keisuke “hugs not drugs” (ケイスケ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
underlined) wrote2015-06-06 12:20 am
underlined) wrote2015-06-06 12:20 am
IC INBOX: INUGAMI
[VOICE CALL, TEXT MESSAGING, AND PHOTO SHARING IS ENABLED ON THIS CELL PHONE.]
[VOICE CALL, TEXT MESSAGING, AND PHOTO SHARING IS ENABLED ON THIS CELL PHONE.]
text @ approx. aug 24 / i'm slow as a snail ad infinitum ..... donates myself to science ........
wanna see smth rly cool :-O
rip...
howre you doing yamamoto?
and oh yeah sure. where r u rn?
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you were worried about me? :-) aw
i'll go to you! tell me where you are and i'll be there in a flash
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what? yeah... of course i was! is that weird?
im waiting outside the auditorium
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i'll be there in a sec. wait for me!
[ and off he goes to the auditorium. with any luck, it won't end in keisuke's death. yamamoto's only shown it to approximately one other person, but it's got to count for something in the way of personal accountability. it's not his modus operandi to set people on fire, even inadvertently. ]
ok keisuke is now 7% gay for yams just letting u know
...okay ill see you then
[Don't just make him hit the gay panic button and leave him hanging, Yamamoto, jeez.
He is very literally hanging out outside the auditorium, lingering near the main doors in a way that seemed like he was waiting for something or someone. And that someone eventually comes scooting down the hallway towards him. He faces him with his usual sense of restlessness, offering a small, quick smile and a greeting sweep of his hand.]
Hey... [He is happy to see Yamamoto healthy and in one piece, though.] ...What is it you wanted to show me...? [Oh-so-slightly wary.]
resist this vegetable 4 ur own sanity
but making it to the appointed spot yields yamamoto his yes man, tall, gangly, and self-conscious as ever. instead of humoring keisuke in another politely diffident wave, he tunes his reflexes up to eleven and claps him a high-five, easily bouncing back to grin up at him, eyes fractured with mirth. ]
Yo! Looks like you got out unscathed. So cool. I knew you were a tough guy!
[ five seconds in and he's already laying the compliments on thick: yamamoto's natural predisposition to please as framed in the context of bravado, or maybe just praising survivability likened to an extremely overgrown weed. either way, he wastes no time striding past the main doors and into the auditorium without skipping a beat. ]
Aha, well ... ! Let's get inside first. I wanna' keep it under wraps, but I'm really happy I got some of what I lost back, so bear with me a little longer, okay?
[ continuing until they're smack-dab in the center of the well-lit assembly hall, he whirls around on his heel to present his sword, shigure kintoki, for keisuke's inspection. ]
First, hold this. How's it feel to you?
[ and if keisuke takes him up on the offer, he'll find that outwardly, it's no less different than any kendo practice sword commonly found in dojos. however, it's inexplicably heavy for a wooden blade, like there's something trapped in its lacquered encasement ostensibly weighing it down.
yamamoto offers no answers as of yet, allowing keisuke to come to his own natural conclusion. it's very well possible that he's never held a weapon of that make and variety in his life, all things considered. ]
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Anyway, when Yamamoto increases his speed as he fixes Keisuke in his sights, the older guy gets alarmed (in a single word), cringing back ever-so-slightly until he reads what Yamamoto is preparing to do. Almost a half-second too late, Keisuke raises his hand to intercept the other guy's, hearing the crack of the high-five a half-second before he feels a lance of pain and numbness go straight up his arm to his brain. Ouch...! He's not messing around...!
He rubs his stinging hand against his leg, using it as an excuse to look away at Yamamoto's praise.] N - No, I was lucky... [said with no small amount of guilt: it should've been me who was taken, not Rin, not Rin, it should've been me. He swallows with some difficulty.] But I'm happy you're okay, too. I really was worried...
[But the other kid's already striding past him, straight into the room he'd been standing in front of. Keisuke does a double-take before following after, a half-step slow and practically jogging to catch up. He skids to a stop as Yamamoto whirls around to face him, holding up something in his hands.
A—sword. Keisuke looks nervous for a half-second, especially as the guy offers it to him to hold.]
Uh... okay. [He takes the sword from Yamamoto, though, yeah, it's a hell of a lot heavier than he expected. It drops nearly a foot down before Keisuke finds enough strength to hold it properly, the tension and exertion eliciting a line of strength from the shape of his shoulders. ]
Heavy... [The obvious answer. He lifts the sword up to where he's holding it at a more natural height. It's obvious he has no idea what he's doing, though—the way he's holding it, hands and arms and stance, all wrong. Fine for a bruiser's weapon (a lead pipe, perhaps...?) but no weapon of war.] What's it made out of, anyway...?
