smash_logs | Dorm Log

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Dorm Log

Who: All of Smash.
What: Dorm log! Summertime special.
Where: Student and Teacher dorms, and quite possibly beyond campus.
When: Approximately the latter half of July to the earliest of Augusts (25th - 15th)
Warnings: YOU KNOW YOURSELVES

We all know our characters experience downtime after classes and their busy schedules, and this is a good venue for those kinds of miscellaneous dorm-shenanigans to take place. Not only does it give your characters the easy chance to meet new people in a laid-back environment, but it's a good mechanism for strengthening CR. It's easy!

Feel free to begin in any way you please! Plan with (a) fellow player(s) if you'd like! Or, set up a thread and wait for characters to bite! Just add a thread with the room number (and date/time, if it matters) and the characters that reside there (just for reference!). You do not have to use one character's thread as a dual-purpose for both characters if you do not want to. Doesn't have to be a dorm room, either, if you have something else in mind.

And don't forget: things are getting pretty freaky! Shadow bugs are still rife around the school and city, causing all kinds of trouble, but most significantly capable of cloning people and even objects. For the remainder of July, the dimensional lines are a little blurred and causing alternate universe versions of characters to show up. But something ever curiouser has started to show up on campus... Bubbles?

Subspace bubbles? They look kinda like the ones dotting the sky... Dare ye enter?

If you do, you'll find that it... just ends up being a portal to another part of the school. Sometimes they may lead you into some part of town. Weird! Hopefully it doesn't lead you anywhere embarrassing, like in the middle of a stage play or in the bathroom of the opposite sex. That's mortifying.

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7/27: Shadow bugs go wild and clone a bunch of office supplies. Do shadow bugs get bored or something? Beware of that stapler you're about to pick up... It might be a shadow bug clone! They're animate office supplies all around the school. At least it's easy to tell the difference between the real things and the animate ones, because the clones are purple. Unless, of course, your supplies are all purple. Then you're in a bind...er.

Also, they cloned the Kraken fountain and now it's come to life. Hope you brought some slippers.

8/1: You know those hazy purple-black pockets of subspace that keep showing up across the sky? Today, a humongous one swallowed up the sun completely. For almost all of the daylight hours, there will be a full-on solar eclipse. Aww, were you working on that golden tan? Too bad, buddy. You're gonna have to wait until tomorrow.

8/5: A herd of Towtow show up at the school overnight and stop to rest. They'll be there, napping all day with that peaceful look adorned on their faces. How cute! But you wouldn't want to see them angry... Maybe that's why you should be careful not to wake them up.

For reference, here are the rooming arrangements.

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Shadow clones were never hard to identify, between their disconcerting purple-black aura and glowing yellow eyes. For Hajime, they had one more distinguishing feature: the festering little ember of spirit stolen from their victim, a rotting cinder that gave them just enough will to move. He felt ill every time he saw it, the bastardization of an innocent person' s face and fire.

You can imagine, in this circumstance, why he felt fit to draw his sword on this one without hesitation.

He'd gotten lazy, foolish. He'd dared to think that just because the worst hadn't come yet, it couldn't happen now. All it had taken was a moment of his lowering his guard, and now this--this cheap insult had snuck in, its stolen sneer mocking his carelessness.

However, years of experience told him hating himself didn't fix what was done. So only one truly important thing dominated his mind:

"Where is he. "

Shadow clones generally cared little for the lives of those they imitated. Once upon a time, under the control of a certain Persian long before the little bugs truly invaded the city, they had a healthy interest in destroying lives and burning bridges wherever they could. The present swarm was more like the ones found in the distant future, caring only for more immediate and indiscriminate destruction.

Which is why the impostor did little more than huff at Hajime's demand, mimicking his stance by drawing the replica blade it carried too. Talk was cheap; it was ready for a dance.

He'd known better than to expect an answer, but that didn't stop the wrenching feeling in this stomach. Kiyotaka was fine, he was fine, he had to be, but every second apart was killing Hajime. They had promised, and he'd failed him.

No further invitation required, Hajime rushed the doppelganger, swords meeting with a crash. The sooner he could end this, the faster he'd get to go looking.

Kiyotaka's copy had every ounce the strength, grace, and agility as the man himself. It was, after all, a perfect replica - aside from the uncharacteristic sneer ever-present on its face (much more reminiscent of a brief emotional breakdown years ago). As the shadow bugs overwhelmed and smothered him, they processed every last pore in his skin, every thread in his clothing, every muscle and the way he moved...

...Every memory.

