#the supergenius sorta rivalry (tsubakura & kuroji) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maideninorange · 1 year

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"What are we?" "Human, at least I hope we still are."

For TsubaKuro obviously

Me? In a horror mood? Why never ever! Now with more mad science shit!

(TW: Graphic Descriptions of Injuries (Bone Malalignment), Body/Transformation Horror, Past Human Experimentation (Well, Youkai Experimentation, but the sentiment still applies))

The flicker of busted ceiling lights was the hazy sight that greeted Kuroji when consciousness began trickling back to them.

What... happened...? Was the first clear thought that came to their slushy mind. The rest were vague ideas and shards of memories without any sort of coherency. It was like they, the person and the body they inhabit, had turned to mush.

Kuroji hears someone groan. It takes a moment for them to realize that someone was actually Kuroji themself, their tongue lolling out of their mouth like a gaping moron.

It took them another moment to realize they were leaning against some kind of flat surface. Well, lean wasn't exactly the right word. Their mind was too foggy to think of the proper word for being bent into a right angle against said flat surface, so "lean" will have to do.

Another groan forces itself from their lips. Slowly, sensation starts to return to their body. It starts from their jaw and throat, then spreads down to their chest and up to the rest of their head. Their fingers twitch as feeling overflows through them again, the splinters of corroded wood still slightly chilled from...from...

...What caused this? It's all coming back to them now...

They had agreed to help with some kind of...experiment? Study? ...Yes, experiment. They remember being asked to bring someone here...Wherever here is again...For...Some kind of extraction? Of what? The answer floats away from them the moment they reach out to touch it.

Kuroji raises a trembling hand up to their temple, massaging it. Come on...Work stupid brain...

Some kind of explosion occurred. The last thing they vividly remember is the wide-eyed expression on...

...Tsubakura? Oh shit, Tsubakura!

"Tsu...Tsubakura?" They croak out, bleary eyes scanning their filmy surroundings for any sign of the monochrome figure or their top hat, "Are you...Are you here?"

A moment of silence passes. Kuroji is almost convince that Tsubakura is either still unconscious, isn't in the room at all, or...No, they wouldn't perish from this, would they?!

But then, they hear it. A loud cough somewhere across the room, followed by the sound of debris being shuffled about. A small smile forms at the corners of their mouth, all the tension suddenly seizing their body at their earlier fears draining away in an instant.

"Ugh...Yeah...Still alive. I take it...you made it too?"

"...What do you...think...?" Their voice sounded hoarse, parched and sore, like they needed a glass of water. They probably did, if they were out for a long while like they suspect.

"Good... I'd miss your stupid face if you did die from that."

Kuroji can just hear the wry grin they are making in their direction. Their heart skips a beat at what they were implying, but they pay it no heed. They didn't want to think about that when they were barely conscious as is.

"Shut up..." They shake their head gently (more to be mindful of it than to communicate properly), "What...happened...?"

"You mean you don't remember?"

"I do...Details are just...more than a little fuzzy..." Kuroji blinks rapidly, trying to clear their vision. And maybe, just maybe, find the strength to stand.

A groan, "You're no fun...Why can't you be like Yabusame and bounce back from a small explosion or two?"

"Because...I'm not Yabusame-kun? What kind of question...is that?" They try to roll their eyes. This is probably why they're never asked to help out during experiments. They ask too many questions, and can't take as much punishment.

Hell, Kuroji is pretty sure the only reason they got asked to be their assistant for this one was because they were the only one who could reliably catch Saragimaru!

Wait...

...Ah.

If Kuroji wasn't awake before, they were now. Their vision clears away to blinding lights, breath coming in short gasps. Everything was coming back to them now. And with it a very important question.

"Saragimaru...Where is Saragimaru?!"

"Gone, it seems. Must've busted out of their restraints after knocking that vial over," A sigh, followed by more shuffling of debris, "Ugh, inhaling so much pure mana could not have been good. Must've caused that explosion when it touched the bunsen burner too..."

Kuroji swallows hard. So that's what Tsubakura wanted Saragimaru for, huh? They long learned the hard way that you shouldn't mess with magic, but it seems they never got that message, now did they?

And considering how... spectacular, to put it mildly, Tsubakura's failures in the lab typically are...

"You told me...This was a simple venom extraction...Not some kind of experiment with fucking magic!" Kuroji hisses.

"Duh! If I had, you wouldn't have let me get past Step 1. Maybe Step 2 if I was lucky."

Kuroji grits their teeth. They can just hear the half-hearted shrug they were making at them. It made them want to punch the smug grin they knew they were making right off their face.

If only everything wasn't so, so sore...

That's when a hand enters their line of sight. Their eyes naturally follow the hand up to the figure above them.

Sure enough, it was Tsubakura Enraku, only a little worse for the wear. Their hat was crooked and their clothes had more than a few tears, but that was nothing a good patch job couldn't fix. They weren't in fact smirking like Kuroji thought they would be, but only because their eyes were wandering over their body, lips pressed into a feigned neutral line.

"Geez...Can you even move?" They ask, brows drawing together, "You don't...look so good."

Ah, there was the bite. They had a feeling they must've been injured in the accident. Probably in the back or a leg given how much those ache. Kuroji shudders as they take Tsubakura's hand, "I can move my arms at least..."

"That's somethin'. Now here's the better question: Can you walk?"

"That's...A very good question," They admit.

"Well then let's find out. On a one...On a two..."

Kuroji doesn't even get time to prepare themself. Not that Tsubakura ever does anything on three. Two, if you were lucky, and this time is no different. The next thing they know, they were being peeled away from the operating table, and yanked to their feet.

...

...They should not be walking.

"...Agh!" Kuroji bites down on their lip to keep from screaming. All they could focus on was the blinding pain radiating from their leg, impossible to keep on the ground.

When they became aware of their surroundings once more, Tsubakura had slung their arm around their neck, keeping them upright.

