[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?]
[or: satoru's win was expected; a snake-like furby was not, hence that jolt of genuine surprise. it's been years—decades—since suguru has seen, let alone thought of, furbies, but he's fairly certain they weren't so... long...
...but such a weird, unexpected twist makes this prize, like, perfectly satoru? as does the chatter, which suguru knows will grow tiresome in under a day—and that satoru will encourage at every available opportunity. this is what suguru gets for wishing to avoid a silent camp! this is the price he must pay.
speaking of camp—suguru glances down at his bowl of slop, wondering if satoru is planning to hurry on over to gloat. the answer is, of course, obvious; satoru never has been a very patient individual, so. time to stand up at last, sending one last text before he leaves this (rather miserable) establishment.]
That looks like a doll to me.
[google says it's more of a toy than a doll, but details, details. maybe this is suguru once again seeking ways to prolong this conversation? maybe this is a distraction as he heads back to their newest shared space: a drafty, one-room shack situated on the village outskirts. at least there's a bed! peasant living at its finest.]
[Sensing a brief flash of surprise, Satoru grins as he walks through the woods, heading in the direction of the village. In a way, catching Suguru off guard is a prize in and of itself; it's been so long since Satoru has seen true surprise on his face that he has trouble picturing it. But the distance of text messages is what allowed them to play this game at all, so he accepts it in the form in which he experiences it. The rings complicate matters for them, considering the many emotions they reveal, but when it comes to something small and harmless like picking up on a small bout of surprise — Satoru is glad he decided to claim one of them for himself.]
no way
[He types as he walks; it doesn't take him too long to near the edge of the woods, and since he's already taken care of a couple of monsters, he isn't interrupted by anything on his way.]
don't tell me you don't know the difference between a doll and a furby
[They're worlds apart! And Satoru will die on the hill of those technicalities because he wants his prize.]
[later—when he's alone with both his thoughts and his ring—suguru will continue considering the implications of this connection? the possible advantages and the definite drawbacks, for these rings are uncomfortably invasive; they run the risk of revealing truths that, for the sake of this temporary team-up, need to remain hidden from view. nothing good will come of nostalgia.
and yet this disagreement, if it can even be called that, is nostalgic? this is precisely the sort of thing they'd argue about after class, sending shoko wandering away to search for better company—which means that suguru should end it, not indulge it.
but, well—]
Children play with both. That makes your doll the perfect prize.
[he's just sayin'.
anyway, with that said, it's shaping up to be a bitterly cold evening; suguru's fingers can only take so much, which is why he tucks his phone back into his pocket before picking up his pace. the shack isn't too far? yet another camp left in sprinkles' care—and as satoru has apparently made it his goal to spoil the curse, suguru is aiming to make it back before satoru has the chance.]
[It is cold, and that's even more apparent when Satoru leaves the woods and no longer has the cover of trees to break up the wind. His Infinity helps buffer him against strong gusts, but he has no control over the accompanying temperature, and so he feels an ache in his fingers as he texts Suguru back. But Satoru is undeterred by the weather, especially when it comes to silly arguments that seem plucked out of simpler times.
And a furby is not a doll.]
you're jealous huh
[Who wouldn't want a furby with which to lighten the dour mood and various threats of this car? The rings serve a purpose, sure, but they're also dangerous.
(Granted, his furby isn't without risks of its own, but details.)
Satoru has been doing his part on getting his acquaintances' minds off of illnesses and the like with his prize, which he wears over his neck to compliment his obnoxious suit up until he gets close to Suguru's shack. As fun as it would be to inflict Whipped Cream on Suguru immediately, Satoru decides to hang it from a nearby tree, keeping them both safe from clumsy mishaps for the time being (and potentially frightening anyone who nears their camp). Then he faces the shack.
It's — a letdown. Maybe not as much of a letdown as the treehouse, but Satoru was holding out hope for something a little more comfortable, or at least something that looks like it can withstand the elements. There's a mansion in town, so the least the housing app could give them is a building that won't blow over in the next storm. And while Satoru takes most things in stride, living in squalor doesn't exactly come naturally to him.
