entranceway | 003 💀 text/action

Entry tags:

003 💀 text/action

Hey, Sakamoto Ryuji here.

I can't be the only one with ass kicking on the brain after that invisible dog bullshit. What's the consensus on fighting instructors around here? Did that turn out to be a thing?

If anyone's got the time show a few moves and still taking requests, I got one of my own. I'd appreciate a few tips if you feel like sharing. I'm talking about the badasses that know what they're doing, not just the make it up as you go kind (like me). Hate to say it, but the stuff we're facing in events is a little different from what I'm used to.

Dunno what I could trade for it, but I learn fast! And I'll think of something. Thanks for taking the time to read this.

PS: And if you're looking for Akira, don't worry. Nothing bad happened to him. He just went home. Sorry.

_{[The last bit is the real crux of the message and also the thorn in its side; bundling it in with the request lessens the sharp prick of it. Not by much, but some.]}

I | Exercise facilities + outer grounds

_{[Anyone with an eye for blond phantom thieves can usually spot Ryuji adhering to a runner's training schedule, a carry-over from home. Indoors in the weight room, outdoors on the grounds, casual long distance jogs, short distance drills--he's at it most days, alternating between staving off boredom and building on his strength.

Usually time following an event are cool down days, a period to let himself recover from the trial of the week. Not this time. He keeps his foot jammed on the gas pedal with the restlessness energy of someone who has something he has to face but is taking every detour to avoid it. The request for some self-defense pointers had been practical--if the Tartarus event taught him anything (and the Asgard event before that, and the zombie event before that), he could use them--but it's also fuel for the avoidance fire.

Usually there's room for a chat in between squats on the beach or a friendly wave on a run, but don't take it personally if he seems a bit standoffish today. He's distracted, brows set in a flat line, viciously pouring energy into his routine with a nice, healthy contempt for the ground or the horizon, whatever he happens to be staring at.

If someone catches his eye, though, he'll forcibly relax, offering a smile. It comes a beat too late to be effortless, but that's hardly out of place, right? They've all been through a lot coming out the other side of the event meat grinder.]}

II | Training center

_{[Futaba. Morgana. Iwai. Yusuke. Ann. Makoto. Haru... Akira. How could he have thought this place felt small? With all of the people most familiar to him--people he'd shared the burden of events with, sat across the breakfast table with, lived with in the case of his two best friends--gone to fuck knows where, Wonderland feels infinitely massive and empty. He could handle this together. Alone, it's... it's hard. Harder than he imagined.

There's still Akechi, and isn't that the height of irony, to be the last man standing with Akechi Goro, out of everyone. He hesitates a while with phone in hand, Akechi's name in the To: field, but his hands aren't interested in sending more messages.

They want to make fists. They want to break.

Those in the training center will be privy to Ryuji, uncharacteristically stoic and grim-faced, slipping on a pair of gloves and squaring off with a punching bag with a frenetic violence to match. Either that punching bag insulted him, or someone didn't burn off quite enough energy climbing stairs in Tartarus.

The flurry is broken up only by a wince after a particularly hard punch. Peeling off his glove reveals a streak of red from split knuckles. Apparently someone also doesn't know when to quit.]}

Fuck

_{[Any gym rats handy with bandaids...? Alternatively, maybe you see him taking himself and his bloody hands for a walk to the clinic for something to wrap them with. He's probably not the only needing aftercare after that doozy of an event, even if his most recent war wounds are fresher.]}

III | Kitchen

_{[The thought of going back to his empty room in his empty section of hallway throbs worse than his bandaged knuckles. Suddenly it's like his first day in Wonderland all over again, not knowing what to do or where to park himself in a strange, unwelcoming environment.