"Guess not..."

They help lift Kuroji onto the operating table. The restraints used to tie Saragimaru down were now mere ribbons of leather, some of which are scattered across the whole lab. The whole table is drenched in rainwater mixed with blood (that was probably Kuroji's from earlier). Whatever happened after their slave got loose, they did a damn good job destroying the lab, without ever even lifting a finger to harm either of them.

Which is, quite frankly, rather odd considering how much that snake likes to talk about their future slow, agonizing death. But the stressed look on Tsubakura's face brought them out of their intrusive worries and into their present ones.

Kuroji lays down without much of a fuss. Though they couldn't help themself when they ask, "What? Not gonna bring me back to your room for a...more further examination, as you typically call it?"

A snort escaped Tsubakura's throat, their tongue sticking out, "Oh hah hah. You must think yourself clever for throwing my words back in my face."

They shrug, "Perhaps a little. Like I could ever best you in that department, but I ought to take a little victory every once in a while, yes?"

"...I guess. Although it's kinda hard to take you back to my room with the number your stupid snake did to my lab entrance. So we're sitting ducks until Yabusame or Sensei can dig us out! ...Just to answer your question."

Their smirk doesn't reach their eyes. Kuroji lets their head fall back, letting out a deep breath they didn't realize they had took, "...How bad is it, Dr. Enraku?"

(They won't call them "Doc" like Hoojiro had. This smug ass who bewitched their sister does not deserve that informality, even now. Not that they ever, ever notice...)

"Well let's see..."

Tsubakura gets to work almost immediately. They start by grabbing their injured leg and feeling it up. Kuroji closes their eyes tightly, bracing for when they find the fracture.

"Hm...Mm?"

...The strike of agony never leaves its mark. Kuroji cracks open one eye, catching a glimpse of Tsubakura's pinched expression, a raised eyebrow the only hint as to its cause.

"...Well, you apparently don't have a fracture somehow. In fact, your leg would probably be working just fine if not for the impossible angle and the swelling."

...Huh? "How...?"

"I dunno," Tsubakura lets go of their leg, much to Kuroji's relief, "You have more symptoms of a broken bone healing wrong than an actual broken bone. Hence my confusion."

...That makes literally no sense, even by the madness of this lab's standards. Kuroji couldn't have been out for more than a day at most, and their leg was working just fine when they first came down here. So how could they have such an injury?

"Did you develop some kind of accelerated healing factor or something?" Tsubakura jokes, a wry grin plastering itself on their face, "Cause the only explanation I can think of is 'you broke your leg in the initial chaos and it healed itself wrong while you were out."

"No!" They shout. Then, the fight drains from their body as they stare up blankly at the ceiling, "At least...I don't think I have..."

But now that they had proposed the idea, it made a disturbing amount of sense. After all, now that they are really thinking about it, they didn't have a single scratch on their body besides the leg.

Neither did Tsubakura, for that matter. In fact, Kuroji swears they can see patches of scales on their hand, collar, face...

Kuroji must've made a face or something, because Tsubakura's eyes have widened, their delicate, tactile hands having turned to tight fists. (And were those claws where fingernails normally are?)

"Alright Kuroji, what's with the face? You don't just pale at anything, so what's wrong?"

They were...pale? They went pale? They were usually much better at hiding their more... cumbersome feelings, especially under Tsubakura's hawkish eyes. But they couldn't help it for this. Not when...When...

No...There's no way...

"...Forgive me for this. I just need to test a theory."

"Huh? What do you mean by-" And that's all they manage to get out before Kuroji's hand claws at their arm. Or at least tries to. Fatigue infecting every inch of their body meant only a couple red slashes were formed, but it was more than enough.

"Ngh!" Tsubakura staggers back, clutching their arm, "What the hell was that for?!"

"Testing a theory, like I said I was." Kuroji shakes their head, jaw hurting from how hard they were clenching it, "Watch."

Tsubakura yanks their sleeve down, revealing the red welds from Kuroji's "attack" once again, "What the hell could ever require you to-"

Their grumbling abruptly stops. Now they too are making a wide-eyed expression.

They both watch as the welds shrink, folding away, until all of it has faded back into Tsubakura's normal skin tone, good as new. Well that just proves it then, huh?

Kuroji's breath hitches, "Ah...I knew it. Thanks for being my willing test subject..."

They couldn't even snicker at Tsubakura's irritated snort. They were too busy wishing the operating table would fold in on them.

For if Tsubakura had the same accelerated healing factor they seem to have, and they were quickly...They don't even know at this point, then...

Then what did it mean for Kuroji themself?

Kuroji drags their hands up in front of their face. They look like their hands: normal human hands, with all the same old scars from countless injuries as they invent or dig. But then they notice how their fingernails are tipped, ever so slightly sharp. Hiding razor sharp talons, no doubt.

Just like Tsubakura's.

"...What are we?!" Kuroji asks with no recipient in mind, voice warbling from near hysteria. They knew the answer, but at least a question can be answered with a comforting lie, unlike the blanket statement their mind wanted them to confront.

"Human. At least I hope we still are..." Tsubakura replies, the waver in their voice uncomfortably noticeable. Never have they ever wanted them to be right about anything as hard as right now.

And yet, as they watch Tsubakura itch at their collar, the flaking off of skin to reveal similarly colored scales was going out of its way to prove them wrong. They look at the patch, then their nails, and all the certainty leaves their voice as they mumble a quiet, "Shit..."

If Tsubakura's pale expression was the expression they had pointed out Kuroji had, then that isn't a good sign at all. And to make matters worse, as if watching them do it triggered something inside them, various spots on their arm began to itch like mad, begging them to scratch at them.

They didn't want to, and yet their hand moves automatically to perform the motion. And sure enough, flakes of skins fell away to reveal scales of their own. Kuroji kept scratching at the scales, praying for it to all be a cruel prank, and found only pain and blood for their efforts.