As the clang of steel echoed through the halls, the false Kiyotaka pressed forward, unrelenting and unafraid of harm. If it fell, so what? There were enough bugs to make another. The hive mind knew where the source material lay.

In stark contrast to the expression the clone wore, it uttered a single desperate plea. "Hajime," it begged, in what was unmistakably Kiyotaka's voice. Nothing but mind games, of course, but damn did it ever sound like the real thing.

Anyone with any experience knew the shades were nothing like their original, only copies and stolen reflexes. To mistake one with the true version was a rookie mistake.

They'd gotten friends before, followers, parroted empty words in an attempt to throw him off. But those people hadn't held the same breadth of memory and emotional depth, their pleas always ringing hollow and false.

This one nailed it. It was the sound, exactly, of Kiyotaka, desperate and in pain, from a false mouth. Rage boiled in Hajime's gut.

"Don't you dare!"

How dare they, how DARE they, how could they pervert something so true and important with their mockery. Hajime pressed the attack, putting every ounce of his power and anger behind it. Determined, deadly--and sloppy.

That kind of sloppiness was exactly what the shade was looking for. Humans made this kind of thing far too easy.

"Hajime," it echoed, but this time the desperation was the kind Hajime was only familiar with in private in a tangle of limbs and shed clothing. The menacing leer did not falter for an instant, nor did the shadow's constant barrage of attacks.

But Hajime was nothing but a lovesick fool, and he could falter. That aching heart of his made for a perfect target. The second the shadow saw an opening, it would go for a killing blow once and for all. He was nothing but a nuisance with his warnings and other nonsense, so the sooner he was struck down, the better.

That was his, that was private, it was what little they had to themselves and it was being taken.

For so long, he'd felt he was too analytical. Longer than he could remember, he'd thought with his head rather than his heart--not a terrible trait, but in his line of work, he'd often wished he were more emotional, more passionate, less calculating. This was his wish coming true, a cataclysm of emotion and gut reaction, no place left for hesitation or rational thought.

Were he his usual self, he could so easily see what was happening, how quickly he was playing right into the shade's trap. It was obvious, something he'd seen so often before. But these last couple weeks, the stress, the nostalgia, the fear, the hope, it was too much. They were so close, so near to getting things right, and now he couldn't just let the last person who mattered be lost, in the last second, because of one little slip up--

He missed. He had put too much force behind his stab, and he stumbled, and--

--And the blade of dark energy, honed sharper than any steel, angled just right to slide between Hajime's ribs so easily. Like a hot knife through butter.

The copy held his gaze, the wicked grin on its face growing wider. It ran Hajime right through without the slightest remorse or even any comprehension as to the true weight of a life; locate a target and destroy it, that was all that mattered to it.

Glory to Subspace.

His breath stumbled out of lungs--his last breath, a choking rattle, leaving him frozen in a single instant. The chill crept in, and somewhere in the distance he heard the sound of steel hitting the earth.

Something wet was in his mouth, in his eyes.

Isn't this how he hoped he'd go? Looking into his eyes...? So why did it feel so...?

Without so much as a final word, Hajime Tanaka fell, and was gone.

here lies hajime tanaka

he died as he lived

hella gay for kiyotan

Going into the bunkers was a mistake and he knew it. He'd been avoiding it since winding up in this time, debating with himself the whole time whether it would do any good to go down or not. He worried about the bombs Samus mentioned, and if there was truly a way to deactivate them or if meddling would only set them off all the sooner. He chose not to take that risk, concerning himself with matters above ground for as long as possible. But as time wore on, he became more and more anxious, unable to keep his stomach from twisting every time he thought about what could be coming - and it was always on his mind. So he snuck down on his own to at least take a peek, to see if there was some hint whether he had come back to his own past or if he was stuck in an alternate reality or what, because things in Smash were a little weird. Just like he remembered.

...He didn't know how long he'd been out for. Hours? Days? Maybe just a few mere minutes? Kiyotaka had no reference of time down in the bunkers, but no matter how much or how little of it had passed, the result was the same: he'd been overwhelmed by the shadow bugs and replaced with a cheap and violent imitation. He was unconscious before the copy formed, of course, but he'd been around long enough to know exactly how these things went. Once he shook the groggy disorientation enough to get his head to stop spinning, he staggered back up to ground level, determined to find his copy and stop it before it hurt anyone.