He ends up in the kitchen, hungry but not really, searching the fridge and cupboards with a listless indecisiveness. He's probably standing in your way as you go to grab something--and will continue to stand in your way until prompted, or he notices you.]}

_{[And he'll slide to the side to let you get to your business, smile apologetic.]}

IV | Wildcard

_{[Ryuji'll be going about business as usual in Wonderland post-event, so feel free to come up with your own starter around the mansion and/or elsewhere! Or hit me up for a different one if you're not feeling the locations/prompts.]}

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Occasionally Minato did go to the kitchen if just to practice recipes for the Diner and to just make something to eat too if he didn't want to do it at the Diner. He saw Ryuji in there, looking a bit deflated. He didn't have the same energy he normally did.

He watched as someone had to maneuver around Ryuji to get something from the fridge. It was Minato's turn now to get something too.]

You don't look so good.

[Speaking about looking and all.]

_{[Getting in the way--a Ryuji classic. He side-steps to a counter set against the wall before any hangry snackers can remind him what a serious breach of roommate etiquette blocking access to sustenance is.]}

Gee, thanks. You look great, too.

_{[A protest with no real spirit of protest behind it. He doesn't imagine he looks his best. Tartarus had left its lipstick-stained kiss mark on him as it had everyone, no matter if it was softened by his Persona. Leaning back on his elbows twinges a scrape on his shoulder blade--from hitting the floor or the scrape of claws, he can't remember which.

The bandaged hands are a giveaway, of course--in all honesty, a sign of too much pent-up energy rather than too little--yet barely worth the fuss to care for, in Ryuji's opinion. He's punched more unforgiving things than a bag. Things that punch back. Concrete walls. Kamoshida's face. He sets about sullenly picking at a loose edge in the gauze, gaze lowered to his work.]}

Ever have that feelin' of being tired and not tired at the same time? Like you dunno what to do but you just gotta do somethin'? That's kinda where I am. How 'bout you? You rested up after all of that?

_{[Let's take Generic Questions to Avoid My Problems for 100, Alex.]}

[Minato reached into the fridge for a cola and brought one out for Ryuji. He figured he should at least do that, even if Ryuji didn't seem like in the mood to be eating or drinking much of anything despite being in the kitchen.

He held it up for him to see, then set it on the counter. Ryuji could take it or leave it. It was up to him. He nodded though, if just to answer all of his questions, but he opted for being more specific and more verbal about it.]

I know. Then you get tired of being tired.

[It had to be more than just the event that caused this.]

I'm okay. I can heal you, if you want, and to listen.

[Since well, being miserable sucked, and then being hurt on top of that was just another kick when he was already down. Plus what was up with Ryuji anyway. Speaking of up and down, again.]

Thanks.

_{[True enough that the aimless restlessness in his legs had carried him here more than any need on his stomach's part, but the gesture is appreciated. He moves the can of cold soda to his side of the kitchen, leaving it to stand sentinel beside him.]}

Don't worry about it, you should save your strength. These aren't from that shitty ass tower.

_{[He doesn't volunteer an explanation for his abused hands. It's not for worry of what Minato would think that stops him, so much as what Ryuji, himself thinks. He knows he should be beyond tantrums and outbursts and overdoing himself. In self-directed reproach, he deserves to deal with the consequences of what he brought on himself.

His fingers hook under the edge of the counter and tap out a nonsense melody. Constant, uneasy movement.]}

Glad you weren't one of the ones who got tore up in there. I know I shouldn't say it since that event hurt so many people, but I... miss it a bit. The fightin'.

... Not really the fightin', I guess, just--I wish there was still somethin' to go after. Somethin' in front of me I could do somethin' about. It sucked, but that was the closest I've felt to home.

_{[But that was before he realized home had reached out and snatched Akira back. The ignorance of hyper-focusing on a crisis thinking your best friend is still in it with you...

Well, it may not be the most blissful kind, but it's a damn sight better than the cold slap of reality. Being back in the mansion means being back in the mansion alone.]}

Edited 2017-10-15 09:29 (UTC)

III

no subject

no subject

no subject

text

text;

text;

text;

text;

text;

iii ; this outta be good

definitely not weird at all

no subject