At least he'll actually fit in this shack, instead of it being a repeat of the treehouse.
As he nears the sad excuse for shelter, he whistles for Sprinkles, who happily trots over to him. Curses generally don't care about the weather, but after lavishing it with pets, Satoru tells it to come inside to warm up with him. Sprinkles obeys and follows Satoru up to the door.
Satoru hesitates, only for a fraction of a second, taking the time to think about the ring around his finger and recall the cost of the last two times he and Suguru met up. For all that they may have indulged nostalgic games, the situation between them remains the same. And for all the ring has given him glimpses into Suguru's emotions, it serves as a reminder of Suguru grasping his hand.
When he enters the shack, he's greeted not with warm air, but with a more muted chill, making it immediately evident that the one-room building did not come with a heater or stove. And for the first time, Satoru's typical good humor is interrupted by a little, tiny blip of homesickness that he immediately ignores in favor of banging his cane on the floor and declaring:]
I'm here for my prize.
[And so is Sprinkles! Coming through the door right on his heels. Satoru closes the door behind him, because it's cold enough in this shack.
And because busying himself with canes and doors alike makes it a little bit easier to face Suguru in person once again.]
Edited (late edits for my late night tag) 2021-09-09 08:04 (UTC)
[the interior of the shack is marginally better than its exterior? the walls are paper-thin, yes, but there's a small table with two chairs shoved into a corner; there's a chest in which to stash valuables; there's that aforementioned bed, covered with both a clean quilt and (hopefully) clean furs. it could be worse!
it could also be much, much better, given that two people will be sharing this space. something suguru gives actual thought as he settles at the table, sensing satoru's approach—and then hearing him in the "yard," cooing to the curse suguru purposely allowed to continue wandering about. seeking and/or offering distractions is a weak strategy; it doesn't prevent so much as it postpones, but the memory of their last meeting is impossible to avoid. as sensible as drawing that line in the sand was, suguru does not want a repeat performance.
(but how does one effectively straddle that line? how do they effectively straddle that line? there's too much to ignore, too much to forget.)
thankfully, however, satoru proves as effective a distraction as ever, choosing to make an unnecessarily loud entrance simply because he can—while wearing an unnecessarily loud outfit. not a true surprise, thanks to satoru's many selfies, but as suguru takes in this suit and the cane...
...sprinkles ambles over to the table, investigating the floor beneath it just in case its master, like, dropped some tasty crumbs; suguru pays it absolutely no mind, because for the second time this evening: what in god's name is going on? how is he supposed to once again exist in the strange space between serious and ridiculous? satoru's specialty, perhaps, but it's been years since suguru has been caught up in this whirlwind; it's difficult to judge what is up and what is down.
so as suguru sits back in his chair, just barely raising a brow, he simply says the first thing that comes to mind:]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
(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!]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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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...but such a weird, unexpected twist makes this prize, like, perfectly satoru? as does the chatter, which suguru knows will grow tiresome in under a day—and that satoru will encourage at every available opportunity. this is what suguru gets for wishing to avoid a silent camp! this is the price he must pay.
speaking of camp—suguru glances down at his bowl of slop, wondering if satoru is planning to hurry on over to gloat. the answer is, of course, obvious; satoru never has been a very patient individual, so. time to stand up at last, sending one last text before he leaves this (rather miserable) establishment.]
That looks like a doll to me.
[google says it's more of a toy than a doll, but details, details. maybe this is suguru once again seeking ways to prolong this conversation? maybe this is a distraction as he heads back to their newest shared space: a drafty, one-room shack situated on the village outskirts. at least there's a bed! peasant living at its finest.]
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no way
[He types as he walks; it doesn't take him too long to near the edge of the woods, and since he's already taken care of a couple of monsters, he isn't interrupted by anything on his way.]
don't tell me you don't know the difference between a doll and a furby
[They're worlds apart! And Satoru will die on the hill of those technicalities because he wants his prize.]
