#* v. » too harsh to survive this city; you’re against it but you’re facing it (main).

[razrbomb]

February 14th. a drabble.

— THE WAY FILMS PORTRAY this special holiday was unlike Reze's experience on this particular day. For one, Valentine's Day was not introduced to her vernacular until her early teens — at this point, it was too late to enjoy the childhood innocence of passing out handwritten cards &. heart-shaped lollipops or some sugary treat to her classmates in grade school; an experience completely lost for a child soldier like Reze. For another, the only reason she learned of this holiday was to train &. act as a role of a typical teenage girl once the Soviet Union set their eyes on a certain teenage boy in Japan, ripe for manipulation. Always training; always molded to fill a role. The aching emptiness she felt was merely a mild inconvenience. She felt nothing for the occasion.

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Not for the hearts, nor for the shades of soft pinks &. passionate reds, nor all the roses or chocolates or teddy bears on display; &. especially not for the saccharine display of affection by couples celebrating the holiday. All frivolous window dressings. A spectacle on the idea of love rather than the emotion itself — handpicked rituals with a price tag attached. It was all very cynical to her. This particular day at work practically destroyed her smile, as true emotions threatened to spill from the cracks, breaking the mask meant to blend in &. play pretend at being jovial. The aching emptiness she feels deepens.

Yet, her eyes dart to the front entrance any time she hears the door bell ring; hopeful, unsure why. Unsure why. That's what she tells herself.

She is ruined. She knows this. &. As the clock keeps ticking, aware of a certain someone's absence, the more the melancholy situated in her chest grows. Like flowers that were planted in her lungs, in bloom &. untamed, growing in all directions. They are lovely but suffocating.

It's time for her to clock out, &. the expectations she set — the very low expectations — were never met. Just like the two of them. The flowers he planted remain unplucked.

Somehow, in some way, she felt compelled to make an impulsive purchase, something she'd normally never go out of her way to buy, before making her leave. A simple slice of red velvet cake; some sugary treat or another.

A big slice of red velvet cake, meant to be shared by two.

Now, alone in her apartment, she sets down her belongings on top of the mini dining room table, placing the slice of cake front &. center. She inserts a pink candle on top of the red confection, igniting a flame with a snap of her fingers.

Perhaps the biggest reason of all on why she felt numb is because she learned, late in her life, too late to matter, that today is her birthday. Reze is unsure on how to celebrate the occasion, same way she's apathetic towards Valentine's Day. &. Yet... &. yet...

"Happy birthday. To me."

She smiles, playing pretend like she learned from all those films — her friends surround her, singing to her in a foreign tongue &. cheering for her — before she closes her eyes. This is when she makes her wish; but, her mind draws a blank. She blows out the candle, just like she was taught to — her friends holler, clapping, bursting in a display of joy &. erupting into laughter, as Reze's beloved — her beloved, a familiar face she ached to see all day — remains at her side, planting a kiss on her cheek; his lips were soft as velvet against her skin, tickling her, making her grin from ear-to-ear. Oh, glory from above! She feels alive!

Her eyes flutter open then, met with the cold emptiness of her apartment. The buzzing of her A/C unit served as her soundtrack, breaking through the silence. The flowers bloom.

She is ruined. &. She knows this. She knows it's all downhill from here. Still... At least she gets to enjoy a slice of delicious red velvet cake.

#listened to a lot of f/rank ocean for this one. specifically 'pink + white' #obsessed with love. but make it about loss and being ruined #* ic » drabble. #* ic » this is fireworks / cherries in the sky high. #* v. » too harsh to survive this city; you’re against it but you’re facing it (main).

[sariasprincy]

Where it Happened ix - ItaSaku

Part i    Part ii    Part iii    Part iv    Part v    Part vi    Part vii    Part viii       Part ix (here)    Part x

Yes, I know this is massively late. What else is new?

Where it Happened part ix

keep reading

“What are you still doing here?”

Without picking his head up from the wall, Itachi opened his eyes. He angled his head towards Shisui as his older cousin stopped in front of the chair he had claimed only five minutes earlier. “I still have another six hours on my shift.”

Shisui shot him a look that clearly stated that hadn’t been what he was implying. “I meant what are you still doing here? In this hospital, in this city.”

A long sigh escaped Itachi. He had just performed a valve replacement before being pulled into emergency surgery the moment he scrubbed out.  And his shift wasn't even halfway over. He was the epitome of exhausted. This was the first break he’d gotten since walking through the doors that morning and he didn’t want to spend it debating with Shisui. Again.

“Not now, Shisui…”

“Then when?” Shisui slipped into the empty chair across from him and leaned back, his attention focused solely on his younger cousin. “You’ve been back for two months and you’re already miserable.”

“I am not miserable.”

“And apparently you’re a liar now too.”

Itachi scowled. “Who do you think it was that convinced me to come home?”

Shisui didn’t immediately answer. Guilt flickered across his face, causing Itachi to immediately regret his words but he didn't take them back. “Alright, maybe I did convince you to come home for selfish reasons, but I...I thought you were just being stubborn. I thought if you had talked to your father and sorted things out, we could go back to the way things were, but…”

A pair of nurses hurried past the row of chairs behind where Shisui was sitting, and Itachi watched them disappear around the corner before he sighed softly. “Things will never be the same here.”

