[waking up to an empty camp isn't a surprise. or, more accurately: waking up to a nearly empty camp, for as suguru stirs awake, something beside him shifts, tucking itself that much closer to his side. ah. sprinkles, suguru thinks, groggily taking in the sight of his dog-like curse—and then stiffening. straightening. stopping that train of thought before it goes any farther, because to be reminded of satoru is to be reminded of their interwoven fingers just before satoru's infinity pushed them apart.
but so many things remind suguru of satoru? the ring suguru absently slips onto his finger, which is, so far as he can tell, the "prize" satoru helped him win; the fruit-laden trees suguru passes on his way to the exit; the faint feeling of satoru's cursed energy, always on the edge of suguru's awareness. it is, it seems, impossible to go an hour without thinking of the person he is now bound to; a part of him wonders if satoru is suffering the same fate.
and with thoughts of satoru come questions, and concerns, and—ridiculously—regrets. the memory of satoru offering his hand, which, while rash, was as much a gesture as it was a kindness. suguru knew it then, and suguru knows it now, and yet...
...well. suguru isn't rash; he prefers to think, to plan, to meet expected outcomes—and that was one reason he'd found satoru so fascinating, all those years ago. satoru was—is—surprise given human form? a whirlwind, which suguru was happily caught up in time and time again.
there's so much between them, now. too much, really and yet suguru finds himself missing that satoru-induced chaos.
and maybe, just maybe, suguru misses the purpose it once afforded him—which is maybe, just maybe, the reason suguru reaches out to him after exploring this strange little village. signs of sickness are everywhere; the people are all too willing to tell suguru about the terrible state of affairs, and suguru wonders—where is satoru, in all of this? what is satoru planning to do? when will satoru need to rest?
(and there it is again: some strange echo of an emotion, a stab of concern which suguru feels—while knowing it is not his. he's felt other such things, as he's made his way alone; he supposes it could be an unintended effect of their bond, or, as he finds his eye drawn to his ring for the umpteenth time—hmm.)
but as suguru sits in the corner of some dimly lit tavern, ignoring his bowl of watery gruel, suguru fiddles with his phone.]
Play a game with me.
[if satoru even remembers the game that suguru postponed—and with this text comes a flash of uncertainty, because even if satoru does, is this the right move for either of them? suguru could be making things worse.]
[True to his word, Satoru leaves the camp the morning after he goads Suguru into holding his hand. For all that Satoru pushes and picks, he's capable of telling when he truly needs to tone himself down; he knows when he's gone too far and should back off. It's therefore an easy decision: he wakes up in the morning after finally managing a full night's rest, tells Sprinkles to keep Suguru warm as the fire dies, and slips away before Suguru awakens to watch him go. But before he leaves, he takes his reward and half of Suguru's, impulsively slipping the ring on his finger. It took two people to complete the objective, so it makes sense that two prizes would follow — and it follows that one of the rings would therefore belong to Satoru.
But the true reason Satoru slips it on his finger is that it serves as a reminder of the cost of the prize, which was far too much for a simple pair of rings.
He thinks of Suguru throughout that day, and every time he does, Satoru twists the ring on his finger, a way of keeping himself in check. Normally, Satoru would text Suguru out of boredom, or show up at night for another meal, or make himself right at home at Suguru's side. But Satoru remembers Suguru's grip, tight and unrelenting, forcing him to acknowledge his misstep — and Satoru twists the ring.
In the end, he chooses distance.
But distance, it seems, doesn't choose him. Because while Satoru returns to annoying his fellow passengers and scoping out potential allies, his mind wanders toward Suguru all the same. He senses those brief, indescribable flashes of emotion, twists his ring, and remains caught in the wistful mixture of regret and longing that Suguru always elicits.
(There is nothing visibly off about the ring. Satoru looks at it with uncovered eyes and sees nothing. But as he wears it, he feels something — and he thinks about its pair, nestled around someone else's finger. And Satoru makes another willful mistake: he leaves the ring on.)
He manages to distract himself in the new car but the distraction is brief, soon replaced with concern. Given the state of the car, the illness that is spreading beyond the locals, and the dangers lurking about, he and Suguru will need to reconnect to establish a plan for working together. And Satoru will need to make a better habit of resting, so he remains at full strength for whatever this car throws at them.
But he intends to give Suguru a little more time — as an acknowledgement for the way that they no longer fit into each other's lives. Satoru is capable of demonstrating sensitivity and compassion when necessary, even if his attempts sometimes fall short — and here he deems it necessary.
He's therefore surprised when Suguru reaches out to him — when Suguru chooses to text him not for business, but for a game that Satoru figured he had forgotten about by now. Those five words are so deceptively simple, but Satoru reads over them several times, remembering. This is a game they used to play long ago; it is a game Satoru tried to play again.
If Satoru were not a whirlwind, perhaps he would wisely not respond, or perhaps he would turn Suguru down. But all Satoru does is smile at his phone, find a place to sit, and text:]
finally!
[As though he's been waiting all of this time. But really, Satoru is surprised — and feels that pang of uncertainty keenly, though he's unsure if it's his own. Maybe it's shared, and maybe that's why it's so hard to ignore.]
i'm bored out of my mind
[He's been busy enough, up until this moment, but this isn't a lie in Satoru's mind — because while exploring this car, he's been thinking about Suguru, wondering about Suguru, worrying about Suguru, and feeling wisps of emotion that remind him of Suguru.
It isn't boredom, per se, but how else does one describe the strange feeling of loneliness that exists in the wake of what happened at the camp?
(I'm bored is synonymous for I'm lonely in Satoru's lexicon. This train car is vast and there are many people within it, but there is only one person who knows Satoru.)]