And not even that lingered for longer than a moment. It was enough to drive even a hardened scoundrel like Kuroji Shitodo to tears.

"...What have you done?!"

"I dunno...Heh heh..." Tsubakura pants, their legs shaking. They rub their back, tears forming in their eyes, "I...probably shouldn't have done this...All of this...Should I?

"What...Do you think?" Kuroji huffs out, blinking back tears, "Whatever happens next, I want you to know this is all your fault. Even if you die."

Tsubakura reels back, as if slapped. It wasn't undeserved in the slightest. But even so, the pitiful way their figure seems to shamble back made a twinge of guilt stab Kuroji in the chest...

"Hah...I think...I'd deserve that...There's no coming back from this, is there?" They let out a light laugh, as if this was merely a prank gone awry. The scratching at their back becomes a full blown madness, a struggle to take off their vest and shirt even, "My back...Hurts like hell..."

And then, like someone had flipped their killswitch, Tsubakura falls backwards into an overturned table behind them. Kuroji doesn't have the energy to raise their head up to see, but from the sudden tearing and scratching at the ground, they didn't think they wanted to see what caused that.

And when that morphed into screams and muscles tearing, they knew they definitely didn't want to see.

It's so funny...They think to themself as a throbbing started in their backside, I wanted to see Tsubakura scream someday.

But not like this. Never like this...

They wanted to take those last words full of venom back. Apologize even. But as the throbbing worsened and worsened into full blown burning, Kuroji's remorse left in favor of bracing for agony.

After all, this was only the beginning of a long, long transformation. Days of agony awaited both of them, no doubt.

They close their eyes, sobs echoing as their body prepares itself for its next phase. All they can do is sink into the biting metal of the operating table, and hope someone, anyone, manages to find them sooner rather than later.

And hopefully before both of them lose their minds.

Psst, hey! My requests are still open! Checked these two links here for details in the tags!

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maideninorange · 1 year

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58, your choice of characters? curious to see what youd write!

#58 "The person you knew died long ago."

Took me a moment to think of what to do for this one! I decided this ought to be a good excuse to pull one of my old KuroTsuba ideas out of storage, and had lots of fun with it. I think you'll enjoy it!

(TW: This one gets violent. Nothing too terrible, but it is about on the same level as my prior fic "Inhuman" (which had way too much fun with its minor character death, the resulting corpses, and, well, inhuman mindsets). There's also a little self-loathing and touch starvation near the end. Disturbing content ahead!)

Tsubakura skulks in the shadows, observing their prey with a prying eye. Humans don't typically come into their part of the forest, so they don't get to test their traps too often.

Making and putting them into use were one of the few forms of joy still available to them. So they are always excited to have an excuse to perform a trial run or two.

The human looks over at where they are, but it does them no good. Ink is the same pitch black as the shadows in this part of Mugenri they carved out for themself, and ink is like a second skin to them now. Swallows never liked to be seen by human eyes anyway.

They step closer. And closer. Until a light breeze would push them into the puddle of ink set up beneath their feet. They haven't had a chance to experiment with their control over pocket dimensions in a while, so they were excited to finally have something that wasn't a boring animal or another youkai they had to let go.

Now all that human has to do is fall in. They're sick of waiting around, and wanted to get to their experiment with subzero temperatures already.

A sudden spurt of blood from the wheezing human's throat, accompanied by a hoarse scream, put an end to their fantasizing. The human crumples to the ground, twitches for a moment longer, then stills, lifeless. The trap never springs.

What?! How?! They were right fucking there!!! I was so close!!!

A small shadow emerges out of the corner of their right eye. They bite back a low growl. Another youkai just stole their kill right out from under their nose!

Looks like they'll have to deal with them the hard way.

Tsubakura steps out of the shadows, steps a little shaky after resolidifying themself. They place a taloned hand over the puddle of ink and shift the portal into a longsword. They give it a practice swing (confirming it was solid as well) as they scan their surroundings.

The other youkai is gonna have to go through them if they want their kill. And no, Tsubakura didn't care if they saw their trap or not; they killed what was supposed to be their prey, and now they must deal with them if they want it. That was simply how they operate, ever since becoming a youkai and being forced to survive on their lonesome.

(They weren't always alone though. Like when they were human. They haven't seen Yabusame in decades.)

...Where did that other youkai go any-

Fwang!

Tsubakura's back lit on fire, ignited by unseen danmaku. They let out a startled cry, and then the ground tumbled towards them. On instinct, they dropped into a roll. Pain blows through their wings as they absorb the impact, breaking their fall. It felt like they tore a ligament or two on them...

Then, Tsubakura was standing again, wings flared out. The wound has already almost finished healing, nanomachines working in conjunction with their natural magic as a youkai to make a speedy process lightning fast. Besides the singes and knives sticking out of their back, they weren't even disheveled. Only their hat a little askew.

"Playing dirty already, huh?" They call out, "Scared of facin' little old me?"

Zing!

More danmaku whizzes through behind them. But this time, Tsubakura was ready. They calmly sidestepped the danmaku knife as it flies at them, frayed black hair ruffled by its motion as it slots into a tree. They will not be caught off guard by the same predictable trick twice.

Although that handle, even as it disintegrates back into mana, is eerily familiar...Where have they seen such a purple hue on one before?

(That was a century or two ago, wasn't it? Before they changed and the Tsubakura Enraku the world knew died and left their current self in their place. That felt so long ago...)

Another knife breezes by their ear. Tsubakura sneaks a glance behind themself, sword at the ready to swing down.

Nobody was behind them.

They whirl around once more, jaw starting to hurt from how hard they were gritting their teeth. Already, a new layer of danmaku was weaved, without a single spell card being declared yet. Damn it, their new opponent was good. If it weren't for their burning desire to steal back their kill, it would be almost kinda fun.

