expiationlogs | (catch-all/open) seas would rise when i gave the word;

Entry tags:

(catch-all/open) seas would rise when i gave the word;

Who: manjiro sano
Where: a cliff near the sea, forest, and lupin!
What: just a catch-all to soothe my brainworms, during the blackout
Warnings: language, underage drinking, violence maybe

Threaded | Flat

(today, he's not all there. takemichi's gone, and his room is full of little mementos, questions he never got the answer to. his sentencing and his talk to shinjiro also gave him plenty to think about.

when he first got here with the other boy, he looked both terrified and relieved. like he wasn't looking at manjiro as he is, but at something else... weak smiles, caution.

"I had to tell you something, something really important! And I knew you wouldn't listen to me if I tried the normal way. You stopped talking to everybody after the gang dissolved. I couldn't get in contact with you at all. I knew I had to do something big to get your attention, so I... I revived Toman. I mean, I wasn't the only one who missed you."

back then, he asked takemichi to not tell him anything else. this is not what he is living, this is unimaginable to him as he is-- but perhaps now, he's starting to get why he would do something like this. he misses the most fearless boy he knows, and the uniform with the words 'second generation tokyo manji president' sit in his room like a sore wound.

he wants it gone, and wants to boy back. he isn't quite sure what to do, but he has a spot he goes to think as of late. if anyone is by the water and looks in the distance, they'll see mikey's little feet dangling as he sits on the edge of a cliff, listening to the waves crashing below. he's wearing his own uniformand it's a world of information on itself - above his pocket, "throughout the heavens, i alone am the honored one." on the back, 'tokyo manjikai'. the left arm, the words 'president'.

takemichi's is folded next to him.)

Edited 2024-03-11 13:09 (UTC)

(working out in the dojo right now is not an option for him anymore. not when last time he got overly excited, he burst a punching bag open - lots of cleaning, not so fun to ruin things that are so precious to him.

except, he's sure that war is to come. one he finds no mercy within him to not partake, blood-thirsty and determined. except-- this place placed a strength in him that he wasn't all that used to. he hasn't fought yet with his newfound ability, and that is a terrifying thought. shirtless and enduring the ridiculously freezing weather, manjiro finds himself in the forest, the further he can be without accidentally hurting anyone.

he's testing his punches against the bark of trees. his knuckles are crimsoned from the blood, repetition giving confidence. something he'd once consider a weak punch leaves a dent, so he's increasing and decreasing power in each.)

(in twelve years, a piece will be a part of him. he'll find it too easy and numb to pull the trigger, much easier than hitting with kicks and punches. right now, the weight and feel of the metal against his hand feels wrong, but he knows it has its benefits in a place like this. he's no longer putting order in the streets, this is against a higher power that he doesn't fully understand, and every help should be cherished and welcomed.

still, it feels kind of fucked up. he never liked them. in manjiro's mind, if one wants to kill, be his guest, but do it with one's own hands, watch the light leave.

a shot misses the target, hitting the tree rather than the bullseye he put up. he's too in his thoughts.)

Fuck, how many bullets do I have...

(alcohol used to be much more fun back home. idiot boys being boys, running around, laughter, but that's not his mood right now. he feels distant, with all in his mind bumping. at least he won't spend a lot of money in here, with how easy it is for alcohol to hit him like a hurricane. a shot, and he's already the color of cherry - and as a pick me up, all the money that didn't go to alcohol goes to everything that is sugary in lupin. it's a feast of glucose on his booth, and he is almost too focused on annihilating all of it.)

Threaded | Flat

once you'd gone, there was never an honest word

feel the fear in my enemy's eyes

but that was when i ruled the world

one minute i held the key, next the walls closed on me