[as suguru places his phone atop the table, distracting himself by stirring the congealed contents of his bowl, he knows there is a chance that satoru will not respond. he could be busy at the moment, bothering passengers and townsfolk alike; he could remember the look suguru last leveled at him and decide that, in order to preserve the peace, a game is out of the question. it would only be sensible.
which is why, when his phone vibrates a few short minutes later, suguru feels the corners of his lips just barely quirk upwards. satoru never was fond of making responsible decisions—and with that comes an irrepressible swell of fondness. something that should not exist after all this time, and yet something that persists, rearing its head at the most inopportune times. sometimes it feels as though some part of suguru is spiting the whole.
but suguru ignores it, focusing instead on satoru's actual texts. i'm bored out of my mind. maybe, in that satoru used to hyperactively bounce from one thing to the next, and yet suguru wonders where satoru is, what satoru is doing. who satoru is with.]
You could read a book.
[there are probably a ton of them in this town—but it's a joke, of course. satoru sitting still to read some old-timey tome is a funny, funny thought.]
Or you could guess what's for dinner. Three tries.
[and then, helpfully (or maybe because he has some pride in his cooking abilities):]
I didn't make it.
[someone's going to miss mushroom omelets when they see what's waiting for them in this car...]
[Two text messages, two surprises. First, the game, and now, going by the way Suguru phrases the parameters, an implication that whatever dinner Suguru is eating is also for Satoru — a sort of invitation. Satoru idly twists the ring around his finger, reminding himself of all the reasons why continuing to act on impulse — responding to this as he normally would — is a bad idea.
But he ignores his own reminder and continues his tradition of making mistakes when it comes to Suguru.
(And maybe it isn't a mistake, this time. Suguru is reaching out with something he once refused, reestablishing a baseline of interaction. Satoru knows better than to hope for true reconcilation; he has his own reasons for rejecting that goal. But progress away from where they left things would be enough of a step toward where they need to be: working together again.)]
tell me it's something sweet
[Satoru has been suffering since leaving behind the dining car, and while he won't complain about his furby prize given just how ridiculous (and therefore obnoxiously appropriate) it is, he wouldn't have minded a box of lollipops or a cake or something equally as sweet instead.]
i'm dying of hunger (◕︵◕)
[Take pity on him....look, he even included a kaomoji to show how serious this is.
He also isn't playing by the rules, choosing instead to fish for hints. But when has Satoru ever done entirely as he's told?]
[playing this game is as dangerously comfortable as, say, walking into his camp to find satoru stretched out in his space—but even as suguru keeps this in the back of his mind, unwilling to follow that same road to that same dead end, he can't help but to prefer this back-and-forth to the silence of the past few days. everything about this—from satoru's dramatics to satoru's choice of kaomji—is...
...well. it's as familiar as it is necessary, given the fact that they do need to work together. there is no avoiding communication on this train; better to keep things easy than to make things unnecessarily difficult, especially considering their last meeting.
(or so suguru tells himself.)]
You're not. And it could be.
[like, maybe? who's to say that satoru a) can't find a bowl of sugar somewhere and b) won't dump it straight into this slop? suguru, for one, wouldn't put it past him—and suguru also knows the secondary game satoru is attempting to play here, so.]
[He is too! It's been, what, three weeks since he had something truly sweet? His plight is truly serious. The next time Satoru has to go on a mission where the outcome is a little unclear, he's going to pack his pockets full of candy. That way he has something to eat in prison realms and trains alike.
(Or, to be more specific, there will be no next time, because Satoru is going to give the prison realm the same fate as the Inverted Sphere of Heaven.)
Dramatics aside, Satoru is hungry and given the state of this car, he isn't looking forward to whatever dinner is awaiting him, which is partially why he's playing this secondary game of his. He doesn't really want to know, because he'll likely prefer to go without — which can't happen, because he needs to stay both strong and healthy, given what they're facing here.]
you're too strict
[And here he goes, testing boundaries, pushing Suguru, seeing if he's going to be true to his word and deprive Satoru of a guess because Satoru refuses to follow instructions.
Which is, of course, the other reason behind these antics: Satoru has a bad habit of wanting more attention than what is initially promised. Three turns will be over soon, but if he cheats a little, maybe Suguru won't be so quick to tell him where he can find the grub in question.]
[the next time satoru is in charge, satoru can be as generous as he'd like; suguru is running this particular game, which is why, as he watches these texts roll in, he quietly tuts his tongue. not that satoru is around to hear, but there is certainly something for satoru to feel: a quiet sort of amusement. barely there, and yet there all the same.
because this is easier, isn't it? far easier than holding hands or sharing the same space, though this is still toeing that same line. even with the thought that satoru isn't trying because satoru is trying to hurry this along, either to get it over with or to tease suguru in some roundabout way—well. for now, at least, suguru will let such thoughts fall to the wayside, for there is nothing else in this tavern to capture his interest.
(because maybe, just maybe, he's lonelier than he'd like to admit—and because repairing risky bridges remains far better than the alternative.)]
[This isn't fair! And Satoru might say as much, might ramble on and lose all his turns, except he does kind of want a prize, and he is kind of blowing it by refusing to guess. Suguru is, apparently, in the mood to be unforgiving, which only adds to Satoru's absolute suffering (which consists of all dramatics and very little actual suffering).
He feels that distant, quiet amusement, and in turn feels a stronger resurgence of his own wistfulness — the memory of when conversations like these were commonplace between them. Back then, Satoru ignored the rules not because he believed Suguru would end the gamer sooner than he wanted, but because Satoru knew that Suguru would still look at him fondly when they saw each other again, no matter how annoying he acted or how many rules he broke.
