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.]
no subject
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. ]