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in retrospect, yamamoto should've dialed back his splitting intensity, but he's been eerily complacent with the thought that no one's died from being at the receiving end of his baseball pitches or rad high-fives just yet. then again, he's never had the gumption to tone down his disconcertingly excessive joy, more content with throwing people through metaphysical loops. his brand of inanity isn't from ignorance, but from overwhelming excess — joy without reservations, delineated by his widely gesticulating arms as he settles, rocking back on his heels. ]
Ahaha, it doesn't take just luck to survive, you know.
[ blithely, he smiles, truncating the statement with something sharper before smoothing his expression back into comparative benignity. ]
Mm, I don't know, actually! My dad probably did, but I can't contact him now. [ this thought has never actually occurred to him before, what with all the wacky, eclectic predicaments he gets himself into, so ... ! ] When we get out of here, I'll definitely ask him. I think he was taught by his master before him, so he probably has some idea, huh ...
[ good stuff. he's a great deal more sheepish when keisuke briefly underestimates shigure kintoki's weight, nearly sending his precious weapon clattering to the floor, but his fears are abated when his friend manages to hold it upright. if yamamoto bears some contention with the particular manner keisuke encloses his fingers around its attenuated form, a clumsy stance exacerbated by an uneven grip, he doesn't voice it. he didn't come here to criticize him, and lessons were a stone's throw away from fighting outright, which he wouldn't be pressed to cajole keisuke into out of sheer impulse (for once).
rubbing appreciatively at the the bridge of his nose, he checks and rechecks the vongola ring emblazed with his famiglia's emblem, then tentatively offers his hands, palm side up, ready to take his sword back into his possession. ]
Would you believe me if I said it could turn into a steel blade, too? It looks wooden now, but trust me, that sword could cut through pretty much anything.
[ his voice stings in raw appreciation, the same tone he'd take up with baseball: elation coalescing into exhilaration. ]
So! You ready to see what I really came here to show you?
I THOUGHT I TAGGED THIS IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT AAAAA
Used to a world with a much more sluggish, slogging pace, Yamamoto's fever pitch of energy and good cheer was something he was thoroughly unprepared for. Not that he didn't enjoy it, though; it was a little glaring, like looking too closely towards the sun, but there was something exciting in the risk of that. It was a challenge, something which took him out of his comfort zone, and he felt like he needed stuff like that. This school might be a mystery, even months into it, but it was a good learning opportunity.]
I - guess that's true... [He knows it is—it wasn't just luck that carried Akira through all those Bl@ster fights, even that Igura match—but...] I'm not... really good at that, though, so I always figure...
[He's just running off of luck. Luck which would run out one day, inevitably.
It's strange he doesn't even know what the weapon was made out of. Is that even safe, to wield something you didn't fully understand? Keisuke determines not to judge him on that, instead handing the weapon back over once Yamamoto offers open palms.
Keisuke's eyes widen at his question. That probably answers that question.]
Eh - what? Really?
[And turning a wooden blade into a metal one wasn't what he called him here for? What the hell, Yamamoto.]
Um, yeah. S - sure... [It's his turn to be a little sheepish now, a little nervous at what he might do, but... he wouldn't hurt him, right? They're friends now, and Yamamoto had always seemed good-natured, so... time to wait and see.]
holds this against u 5ever
[ as a precursor to his hands abruptly sparking with scintillant blue flame, he could've given a decent warning beforehand. but there's no helping the gratuitous warmth trilling along his fingers and eating into his palms shortly before drinking into the contours of his blade, burnished and spasmodically aglow.
whatever reaction this incites in keisuke is thrown to the wayside in favor of scaring the living daylights out of his friend as he goes on the rebound, fingers clasping around the hilt, falling into the motion of a propulsive strike just inches away from keisuke's face. and then he wrenches back, shifting his upward swing at the last moment to allow his other hand unfurl to catch the blade, only to repeat the gesture, relying on momentum to keep him from completing the strike. ]
Shigure Soen, fifth offensive form: Samidare.
[ in the ensuing silence after the swing, a gleam of blue flame and yamamoto's viciously bright grin, he lifts the sword clear away from keisuke, allowing it to transfigure back into a wooden sword. ]
So? What'd you think? It really gets the blood pumping, right?! [ yamamoto leans back on his sword like an upright cane, still smiling away with the same manic glee. ] I'd need Kojirou or a good rainstorm to show off some of the flashier ones, but that doesn't mean I couldn't demonstrate them now, if you want. As long as you take responsibility when it comes to fixing up the auditorium with me afterwards, that is.
[ despite his capricious elation, yamamoto's dead serious about that thinly-veiled ultimatum. ]