And then, the danmaku flips over, trajectory reversed. That, Tsubakura wasn't expecting.

They slash through the onslaught wildly, their nanomachines firing their signature magic ink in every which direction. But all their frenzy does is leave them wide open to a different form of attack.

The moment they turn around to better shield their face, something blunt collides with their lower jaw.

"Gah!"

Tsubakura stumbles back, dazed. They attempt to swing their sword again, but then their opponent is right behind them, their arm wretched painfully behind their back and their sword foisted from their grasp. Disarmed and helpless.

"Unfortunately for you, I prefer to play dirty tricks first," a smarmy voice sneers in their ear, "Then again, a trap like that is quite the dirty trick for your human 'prey', no?"

A very, very familiar smarmy voice in fact...

"Not the type to play fair either, huh?" Tsubakura snarks, rolling their shoulders back best they can, "That's fine. Keeps things interesting."

"Oh? And what could you ever mean by that?" They ask.

"Something like this."

Tsubakura closes their eyes, and relaxes their molecules until they were ink. They relish in how they slip through the other's fingers like grains of sand, and the stunned shout of realization after.

Then, Tsubakura retakes human shape behind them, and in a blur of movement, their opponent was pinned beneath their body weight. Their long, tapered wings cage them in, keeping the pair of small grey and brown wings they just now noticed protruding from their back still.

Finally. They think as they resummon their longsword. This oughta teach you for thinking you can steal my kills.

Their opponent tenses uncomfortably as they bring the sword closer and closer to their throat. Tsubakura gets their first good look at their face.

The world stops.

They...They know their opponent. They knew their opponent very well in fact. They may have a monocle covering a foggy eye now, but that crooked smirk is unmistakable.

"...Kuroji?"

They perk up at the name, eyes widening as they scan their face for any sign of a joke.

They recognize them.

"Tsu... Tsubakura? Is that really you?" Kuroji croaks out.

Tsubakura's grip goes slack. It was them. It was them. After so long with only themself for company, it was really them, someone they knew in a previous life.

"...Yes. Though I am not the same person you once knew."

Their longsword slides out of their grasp. They flash a wobbly smile as they stand, "The person you knew died long ago."

"Ah...You met with the same fate?" Kuroji groans as they try to sit up, their wings unfurling to match Tsubakura's body language, "That's...to be expected then. The Shitodo Kuroji you knew from before is long gone as well."

Their smile turns wry as they extend a hand, "Well duh! You'd be long dead by now if you didn't go youkai too. Human lifespans suck."

Kuroji lets out a shallow sigh, rolling their eyes as they take their hand, "Considering that you seem to have taken to youkai depravity like a fish to water, that opinion doesn't surprise me. You never did quite know how to quit when you actually started something..."

Tsubakura pulls them up onto their feet, a little off kilter due to a weird glitch in weight. They were about to jab in turn at their scoundrelry, when they suddenly noticed something out of place.

The fingers that curled around theirs were metallic. A prosthetic.

"...You must've been quite busy to have lost your arm there. What happened? Shouldn't you have regenerated it since you're a youkai too now?"

Kuroji glances down at their prosthetic arm. Their smile fades. The blending of flesh into metal was jagged and uneven, not the smooth roundedness of most robotic arms back in the Outside World. That couldn't have been done by mere disease.

"Oh...this," Their voice hardens as their hand curls into a fist at their side, "Let's just say...Adagumo no Yaorochi can be very, very creative when angered enough to decide ripping you to shreds is too light of a punishment and has a little extra...help, and leave it at that."

Translation: "I don't want to talk about this right now."

And considering the glint of serpentine fangs instead of merely sharp canines as they grit their teeth and how their tail thrashes like its prehensile instead of fanning its feathers out like their own does when anxious, Tsubakura can hazard a pretty good guess as to what happened. As well as how Kuroji became like this in the first place.

"...You know, I can always try and fix your arm up if you wanna. Just like old times?"

Kuroji looks up at the starry sky, tilting their monocle forward. The eye behind it gazes at nothing.

"...I'll be fine. It's an old injury, and a good tool for pity points when you're trying to stir the heartstrings. I'm too used to the prosthetic anyway."

Tsubakura let a small smile grace their features at that, their wings wrapping around their frame comfortably in spite of their permanent inkstains.

The Kuroji Shitodo Tsubakura knew may be long dead, but Kuroji's wicked ways clearly still live on. In a different form, perhaps, but still there. Experience must have taught them that the hard way. Brutally.

It's still probably better than what got Tsubakura like this to begin with though. Anything would be probably be better after days of continuous torture by that maniac...

(They can still hear their screams as they tore them apart like a majestic symphony. It is only marred by Yabusame's shrieking of their name.)

Their smile vanishes at the awful memories.

"...Just as awful as ever, I see."

"Kinda have to be when you need to kill to survive. At least I have the decency to not toy with my food..."

They give the forgotten corpse near their feet an accusatory look. Not directed at the taken life from the person it once was, but indirectly at Tsubakura themself.

As if subtly asking, "What lead you to making death traps for your former species? What happened to your humanity, in both senses of the word?"

And honestly, Tsubakura wasn't quite sure of the answer themself. All they knew is that this was their life now, with all its boredom punctuated by periods of misery and small bouts of excitement like this. What do a few lives lost to the occasional entertaining death trap mean in the long run?

Didn't Kuroji do the same thing? Why did they sound so...bothered by it?

Tsubakura takes a quick step back, "Oh relax. My traps don't get too many humans. More likely to catch a squirrel than a sentient being. I mostly just sleep and make sure no one comes near my main base. Going after people when I can just drink ink is too much effort."

Kuroji directs their stare at them full on now. Any brief amusement or nostalgia is long gone now, replaced with a gaze that could pierce glass. (And for all they knew, it probably could. A lot can happen to someone in a measly century, especially someone like Kuroji.)