There was a finality in his statement. As if he was finally voicing a truth they had all been trying to avoid for so long now. It had been kept deep in the back of his mind but Itachi had known all along that this place he had once considered home would never be a safe haven again. Too many things had happened. Too many things had changed. And he needed to change with it.

“You should go,” Shisui urged.

Itachi eyed his cousin for a long moment, wondering when he had become so mature. It wasn’t a side he often showed but he smiled nonetheless. Even if it was filled with nostalgia and quickly fading.

“My mother…”

“Mikoto will understand.”

“My patients-.”

“I’ve already reassigned your cases,” Shisui smirked.

Itachi arched his brow curiously. “How long have you been planning this?”

“A few days.”

Against his better judgment, Itachi chuckled quietly. He couldn’t find it within himself to feel annoyed or manipulated. Because the truth was he had been itching to return to the hospital that had begun to feel more like home than his actual home.

He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t one pink-haired cardiac surgeon that made him miss the life he had started to build across the country but he would only be lying to himself. He missed Sakura. He missed their banter and her no-nonsense personality. She was easy to talk to and he could rely on her when he needed another….well, him.

Itachi had tried to convince himself that his affections for her were nothing more than a crush. She was just someone he had redirected his attentions, a distraction, but as the days passed into weeks and weeks into months, he was beginning to understand she was more than that. He cared for her. And he missed her. He wanted to go back. He had to go back.

“What about you?” Itachi asked as he fixed his gaze on Shisui again.

His cousin shrugged with one shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Besides, it won’t be the last you’ll see of me.”

The last of Itachi’s anxieties faded upon Shisui’s smile and for the first time since he had returned home, he had something to look forward to. “I’ll need to book a flight.”

If possible, Shisui’s smirk turned even more smug. “I already have. You leave tomorrow night.”

xx

Over two months had passed but it was as if things had ever changed. The condo Itachi had rented during his extended stay was still waiting for him as was the car he had left parked in his parking stall. His mother had asked him multiple times if he had plans to give notice to the landlady, but a part of him had been unable to give up the small living space he had made his own. Like he knew one day he would return.

Itachi didn’t linger long in it now, only stopping to gaze out the window at the view that had become so familiar for only a moment before he showered and changed into a fresh suit. He had a scheduled meeting with the Chief in a few hours and if he knew Tsunade as well as he believed he did, she would have quite the earful for him for leaving so abruptly.

He passed the coffeehouse he used to frequent on his way to the hospital and quickly stopped in. The same barista was behind the bar and she smiled in recognition before she made his usual.  He waited patiently as he reread the email from the Chief’s secretary, confirming his appointment with Tsunade later that morning.

A moment later his attention was ripped away as the sudden screech of tires clashed with the blaring of horns.Itachi picked his head up just in time to see the immediate aftermath of a delivery truck striking a city bus broadside. People both inside and outside the coffeeshop paused in front of the windows, blocking the majority of the damage, but the screams and shouts for help could be heard throughout the intersection.

Without pausing, Itachi sprinted out the front doors. A few civilians were already hurrying towards the bus to help and so his focus shifted to the delivery truck. The entire front end was crushed, crumbling the door and making it impossible for anyone to get in or out, but the window still was mostly intact and he pulled himself up to it.

“Someone, please help me!” the driver called.

“I’m here,” Itachi said, drawing the man’s gaze. Fear danced behind his eyes and flickered across his face but it lessened upon sight of him. “My name is Itachi. I’m a doctor. What’s your name?”

“Chi-Chiyo.”

“Alright Chiyo, what hurts the worst?”

“My leg,” he answered. Both his legs were stuck under the dashboard, making it impossible to assess the damage. “I think...I think it’s broken,” Chiyo added.

“Without moving your neck or back, can you tell me if the bone has broken the skin?”

It was a moment before he answered. “N-no. I don’t think so.”

“That’s good,” Itachi told him calmly. “What about your chest? Does it hurt to breathe?”

Chiyo shook his head, causing Itachi to immediately still his movements. The frightened man tried again, “No. I think-I think I’m okay. Can you help me out of here?”

“Chiyo, I need you to stay here and try not to move,” Itachi said calmly. He could hear the sobs and cries of the injured through the rest of the wreckage and he was itching to see how bad it was. “The fire department is going to have to cut you out. I need to go check on everyone else, but I need you to stay still.”

“No, wait! Please don’t go,” he begged.

Itachi bit back his impatience. “You are going to be fine, Chiyo. But I have to go check on everyone else.”

The plea was only too apparent on the man’s face, but  Itachi said nothing before he jumped back down off the truck and hurried towards the bus. It was far worse than he thought. There were two casualties he noticed immediately, but he quickly turned away to help those still alive and in serious condition.

By the time the first responders began to survive, he had already stemmed the blood flow on three survivors and was in the process of stabilizing another when they suddenly lost a pulse. He began chest compressions and didn’t stop even as the paramedics loaded them into the ambulance until he felt the familiar throb of a heartbeat under his fingertips.

The minutes ticked by as the rig raced down the main road. The lack of trauma equipment was making him restless, but after asking for an ETA for the fourth time, the familiar emergency entrance for the hospital came into view and Itachi breathed a small sigh of relief as the first responders unloaded the patient to the awaiting doctors.

