log ; were you so sad, then, on the day of the forty-four sunsets?

[reveiller]

[ who ] fuji ( reveiller ) and yagyuu ( usedlaserbeam )
[ where ] Goldenrod, in a park by the pokemon center once again
[ when ] 01.29.2012
[ summary ] once again, they're here again
[ rating ] PG-13

[ he feeds the pigeons.

he's actually feeding the pidgeys that have gathered around for bread and seeds, but to him, there really isn't any difference between pigeons and pidgeys anymore. the distinction, he thinks, doesn't really matter, when they are both birds that come when fed and fly away when full. though even in this case, it doesn't imply that a pigeon and a pidgey are one and the same-- merely that they ended up representing the same thing, so that differentiating them really is just a state of mind.

he thinks this world is the same way, but that's almost cruel to think about.

therefore, he merely crosses his legs on the bench and scatters cornbread, and watches the birds come flocking. ]

Comments

[usedlaserbeam]

[He's not at the park yet, but he'll be there soon.

Dealing with Fuji is never an easy prospect, and it's least of all when concerning matters like this. They have a way of antagonizing each other like few people can, animosity and understanding shifting back and forth in a perilous balance that sometimes looks like hatred and other times resembles companionship. Who maintains the upper hand? Who controls the flow of the game?

At the moment, it's Fuji, and that's not something that sits well with Yagyuu at all.

They have an appointment to keep, one contingent on the sending of the word he is typing into his Gear now, as he clocks out of work and slips his arms into his coat, shifting the device from hand to hand and making good use of his ambidexterity as he does.]

Yes.

[He presses send. The correspondence will be instantaneous.

Fuji will know, he thinks, that he'll be there soon.]

[reveiller]

[ his gear rumbles, quietly, and he tugs at it, looking down to check his mailbox.

he sees the message before he registers the sender-- is able to derive the sender from the message alone.

'yes'.

a little part of him sinks at that. putting away his gear without replying, he leans back on the bench, and looks up. it's convenient that he's here already, isn't it? maybe it's something like fate. he's always liked the idea, even if he didn't strictly believe in it. likes it and dislikes it, too, but... maybe that's a thought for another day.

he brushes the rest of the seed-and-crumb mixture from his hands and watches the birds feed.

he'll be here soon. ]

[usedlaserbeam]

[The park isn't far from the Pokemon Center, and soon enough, he arrives. He's alone this time, though part of him had considered stopping at home to retrieve Masako, more out of nostalgia and some absurd urge to invoke symbolism than anything else. They'd arranged to meet where the fox was tamed, didn't they? It would've been fitting to have the fox there, he thinks, for the second time around.

His collar is turned up against the chill, his scarf wrapped snugly around his face, and his hands are in his pockets as he walks the paths toward his destination. It's not hard to spot Fuji at their place of rendezvous, occupying the familiar old bench and surrounded by a small flock of birds, and for a moment he thinks of their previous conversation, and a fox, and chickens, and the color of wheat.

And then he brushes those aside and walks closer, knowing he'll scare the birds at least momentarily when he does.]

Do you have a story to tell me, Fuji-kun?

[No greeting, no preamble. Fuji will inflict one on him anyway, and leaving room to sidetrack the point will only invite him to do so.]

[reveiller]

[ he notices yagyuu's approach when the birds scatter around him, their wings beating the air like a thousand, clapping hands until nothing but feathers and breadcrumbs remain, like the remainders of a dream. he doesn't reach for a feather, but one falls in his lap, anyway, and he looks at it until he hears the footsteps stop.

then, he looks up, and smiles. the words, he thinks, are very direct and to the point. it probably reflects yagyuu's state of mind, which seems very intent on the bottom of the truth. he wonders if his story is enough to sate that want, wonders if it's the truth that yagyuu wants. or if his story is true at all-- because yagyuu's heard niou's side of the story, but fuji has not.

the thought makes him hum. ]

What kind of a story should I tell?

[usedlaserbeam]

The one in exchange for my answer.

[An answer he was in no way eager to give, and in some ways, an answer he doesn't even stand behind. The question he was set to respond to was nothing if not a Catch-22; whatever answer he gave, he'd be damning himself in one way or another. So in the end he'd simply picked one and called it his answer as a means of playing by the rules of the game, when otherwise he might've rebelled and chosen a third option entirely.]

I'm still in no mood to play games. [He looks at Fuji, and silently hates that smile, and spends a fleeting moment wishing he could shake him until he no longer had the breath to make that sound, that hum. Nothing is ever, ever easy when it comes to dealing with Fuji.] Though at the moment, I also have no choice but to indulge you.