass here." Something about that feels real uncomfortable, though...
Probably the fact that he's holding them captive.
"Th' fuck you mean?" They ask, fixing Kurou with a sceptical expression, when he points out that he's starting the interrogation up again. (Did he stop?) "Why fuck wouldn't I be screamin'? You -- you got me locked to this fuckin' torture chair," it's actually a very nice chair, it would be quite comfy if not for being locked in there, "threatenin' to kill me an' mine if I don't fuck up th' fuckin' Order... what's with that, anyway? Ain't you guys part a th' Order?!"
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
"Mm. There are many rules that evidently were meant to be implicit. It is usually difficult to get elaboration on such things..." But Tsubasa did elaborate here, despite being captive. They could not be blamed for thinking Kurou is a little too comfortable with this entire set up.
But even if Tsubasa is captive, Kurou tries to keep them mended, hydrated, and fed. Especially because it is so. If they have been robbed of this agency, then it is his responsibility as captor to meet it.
"You are doing well," Kurou comments as he continues, as if he could possibly be reassuring in this situation.
Part of the Order... Kurou goes quiet a moment. But he is the one interrogating, not answering.
"I mean... what drives you to keep screaming? Even when there is no one who hears you? And, more importantly..."
After Kurou finishes cleaning those wounds, he pulls up a pair of bandages with colorful images printed upon them.
"Paw prints or stars?"
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Kinda... used to elaboratin' that shit," Tsubasa explains, a touch awkwardly.
(There's nothing about this that isn't awkward, except for how it's all HORRIBLE.)
It's blink and he'll miss it, but -- for a moment -- they do look kind of reassured. They hate that they do; it's obviously all mind games. It's just...
It's a lot, okay?
They notice Kurou going silent, though. Their expression grows a touch grim, when Kurou asks those questions...
... only for their lips to pull back in a sneer, with a disbelieving scoff. "Ugh. ... paws, duh. Fuckin' stupid..." As if it was even a question!
It's so stupid... what's the point of giving them a choice in something as stupid as that when they don't give a shit about the choice that really matters?
They pretend like being given one doesn't matter, to them.
"... you're the one who's stupid if you think no one's gonna hear me," Tsubasa mutters, then. "Ogre promised... no matter what, she'll find me. An' you'll be fuckin' sorry."
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Kurou pauses with that response, then nods. "Oh. You exist outside expectation. It must be something you have to reinforce frequently." He offers Tsubasa a single, firm nod. "I shall not be one of those cases." Okay endeavoring to respect gender is nice or whatever, Kurou, but could you let them go?
(Well, no.)
His eyes seem to glimmer as Tsubasa picks paws, though his face does not otherwise change as he delicately peels the bandages to gently set over Tsubasa's cuts. "The paw prints are my favorite as well."
That one was not a test, but did Tsubasa find a way to pass it anyway...?!
"I do not think 'sorry' is the emotion I will feel when she does." When, and not if. Kurou is willing to operate under the reality Tsubasa supplies. "So you scream because you know you will be heard. Because she will hear you."
Kurou closes his eyes.
"... Whose screams do you listen for?"
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Pre' much." And when Kurou insists he's not going to be a dick about it, Tsubasa nods, in turn. "... cool."
It's... at least nice he'll respect that. When these people have knives and who knows what else, and they're trussed up like this, they really don't want to end up in a room with someone who's gonna have a problem.
(But even in this kind of situation, they're still insisting on it... they must be committed.)
"Nh," they grunt, when he insists the paws are his favourite. "Yeah." He's just trying to make them on the same side, right? ... he must be. Tsubasa knows all their tricks.
But Kurou says he won't be sorry, and launches into another question, and maybe Tsubasa doesn't know all their tricks.
"I--I jus' said I wasn't tellin' you nothin'!" They insist, an edge of panic creeping into their voice. "You think I'm tellin' you somethin' like that?! Your fuckin' boss just wants to know who to put on his kill list! Fuck you, I ain't listenin' to no one but me!"
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Cool. Except for the whole kidnapping part of this. Kurou admits more curiosity on the matter, but it would take time to form those questions... and does not seem fair to ask Tsubasa about it too much, when they already have to answer for it all the time.