“Uchiha? What the hell are you doing here?”

Tsunade was eyeing him half surprised, half annoyed as he stepped out of the back of the ambulance behind the stretcher. She waited for him as the rest of the staff rushed the patient inside before they hurried into the ER after them. “I am here to discuss the possibilities of signing an extended contract.”

The Chief shot him a pointed look. “And you thought you would come in style?”

“I have a meeting with you in an hour,” Itachi said as he pulled off his suit jacket and hung in on an empty hook reserved for trauma gowns. “But I believe it is safe to say that we will have to reschedule. I need to get this patient into surgery. Do I have privileges?”

Tsunade pursed her lips but her decision was made when a flatline was suddenly called. “Get in there.”

With barely a nod, Itachi swept into the trauma room.

xx

Sakura was upset. Beyond upset actually and more into the realm of downright pissed off. Her emerald eyes were narrowed as she scanned the surgical board, eyeing the long list of ongoing surgeries. A nurse was in the process of updating the board and she watched her pen move with active interest as she cataloged the current traumas.

“Does that say that there’s a Cardiac Tamponade in OR 3?” Sakura asked suddenly.

The nurse paused in her writing to glance over her shoulder at her. “Uh...yes.”

“And how exactly do they plan to repair that with the only Cardiovascular attending standing here?” When the younger woman just stared wide-eyed, Sakura’s glare deepened. “Why the hell wasn’t I paged?”

The nurse just blinked at her bewildered, a bit taken aback to be on the receiving end of Sakura’s harsh words. Sakura knew it wasn’t her fault, but it had been a crazy day for the hospital.

Ten trauma surgeries, back-to-back. Ten victims had come in from a bus crash downtown and every single one that had been rushed through their emergency room doors had been brought down to an operating room. Sakura had been in and out of surgeries for near that of eight hours, and she didn’t understand why she hadn’t been paged for a surgery that obviously needed her skill and experience.

Admittedly Sakura was tired and cranky. She had put in a lot of extra hours in recent weeks and she was pretty sure her blood had turned into coffee and caffeine, but she didn’t offer the nurse an apology as she spun on her heels and hurriedly caught the elevator to the surgical floor.

A surgical team was already inside the OR and silently Sakura watched them work through the windows of the washroom as she pulled on her mask before scrubbing. Irritation still simmered in her chest but she made sure to scrub thoroughly before she finally slipped into the room.

“Who the hell decided it would be a good idea not to page me?” Sakura asked loudly. She accepted a sterile cloth from a nurse and dried her hands as she gazed pointedly about the room.

“That would be me.”

Sakura stilled. She knew that voice.

Automatically her eyes drew to the person standing in the Lead Surgeon’s spot. Even under the scrub cap and mask, she recognized him immediately. Everything about him was familiar: his tall, lean form, his stance, his stunning, black eyes. Even his technique as he cut and sutured was unmistakable.

“Itachi.”

He glanced at her briefly at the call of his name before he returned his attention to the task at hand. Emotion struck her suddenly and sharply in that simple look, twisting and knotting in her chest until she didn’t know how she felt.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He had gone and left her behind, and now he was standing here as if he had been there the whole time. Betrayal took root under her breastbone and she fixed Itachi with a dark glare. “What the hell are you doing here, Uchiha?”

“I am working on resolving a fairly complicated Cardiac Tamponade,” he replied without looking at her.

“You don’t work here.”

Itachi paused to glance at her, his eyes unreadable. “I do as of seven hours ago.”

She blinked. “Under whose authority?”

“Chief Tsunade.”

He returned to the patient with his answer, leaving Sakura speechless. She hadn’t seen him all morning; they must have just been missing each other. And she hadn’t spoken to Tsunade since the night before as they were both pulled in and out of surgery.

Sakura felt blindsided. She wanted to yell and shout and hurt him all the ways he had hurt her, but she refrained. There was still a patient on the table in serious condition, and the only person she trusted to help them more than her was Itachi himself. He may be an ass, but he was an incredibly intelligent, incredibly talented ass.

The surgical staff was beginning to stare. There was nothing more she could say without causing a scene, and so without a word, she dropped her towel onto the floor before she marched out of the room. She ripped her mask off and tossed it in the garbage in the scrub room before she headed back out into the halls, in search of one person in particular.

She found Tsunade before the surgical board.

“When the hell were you going to tell me that you hired Uchiha Itachi back?”

Tsunade pulled her hazel eyes away from the large whiteboard slowly to peer at her. “Is that a problem? We still haven’t found a replacement for his position.”

“You should have run it by me first,” Sakura said, her voice unforgiving and laced with an edge of steel.

The older woman arched her brow but didn’t remark on her tone. “You and I both know you can’t run a department, never mind by yourself, when you have other obligations to the hospital. You’ve turned down every other applicant. I felt since you had no problems working with him before, you wouldn’t have any objections to hiring him back.”

“It still needs to be approved by the board.”

“It was forty-five minutes ago,” Tsunade told her. “As soon as Uchiha is out of surgery, I’m presenting him with a contract.”