But he has no idea what food this place offers; all he knows is he won't like it. He's therefore at a disadvantage and no matter what his first (third) guess is, it will be wrong. He considers carefully for a moment, more carefully than he would usually afford a silly game like this, and sets his fingertips along his ring. Instead of twisting it this time, he merely holds it, and wonders if Suguru can sense him — wonders if Suguru knows that he's been thinking about him since he left the camp.
Because still on his mind, is Suguru's grip, Suguru's expression, Suguru's words. He still considers the extent of the damage those hands, that face, those words have caused. As always, they are juxtaposed with the Suguru of before, and the cold, lifeless Suguru of after.
And Suguru is ultimately why his first and final guess is what it is — Satoru throwing in the towel with the only meaningful guess he has.]
zaru soba
[He remembers the last time they ate together, before the end. That heavy feeling in his chest returns — though maybe it's better to say it grows heavier, for it has yet to fully leave.]
[it's easy, in a sense, to sit in the corner of this town's tavern and focus on his phone? to ignore the worried whispers carrying his way; to set aside the memory of his palm, pressed against satoru's until it suddenly, simply wasn't. this game, as stupid as it is—because it is stupid, for various reasons—is a single speck of light, and he is drawn right to it.
drawn, as ever, to satoru, even when he knows better.
and so this final guess—it almost seems like a kindness. satoru bringing up suguru's favorite dish is, at first glance, the same as suguru tightening his hold, forcing satoru to confront the gulf between them: it is a reminder of what is as opposed to what was. a suggestion, if not an outright invitation, to stop this before it becomes too much for either of them to set aside. it would only be sensible, he thinks for the second time this evening—except that it is a decidedly bittersweet thought now, pairing well with the weight that soon makes itself known. maybe it would be better to end this here.
and yet there is something about satoru remembering suguru's preferences after all this time? something about the flashes of emotions suguru keeps picking up on, so many of them mirroring his own—because he's always been good at fitting the puzzle pieces together; if he's being honest with himself, he completed this particular puzzle well before sending his initial text, for there is only one person on this train who once proved to be a perfect complement.
...which makes this funny, in a way. the two of them, tangled together after a decade-long separation—someone or something has a terrible sense of humor.
but that makes suguru all the more determined to not shut this down, for whatever reason. to not let satoru slip away.]
It's cold, but it's not that. I would have ordered some for you.
[even if satoru would have preferred something else entirely, but it isn't about that? it's about suguru sharing what was, is, his favorite meal with what was, is, someone important—and thus it's his turn to feel wistful. even sharing a bowl of this—watching the faces satoru would surely pull while choking down the smallest spoonful—would be better than nothing, and that's—
[The last time Satoru invoked something from their past, Suguru shut the game down. He expects that now, as he touches the band around his finger; it isn't meant to be a forced acknowledgement of the cost of playing, as Suguru's tight grip had been days prior. But testing boundaries is what Satoru always has done, and always will do, for better or for worse. And as he awaits the reply, Satoru wonders if he pushes so much because he's waiting for the other shoe to drop — because the other shoe has already dropped once before, and if Satoru picks and their wounds, maybe it'll accelerate the process. Maybe next time, instead of merely grasping his hand and forcing him to acknowledge his missteps, Suguru will just tell him to leave.
The reply is the opposite of what he anticipates, and it surprises him. It shouldn't, given the ring around his finger and the brief flashes of emotion to which he's now privy, but the way a person feels doesn't necessarily dictate their actions. Satoru is a good example of that himself. But he feels a dangerous sense of relief that Suguru prolongs the conversation, offering much more than he should: I would have ordered some for you. As if it would have been natural, easy, to invite Satoru to eat with him. As if they can return to that place.
His relief is therefore complicated: mingled with concern and the subsequent disregard for that concern.
Much of the risk that Suguru presents has been temporarily abated with the binding vow, but not all of it: there is the risk that working together, indulging these feelings, and embracing old habits presents to Satoru. Suguru is his weakness; he should say far away. And Suguru, the more responsible of the two of them, should be holding the boundary as firmly as he had at the camp that evening.
But Satoru's weakness is closer than ever, Suguru's emotions intertwined with his own, and thus, for all he knows better, he still replies:]
it'd have been a better game if you gave me hints!
[But it was too short and hardly a game at all, which is entirely Satoru's fault for not following directions (and Suguru's! for holding firm). Still, a game like that can't stand and so:]
rematch? double or nothing
[And before Suguru can agree (or refuse), Satoru sets the terms.]
guess what prize i got for saying yes to all those mushrooms
[there are as many reasons for suguru to tuck his phone back into his pocket as there are stars in the sky—and yet it remains in his hand, as if in anticipation of a (prompt) response. there is, of course, a chance that satoru will simply end things here; if suguru has learned anything about his old friend since their initial meeting in the museum car, it is that, while so much about satoru remains familiar, so much about satoru has changed. it's hardly surprising; they are not the same people they were a decade ago.
but suguru expects a response all the same—and it's a response he receives, with satoru all but barreling through the opening suguru provided. well! this is good, in the sense that it bodes well for their future interactions; better for satoru to return to camp at regular intervals than to, say, push himself to his limits in an attempt to avoid it. a weak partner is a liability.
(and a silent camp seems so strange.)
except that's only part of the story, which certainly doesn't explain suguru's own sense of relief? the feeling that he's making an irresponsible decision as he types out his reponse—but that is as familiar as anything, honestly. for all the times suguru reined satoru in, satoru tugged suguru along, encouraging him to be a little careless, a little wild.]