Yet he's at peace with this hostage situation.
And if only he were smart enough for that kind of ploy, instead of taking two seconds to wonder if he should cut himself so he can also have a paw print bandage before realizing how ill advised that sounds, even to him.
"I did not mean to pry for specific individuals... it is fine if you answer more conceptually. Although, only answering to the screams of individuals is an answer itself."
Kurou considers briefly their wording. "Or answering your own screams." He recalls how Tsubasa had mentioned child services and nods to himself. "... Those who have suffered the same way."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Tsubasa doesn't know about the pleasant jingle of nothing running through Kurou's head, man. They gotta assume he's a genius.
But he talks about conceptual screams and it all just -- twists their gut.
"What kind of freak-ass question is that?" They ask, and their tone, too, is unnerved. "Fuckin'... someone's in trouble, you help 'em, man. 'Less you knocked them on their ass to start with. Then they fucked."
They take a breath, as they look to him. "Seriously, man... what do you want from me? Jus'... jus' be real with me, here. You askin' 'bout what I care 'bout... why you give a shit?"
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
To be fair, Kurou thinks the same thing about pixies, and acts to the fullest extent of his expectation of their capabilities. Pixies probably wish Kurou would stop doing this.
Yet intending to or not, Kurou's manner and face give very little away about his intentions or his thoughts. Even as Tsubasa becomes more unnerved or even in previous panic, he neither pursues tot twist the knife nor seeks to soothe their rising fear.
"... Anyone who is in trouble. Hm."
It is more accurate to call it uncertainty than skepticism.
"I do not ask by instruction of the shihaisha," Kurou clarifies. "But I was curious... Why you fight. Who you fight for. And according to you, soon I will see who fights for you."
Kurou picks up the dango from his tray of snacks, regarding it a long moment.
"... Because I find trying to resist food or care while knowing the one called 'Ogre' is looking for you, and would be disheartened to see you weak and wounded... to be a very curious fight to pick."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"If you wanna see an exhibit, go to the zoo, asshole!" Tsubasa snaps, hearing about his curiosity. And they might have kept attacking, except --
Except he picks up that dango, and points out just what they're fighting, and Tsubasa looks away.
Is it strange that they look so ashamed?
"I --" they start, and their voice cracks, falling into their grimace. They swallow it down, and start again. "... it's humiliatin'," they admit, quietly. "Reminds me how vulnerable I am, man. Locked up like this... there's nothin' I can do. I can't..." Their voice wavers, a little; their expression grows tight.
"... jus' give it to me," they say, quieter still.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Kurou considers the zoo advice. "... I would like to, someday."
But that's neither here nor there, for all he takes it at face value.
Is it strange? Kurou finds most manner of shame strange. Perhaps he could stand to have some of his own.
"And yet, you are still screaming," Kurou reminds Tsubasa as he offers over the dango, which may be considered a strange treat to be feeding a prisoner. But that jingle that plays in Kurou's head evidently asks why give dinner without dessert? "... Sometimes eating is screaming, too."
It may be a weird metaphor to get hung up on, yet Kurou remains fixated on it, and its importance.
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Tsubasa doesn't answer, for a moment; it's because they're busy eating that dango. ... kind of ravenously, really, for all they're really trying to pretend they're too cool to be affected by imprisonment.
"Mph," they grumble. Chew, chew, swallow.
"Man... you don't fuckin' get it. Givin' up all your control to someone else... up to whether you choke. It's..." Their expression tightens. "Back when I was in hospital, man... was times I couldn't do shit by myself there, neither. Throat ran outta room, all the tubes runnin' down there..."
They blink, and blink again, heavily. Their eyes were always blue; they're a little mistier, now. "Fuck," they say, again. "Why am I tellin' you this...?"
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Kurou is nothing if not patient, waiting for Tsubasa to chomp to their satisfaction without commentary nor urgency. And so too he listens while Tsubasa opens their history to him in a way they may have preferred not to do.
"Maybe I do not," he concedes of getting it, in this case. "The way I lost control was different. Is different."