Sakura blinked incredulously. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“You were in surgery,” the Chief countered. “And the board only requires five votes.” When Sakura continued to frown, Tsunade turned to face her fully as curiosity burned in her hazel eyes. “Did something happen between you two that I’m not aware of?”

Sakura didn’t immediately offer an answer.

Itachi had kissed her. And then he left. She had asked him to stay and he had walked away like it hadn’t meant anything. Like she hadn't meant anything. She could admit that it wasn’t as bad as proclaiming his love or sleeping with her and leaving her alone to deal with their unborn child. Perhaps she was overreacting, but she couldn’t deny the hurt that thrummed in her chest.

“No,” Sakura eventually said. “Nothing happened.”

xx

The sky was dark outside the hospital windows, the moon hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. Itachi watched them drift past as he pulled on his suit jacket, only turning away as a resident tentatively called his name. Hyuuga Hanabi was standing in the doorway of the Attendings’ lounge with a chart in hand and he silently stepped away the window to accept the offered binder.

His patient was stable. And their labs were clear, meaning he could go home tonight without concern. “Are you working tonight, Hyuuga?”

“I stayed last night,” she told him. When Itachi glanced at her, she flushed and immediately amended her statement. “But I can stay again.”

He nodded as he flipped the chart closed again and passed it to her. “Good. I want her labs checked again in a few hours. Page me if there are any changes for the worst.”

The young surgeon-in-training nodded before she took the chart back. However, she didn’t immediately turn to leave and Itachi turned back to her as she toyed with her next words. “Can I ask, are you just visiting or are you back?”

For a moment, Itachi merely regarded her. When he found only curiosity in her gaze, he murmured, “I plan to stay for some time.”

A genuine smile passed her face. “Welcome back then.”

Her energy was infectious and Itachi found the corners of his mouth turning up but he didn’t say anything more before Hanabi finally exited the lounge. It was only once he was alone again that he realized something. No one else had welcomed him back. Not even over the course of his ten hour shift.

A strange emptiness settled behind his ribcage as his smile vanished as quickly as it had come. The lounge suddenly felt so empty without any other surgeons present, and silently he slipped his old employee card into his pocket before he left the hospital.

Out in the parking lot, Itachi scanned the rows of cars, searching for where the intern who had picked up his vehicle had parked it. He had barely scanned the first stalls when a familiar face caught his notice.

Sakura was following the walkway down to the employee parking lot, the strap of her purse in the crook of her elbow and an overnight bag thrown over her shoulder. She hadn’t seen him and Itachi quickly followed her, wanting to catch her before she drove off.

“Sakura,” he called.

She picked her head up from where she had been digging through her bag for her car keys. When her eyes landed on him, she frowned. “My shift already ended, Uchiha,” she said as she resumed her search.

The use of his surname was not lost on him nor was the irritation sharpening her tone. It was the same one she had used in the OR earlier that afternoon, and it seemed that time hadn’t cooled her mood.

“Can we talk please?” Itachi asked quietly as they stopped beside a dark midsized SUV.

“You can talk to me tomorrow when I get in.” She didn’t spare him a glance as she finally located her keys and popped open her trunk. In one smooth movement, she slipped her bag over her shoulder and tossed it in before she reached up to pull the trunk closed again.

It was quickly becoming apparent that she was content to end their conversation there as she turned towards the driver’s door, but Itachi quickly moved around her, his hand coming to rest on the door handle before she could reach it.

Sakura glared at him, silently conveying that he would do well to move before she made him move. He knew she would too, and he shot her a pleading look. “Sakura…”

Her expression didn’t soften but the immediate threat faded. “What?”

She shot that single syllable at him like a bullet, leaving a sharp, stinging pain in its wake, but he didn’t flinch away. He understood her frustrations. She was disappointed and angry and he suspected hurt, even if she hid it well behind frosty, emerald eyes.

“I know that my leaving upset you. I am truly sorry.”

“Are you sorry you upset me or sorry for not telling me you were leaving?” Sakura asked pointedly.

“Both,” he admitted. “When I first came here, I never intended to stay. It was only supposed to be temporary.”

“Then why did you come back?” Sakura snapped.

Itachi didn't immediately answer. He had a few reasons for coming back, some more significant than others and some he wasn’t quite ready to admit aloud. Especially not with Sakura still looking like she was one misplaced word away from physically removing him from her path.

“Because of you,” Itachi finally said. When she scoffed, he quickly continued, “And Kakashi and Neji and even Ino. You all have breathed life into a place that is normally filled with pain and suffering. You all remind me what it was that made me choose to become a surgeon in the first place. That is why I came back.”

Sakura looked away as her anger lost much of its vibrancy. He waited with bated breath for her to speak, but when the seconds continued to tick by silently, he pressed quietly. “You asked me to stay.”.

She shook her head slowly. “But I didn’t ask you to come back.”

Her words were soft spoken but the betrayal rang clear in her tone. Her hurt resonated like it was his own and Itachi found himself unable to meet her gaze as a sinking feeling suddenly settled in his chest. “I needed time to get my life back together.”

Again, Sakura didn’t answer. That was when the first raindrop fell on Itachi’s hand before another peppered his skin next to the first. When he met her eyes again, Sakura’s face was unreadable. Not blank, but full of so many emotions it was hard to decipher one from another.

“Can we talk over dinner?” he asked. “Or coffee?”