I might have been generous if you'd followed the rules.
[maybe. something to consider for future games, perhaps—but as suguru's eyes fall to the ring on his finger, watching as it catches the weak, flickering light offered by a nearby lantern:]
A ring?
[satoru must have a ring; that isn't a question, really, but suguru wonders if a matching ring was his prize? if this entire situation truly was orchestrated by the clownductor.]
[That confirms it: Suguru must feel Satoru as closely as Satoru feels him. Satoru pauses with his fingertips set against the ring, and tries a silly experiment: he recalls a moment back when he and Suguru were in school, lying on the ground after a fight, staring up at the sky. Yaga must have been somewhere, getting ready to scold them for setting off the alarms with Suguru's curses, but he doesn't remember that part. He only remembers laughing, feeling exhilarated and strangely at peace as he looked over at Suguru. He remembers Suguru looking back at him, laughing too, only quieter. It's a simple memory, uncomplicated by what would come after, because as many of Satoru's memories are now colored by the emotions of past and present intertwined, this one remains an island: a simple moment between two friends, back during a time when Satoru had yet to fully understand just how important Suguru would become.
He thinks about it, and wonders if that emotion will translate to the rings. He imagines Suguru sitting with his dinner, and sensing a fondness that is, briefly, uncomplicated — a confirmation that Satoru does have the ring, and an assurance that not every memory has been tainted by the blood on Suguru's hands, and Suguru's blood on Satoru's.
As is tradition, Satoru then sends a selfie of himself with his arms crossed in an X. He's in the woods, albeit not too deep yet. It'd be easy for him to turn around to claim a prize, if he wins.
[what would be worse, in the grand scheme of things: the clownductor gifting them matching, magical rings, or satoru filching half of suguru's prize for his own reasons? both possibilities are troublesome, in that both possibilities are invasive. someone has placed suguru in a highly compromising position; he is anything but appreciative.
and yet, as suguru teeters on the edge of discomfort—ah. he is unprepared for a wisp of what is clearly fondness; it sends him straightening in his seat, pleased despite himself—how could he not be?—but also momentarily taken aback. he, himself, has felt flickers of fondness throughout this exchange; that was his own weakness coming into play, but satoru has been—
—well. it's a dangerous game they play; of this there is no doubt, but suguru looks at the stupid picture satoru sent his way, recognizing the emotion as a signal meant to accompany it. yes, i have a ring; no, it wasn't my prize. so satoru is a thief...
suguru, naturally, wonders if it was only because satoru felt entitled to half of the hand-holding prize? turns over the possibilities, both good and bad, in his mind even as fires off his second guess of the evening:]
[It would be a good guess if the clownductor didn't have a weird sense of humor in granting Satoru the prize that he did (and, apparently, a desire to meddle, considering the prize that Suguru received and of which Satoru claimed half). But Satoru arrived on this train with only one belonging: his blackout shades, which he now pauses to exchange for his blindfold. Then he sends yet another selfie, this time of his face alone, staring at the camera just over his shades, a smirk on his lips.]
last chance
want a hint?
[Or a cheat code? Unlike Suguru, Satoru isn't a stickler for the rules, and he doesn't mind prolonging this exchange an unnecessary amount. After a day exploring the woods on his own, and after a couple of days stewing in the emotions that resulted from their hand-holding session, he needed this: a little bit of attention. A little bit of a reminder that things could be friendly, fun, fond, even if complicated and risky.]
[a selfie is standard, given the sender, but the sight of familiar shades does give suguru pause. satoru's preferred accessory before bandages and blindfolds, yet another reminder of a time long since past—sometimes, as unfair as it is, the smallest details are what hit the hardest. suguru knows the truth of this as he remembers all the times he watched satoru take these glasses off, put these glasses on. all the times he took such matters into his own hands.
but—no, no. suguru takes a moment to consider possible prizes, ruling out the obvious things (re: sweets) that satoru would have mentioned. if satoru's prize is anything like suguru's rings—well. then this is an impossible game to win. a cheat code would be warranted.
and yet.]
Fine. I'll take a hint. I hope you're feeling generous.
[It is an impossible game, and Satoru knows this to be true. There's even less of a chance of Suguru guessing his reward as there was of Satoru guessing his dinner. The game is, in a sense, rigged against Suguru, but Satoru is interested in a prize. And even more than that, he's interested in keeping this amicable conversation going — in having a back-and-forth discussion (and game) that ends on a note of being able to continue their arrangement without the complications of their last meeting.
Eventually, he will need to rest again. And given this car, he may need Suguru's help at some point in the near future. However silly and ill-advised this game may be, it's what he needed. And maybe, given what Satoru has picked up from wearing the ring, it's what Suguru needed too.]
more generous than you
[Considering Suguru withheld! But he is feeling generous, among many other emotions, and hence:]
[more generous than you. suguru chuckles to himself, still caught somewhere between the knowledge that this is dangerous and that this is important—but it's an easy enough thing to set aside (though it shouldn't be) when satoru comes through with an actual clue. an... unhelpful clue, but a clue all the same. white hair, blue eyes, never knows when to shut up...
...for a single, solitary second, suguru imagines two satorus. impossible, he knows, and yet he can see it: two of them, side by side, whining and laughing in tandem.
but that nightmare scenario aside—what talks? a doll? an animal? oh, god, an animal—]
[Even the clownductor knows better than to offer Satoru a clone of himself. One of him is more than enough for this train, as most passengers would likely attest.
The next reply is accompanied with a flash of cheeky amusement, a more usual (and safer) emotion than many of the others Satoru has felt so far.]
are you asking for another hint
[Because someone sure is demanding, considering that he didn't want to offer any hints himself!