"...So that's all you've been doing this past century then? Just... Surviving out in the woods like a perpetually bored wild animal? I thought that if I ever saw you again, you'd be doing more than just...Surviving."

Tsubakura blinks, caught off guard, "Hwah?"

They could just feel Kuroji's disappointment bleeding through their harsh tone, "I mean, after our last meeting, you just...vanished. I thought you had died. Died! And all this time, you were out here in the middle of nowhere, where no one would ever find you, and you were just... surviving by the skin of your teeth?"

"Well...I guess? I mean, what else am I supposed to do? Can't go back to the Sanctuary when Whats-Their-Name the Priest will just kill me for being a priest who became a youkai. Not to mention most people in Mugenri already hate me for being a shitty priest when I was human. So why bother being anything more than that?"

They tactically avoid bringing up Yabusame. They don't wish to talk about them, even if their absence is never unnoticed by them.

"...It seems having only yourself for company has done a number on your mind, Tsubakura," Kuroji says coldly. They cock their head, the only parts of them moving being their fanned out wings and tail.

"Let me ask you again more directly then: Where have you been all these years?! The last time I saw you was you telling me not to come looking for you because Tsurubami Senri was out for your head! That was 200 years ago! And counting! Did you think that I just forgot about you?! Because I haven't! I never have!"

It all spills out of them. Tsubakura can only listen, their face growing paler and paler as Kuroji's rant goes on.

"You haven't left my mind once you disappeared, you know? Even after I accepted you were probably dead, even after I... became what I am now, I never stopped thinking about you!"

They choke, tears gathering in their eyes, "Have you thought about me while you were out here haunting this forest? Even once? Have you?!"

Tsubakura stood, motionless. Motionless, except for the shakes and shudders that ran throughout their body.

200 years was a long, long time to reflect on one's prior actions. Especially when you didn't start life as a monster. (Because what else can you call someone like them, who felt no remorse for setting death traps on the unsuspecting, animal, human, or youkai?) And sure enough, during the long bouts of nothing happening, Tsubakura got lost in their memories.

And as memories bled into thoughts and thoughts bled into longings, Tsubakura had brainstormed many, many long excuses and explanations for what happened to them. If it wasn't to Yabusame or Shion as they haunt their dreams, it was to Kuroji. They had rehearsed countless times in both sunlight and moonlight in their more animated intervals what they might say to any of the characters they've become in their head, all while scorning the fact that they might never get the chance to.

They had forgotten that "might" did not mean the same thing as "will" until now. And now that Kuroji stood in front of them, baring the same marks of inhumanity and immortality they did, all the explanations they had committed to memory for them specifically had suddenly vanished.

In the end, as the tears began to fall from the wrong conclusion forming in their mind, all Tsubakura can do is nod, "...Yes. Countless times in fact."

"...You're probably just lying in order to spare my feelings. Or save your worthless hide. Or both. No one could ever tell with you..." Kuroji hisses, their talons flexing, wounded, at their side.

"Yes. Fuck, Kuroji, yes! I thought about you so many times it hurts...Yes...I remember you, yes..." Tsubakura mumbles, their mantra bouncing about not to convince Kuroji of their honesty (they wouldn't fight if they decided to leave or make them pay for all the needless heartache), but more to answer the question repeating on loop since Kuroji asked them it.

"Have you been thinking about me?" Yes. "Is this really all you've been doing with your immortality?" Yes. "Do you regret everything that lead you to this?" Yes. Yes. Yes!!!

Tsubakura looks down at their nails, sharpened into the claw-like talons of most youkai. They cannot go back. Once a human has taken the fatal step over the line between humanity and inhumanity, they cannot step back. Their sight blurs.

All they want to do is go back. Go back in time, to the idle days of lounging about the shrine with Yabusame, getting lectured by Jinbei, and even get their soul munched on by Shion. They'd even be willing to go further back, to the suffocating days of scientific experiments with Hoojiro where nothing mattered beyond their next paycheck and having fun with friends like Kuroji, in their own odd sense.

They cannot go back. They want to go back.

"...Tsubakura?"

"Yes...Yes..."

Kuroji grows taller. Then, they were in front of them, all accusations and anger gone. It took Tsubakura long, agonizing seconds to realize they were crying. For the first time since leaving the Sanctuary in exile, for the first time after Yabusame vanished without a trace, they were crying.

"I missed you, Kuroji. You...You may be a pain in the ass, but..."

"I missed you too, in case you haven't noticed." A bitter chuckle, and then an equally bitter long sigh, "I spent so long thinking about what I'd do if I ever saw you again that I...I lost my temper there when I realized..."

"Apology accepted. I'd be pretty pissed if I was confronted with me too."

Kuroji kneels down until they were eye level with Tsubakura. Then, their wings wrapped around them without resistance. The touch of feathers against their scales was so foreign it made them shudder, but they welcomed it all the same.

(They missed this. They missed Yabusame's big, tight, drawn out hugs. Funny how the things they found annoying as a human they now craved as a youkai...)

"You've been through a lot too, haven't you?" Their tone softens, all of the ice in it melted, "So much so that even Yabusame is no longer with you..."

"Where is Yabusame?" They ask in that cryptic language of theirs.

"I dunno...I dunno anymore..." Tsubakura sniffles, "So-Sorry for dyin' on ya...I know I'm quite pathetic..."

Translation: "I don't want to talk about this right now."

Hands cup the back of their head, leaning them against Kuroji's warm chest. Tsubakura tenses as they push their hat back, stroking their hair. They wanted to stroke Kuroji's locks as well, but their shaky hand is caught as they reach out to do just that.

"Save that and the self-deprecation for later. Just this once, I'll do this for you for free. We both need this..."

Message received.