Sakura didn’t move. For a long moment she simply stared at him as the rain began to quicken, striking the ground in slowly growing droplets. And just when he thought they would stand there forever, she murmured quietly, “You never called. Or texted. I never even got so much as an email. So you can’t have that much to say. And I know that I don’t either. I’m going home. I’m tired.”  

Her rejection struck Itachi like a physical blow but he said nothing before he opened her door for her. He waited until she slipped behind the wheel before he closed it behind her and stepped away, silently watching as she backed out of the parking stall and drove away.

It seemed after all they had been through together with the cases and the late nights, and the shared losses over ice cream and pizza and all manner of junk food, they were back to where they had started: Itachi, the new attending, and Sakura wanting nothing to do with him.

to be continued...

#itasaku #itachi #sakura #where it happened #my writing #this is like what #7 months late #whatever #better late than nevah #mwahaha #sakura is pisssssed #but thats to be expected #hopefully next chapter will be here soon #after i update some other shit

[razrbomb]

Sleepless nights over homogenic... a drabble.

— IT’S BEEN A WHILE since Reze used the money she earned at her part-time job for her own personal pleasure, &. not only for some basic necessities; a kind patron gave her a very generous tip, unusually generous, giving her enough cash to buy a CD she has wanted for a while. It was the latest release from one of her favorite artists — an Icelandic singer that has earned critical acclaim for her experimental approach to electronic music — an artist she discovered the moment she was granted the freedom to explore the city, on unfamiliar territory, with her first spot being the local record store close to where she worked. She has always dreamed of owning a CD-player, a simple objective that didn’t require much or take long to achieve.

Now in the comfort of her room she lies in bed, getting cozy before she hits ‘play’, shutting her eyes as she gets whisked away by liminal music &. harsh industrial sounds. Shutting her eyes, forgetting, desperately trying to forget, where she currently lie — always aware of the surveillance camera pointed squarely where she slept; always aware of her objective, a reminder to always perform, stripped from any semblance of an authentic self. She exhales, letting out a deep breath, &. she folds her hands over her chest.

For the most part, she enjoyed the record an okay amount — nothing to write home about, having enjoyed previous releases more. Mostly because she failed to completely shut off from the world, cognizant of her current environment, her thoughts, her feelings, the messy tangle of what any of that means as she struggled to put any of that into words, into a cohesive idea in its failure to be expressed. She felt nothing. Completely numb. All this yearning, &. this turned out to be a disappointing purchase.

That is, until the final song. An ode to love. The music begins with a slow crawl, a total quiet, taking its time to truly begin — with sweeping synths &. beautiful harpsichords — before the gentle crooning of the singer takes center stage.

She dives headfirst into the water, crystal blue surrounded by sunlight from above. She holds her breath, but the air bubbles leaves her nose. She can finally breathe. She is at peace. Finally alone.

Then, suddenly, another figure swims towards her, swimming close-by yet unable to reach her. There was not a hint of malice from this figure, nor any threat felt from their presence; so, she is relaxed, curiously watching as she stays afloat beneath the water. But, still, she remains on-guard, guarded with her hands, closed into fists, over her chest. &. Slowly, gradually, this figure begins to take form, a familiar form of a boy. ‘A boy...’  There was no denying the form this figure soon resembled in her mind’s eye. He was happy to find her, a pure ecstasy that cannot be faked or replicated, baring sharp teeth through a toothy grin. He calls out to her, relieved. With great reluctance, fighting with herself, struggling to fight back against these newfound emotions, she relents &. smiles back at him. Genuinely. Swept up by the emotions locked within the vast expanse between her ribs. The song continues to build, buzzing in her ears. A crescendo. A binaural mantra that repeats the truth of this world: All is full of love. She wraps herself around him, her limbs enclosed around him — his waist confined by her legs as her hands rest behind his neck —  the warmth of his skin connected with hers; &. he does the same to her, wrapping his arms over her shoulders. Vulnerable &. bare. His gaze soft without scrutiny, pulling her deeper into their embrace. She never felt attached to anyone; never felt any iota of emotions towards anyone. Until this moment. The longer she stared, falling &. falling, the more she wanted to drown, sinking further as she stared into deep pools of light brown eyes, kind &. reassuring. Her hand brushed his messy bed of blonde hair before pulling him closer, closer, only mere inches apart. A short gap between her breath &. his lips that dared to be closed.

&. Then the song fades. It fades away to nothing. There is nothing.

&. She is alone. Barren. Aware of the vast empty space that surrounds her as her eyes shoot open, grounded back to the reality of her lonesome.

Except Reze is never alone. The blinking red light that stares back at her a reminder of the company she is never truly free from. She turns to her side then, a position she hardly ever, if at all, sleeps in; &. she plays the final song again, transporting herself to a different place, far far away from here.

‘Take me there...’ Beneath the water without the fear of drowning.

#she is having a real eyes a-shun #but that's jus what b/jork does to you <3 #* ic » drabble. #* ic » this is fireworks / cherries in the sky high. #* v. » too harsh to survive this city; you’re against it but you’re facing it (main). #denji tag.

[razrbomb]

MESSAGE. tend.  for your muse to help tend to my muse’s injuries. ⤷ sent by @guthalo​​.