But as Suguru likely already knows, Satoru can be convinced to offer more...]
[yes, he is indeed asking for another hint—but of course he doesn't want to outright admit it. seeing an amused satoru is one thing; feeling an amused satoru is something else entirely. to sense someone's smugness from miles away...
but a hint would be helpful, so.]
I didn't ask anything. You could at least confirm that your prize isn't alive.
[since he's the one setting up their shelter! or... something.]
[Whereas before Satoru was running the gamut of difficult emotions — thinking about Suguru, how they left things between them, and all the weight of their past and present combined — right now Satoru is just having fun. Uncomplicated, amusing fun, like their games used to be. He could dwell on why that's a problem, or school himself to being more serious about this situation (and Suguru as a whole), but Satoru could use the break. There's enough bleakness in this train car (and in their history) already. So he embraces this as a tiny, temporary refuge amongst the storm that is this train and everything it has tossed at them this far.]
if i tell you
and i still win
do i get to pick my own prize
[Because he has something in mind. Something that will likely annoy Suguru, but will be harmless, and hopefully free of the complications that would come from requesting other, more meaningful belongings from Suguru's limited pool — such as the something that Suguru held in the museum.]
[suguru knows a trap when he sees one? and this is, without a doubt, a trap, albeit of the (mostly) harmless variety. satoru, making the most of this situation because he knows that suguru won't win—and of course suguru knows this, as well. guessing satoru's prize is an altogether impossible task.
(and there is the chance that satoru could demand something ridiculous as a prize—that satoru has something ridiculous in mind at this very moment—but let's be honest: it isn't as though suguru has a prize in mind. this could possibly work out to his benefit! maybe.)]
This isn't a very generous deal.
[haha! just looping back around to that point because he can, but—]
[Suguru has him there: this isn't exactly generous! But the first hints were for free, and Satoru might argue that point for the sake of prolonging this even further. But truth be told, he's been in the woods for a while now, and wouldn't mind an excuse to head back somewhere where he can safely rest and eat a meal of questionable unsweetened food. The prize gives him an excuse to find Suguru's camp and make himself comfortable again, for a short while.
And since Suguru agreed to his terms, which surely he knows includes Satoru coming to claim the prize he chooses, he simply replies:]
[the relief suguru feels? the relief suguru feels. the chances of it being a living, breathing creature were slim, yes, but the thought of satoru becoming the caretaker of a white-furred, blue-eyed cat, or dog, or whatever else... there is only so much room in their shelter(s), and god forbid a satoru-like creature take up an undue amount of space...
that aside, though: ah. that leaves talking as suguru's only hint—and while defeat is inevitable, suguru still takes a few minutes to think this through. the options are so limited; in the end, it comes right back around to:]
A doll?
[a satoru gojo™ doll, featuring satoru gojo™ catchphrases. that would track.]
There's that flash of somewhat smug amusement again, even though Suguru was actually pretty close with his guess. If he had more chances, Satoru is sure he would have gotten it right, which is exactly why this game is traditionally limited to three tries. Given more, Suguru would easily narrow it down, no matter how obscure the gift.
Time for the reveal! Suguru receives (1) video clip of the long furby. It babbles in a way that seems to be celebrating Satoru's victory, with phrases like "Wah!" and "Yippee!" Behold, Satoru's survey reward, blinking its creepy blue eyes!]
i win!
[Guess who's starting to make his way out of the woods to claim his prize?]
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text; un: itadakimasu; i live in this inbox now
but so many things remind suguru of satoru? the ring suguru absently slips onto his finger, which is, so far as he can tell, the "prize" satoru helped him win; the fruit-laden trees suguru passes on his way to the exit; the faint feeling of satoru's cursed energy, always on the edge of suguru's awareness. it is, it seems, impossible to go an hour without thinking of the person he is now bound to; a part of him wonders if satoru is suffering the same fate.
and with thoughts of satoru come questions, and concerns, and—ridiculously—regrets. the memory of satoru offering his hand, which, while rash, was as much a gesture as it was a kindness. suguru knew it then, and suguru knows it now, and yet...
...well. suguru isn't rash; he prefers to think, to plan, to meet expected outcomes—and that was one reason he'd found satoru so fascinating, all those years ago. satoru was—is—surprise given human form? a whirlwind, which suguru was happily caught up in time and time again.
there's so much between them, now. too much, really and yet suguru finds himself missing that satoru-induced chaos.
and maybe, just maybe, suguru misses the purpose it once afforded him—which is maybe, just maybe, the reason suguru reaches out to him after exploring this strange little village. signs of sickness are everywhere; the people are all too willing to tell suguru about the terrible state of affairs, and suguru wonders—where is satoru, in all of this? what is satoru planning to do? when will satoru need to rest?
(and there it is again: some strange echo of an emotion, a stab of concern which suguru feels—while knowing it is not his. he's felt other such things, as he's made his way alone; he supposes it could be an unintended effect of their bond, or, as he finds his eye drawn to his ring for the umpteenth time—hmm.)
but as suguru sits in the corner of some dimly lit tavern, ignoring his bowl of watery gruel, suguru fiddles with his phone.]
Play a game with me.
[if satoru even remembers the game that suguru postponed—and with this text comes a flash of uncertainty, because even if satoru does, is this the right move for either of them? suguru could be making things worse.]
welcome home :')
But the true reason Satoru slips it on his finger is that it serves as a reminder of the cost of the prize, which was far too much for a simple pair of rings.