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and yet this disagreement, if it can even be called that, is nostalgic? this is precisely the sort of thing they'd argue about after class, sending shoko wandering away to search for better company—which means that suguru should end it, not indulge it.
but, well—]
Children play with both.
That makes your doll the perfect prize.
[he's just sayin'.
anyway, with that said, it's shaping up to be a bitterly cold evening; suguru's fingers can only take so much, which is why he tucks his phone back into his pocket before picking up his pace. the shack isn't too far? yet another camp left in sprinkles' care—and as satoru has apparently made it his goal to spoil the curse, suguru is aiming to make it back before satoru has the chance.]
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And a furby is not a doll.]
you're jealous huh
[Who wouldn't want a furby with which to lighten the dour mood and various threats of this car? The rings serve a purpose, sure, but they're also dangerous.
(Granted, his furby isn't without risks of its own, but details.)
Satoru has been doing his part on getting his acquaintances' minds off of illnesses and the like with his prize, which he wears over his neck to compliment his obnoxious suit up until he gets close to Suguru's shack. As fun as it would be to inflict Whipped Cream on Suguru immediately, Satoru decides to hang it from a nearby tree, keeping them both safe from clumsy mishaps for the time being (and potentially frightening anyone who nears their camp). Then he faces the shack.
It's — a letdown. Maybe not as much of a letdown as the treehouse, but Satoru was holding out hope for something a little more comfortable, or at least something that looks like it can withstand the elements. There's a mansion in town, so the least the housing app could give them is a building that won't blow over in the next storm. And while Satoru takes most things in stride, living in squalor doesn't exactly come naturally to him.
At least he'll actually fit in this shack, instead of it being a repeat of the treehouse.
As he nears the sad excuse for shelter, he whistles for Sprinkles, who happily trots over to him. Curses generally don't care about the weather, but after lavishing it with pets, Satoru tells it to come inside to warm up with him. Sprinkles obeys and follows Satoru up to the door.
Satoru hesitates, only for a fraction of a second, taking the time to think about the ring around his finger and recall the cost of the last two times he and Suguru met up. For all that they may have indulged nostalgic games, the situation between them remains the same. And for all the ring has given him glimpses into Suguru's emotions, it serves as a reminder of Suguru grasping his hand.
When he enters the shack, he's greeted not with warm air, but with a more muted chill, making it immediately evident that the one-room building did not come with a heater or stove. And for the first time, Satoru's typical good humor is interrupted by a little, tiny blip of homesickness that he immediately ignores in favor of banging his cane on the floor and declaring:]
I'm here for my prize.
[And so is Sprinkles! Coming through the door right on his heels. Satoru closes the door behind him, because it's cold enough in this shack.
And because busying himself with canes and doors alike makes it a little bit easier to face Suguru in person once again.]
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it could also be much, much better, given that two people will be sharing this space. something suguru gives actual thought as he settles at the table, sensing satoru's approach—and then hearing him in the "yard," cooing to the curse suguru purposely allowed to continue wandering about. seeking and/or offering distractions is a weak strategy; it doesn't prevent so much as it postpones, but the memory of their last meeting is impossible to avoid. as sensible as drawing that line in the sand was, suguru does not want a repeat performance.
(but how does one effectively straddle that line? how do they effectively straddle that line? there's too much to ignore, too much to forget.)
thankfully, however, satoru proves as effective a distraction as ever, choosing to make an unnecessarily loud entrance simply because he can—while wearing an unnecessarily loud outfit. not a true surprise, thanks to satoru's many selfies, but as suguru takes in this suit and the cane...
...sprinkles ambles over to the table, investigating the floor beneath it just in case its master, like, dropped some tasty crumbs; suguru pays it absolutely no mind, because for the second time this evening: what in god's name is going on? how is he supposed to once again exist in the strange space between serious and ridiculous? satoru's specialty, perhaps, but it's been years since suguru has been caught up in this whirlwind; it's difficult to judge what is up and what is down.
so as suguru sits back in his chair, just barely raising a brow, he simply says the first thing that comes to mind:]
You didn't need to dress up for it.
[lordy.]
that icon lol
geto judgment (tm)
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