‘ via the system of touch ’ — ( accepting )

— OUCH... ‘This really fucking hurts,’ she thought to herself for the first time in her native tongue, for the first time in what felt like years since she landed in unfamiliar land. A sharp pain pierced through her shoulder blade, too paralyzed to move; a guttural sound escapes out her throat, wet &. sputtering with the taste of iron. The last thing she remembers was the weight of her body falling forward, her face ready to meet the pavement — the dirty pavement, with grass sprouting out of the edges, from the alleyway that became a part of her comforting routine. That crash never came. Instead, something held her — someone held her — with the utmost care; she could almost weep. Not from the crushing feeling of defeat; but, from something much worse.

‘The lights... The lights. They are blinding.’ Yet, Reze is aware she was neither in heaven nor hell. Fate would be too kind to grant her that kind of mercy. No; her vision acclimated to this awakening, slowly but eventually, &. she could see her surroundings: The cold veneer of some medical facility. She knows this kind of place all too well. The humdrum of the buzzing &. hums from the medical equipment made her ears ring. A somatic or psychological response? Who’s to tell? She can’t even hear herself think. Her eyes felt too heavy to keep open.

It did not take long until the muted &. muffled sounds around her became clear — her ears worked through all the subtle commotion to pick out one sound, one very specific sound.

Humming. A hum that sat besides her. A hum different from the unfeeling machines around her. A hum so soft, it made her fall in a trance. Almost. The tone &. cadence of that hum was undeniable; it could only come from this one source, this one target, this one person.

This demon.

With eyes like molten gold, sweet like honey — enticing like flies to a honeytrap —  her presence was unmistakable. Her unnaturally red hair was enough to give pause &. immediately go on high alert.

Makima.

So, her fate has come to this. Reze could only laugh, coughing &. wheezing blood as she laughed, as her life, her body, her soul now lie helpless under Makima’s hands. ‘Her hands...’ Tending to the gaping wound where she was impaled from the heavens above. Still, she couldn’t move; she’s couldn’t stop those doting hands preventing her life to pass on. Reze was no longer in control. Her body was no longer her own — merely an empty vessel, truly a vessel by its definition. &. She could only watch like a spectator from the outside looking in.

Only watch. ‘You could only watch...’ Sinking further &. further &. further.

#guthalo #cos i like hurting myself. why not! #* answered » i’m the biggest hit on his stage. #* ic » this is fireworks / cherries in the sky high. #* v. » too harsh to survive this city; you’re against it but you’re facing it (main). #makima tag.

[razrbomb]

— TO SAY REZE WAS shocked to find her seated inside the cafe would be a gross understatement. &. So naturally, too; as if she was a regular, as if her presence in uncharted territory felt automatic. That alone made a statement, a statement sharp enough to puncture &. leave a gaping wound, poking at the innards. Suffice to say, Reze absolutely hated that she was here. Dreaded it. Despised that witch for intruding her place of peace.

Regardless of her feelings, felt at a visceral level with enough fire to burn, she still had to serve Makima with a smile on her face. That woman is a customer, after all.

“Are you ready to order, ma’am?” She said with her best customer service voice, both gentle &. friendly. The smile on her face was equally as warm, welcoming, unlike the cold-blooded malevolent thoughts whirring around in her head at a million miles a second. ( Each as violent as the last ).

&. The winner for best performance goes to...

@makimv​ hit that ♥

#makimv #to say i struggled with this u__u #anyway...! lets give it up for some psychological warfare- #* ic » this is fireworks / cherries in the sky high. #* v. » too harsh to survive this city; you’re against it but you’re facing it (main).

[razrbomb]

“— SIR, YOU’RE GOING to get sick if you stay out like this,” she said with concern as she raises her hand, palm facing the sky, to catch the rain falling down outside her perch from beneath the café’s awning. From the looks of it, the light drizzle will pick up &. fall down harder any minute from now. Fortunately for Reze, she packed an umbrella before leaving the house, heeding the warning from the manager of Crossroads this morning.

The... man (?) ( a shark otaku, maybe ) wasn’t so lucky, however, from the looks of it. Reze was in a good mood today, having made a killing on tips during her shift, so she felt like being generous for the occasion. Good karma, or something like that.

“We can share my umbrella, &. I can walk you to the nearest train station.”

Of course she didn’t intend to take him far; he was still a stranger after all, &. one with a strange appearance at that. If there’s any funny business along the way, she had the means to defend herself — the pocket knife tucked away in her front pocket. For his well-being, she could only hope he’s as harmless &. stupid as he looks.

@sociieties​​ hit that ♥

#sociieties #beam deserves the world plsss #so he will be treated with kindness. for now #* ic » this is fireworks / cherries in the sky high. #* v. » too harsh to survive this city; you’re against it but you’re facing it (main).

[razrbomb]

— THIS WOULDN’T BE THE first time Denji walked into her place of work bleeding, bruised, beat up, or cut up in all different directions; never battered to the point that he required a trip to the emergency room, but only hurt enough to need some light gentle care. By hers truly.  