He thinks of Suguru throughout that day, and every time he does, Satoru twists the ring on his finger, a way of keeping himself in check. Normally, Satoru would text Suguru out of boredom, or show up at night for another meal, or make himself right at home at Suguru's side. But Satoru remembers Suguru's grip, tight and unrelenting, forcing him to acknowledge his misstep — and Satoru twists the ring.
In the end, he chooses distance.
But distance, it seems, doesn't choose him. Because while Satoru returns to annoying his fellow passengers and scoping out potential allies, his mind wanders toward Suguru all the same. He senses those brief, indescribable flashes of emotion, twists his ring, and remains caught in the wistful mixture of regret and longing that Suguru always elicits.
(There is nothing visibly off about the ring. Satoru looks at it with uncovered eyes and sees nothing. But as he wears it, he feels something — and he thinks about its pair, nestled around someone else's finger. And Satoru makes another willful mistake: he leaves the ring on.)
He manages to distract himself in the new car but the distraction is brief, soon replaced with concern. Given the state of the car, the illness that is spreading beyond the locals, and the dangers lurking about, he and Suguru will need to reconnect to establish a plan for working together. And Satoru will need to make a better habit of resting, so he remains at full strength for whatever this car throws at them.
But he intends to give Suguru a little more time — as an acknowledgement for the way that they no longer fit into each other's lives. Satoru is capable of demonstrating sensitivity and compassion when necessary, even if his attempts sometimes fall short — and here he deems it necessary.
He's therefore surprised when Suguru reaches out to him — when Suguru chooses to text him not for business, but for a game that Satoru figured he had forgotten about by now. Those five words are so deceptively simple, but Satoru reads over them several times, remembering. This is a game they used to play long ago; it is a game Satoru tried to play again.
If Satoru were not a whirlwind, perhaps he would wisely not respond, or perhaps he would turn Suguru down. But all Satoru does is smile at his phone, find a place to sit, and text:]
finally!
[As though he's been waiting all of this time. But really, Satoru is surprised — and feels that pang of uncertainty keenly, though he's unsure if it's his own. Maybe it's shared, and maybe that's why it's so hard to ignore.]
i'm bored out of my mind
[He's been busy enough, up until this moment, but this isn't a lie in Satoru's mind — because while exploring this car, he's been thinking about Suguru, wondering about Suguru, worrying about Suguru, and feeling wisps of emotion that remind him of Suguru.
It isn't boredom, per se, but how else does one describe the strange feeling of loneliness that exists in the wake of what happened at the camp?
(I'm bored is synonymous for I'm lonely in Satoru's lexicon. This train car is vast and there are many people within it, but there is only one person who knows Satoru.)]
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which is why, when his phone vibrates a few short minutes later, suguru feels the corners of his lips just barely quirk upwards. satoru never was fond of making responsible decisions—and with that comes an irrepressible swell of fondness. something that should not exist after all this time, and yet something that persists, rearing its head at the most inopportune times. sometimes it feels as though some part of suguru is spiting the whole.
but suguru ignores it, focusing instead on satoru's actual texts. i'm bored out of my mind. maybe, in that satoru used to hyperactively bounce from one thing to the next, and yet suguru wonders where satoru is, what satoru is doing. who satoru is with.]
You could read a book.
[there are probably a ton of them in this town—but it's a joke, of course. satoru sitting still to read some old-timey tome is a funny, funny thought.]
Or you could guess what's for dinner.
Three tries.
[and then, helpfully (or maybe because he has some pride in his cooking abilities):]
I didn't make it.
[someone's going to miss mushroom omelets when they see what's waiting for them in this car...]
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But he ignores his own reminder and continues his tradition of making mistakes when it comes to Suguru.
(And maybe it isn't a mistake, this time. Suguru is reaching out with something he once refused, reestablishing a baseline of interaction. Satoru knows better than to hope for true reconcilation; he has his own reasons for rejecting that goal. But progress away from where they left things would be enough of a step toward where they need to be: working together again.)]
tell me it's something sweet
[Satoru has been suffering since leaving behind the dining car, and while he won't complain about his furby prize given just how ridiculous (and therefore obnoxiously appropriate) it is, he wouldn't have minded a box of lollipops or a cake or something equally as sweet instead.]
i'm dying of hunger (◕︵◕)
[Take pity on him....look, he even included a kaomoji to show how serious this is.
He also isn't playing by the rules, choosing instead to fish for hints. But when has Satoru ever done entirely as he's told?]
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...well. it's as familiar as it is necessary, given the fact that they do need to work together. there is no avoiding communication on this train; better to keep things easy than to make things unnecessarily difficult, especially considering their last meeting.
(or so suguru tells himself.)]
You're not.
And it could be.
[like, maybe? who's to say that satoru a) can't find a bowl of sugar somewhere and b) won't dump it straight into this slop? suguru, for one, wouldn't put it past him—and suguru also knows the secondary game satoru is attempting to play here, so.]
I'm counting your next text as a guess.
[better make it count!]
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(Or, to be more specific, there will be no next time, because Satoru is going to give the prison realm the same fate as the Inverted Sphere of Heaven.)
Dramatics aside, Satoru is hungry and given the state of this car, he isn't looking forward to whatever dinner is awaiting him, which is partially why he's playing this secondary game of his. He doesn't really want to know, because he'll likely prefer to go without — which can't happen, because he needs to stay both strong and healthy, given what they're facing here.]
you're too strict
[And here he goes, testing boundaries, pushing Suguru, seeing if he's going to be true to his word and deprive Satoru of a guess because Satoru refuses to follow instructions.
Which is, of course, the other reason behind these antics: Satoru has a bad habit of wanting more attention than what is initially promised. Three turns will be over soon, but if he cheats a little, maybe Suguru won't be so quick to tell him where he can find the grub in question.]
i need a hint!
