[In a sense, the reply had been a form of bait — a way of fishing to see if Suguru remembered that long-ago meeting with as much clarity as Satoru does. Satoru had safely kept it to himself for years, tucked away, hidden from the knowledge of the higher-ups and colleagues alike. That memory now feels stark and clear after being carefully buried for so long. Once examined only in the most difficult moments after Suguru's death, it now persists at the surface of his mind, unearthed by a strange and out-of-place ting.
But Suguru doesn't rise to the provocation. His messages do not indicate that what Satoru heard while sitting beside him was a trinket from long ago. The prize is usually better, Suguru says. Technically, his last prize was the same as what he now receives: Satoru himself, in all his annoying glory.
Now Satoru thinks of their last conversation — and Suguru's parting words — and wonders if he heard wrong. Maybe it wasn't the charm at all. Or maybe the conductor dug it out of history's trash bin because they have a wry sense of humor. Maybe the sound was meant to sting.
All the more reason for Satoru to find the train's higher-ups on his way out.]
you could've picked something else
[As in, not contacted Satoru at all. Entertained his other options for a little while. Maybe hung out with Sukuna instead, given Suguru's quip about Satoru's taste in friends.]
but the other options really aren't your style
[Because Satoru has been talking to a lot of people on this train. They aren't what Suguru would consider a worthy prize.]
so you get what you get!
[And he gets Satoru's full attention now, because he is alone, and as Suguru is aware, he is not very good at it; he could use the company as he staves away his fatigue.]
[suguru's last prize was satoru in person, standing in the rain he could not feel; suguru's last prize was the very charm that remains tucked away in his robes. the prizes were better, once—but maybe it's better like this? to speak via texts as opposed to speaking face-to-face, because their last meeting—sitting side-by-side on the floor, closer than they'd been in years but somehow farther apart than ever—proved to be far more difficult than suguru would care to admit.
and this, too, is difficult, in that satoru brushes him aside with apparent ease. you could've picked something else. this is not how things used to go—but again: maybe it's better like this.]
Even if they were, it's no fun if I have to pick.
[suguru taking satoru's earlier words and twisting them right back around, simply because he can. another thing he can do: end this conversation here. it doesn't seem like it's going to amount to anything, or make his decision any easier to make—and yet.]
I should have asked what I was winning. But that's no fun, either.
[Those words were his own, spoken only days ago, as he sat beside Suguru for the first time in years to tell him, in his own way, that he was vulnerable — to offer him a glimpse at what Satoru had been concealing from the rest of the train by behaving as untouchable as ever. As Suguru inferred — as only Suguru could infer — he is tired. He is worried. The clock is ticking.
But Satoru had chosen his own prize, hadn't he? He had chosen Suguru, and in turn, he had asked Suguru to choose him. It was a selfish request as much as it was a request born out of the conditions in which he exists on this train. Because if Suguru accepts his terms, if Suguru chooses him over his goals, over alliances with anyone else who may exist on this train, then Suguru has a chance.
Then Satoru, hands full and bloodied as they already are, will not need to repeat history.
And when Satoru hits his limit for the first time in years, his weaknesses will not be exploited. He will not look upon a train full of victims. And he will not be alone.
So, initially, he thinks to text in the same manner he would have upon stirring up a fight when they were younger: You complaining? Once, everything could be resolved with a scuffle on school grounds, Satoru goading Suguru into a fight, and the two of them having it out until they were tired but laughing, dragged inside by Yaga for a scolding.
But that second sentence makes him pause. He had said that once, too, hadn't he? Because the game was almost over, and Satoru didn't want him to end it so quickly — had cheated in his own way, by withholding an answer and asking for more.
And Satoru, supporting cheating through both username and antics both, may not have Suguru's answer, but he gives him more.]
1000 boxes of hot stamping foil wouldn't fit on this train anyway
[Maybe in theory, this expansive car could accommodate them, but certainly not thematically. Although, Satoru would have enjoyed arriving with something so superfluous assigned to him in lieu of his glasses, toting them around from car to car until Suguru gave him the correct answer to some nonsense question.
But the point is: he remembers.
And the prizes here suck, for them both. They didn't truly get to set the terms themselves, so why ask what they'll be? They don't get to pick their hell.
But they do get to pick how they face it, and Satoru, worn down and bored, decides to face it as he once faced a different kind of hell.]
