#though it isn't anywhere near the gratuitous worldbuilding levels in ''Inhuman'' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maideninorange · 2 years

Note

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)

11 notes · View notes