The second he stumbled inside the café, gripping tightly onto his bicep as blood soaked through the fabric of his dress shirt, Reze didn’t even bother to clock out on her break — she went straight to his side right at once, practically running &. pushing aside any curious customers in her way, composed yet with urgency. Without wasting another second, she sat him down carefully at the booth closest to the entrance; she didn’t even grace him with a greeting, completely preoccupied with dealing with the situation. ‘Wait here.’ She sounded exasperated before scurrying off to the employee only area to find the first aid kit. The number of times this has happened before does not take away how alarming it is for her any time this occurs.

Now, after evaluating just how shallow &. benign the gash on his arm is ( an easy fix given the right materials ), her hands delicately pat down his wound with a disinfectant cloth. Hardly a word was spoken between them save for Denji’s attempt at small talk that went nowhere; for some reason, Reze wasn’t in the mood for conversation — she was entirely focused on dressing his wound, biting her bottom lip &. shoulders tensed up as her eyes never strayed from the task at hand.

After wrapping his arm with gauze, that’s when she was finally relieved of this tension. “You know, there are better ways to get my attention,” she teased, free to enjoy a moment of levity at last. Still, her eyes gazed sidelong, betraying the smile meant to offer reprieve.

“It hurts to see you like this.”

@shinanai​​ hit that ♥

#shinanai #i say short starter.. but something bout these two brings something out of me u__u #* ic » this is fireworks / cherries in the sky high. #* v. » too harsh to survive this city; you’re against it but you’re facing it (main).

[razrbomb]

"— EXCUSE ME, sir?” She said meekly ( unsure of how to refer to the masked person in front of her ), apologetic in her formalities &. attempt to grab this stranger’s attention. Normally, Reze would prefer to go about her business without disturbing anyone, unassuming &. hiding in plain sight that, even on her off-days, she’s just a specter among the hustle &. bustle of the city. Out of sight, out of mind. The attention of a devil, especially, would undermine her mission, her entire reason for being on foreign land; she would be remiss to irritate their presence in public, let alone at one of her favorite places in Tokyo. Most important of all, she would hate to search for a different record shop with this vast &. diverse of a catalogue.

However, there was a pressing matter at hand — one she cannot avoid interaction with even with the best of her abilities. “You’re in the way of of the CD I’m looking for. The one by K/ahimi Karie behind you. Would you kindly move, please?”

@urbanumviolentium​​ hit that ♥

#urbanumviolentium #the way i had to research what was popping in japan back in the 90s #(it was dream pop and shibuya-kei btw) #* ic » this is fireworks / cherries in the sky high. #* v. » too harsh to survive this city; you’re against it but you’re facing it (main).

[razrbomb]

MESSAGE . denji,  hand super sweaty and gross.  "wanna  -  hold hands?" ⤷ sent by @shinanai​​​​.

— OH? This was an interesting development; one she will gladly welcome with glee. Without wasting a second, without a moment’s hesitation, Reze answered Denji’s nervous request not through words, but by holding his hand, his super sweaty &. gross hand, linking her fingers with his without a care — an affirmation that needs no further response. Even though the sensation wasn’t exactly pleasant to the touch; even though he was awkward in his bravery. His hand engulfed hers in a damp embrace, uncomfortable &. grimy &. God...! There was dirt under his fingernails.

&. Yet, she still didn’t give a damn about any of that. To really sell the subtle implication of his desires ( at this point, long past platonic ), a heated blush colored her cheeks, responding to their close ( though chaste ) affections. That rosy hue became her signature feature any time she was in Denji’s presence.

Matter of fact, the way she blushed seemed too perfectly timed given the moment, as if on command. The pink sunset beyond the horizon sets the scene &. highlights a romance in bloom; secluded from the rest of the world, as if to say: ‘just you &. me; no one else.’ The proverbial script to a typical teenage love story. But, she looked so pretty, so girlish as if in a loving daze, who could blame the poor boy for being thoughtless about the small details &. falling for her charms?

“Moving pretty fast, aren’t we?” The teasing lilt in her tone didn’t undermine the feelings established for this moment ( somehow, both fake &. true ), giving his hand, his super sweaty &. gross hand, a reassuring squeeze. Her hand, soft to the touch, became clammy as a show of her nervousness as well.

“I like it though.”

#shinanai #rome ants is truly alive #* answered » i’m the biggest hit on his stage. #* ic » this is fireworks / cherries in the sky high. #* v. » too harsh to survive this city; you’re against it but you’re facing it (main). #denji tag.

[razrbomb]

MESSAGE. fight.  for your muse to physically attack my muse. ⤷ sent by @deviltm​​

‘ via the system of touch ’ — ( closed )

— THE FINAL THROES OF DEATH are ever closer; agonizing, frustratingly painful, rotting at the seams between her cartilage &. that damned organ locked within her rib cage. Yet the final throes of death was a divine feeling, stuck between godliness &. mortality, the large gap between the mortal realm &. death closing in by the second. Her lungs struggling to breathe, suffocating &. succumbing to blood loss as her life lay forfeit on the cold, hard ground, was its own unspectacular purgatory.

For once in Reze's life, she was caught off guard. She was ambushed. Executed in cold blood. The harsh military-trained devil, always on high-alert, always one step head, regressed to that of an ordinary teenage girl, unaware &. hypnotized in a lucid trance, where any other thought failed to come to fruition as one singular goal eroded her mind above all else: I have to see him again. But, all the anguish &. subsequent relief to decide which held the most importance — her role as a vessel, or her desire to break containment — disintegrated by the cold, unfeeling hands of fate; the same hand that threw the spear from the heavens of above, piercing the heart that wouldn’t stop beating in a rapid tempo.