[there is the feeling that this conversation is—that they are—teetering on the edge of something dangerous? something that should remain buried. they are not the same people who met in that narrow alley, drawing closer and closer despite having every reason not to; they can no longer afford to let the past come creeping into the present.
or, at the very least: suguru can't afford such a thing. he's died once; he has no desire to die a second time.
but satoru brings up that joke of a prize, just as stupid now as it was then—and this, more than anything, is what makes satoru dangerous? the fact that satoru is suguru's past. suguru thought he'd left it behind; he'd gone to such lengths to ensure that nothing would stand between him and what he needed to do, and yet all it takes is satoru texting him, reminding him of old games before asking him to start a new ones, to bring it all rushing right back.
all the more reason for suguru to distance himself. (what was he even thinking, texting satoru in the first place? digging for information that shouldn't matter.)]
One prize is enough for now.
[and they have seeds to gather, so now that suguru's initial (and unasked) question has been answered—goodbye, satoru. for now.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But Suguru doesn't rise to the provocation. His messages do not indicate that what Satoru heard while sitting beside him was a trinket from long ago. The prize is usually better, Suguru says. Technically, his last prize was the same as what he now receives: Satoru himself, in all his annoying glory.
Now Satoru thinks of their last conversation — and Suguru's parting words — and wonders if he heard wrong. Maybe it wasn't the charm at all. Or maybe the conductor dug it out of history's trash bin because they have a wry sense of humor. Maybe the sound was meant to sting.
All the more reason for Satoru to find the train's higher-ups on his way out.]
you could've picked something else
[As in, not contacted Satoru at all. Entertained his other options for a little while. Maybe hung out with Sukuna instead, given Suguru's quip about Satoru's taste in friends.]
but the other options really aren't your style
[Because Satoru has been talking to a lot of people on this train. They aren't what Suguru would consider a worthy prize.]
so you get what you get!
[And he gets Satoru's full attention now, because he is alone, and as Suguru is aware, he is not very good at it; he could use the company as he staves away his fatigue.]
no subject
and this, too, is difficult, in that satoru brushes him aside with apparent ease. you could've picked something else. this is not how things used to go—but again: maybe it's better like this.]
Even if they were, it's no fun if I have to pick.
[suguru taking satoru's earlier words and twisting them right back around, simply because he can. another thing he can do: end this conversation here. it doesn't seem like it's going to amount to anything, or make his decision any easier to make—and yet.]
I should have asked what I was winning.
But that's no fun, either.
[for the games they play, anyway.]
no subject
But Satoru had chosen his own prize, hadn't he? He had chosen Suguru, and in turn, he had asked Suguru to choose him. It was a selfish request as much as it was a request born out of the conditions in which he exists on this train. Because if Suguru accepts his terms, if Suguru chooses him over his goals, over alliances with anyone else who may exist on this train, then Suguru has a chance.
Then Satoru, hands full and bloodied as they already are, will not need to repeat history.
And when Satoru hits his limit for the first time in years, his weaknesses will not be exploited. He will not look upon a train full of victims. And he will not be alone.
So, initially, he thinks to text in the same manner he would have upon stirring up a fight when they were younger: You complaining? Once, everything could be resolved with a scuffle on school grounds, Satoru goading Suguru into a fight, and the two of them having it out until they were tired but laughing, dragged inside by Yaga for a scolding.
But that second sentence makes him pause. He had said that once, too, hadn't he? Because the game was almost over, and Satoru didn't want him to end it so quickly — had cheated in his own way, by withholding an answer and asking for more.
And Satoru, supporting cheating through both username and antics both, may not have Suguru's answer, but he gives him more.]
1000 boxes of hot stamping foil wouldn't fit on this train anyway
[Maybe in theory, this expansive car could accommodate them, but certainly not thematically. Although, Satoru would have enjoyed arriving with something so superfluous assigned to him in lieu of his glasses, toting them around from car to car until Suguru gave him the correct answer to some nonsense question.
But the point is: he remembers.
And the prizes here suck, for them both. They didn't truly get to set the terms themselves, so why ask what they'll be? They don't get to pick their hell.
But they do get to pick how they face it, and Satoru, worn down and bored, decides to face it as he once faced a different kind of hell.]
play a different game with me
no subject
or, at the very least: suguru can't afford such a thing. he's died once; he has no desire to die a second time.
but satoru brings up that joke of a prize, just as stupid now as it was then—and this, more than anything, is what makes satoru dangerous? the fact that satoru is suguru's past. suguru thought he'd left it behind; he'd gone to such lengths to ensure that nothing would stand between him and what he needed to do, and yet all it takes is satoru texting him, reminding him of old games before asking him to start a new ones, to bring it all rushing right back.
all the more reason for suguru to distance himself. (what was he even thinking, texting satoru in the first place? digging for information that shouldn't matter.)]
One prize is enough for now.
[and they have seeds to gather, so now that suguru's initial (and unasked) question has been answered—goodbye, satoru. for now.]