Tsubakura didn't know how long they were in Kuroji's arms for. Just that they were crying, they were crying as well, they craved the affection so much it hurt, and that they wanted to do nothing more than curl up on their couch with a warm bowl of miso soup and debate philosophy and science with them just like they used to 200 years ago.

"I missed you so much...Tsubakura..." Kuroji murmurs against their ear. Their name rolls off their tongue like they might vanish as soon as the last syllable ends.

"...Missed ya too, hardass..."

They stayed that way for a few moments longer. When they parted, coldness seeped into the warmth that was once Kuroji against their flesh. Their mechanical arm makes a notable click as they press weight on it in order to stand up.

"We...have a lot of catching up to do."

"No kidding," Tsubakura agrees as they push themself to their feet, a few sniffles still left in their system, "You still haven't told me what you've been up to. Like, how do you even live as a youkai? Of all the people to go youkai on me, you were pretty much dead last on that list."

They turn away, "I...Have my ways."

Vague and diverting. At least Kuroji still talks like Kuroji.

"Oh come on! I just cried my eyes out to you after spilling my methods. Can't do the same for me?"

"You are the only person in this entire world who can bounce back by being a thorn in my side..."

"It's how I live with myself. I'd die if I didn't."

"Die again, you mean? You said the prior you was dead, didn't you?"

"You knew what I meant!"

Kuroji snickers, almost hiding the tremors that accompany their next words, "It's not that I don't want to. It's that I wish to show you."

They step towards the way they came in, onto the path that a single diversion from caused them to reunite. They'd laugh at the coincidence of that if they weren't so captivating by Kuroji's next words:

"Come. Come stay the night at my place."

"Just like old times?"

"Just like old times," they smile. Not smirk, but actually smile a little, "It's just that I'd rather not discuss myself in the middle of the woods with a corpse not even a meter from us."

Tsubakura glanced at the long forgotten cadaver in question, sheepish, "Oh yeah. I forgot we killed that guy for a moment there."

"I killed that guy. It was probably a better death than whatever you had in store for them anyway."

"They'd probably still be alive if they fell into my trap. At least, until I start trying to experiment with absolute zero again."

"And I see you never moved past human experimentation. The only difference becoming a youkai did to you was give you a convenient excuse and reputation to do it more."

"You know me so well! Although robbing people of all their worth and then devouring them whole isn't much better, ya know."

Kuroji falters for a flash, then rolls their eyes, "Be glad I'm not in the mood to cut out your tongue for that."

"Ooh! Brutal! I'm so scared," Tsubakura placed a melodramatic hand over their chest, "It's not like my tongue won't grow back in three days and eighteen hours if ya do or anything."

"Do I even...No, I do not." Kuroji runs a hand through their hair, "So are we sharing it or not?"

Tsubakura spares it another glance. Right now, they couldn't want anything more than for Kuroji to make a nice stew with the meat and for them to enjoy their kill together. Not exactly like old times, but not exactly unwelcome either.

They conjure up the very ink portal they wished to use as a death trap beneath the dead body. It sinks into the pocket dimension with ease.

Kuroji watches on. They seem to already know their answer as they step onto the path. It will go out of the forest and to wherever their current home is.

And that's just under the assumption they'll walk there. Tsubakura hasn't flown in a while. Their wings were aching for some time in the air.

They smile as they step onto the path besides Kuroji. It has been a couple centuries since there was a notable pep in their step. Kuroji just so happened to be on the very short list of people they want to see that.

"I would like nothing more."

#ask and you shall receive (writing requests)#len'en #len'en project #len'en fanfiction #tw violence #tw self loathing #touch starvation #disturbing themes #tsubakura enraku #kuroji shitodo #the supergenius sorta rivalry (tsubakura & kuroji)#this isn't the mugenri i know but it is still mugenri (au writing)#not a big fan of the pacing on this one #but it was soooo much fun to write #I like my monster descriptions and worldbuilding lol #though it isn't anywhere near the gratuitous worldbuilding levels in ''Inhuman''#I feel like this is the first fic I've written that could use its own director's notes #I didn't end up including some of the ideas I had here #but I still really like them #This is like a weird mesh of future fic and AU and I love it #Once I got started I just couldn't stop lol #(Still took me a few days to write though)#(because I'm a slow writer)#(Oh well)

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maideninorange · 1 year

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Hmmmmm 47 with Tsubakura and... Idk whoever you wanna write that particular brand of angst with because I can't decide between YabuTsuba, TsubaKuro, or some other ship I haven't thought of.

47. "I don't trust you to be alone."

Why do Yabusame or Kuroji when I could do Yabusame and Kuroji at the same time?

(TW: while nothing of that nature happens here, there are still detailed and heavy discussions of a planned suicide and mental illness (mainly depression, though there is also a little mention of anxiety at one point). Stay safe everyone!)

There was something wrong with Tsubakura.

Yabusame couldn't explain how they know something is wrong, but they just knew. Tsubakura is never this happy during their misery weeks, as they like to call them. They usually either sleep, roam, or murmur self-deprecating remarks, and so their mood can best be described as static.

So when Yabusame heard Tsubakura say with a smile that they will never need to worry about them again tomorrow, warning sirens sounded in their gut that they needed to do something. Fast.

And so they acted on their first instinct: drag Tsubakura over to Kuroji's place in order to see if they could help out. They may fool Jinbei and Shion (if only to a certain extent; Yabusame managed to keep them from following by promising to get them some tasty souls before they return), but they cannot fool Yabusame. They remembered Kuroji muttering something about being "so anxious they can't feel anything", whatever that meant. So maybe they can help Tsubakura?

Those were the thoughts running through their head as they knocked on the door.

"Yabusame, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm fine." Tsubakura insisted for the umpteenth time, "See, look at me! I'm fiiinnnee!"

All Yabusame saw were the sunken eyes and weathered clothes and hair of someone who hadn't bathed in days.

"No you're not!" they snapped back, "I'm so sorry, Tsuba, but there's something really, really wrong here. I don't know what, but..."