He considers for a moment if he should help catch their tears, and decides they may not appreciate the attention that might call to it. And he considers, too, if this is one of those rhetorical questions, despite giving into his urge to attempt answering it.
"... You strike me as a person who says what they want, when they want to."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Tch... what, you tellin' me you can't help doin' this shit to me?" Tsubasa asks, and, well, they're sneering, and their tone's not exactly kind, but...
But they still want to know what's going on.
"... I weren't always," they say, looking away. "Used to be a real good... real good," they amend their sentence, subtly. (He doesn't need to know there was a gender qualifier, there.) "But it turned out I was no good... when I was this helpless, me father grabbed me by me shoulder an' shoved me down on the bed, right into me burns. No one even realised... they thought he was bein' supportive." They shouldn't be saying this, but it's like -- there's one crack in the dam, right? One crack in the dam.
"That's why this whole thing is s-so stupid," they insist, their voice hitching again. "Fuckin'... aggress the New World Order? I was doin' that! But now I gotta -- do all this fuckin' -- insane bullshit or -- or he's gonna kill me an' then he's gonna kill them an' -- it's stupid!" They cry, with all their pain and their frustration.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
"No. I am carrying out my own convictions." However regrettable he finds it, Kurou will not apologize or seek forgiveness from Tsubasa for this. Unfortunately, in assuming there is no explanation that could ever satisfy Tsubasa, he fails to give them.
Instead, he listens. A real good... Where he fails to hear the gender qualifier, he still manages to hear the painful weight of expectation, failing to meet it, and the consequences that come with it. The threats, implicit or direct, to force an outcome that is already impossible.
"He wanted your pain to be invisible," he says, "When he did not earn absolution from having to see that he caused it." He wonders, but chooses not to say, if the reason Tsubasa is speaking of this to him of all people is because their pain wasn't invisible, and was not asked to be.
It is important to scream.
And they do, though this is more of a hitched and tearful sort of 'scream'. Kurou falls quiet for a spell as he collects his own thoughts and looks up at the statue.
"... This world is a broken place. The structures that have been built can be toppled, but the damage cannot be undone. Pain cannot be erased. There is no perfect peace that sits on the other side of the right battle. But, to me, the shihaisha... He is... kintsugi. To take these broken pieces... this world of tragedy and violence... and bring them together as something that can still be worth living in."
He looks back at Tsubasa. "Your Ogre made a promise to you. If you have made a promise in kind, then... I think you will understand, eventually."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Tch... whatever." And if there is something bitter, there -- some hope smothered -- they're trying not to call attention to it.
These people... want to do this to them.
Fuck.
"Somethin' like that. Me father wants me to be -- a fuckin' accessory, man," Tsubasa scowls. "Now he's this fuckin' bigwig, he's regrettin' throwin' me out, tell ya that..."
It's a scowl that deepens, as Kurou starts talking about kintsugi -- the art of repairing a broken vase with gold. "'Kintsugi'... that some kinda sick joke...?" They wonder, their expression dark. "Fuck off, man... you ain't supposed to see me skin like this to start with." ... without their concealer acting to bridge the difference between their tanned skin and their scars, it's blatantly obvious where those massive burns have disfigured them. Tsubasa, too, is a broken thing fit together again.
And they're not laughing.
"Fuckin'... I don't give a shit if shit's still broke after I take it all down. I ain't here to fix that... that's what you call a fuckin' dictator. People'll figure themselves out. Only shit I can fix is mine." They're still quite stormy, aren't they?
But it's only when he brings up Ogre that Tsubasa clams up. "Ain't tellin' you shit 'bout her," they say. "Fuck off. How -- how 'bout you tell me somethin' instead." They keep trying this and it keeps not working, but what else can they do?
Their fingers flex, inside those jade bonds. "... that guy a yours... made this fuckin' doom timer locket, said he'd kill us when it stopped singin'." And they still haven't specified all of who us even is; these people don't know about Skull, and Tsubasa intends to keep it that way. "But... he said it'd appear in th' Dark Hour on th' night I manage to get outta here. How th' fuck he thinks I can do that? I can't, like... I'm a fuckin' wreck, man. It ain't... possible, shit he's askin' for, it's not... possible." ... as they are now, they couldn't even get their feet under them, much less walk to Kasugayama. How much worse will it be when they get out...?