In that moment, basked in a halo of light, she swore, believed, she saw a vision of an angel, the silhouette of a cherub with magnificent wings, standing high above where she lay — for once, she was met, not only with divine punishment, but with a absolution, where she has somehow won the favor of the gods that should have forsaken her. Though, who's to say where her final destination ultimately lie? She was granted neither mercy nor catharsis.

Reze must have known her life was only going to lead to an unhappy end. She knew she would never receive the happy ending that Denji promised.

Why didn't I kill you the first time we met? Why didn't I...?

If only she was given the chance to answer him.

#deviltm #i had a direction... then i kinda steered off course #cos angel devil somehow become more of an after-thought the more i wrote this kankfnfr #but...! it fits. her lil angel of death u__u #* answered » i’m the biggest hit on his stage. #* ic » this is fireworks / cherries in the sky high. #* v. » too harsh to survive this city; you’re against it but you’re facing it (main). #denji tag.

[razrbomb]

MESSAGE. fight.  for your muse to physically attack my muse. ⤷ sent by @urbanumviolentium​​

‘ via the system of touch ’ — ( closed )

— THE MALICE INHERENT IN all humanity assumes the form of a figure, a figure that resembles a grown man ( around his mid-to-late 20s, give or take ), with unremarkable physical characteristics except for the mask he bears reminiscent of the ones worn by plague doctors — with a long beak, designed with the intent of being far removed from the stench of decay, of rotting flesh &. atrophy, with eyes concealed by a black empty abyss, bird-like &. inhuman, unfeeling to the suffering that surrounds them. A symbol of death. The harbinger of doom &. the violence it yields. The blood she tasted in her mouth, her own blood, was a testament to this nondiscriminatory assault. She was not the least bit afraid.

"Do you think I'm fragile?"

A taunt. A provocation. An even greater threat was implied as her finger tugged at the ring of her choker, the proverbial pin of a grenade, daring him to make another move, as if to say: 'Make my fucking day.' I will kill us both. She did not wait for an answer.

Because, as a vessel for which a cataclysmic power is contained, volatile &. malleable, she didn't fear death; she was the phoenix — rising from the ashes built on the destruction that she wrought, immolating in an explosive burst, like a firework, before her head rolls by her feet on the ground — shedding her human skin, born anew. &. She blooms. A monstrous metamorphosis. A grotesque display of her teenage disaffection. The harbinger of the apocalypse. The bomb girl. The block where she once stood has been destroyed beyond repair; unrecognizable, save for the debris &. rubble &. the distant cries of its inhabitants that served as a memory of the city that once was. A piece of the city now gone. Reze's message was loud &. clear.

More lives will be lost if this carnage continues; &. she will not forfeit this fight, this massacre at the heart of the city, until the heart she seeks is in her hands.

Make your move.

#urbanumviolentium #teenagers scare the living shit out of me u__u #* answered » i’m the biggest hit on his stage. #* ic » this is fireworks / cherries in the sky high. #* v. » too harsh to survive this city; you’re against it but you’re facing it (main).

[razrbomb]

— FINALLY DONE WITH work for the day! Just in time to feed the stray cats that typically gather near the cafe, greeting Reze with their mewing &. clawing at her legs, begging for her attention. That’s what she has come to expect, at least, as she prepared for this routine by stealing a carton of milk before taking her leave. ( ‘I’m only borrowing this in return for stolen time,’ she would justify her actions whenever she got caught ).

Rather, she was met with a rare occurrence, something that disrupted her day-to-day routine. Silence... Not even the hustle &. bustle of the city could fill the empty void of what those stray cats, her stray cats, fulfilled.

“Kitty... Koshka...!” She called out their names in a futile attempt to find them, to grab their attention, wherever they may be. Still, no answer.

Though, Reze wasn’t too sad for this loss. She was given no reason to panic or react negatively to such a benign diversion; no signs of foul play or anything remiss that would suggest something was terribly wrong. One sharp turn into the alleyway &. only a couple paces nearby from her place of work, &. she was pleasantly surprised to find her strays, the two that visited frequently enough to be given names. &. Crouched down before her cats, they were accompanied by another woman. A strange woman with sharp teeth.

A devil? No... A fiend.

Though she had devil horns on her head, the mark of an inhuman beast beyond good &. evil, the woman wore the same uniform as Denji. ‘A devil hunter...’ How troublesome. This discovery forced Reze’s hand, forced her to tread through deep water. She gripped the carton of milk behind her back.

“Do you like cats, too?” She interrupted their solitary peace, greeting the other with a jovial expression painted on her face — the kind of smile she knows how to slip on like a dress at a moment’s notice. ‘Hopefully, not too much,’ she thought, afraid the devil would suddenly have an appetite for cats.

@poweys​​ hit that ♥

#poweys #*arrives a million years too late with starbucks from a different location* hiii #lets pretend i didn't take 4ever to make this starter now uvu #* ic » this is fireworks / cherries in the sky high. #* v. » too harsh to survive this city; you’re against it but you’re facing it (main).