"I'm afraid you'll do something you'll regret," were the words that wouldn't leave their mouth. All they could do was give Tsubakura a pained, pleading look. They were not fine, otherwise they wouldn't be fighting so hard to avoid seeing Kuroji.

Tsubakura only scoffed, "Don't give me that look. I'm telling ya, you're overthinking this. Besides, what good is a burden to such a carefree airhead anyway?"

Yabusame wanted to respond, but they never got the chance to. Almost as soon as Tsubakura finished speaking, the door opened.

The person who greeted them was, of course, Kuroji. It usually is, since Yabusame is pretty sure they and Tsubakura are the only visitors they get on a regular basis, if at all. There were noticeable bags under their eyes and their muscles looked tense, but it was nothing too out of the ordinary for them.

"Great, what are you two doing out here at this time of-"

All of that ordinariness evaporated the moment they laid eyes on Tsubakura.

"Tsu-Tsubakura?! You seem rather-"

"I'm fine," Tsubakura insisted again, "Already said it about fifty-seven times to this wonder of the universe. How many times will I have to spell it out to ya too?"

"Says the person who obviously hasn't cleaned themself in two weeks," they stole a glance Yabusame's way, eyebrows raised as if asking them to explain themselves.

"Tsubakura, you're really scaring me," Yabusame began, unsure of how to really describe it. Frankly, they weren't really sure how they knew something was wrong with them. On the surface, nothing was, at least for them during one of these periods of empty melancholy they are prone to having. It was more just a gut feeling than anything concrete.

"I...I don't think you should be alone right now."

"What are you talkin' about? I'm fine, you'll be fine, everything will be fine tomorrow." They flashed a lopsided grin, slightly twitching, "I'll give them exactly what they want, and then nothin' bad oughta happen to any of you ever again."

Kuroji paled, their nails digging into their jacket. Their face hardened, "Yabusame-kun is right for once. I don't trust you to be alone either."

"Don't be ridiculous you two! I'm fine! I'm fine!" They repeated, laughing way too hard for it to be genuine. They took a step back. And another. And another.

"Oh no you don't!"

And then, Kuroji vanished from the doorstep and reappeared behind Tsubakura. They forced their hands under their shoulders, stopping them in their tracks. Tsubakura tried to stomp their foot on Kuroji's, but it did nothing to deter them.

It was then that Yabusame acted. They grabbed Tsubakura's wrists, wincing at their vacant stare, betrayed.

"Unhand me, you dumbasses! Why won't either of you listen to me?!"

"Are you even listening to yourself?! The only person in danger right now is you!" Kuroji shouted, "What would ever make you think killing yourself would protect us?!"

Oh?!

Yabusame blinked. Their grip on their wrists froze in place, their jaw slack, "Tsuba...You...Is Kuroji-san right? You were actually going to-"

"Yes!!! Okay?!" Tsubakura snapped. Then, they stumbled forward, their head hanging low, "Caught me red-handed..."

Yabusame faltered as they fell towards them, their hand shaking as they reach for the back of their head. All the fight Tsubakura once had was utterly gone. Only untold suffering remains.

They knew they weren't anywhere near as smart as either Tsubakura or Kuroji. Or most normal people, for that matter. But man, did Yabusame feel like an idiot right now. The allusions to their plan, once obscure and confusing, were now so...so obvious in hindsight.

Their odd joy over the past couple days, the sorting through various chemicals, and the allusions to things "getting better" tomorrow...It felt so clear to them now.

That did not change the fact the realization of Tsubakura's horrible plan felt like a searing knife had plunged through their chest.

Kuroji let go of Tsubakura, letting Yabusame scoop them up in a tight hug. They just stood there, tense, observing them as Tsubakura sank into the affection. Them not fighting tooth and nail against it was most likely the biggest sign that they really shouldn't be alone right now, and both of them understood that fact uncomfortably well.

Eventually, Kuroji moved. They put their hand on Tsubakura's back, stroking them lightly as their version of comfort.

"...Inside. Now."

Tsubakura raised their head from Yabusame's shoulder, eyes stained red, "But what abou-"

"Saragimaru is out stalking that ancient reptile they call their sibling." Kuroji affirmed swiftly, "As for the other two blabbermouths... They know better than to ask unwanted questions."

They rub their neck uncomfortably. Even if Tsubakura wasn't currently consuming all of their thoughts, Yabusame would've known better than to pry.

The moments after that felt like a blur. Kuroji approached, and so Yabusame adjusted Tsubakura so that they could both lead them into the shabby cabin. Hooaka and Aoji, like Kuroji had said, only stared in awe at them. A single glare shut down any lingering words either might've had on the tips of their tongues.

Yabusame only felt awareness return to them when they reached Kuroji's bedroom. They worked quickly to help Tsubakura sit down on the futon. The moment they touched the shoddy mattress, their dearest friend just curled in on themself.

They've given up on everything. And that broke their heart.

Kuroji was at Yabusame's side again in an instant, a washcloth in hand. They dabbled it on Tsubakura's forehead, an unreadable expression on their face as they drew in deep breaths.

"So tell me, Tsubakura: What would ever make you think killing yourself is magically going to solve all of our problems?!"

Tsubakura tensed, before slumping forward. Even with the clear pains in Kuroji's voice they must've been taking to restrain themself. Yabusame squeezed their hand, cringing.

"I...I really don't know. It's just that with their return, I just know they'll be gunnin' for both of ya, just like anyone else stupid enough to get close to me..."

Long, dirty nails went to dab away gathering tears from their gaunt face, "So I ended up thinkin' to myself: 'Maybe the little voice in the back of my head is right? Maybe y'all are better off without me in the way?' So-Sorry...No grand noble reason here...As disappointing as the rest of me..."

"Don't be ridiculous," Kuroji scoffed, "Would attempting to surpass you be such a difficult task if you were a complete disappointment?"