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
'Whatever', Kurou is learning, means that a conversation thread is finished. It would be impossible for say he does not 'want' to do this. It is not something he enjoys, but it is, in the whole scope of his motivations, something he still deems necessary.
Otherwise, he would not commit. And that, he thinks, is obvious by his action.
That is how he thinks all people operate.
"Then may he choke upon that regret." This is said in Kurou's usual conversational, quiet tone.
Kurou tilts his head at Tsubasa as they take offense to kintsugi. A joke. "It is not," he affirms. He steps back toward Tsubasa and pulls down his arm warmer to his wrist, rotating his arm at his elbow and back again. Nothing about his skin bares any mores or is abnormal, but Kurou breathes out a soft sigh as he looks it over.
"There is a line between enduring to mask a vulnerability and becoming party to your own obscurity. I confess I do not know where that line begins or where it ends myself... when tenacity turns into a perfectly convenient, invisible pain."
He pulls the warmer back up. There is no pity to be had over it, nor, perhaps, understanding in this moment. But it is important to Kurou, at least, that Tsubasa understand he speaks of himself and is not making a joke of their own sense of 'broken'.
"You seek to break, not to build. Then... I will remember that."
If there is a motivation to Kurou's strange interrogations, he does not seem to reveal more than idle curiosity.
But Tsubasa does not wish to speak of Ogre further. Kurou does not point out he did not mean to ask, because a new question follows instead. Shiryuu and a singing locket... and Tsubasa feeling the gravity of 'impossible'.
"I am reluctant to attempt to speak on his behalf, but I have never known him to ask for the impossible. He believes -- no, he knows that you are able, past the doubt you see in yourself."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Will Hanzou choke on his regrets? Tsubasa still does not feel strong enough to take him by the throat; their scowl is troubled.
They don't argue with Kurou on it, anyway.
Their steely blue eyes drop to Kurou's arm, as he bares it. They don't see obvious scars, no... but they're looking for pinpricks. The familiar scars of venepuncture, particularly evident where that cannulation went wrong.
(You can see it on Tsubasa's body, too; it's just less obvious than the burns.)
"If I wanted to be seen," Tsubasa points out, acrid, "I wouldn't be wearin' what I do into a fight, would I?" It's a strange contradiction from someone who screams so loudly with such a massive sword; it's true, regardless. Being able to hide was always a thing Tsubasa valued, to go unseen in society...
Of course, Tsubasa fully expected that contradiction to not be a big deal. It's not a big deal in Udonto, so why should their psyche expect any different?
"I ain't th' delicate type," is what they say, of moving fast and breaking things.
They think Kurou's trying to get information about Ogre out of them, of course. Why wouldn't he? His boss is going to kill her if they don't do what he wants. Of course he wants intel; that's logical, in Tsubasa's mind.
But Kurou insists that Shiryuu doesn't ask for the impossible, and Tsubasa shakes their head, voice cracking. "It's jus' not enough time!" They cry, and the fear beneath their ferocity is more evident, still. "I -- I ain't -- I-I ain't that fuckin' tough, man, jus' act like it, fuck..." More tears gather, at their eyes.
"L--l-look, man, I... I'm proper fuckin' scared," they admit, and their head bows as it can; it's a motion a touch restricted, by that collar at their throat. "Is that what you pricks wanna hear? I... I ain't like you, I ain't this hard, I can't do this shit, man! I'm jus' some dumb fuckin' punk, this is real-ass shit, fuck!"
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Kurou has old and faint memories of an angry man unhappy with the ways of a child. But their oldness and faintness is because the man did, one day, choke. He is not so naive anymore to not understand why.
Looking so keenly, Tsubasa does not see pinpricks, can see what Kurou did not attempt to reveal while his arm warmer is tugged down: scars that creep out from his palm. Why not reveal this, if his intention was to discuss his own breaking? Why treat it as something irrelevant and unrelated?