[He'd give Suguru one if asked!]
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because this is easier, isn't it? far easier than holding hands or sharing the same space, though this is still toeing that same line. even with the thought that satoru isn't trying because satoru is trying to hurry this along, either to get it over with or to tease suguru in some roundabout way—well. for now, at least, suguru will let such thoughts fall to the wayside, for there is nothing else in this tavern to capture his interest.
(because maybe, just maybe, he's lonelier than he'd like to admit—and because repairing risky bridges remains far better than the alternative.)]
Two texts? Two guesses.
You only have one left.
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He feels that distant, quiet amusement, and in turn feels a stronger resurgence of his own wistfulness — the memory of when conversations like these were commonplace between them. Back then, Satoru ignored the rules not because he believed Suguru would end the gamer sooner than he wanted, but because Satoru knew that Suguru would still look at him fondly when they saw each other again, no matter how annoying he acted or how many rules he broke.
But he has no idea what food this place offers; all he knows is he won't like it. He's therefore at a disadvantage and no matter what his first (third) guess is, it will be wrong. He considers carefully for a moment, more carefully than he would usually afford a silly game like this, and sets his fingertips along his ring. Instead of twisting it this time, he merely holds it, and wonders if Suguru can sense him — wonders if Suguru knows that he's been thinking about him since he left the camp.
Because still on his mind, is Suguru's grip, Suguru's expression, Suguru's words. He still considers the extent of the damage those hands, that face, those words have caused. As always, they are juxtaposed with the Suguru of before, and the cold, lifeless Suguru of after.
And Suguru is ultimately why his first and final guess is what it is — Satoru throwing in the towel with the only meaningful guess he has.]
zaru soba
[He remembers the last time they ate together, before the end. That heavy feeling in his chest returns — though maybe it's better to say it grows heavier, for it has yet to fully leave.]
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drawn, as ever, to satoru, even when he knows better.
and so this final guess—it almost seems like a kindness. satoru bringing up suguru's favorite dish is, at first glance, the same as suguru tightening his hold, forcing satoru to confront the gulf between them: it is a reminder of what is as opposed to what was. a suggestion, if not an outright invitation, to stop this before it becomes too much for either of them to set aside. it would only be sensible, he thinks for the second time this evening—except that it is a decidedly bittersweet thought now, pairing well with the weight that soon makes itself known. maybe it would be better to end this here.
and yet there is something about satoru remembering suguru's preferences after all this time? something about the flashes of emotions suguru keeps picking up on, so many of them mirroring his own—because he's always been good at fitting the puzzle pieces together; if he's being honest with himself, he completed this particular puzzle well before sending his initial text, for there is only one person on this train who once proved to be a perfect complement.
...which makes this funny, in a way. the two of them, tangled together after a decade-long separation—someone or something has a terrible sense of humor.
but that makes suguru all the more determined to not shut this down, for whatever reason. to not let satoru slip away.]
It's cold, but it's not that.
I would have ordered some for you.
[even if satoru would have preferred something else entirely, but it isn't about that? it's about suguru sharing what was, is, his favorite meal with what was, is, someone important—and thus it's his turn to feel wistful. even sharing a bowl of this—watching the faces satoru would surely pull while choking down the smallest spoonful—would be better than nothing, and that's—
—it would be enough.]
That wasn't much of a game.
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The reply is the opposite of what he anticipates, and it surprises him. It shouldn't, given the ring around his finger and the brief flashes of emotion to which he's now privy, but the way a person feels doesn't necessarily dictate their actions. Satoru is a good example of that himself. But he feels a dangerous sense of relief that Suguru prolongs the conversation, offering much more than he should: I would have ordered some for you. As if it would have been natural, easy, to invite Satoru to eat with him. As if they can return to that place.
His relief is therefore complicated: mingled with concern and the subsequent disregard for that concern.
Much of the risk that Suguru presents has been temporarily abated with the binding vow, but not all of it: there is the risk that working together, indulging these feelings, and embracing old habits presents to Satoru. Suguru is his weakness; he should say far away. And Suguru, the more responsible of the two of them, should be holding the boundary as firmly as he had at the camp that evening.
But Satoru's weakness is closer than ever, Suguru's emotions intertwined with his own, and thus, for all he knows better, he still replies:]
it'd have been a better game if you gave me hints!
[But it was too short and hardly a game at all, which is entirely Satoru's fault for not following directions (and Suguru's! for holding firm). Still, a game like that can't stand and so:]
rematch? double or nothing
[And before Suguru can agree (or refuse), Satoru sets the terms.]
guess what prize i got for saying yes to all those mushrooms
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but suguru expects a response all the same—and it's a response he receives, with satoru all but barreling through the opening suguru provided. well! this is good, in the sense that it bodes well for their future interactions; better for satoru to return to camp at regular intervals than to, say, push himself to his limits in an attempt to avoid it. a weak partner is a liability.
(and a silent camp seems so strange.)
except that's only part of the story, which certainly doesn't explain suguru's own sense of relief? the feeling that he's making an irresponsible decision as he types out his reponse—but that is as familiar as anything, honestly. for all the times suguru reined satoru in, satoru tugged suguru along, encouraging him to be a little careless, a little wild.]
I might have been generous if you'd followed the rules.
[maybe. something to consider for future games, perhaps—but as suguru's eyes fall to the ring on his finger, watching as it catches the weak, flickering light offered by a nearby lantern:]
A ring?
[satoru must have a ring; that isn't a question, really, but suguru wonders if a matching ring was his prize? if this entire situation truly was orchestrated by the clownductor.]