"Would be a waste of time either way," they refuted, monotone, "Always had this funny obsession with me..."

"My point still stands." They scowled, clasping their hands together, "Besides, wouldn't committing suicide be exactly what that asshole wants? To have known they've driven you to that point must make them giddy with joy."

"I guess...But I still don't get why both of you would want me alive. I've been nothing but awful to ya..." Tsubakura gritted their teeth, clutching Yabusame's tie, "Especially you, Yabusame..."

"That's in the past now though! I could never hate ya, Tsuba..." Yabusame went to lightly boop Tsubakura on the nose, hesitated for a moment (What if they get mad at me? They're going through so much...), then did it anyway before they could lose their nerve.

But Tsubakura didn't swat their hand or pout like they usually do. Instead, they weakly grasped Yabusame's wrist, gaze almost vacant. They turned to look at Kuroji, voice wavering, "Come on, you hate me, don't cha? You have to, after all my-"

"Think you're annoying as hell? Absolutely. But hate you? To the point of wishing for your death?" Kuroji pressed close to Tsubakura's other side, brushing the messy strands of unkept hair away, "Would I entrust my siblings' well-being to you if I wanted you dead?"

Tsubakura gaped, their breathing shallow. Tears pooled in their eyes, "There's no way...You mustn't miss me when I'm..."

"That isn't the Tsubakura I know talking. It's the little demon in your head." Kuroji reaffirmed, "I won't pretend I understand your feelings, but I know what it's like to be hated. Just know that-"

"Don't say it..."

Kuroji didn't get the chance to. Yabusame said it instead.

"You're not alone!"

And that was when the dam burst. Tsubakura pulled them and Kuroji in, ugly, messy sobs reverberating out of them. Yabusame wrapped their arms tightly around them, letting them bury their head into their shoulder. They could feel Kuroji's hands find their way to their sides, mimicking the gesture in their own way.

Yabusame felt like they remained in that hug for hours. They didn't even realize they had started crying themself until they noticed the small stain of tears on Tsubakura's clothing. But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered beyond the wails of Tsubakura's walls crumbling around them.

Eventually, Kuroji pulled away. Tsubakura made a weak attempt to grab their jacket, but that got them nowhere. So they settled for gripping Yabusame tightly, and refusing to let go.

That's fine though. Tsubakura needs it, so Yabusame is happy to provide it.

"I think...it might be best if you stay the night," Kuroji finally said, rubbing their reddened eyes, "Your shikigami shouldn't have any objections, no?"

Yabusame mouthed the syllables for "no". They actually weren't sure, but when has that ever stopped them or Tsubakura in the past?

"Good. I'll be making gyutan for dinner tonight. Yabusame-kun, prepare a bath for Tsubakura. Don't let them out of your sight."

Tsubakura perked their head up, sniffling, "But...But don't you have-"

"Aoji can use their special ability to clean themself if it comes to that, so you're not wasting water. Saragimaru never comes back until after midnight without a little...reminder, so they shouldn't be an issue," Kuroji listed off, "So no, you are not a burden, and I'm going to keep saying that until you believe it."

"But..."

"Think of it this way, Tsuba!" Yabusame cut in, "No Sensei telling you what to do for a whole night! Besides, this is your one chance to make Kuroji-san put ink in your food!"

"That's where your mind went?!"

But unfortunately for Kuroji, this did the trick. Tsubakura let out a small chuckle, hoarse from crying, but still geniune, "Mm, you heard the airhead. Put aaalll of the ink you got lying around in my serving! I want every last drop!"

"You two make me sick," Kuroji stuck their tongue out, "Give you just a little preferential treatment, and you'll take it a good kilometer and a half..."

"But aren't the best kinds of treatment the ones that go on for kilometers?" Yabusame wasn't entirely sure what they meant by that. Wasn't more usually better?

"Which is why this isn't a regular thing. I just felt generous tonight."

"Hah! You being generous...I think that's the best joke I've heard all day," Tsubakura snickered.

"Just go take your bath. And don't worry, I've been upgrading my security. They won't be getting in again anytime soon," The corners of Kuroji's mouth flickered upwards as they turned to leave.

"Take care of Tsubakura for me, alright?"

Yabusame nodded.

And with a soft thud, the door slid shut and Kuroji was gone.

Tsubakura turned to Yabusame, blowing their nose with the washcloth from earlier, "So..."

Yabusame put their hands on Tsubakura's trembling shoulders, "We'll get through this. We always do. They're not gonna beat us this time!"

Tsubakura patted them on the back, the closest they typically get to a full blown hug. They smiled, "Thank...you..."

"You're welcome. I don't know what I'd do without you." Were the words Yabusame wanted to say in that moment. But as gratitude is a rare sight from Tsubakura, they keep it to themself.

Tsubakura wasn't going to get better tonight. Or tomorrow night. Maybe a week from now if they're lucky. But their misery weeks will pass like always. They just needed a reminder every now and then.

But that was fine with Yabusame. Since happiness is out of reach for them right now, Tsubakura's well-being is all that mattered to them.

Until Tsubakura can find joy in life again in life, that is. But until that day comes, Yabusame will settle on being a comfortable support beam for them.

(Kuroji feels the same way, no doubt. Not that they'd ever say it aloud though...)

#ask and you shall receive (writing requests)#len'en #len'en project #len'en fanfiction #tw depression #tw suicide #hurt/comfort #tsubakura enraku #yabusame houlen #kuroji shitodo #the priest in black and the priest in white (shrine team)#the supergenius sorta rivalry (tsubakura & kuroji)#(not sure how to tag for YabuTsubaKuro all together)#(oh well)#Sorry I haven't been too active recently #I myself have been having some mental health struggles recently #nothing anywhere near as bad as Tsuba here #but it still made finishing this rather difficult #I just hope I handled the subject matter well...

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