Unfortunately, Kurou does not so easily relinquish the contradiction where the supernatural nature of Rebellion might. He considers in that same paused, stilted way he needed to chew on gender, though for less time.
"Oh. I thought it was about wanting to be seen a specific way."
Whatever way Tsubasa is seen, they not delicate. "Yes, I think I understand. But... I want there to be something built for the delicate, even if everything comes crashing down. Something for... those who can no longer scream."
Unfortunately, Kurou logic is Kurou logic. He will get all the information he likes on Ogre soon enough. It will involve weapons, if he is lucky.
Kurou gives a small flinch of a start as Tsubasa begins to cry in earnest. He had well and truly accepted that hardened, punk exterior at face value. He tries on this new truth, and what it means about what he should say.
"... It is... 'real-ass shit'," he quotes, tone still flat for the uncharacteristic profanity. "But that was true the moment you awoke. He is removing the last of the veil... the reality of what this world is, under its illusory surface. To have remained unaware would neither served nor protected you and yours. You fear it cannot be done, but fear is not the same as truth."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Scars on his palm, huh... who knows what this guy is about?
"I mean, sure, that, too... but like, it's the same fuckin' thing?" Is being seen a specific way the same thing as going unseen?! Apparently, according to Tsubasa.
The trick is: it's all lying.
"If you want that, maybe try not fuckin' kidnappin' people," they mutter, darkly. "Ain't jus' me you're fuckin' with." It's not that they think Ryuji is delicate, exactly -- but they're pretty sure shit like this is way outside his field of reference. It's just...
It's a lot.
(But if they think of people who can't scream... do they know anyone like that? ... they think of their brother; but only briefly. He doesn't need to scream. They love him.)
"Fuckin' hell," Tsubasa grits their teeth, trying to get a handle on their tears. (Snif.) "So this is... just your warped idea of trainin' or some shit? What the fuck, man? I don't want this... I don't want to be this! I was perfectly happy not knowin' what it's like to be so cramped up all me muscles feel like fuckin' knives."
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Kurou's brow pinches together briefly.
"The same... But... Why have a mask with a name?" Like Shiryuu, Kurou does not bother with masks, nor hiding his identity when it comes to his life as a shinobi, or as an agent of the supernatural. "Why not wear a different mask every time?"
Kurou you can't just ask the Will of Rebellion why it doesn't offer recycled anonymity.
But how about not kidnapping people? Kurou blinks twice. "But you scream very loudly." Whether this is literal or metaphorical or some intricate combination of logic in Kurou's brain is not further elaborated on. His interrogation skills truly are lacking for more than a few reasons.
As Tsubasa continues to cry, Kurou gets gauze from his pack, but does not try to use it yet. That is not something to attempt unprompted, even -- especially -- under the circumstances.
Muscles that feel like knives... For the first time, Kurou's gaze dips down.
To dislike that much anyone could understand, but with him, there's always a deeper meaning in everything. And that is what he asks after instead.
"... What do you want to be?"
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"It's my protection, asshole," Tsubasa scowls. "When I'm wearin' my ninja digs, no one knows I'm 'Tsubasa', magic-like... only reason you figured it out is 'cause you fuckin' kidnapped me. Th' more people know me an' Phoenix are th' same guy, the weaker that protection gets... so don't go runnin' your fuckin' mouth."
They don't quite notice that in explaining that, they also named themself. Tsubasa is very bad at this. (Being fair: their muscles are all screaming at once.)
"Yeah, man. You think everyone who gives a shit 'bout me got the same set a pipes? Sure, maybe --" maybe Skull does, they were going to say, because there's something that binds the two of them together with those masks of theirs, but they're at least good enough at opsec to shut their mouth. "... ugh, whatever. As if me family would even give a shit I was here," they grouse, instead. "So it don't fuckin' matter if they can't scream 'bout it..."
They do wonder, though... what the rest of their friends are feeling, right now. Makoto, and Ren, and Hyousuke, and everyone... would Tamaki or Akechi be able to crack the case if they just straight-out died out here?
They're letting Maria down, too... fuck, and Hyousuke's going to charge into that gallery all on his own, if he hasn't, already. Unprompted, they ask: "Hey, what day is it?"