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He thinks about it, and wonders if that emotion will translate to the rings. He imagines Suguru sitting with his dinner, and sensing a fondness that is, briefly, uncomplicated — a confirmation that Satoru does have the ring, and an assurance that not every memory has been tainted by the blood on Suguru's hands, and Suguru's blood on Satoru's.
As is tradition, Satoru then sends a selfie of himself with his arms crossed in an X. He's in the woods, albeit not too deep yet. It'd be easy for him to turn around to claim a prize, if he wins.
It'd be easy for him to find Suguru.]
guess again!
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and yet, as suguru teeters on the edge of discomfort—ah. he is unprepared for a wisp of what is clearly fondness; it sends him straightening in his seat, pleased despite himself—how could he not be?—but also momentarily taken aback. he, himself, has felt flickers of fondness throughout this exchange; that was his own weakness coming into play, but satoru has been—
—well. it's a dangerous game they play; of this there is no doubt, but suguru looks at the stupid picture satoru sent his way, recognizing the emotion as a signal meant to accompany it. yes, i have a ring; no, it wasn't my prize. so satoru is a thief...
suguru, naturally, wonders if it was only because satoru felt entitled to half of the hand-holding prize? turns over the possibilities, both good and bad, in his mind even as fires off his second guess of the evening:]
Sunglasses?
[he has a perfectly good blindfold, but.]
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[It would be a good guess if the clownductor didn't have a weird sense of humor in granting Satoru the prize that he did (and, apparently, a desire to meddle, considering the prize that Suguru received and of which Satoru claimed half). But Satoru arrived on this train with only one belonging: his blackout shades, which he now pauses to exchange for his blindfold. Then he sends yet another selfie, this time of his face alone, staring at the camera just over his shades, a smirk on his lips.]
last chance
want a hint?
[Or a cheat code? Unlike Suguru, Satoru isn't a stickler for the rules, and he doesn't mind prolonging this exchange an unnecessary amount. After a day exploring the woods on his own, and after a couple of days stewing in the emotions that resulted from their hand-holding session, he needed this: a little bit of attention. A little bit of a reminder that things could be friendly, fun, fond, even if complicated and risky.]
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but—no, no. suguru takes a moment to consider possible prizes, ruling out the obvious things (re: sweets) that satoru would have mentioned. if satoru's prize is anything like suguru's rings—well. then this is an impossible game to win. a cheat code would be warranted.
and yet.]
Fine. I'll take a hint.
I hope you're feeling generous.
[no hidden costs, please.]
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Eventually, he will need to rest again. And given this car, he may need Suguru's help at some point in the near future. However silly and ill-advised this game may be, it's what he needed. And maybe, given what Satoru has picked up from wearing the ring, it's what Suguru needed too.]
more generous than you
[Considering Suguru withheld! But he is feeling generous, among many other emotions, and hence:]
it has blue eyes
white hair
and talks a lot
[Like someone they know!]
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...for a single, solitary second, suguru imagines two satorus. impossible, he knows, and yet he can see it: two of them, side by side, whining and laughing in tandem.
but that nightmare scenario aside—what talks? a doll? an animal? oh, god, an animal—]
It can't be alive.
[can it?? now who's bending the rules...]
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The next reply is accompanied with a flash of cheeky amusement, a more usual (and safer) emotion than many of the others Satoru has felt so far.]
are you asking for another hint
[Because someone sure is demanding, considering that he didn't want to offer any hints himself!
But as Suguru likely already knows, Satoru can be convinced to offer more...]
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but a hint would be helpful, so.]
I didn't ask anything.
You could at least confirm that your prize isn't alive.
[since he's the one setting up their shelter! or... something.]
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if i tell you
and i still win
do i get to pick my own prize
[Because he has something in mind. Something that will likely annoy Suguru, but will be harmless, and hopefully free of the complications that would come from requesting other, more meaningful belongings from Suguru's limited pool — such as the something that Suguru held in the museum.]
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(and there is the chance that satoru could demand something ridiculous as a prize—that satoru has something ridiculous in mind at this very moment—but let's be honest: it isn't as though suguru has a prize in mind. this could possibly work out to his benefit! maybe.)]
This isn't a very generous deal.
[haha! just looping back around to that point because he can, but—]
Fine.
Is it alive?
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And since Suguru agreed to his terms, which surely he knows includes Satoru coming to claim the prize he chooses, he simply replies:]
nope!
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[the relief suguru feels? the relief suguru feels. the chances of it being a living, breathing creature were slim, yes, but the thought of satoru becoming the caretaker of a white-furred, blue-eyed cat, or dog, or whatever else... there is only so much room in their shelter(s), and god forbid a satoru-like creature take up an undue amount of space...
that aside, though: ah. that leaves talking as suguru's only hint—and while defeat is inevitable, suguru still takes a few minutes to think this through. the options are so limited; in the end, it comes right back around to:]
A doll?
[a satoru gojo™ doll, featuring satoru gojo™ catchphrases. that would track.]
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[After all those hints!
There's that flash of somewhat smug amusement again, even though Suguru was actually pretty close with his guess. If he had more chances, Satoru is sure he would have gotten it right, which is exactly why this game is traditionally limited to three tries. Given more, Suguru would easily narrow it down, no matter how obscure the gift.
Time for the reveal! Suguru receives (1) video clip of the long furby. It babbles in a way that seems to be celebrating Satoru's victory, with phrases like "Wah!" and "Yippee!" Behold, Satoru's survey reward, blinking its creepy blue eyes!]
i win!
[Guess who's starting to make his way out of the woods to claim his prize?]
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that icon lol
geto judgment (tm)
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