(There's no clock in here; they haven't been able to stay conscious the whole time, anyway, so it would do them little good. They don't... know how much time has passed, and especially not when everything sucks this bad.)
"I want to be outta here!" Tsubasa cries. "To -- to keep me record clean so I can get me licence and get a job an' support her an' -- an' get to see her get th' shit she wants! I wanna figure shit out with him, get somethin' good goin'... an' I wanna be the guy that feeds that fuckin' Black Mask his own ass so no one never goes through another Psychotic Breakdown like I did! I wanna be cool, man! I wanna be tough! I want my body to stop bein' this girly piece a shit! I want to be somebody!"
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
"I will not speak of it," Kurou promises easily, but it's a bit much to ask someone you kidnapped to take such promises at face value, no matter how sincerely given.
"But... does Phoenix protect you, or do you protect Phoenix?"
Kurou might be better at this if he could pick up when and how he was getting Tsubasa to offer confirmation and extra information. He might also be better at this if that was any of the information he was trying to gather and not whatever allegories he seems fixated on.
It's fair to question: why does Shiryuu even have this guy here, doing this job?
"Screaming always matters."
He's still on about that, too! Whatever the hell it means to him. But it turns out he can be forthright when he wants to be:
"Monday," Kurou answers immediately. "September 24. The year is still 2012."
And so too can Tsubasa answer directly, at least by Kurou's definition of it. The answer is cried out, powerful and clear. Kurou closes his eyes as he gives a single, slow nod, adsorbing every word.
"... I see. Then I think I finally understand why the shihaisha is doing this... and why he believes the things you fear are not impossible."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Uh?" Tsubasa asks, with a sceptical look to Kurou. "What kinda question is that?" Are they protecting Phoenix...?!
God bless Tsubasa, they have NO idea their kidnapper is an idiot.
It's for the best.
"Why the fuck you always on 'bout screamin'?!" Tsubasa demands. "If you're gonna torture me, jus' fuckin' do it, man!" Waiting for him to do something fucked up with that whole metaphor is worse than whatever it's going to be, in their mind.
But he says it's Monday, and Tsubasa takes a ragged breath. (With some passing horror, inside themself, at the idea that a year could pass in here.) "Okay... okay. You wanna jus'... let me go? Friend a mine's gon' get way in over his head tomorrow, gon' blame me for not bein' there to back him up... gon' set him back a long-ass time. That's what you pricks care about, right? Me backin' people up?"
They pause, though, as Kurou realises just why Shiryuu's doing this.
"Then... tell me," they say, their head bowing again. "Please, jus'... tell me why you're doin' this to me. If he wanted a weapon, he coulda jus' told me an' cut me loose... so why... why do I still have to be here?!"
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
What kind of question...? Kurou's head slips into a tilt. "One of identity, I think."
He is still doing his best. Which may be concerning.
Unfortunately, Kurou has also not put together how going on about screaming is horror-movie talk before the torturing begins. Even now, he blinks with misunderstanding for Tsubasa's meaning, before his posture wilts.
"... My apologies, I did not realize my words had that kind of effect..."
Talking to Kurou... is torture...?! Perhaps he should limit his questions and his responses...
It would be horrible if a year passed without one's full awareness. To enter the Dark Hour, or a supernatural space, and for that time to become a blur of pain and isolation until time itself crumbled apart. Kurou makes sure to tell Tsubasa what year it is.
Kurou is used to grim work, but even he experiences temptation to loosen Tsubasa's bonds as they beseech him. Unfortunately, that temptation does not outweigh his resolve to see this task to proper completion.
"Because there is something I have yet to learn."
But he does not ask further questions.
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Who the fuck wouldn't wanna be a bird?" Is what Tsubasa says, about identity. "Birds are fierce as shit." This might be the opposite of helpful, but they're... well, they're doing what they can under the circumstances.
Tsubasa fixes him with a sceptical expression, as Kurou wilts. "You playin' dumb with me? It's fuckin' obvious, man. You talk up screamin' that much, then you make me scream, and it's worse 'cuz I had to play philosophy about it first. How 'bout I strap you in this fuckin' thing an' show ya how it's done?" It's a cruel kind of question to ask, but where else are they supposed to lash out?
But even when they plead with him, he just insists he has something to learn, here, and Tsubasa's voice breaks as they cry out: "Then jus' tell me what you wanna know! All a you's always so goddamn obtuse 'bout my fuckin' life, jus' lay it out for me, already--!!"
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
"That is a good point," Kurou concedes, as if it's the most helpful way Tsubasa could have explained it. Because they're right! Who wouldn't want to be a bird?
But Tsubasa describes how this is supposed to work, and Kurou taps at his lip, nearly squinting. He did not realize this was going so against expectation. "... I do not wish to repeat this methods if it can be helped, but... perhaps it would be prudent, in the future, if you could demonstrate proper technique just in case."
...
He has said what he has said, and without an ounce of irony.
It is a manner unchanged even as Tsubasa pleads further.
"It is not something that can be asked by word, nor answered as such. Please do not stress yourself further." Easy words to say from where he is standing, for he is the one who gets to stand. "I will have my answer soon."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
All of Tsubasa's points are good points ESPECIALLY THE POINT ABOUT LETTING THEM GO!
Seriously, their legs are fucking killing them. Have you ever had your legs go to sleep, and then felt a terrible pain in them? Imagine that, but without being able to shift into a different position. It's just -- quietly agonising, in the background. It's honestly impressive that Tsubasa can hold any kind of conversation which isn't just begging and screaming to be let out.
Well, their limbs will go numb again... eventually.
Kurou suggests they demonstrate in the future, though, and Tsubasa jerks back in their bonds. "Are you sick in th' head?!" They yelp. "Don't ask me to torture you! What th' fuck?!"
They're just -- so freaked out, man. It's a feeling that only grows in intensity, as Kurou insists he can't just ask. "Don't make me guess--!" They cry out, desperately. "Fuck! Why are you people all so sick?! Don't play games with my life like this!" They sob, then, wretched and unveiled, their shoulders shaking as they bite at their lip. "Fuck..."
No matter how they plead... it won't matter, will it?
It's only as Tsubasa sobs that their mind runs through it... and ice lodges in their stomach.
"... when Ogre gets everyone together to get me outta here... you guys will know jus' who I'm runnin' with, huh," they say, their voice numb. "If you wanted to know who to hit to hurt me... you could do way worse than makin' a rescue party show up. Shit... yeah. He can't use my people against me if he don't know who they are. He wants a weapon... but this is a lot a trouble to go through for jus' one job. If it was jus' one job, he really woulda cut me loose by now... sicko's obsessed, huh."
What if... they get here, and he makes an example of someone while they're slowing them down?
"..." Tsubasa swallows, against that lump, in their throat.
"Hey..." They start, their gaze shifting, to the side, to the little table Kurou's set up. "... gimme that tempura, man."
Whether they've resolved to fight, or just realised they have to... that's an open question.
But at least they're ready to accept Kurou's kindness, now.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
As good of a point as that particular one is, Kurou does not concede it.
It is a very impressive thing to hold a conversation under such conditions. To have those pins and needles pricking in place of sensation... to have knives in the muscles that would deepen at the wrong touch, to be unable to feel, but not numb: just pain, constant, inescapable.
... There is also the other torture Tsubasa is currently endearing. Kurou wilts again as Tsubasa scolds them over accepting their previous offer. (Because it wasn't an offer Kurou!) "... Sorry. I will rescind my agreement."
But he does not apologize for the whole kidnapping thing, even if he feels that urge while Tsubasa is wound up further in their fear and desperation.
"You do not need to guess," Kurou assures, which is no assurance at all. ... Especially not as Tsubasa extrapolates on what exactly Kurou stands to learn and exactly it could end up happening. Kurou's silence in response is damning.
... Even if it is not, precisely, the whole truth.
He only looks up again when Tsubasa calls to him. Kurou gives a nod, and offers the tempura without any hesitation.
"I have also brought tea, if you would prefer that to water."
Accepted or not, there is little left to do but wait.