He silently cursed himself as he prowled the campus, keeping a sharp eye out for any signs of anyone who seemed a shade too purple - not just himself. What kind of weak fool was he to allow a swarm of such small pests to take him down like that? A few short weeks in the safety of a sturdy building, sleeping in soft beds and eating full meals, all of it had spoiled him. His blade hadn't properly seen any action besides taking down sentient office supplies, which were child's play compared to the shit he'd faced with Hajime. Hajime... Hajime...! He was too accustomed to fighting with his partner at his side, too, and alone he couldn't cover his own blind spots.

God, he'd been an idiot. And others were paying the price, he realized, as he heard the sound of a blade clatter to the ground not far off. He quickened his pace, body surging with adrenaline and itching for a proper fight. Shadow clones were dangerous, but they could be taken down with enough perseverance. That was one thing he always had in ample supply.

He rounded the corner, blade drawn, and his fingers nearly lost their grip entirely as he took in the scene before him.

A shadow of himself, sneering and yellow-eyed, unceremoniously pulling a bloodied blade from the corpse at its feet. A wave of guilt and self-loathing struck Kiyotaka - even here, he couldn't save anyone - but when he realized just who the body was, all other feelings were replaced by complete and utter anguish.

No, no, no. Hajime was the one thing he had left, even in this land of the past, he was the only one who had witnessed everything he had, the one who understood it all, the only one he shared his heart and soul and body with-- How could he-- No--

The shade noticed Kiyotaka at last, kicking the still-warm corpse to roll it over. The complete lack of life in his face made Kiyotaka sick. They promised to face everything together, and he'd gone and tried to face something alone and this was the price he paid, god, why?

Seething hatred flared up within him, directed first at himself, then at the thing that looked like himself. First it dared to try to steal his life and then it stole all he lived for and now it was running away. He wanted to chase after it, to tear it limb from limb and crush all the little bugs it disintegrated into under his heel, throttle it until it gave back all it took from him.

Instead he dropped to his knees at Hajime's side, checking for any signs of life. His own pulse throbbed in his fingertips as they pressed against Hajime's neck, and for a fleeting moment he had hope before he realized the truth of the matter. Kiyotaka, who lost so much over the years, finally had nothing left.

He buried his face in Hajime's chest and screamed.

Hajime felt absolutely sick to his stomach. A headache throbbed through his brain, skull pounding with jumbled half-thoughts and semi-memories. His chest burned with a sharp pain, and his stomach churned with ungrounded nerves, nagging that things were wrong, wrong, wrong.

It had been hours before he was even well enough to be on his feet--upon first waking, stringing two thoughts together had felt like a trial, each notion sidetracked with connections he hadn't made. One thought, however, remained consistent: he needed to find out what had happened.

To the school, that was. He had been out for a long time, things had happened, chaos had bloomed, and he absolutely needed to learn what he'd missed. But there was something else, his headache kept saying. Something specific, something he absolutely had to find and check on, and it was important--but every time he tried to pin down what it was, the thought slipped away.

So Hajime Tanaka, young, healthy, clean, whole, innocent, wobbled onto the campus, unsteady but determined.

A very real danger still lurked on campus. Kiyotaka knew it, and when he had finally screamed his throat so raw the only sound he could muster was a few shaky breaths, he finally pulled himself away from the corpse and returned to the hunt. His head buzzed with a deafening white noise, the only thing driving him out of his grief was a burning desire for revenge.

Revenge was what he'd claim to lust after if asked, as unlike him as such a hateful thing was. It may have been closer to the truth to call it a need for a chance to follow after what was taken from him.

He was so focused on stalking his prey that he was blinded to the rest of the world, and that included the boy he very nearly collided with. Only nearly, though.

With all that had happened, Hajime could very well have run into someone else without paying proper attention. As badly distracted as he was, the near miss brought his attention back, refocusing on the man he'd callously missed before.

"S-sorry, I--"

He went stiff at the sight of the man, bewildered by the sight before him. This man... he... had perhaps the most damaged and unbalanced spirit Hajime had ever seen. The stranger's heart had a fresh, blazing wound, leaving his spirit unbalanced and his flame sputtering out violent sparks. Whatever had wounded the man's soul, it had left behind just enough for a violent, burning drive for whatever came next.

"S-sir! I--are you all right? Please, take a moment, let me help!"

It was, and always had been, his way--so eager to help in things bigger than he could possibly handle. It would get him killed, someday, surely.

The familiar voice jerked him back from the brink of darkness, even if it wasn't very far. But it was enough.

He paused mid-step and gaped at Hajime for a long moment, his heart pounding. He was seeing ghosts, he had to be. Ghosts of the past already. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been so desperate to see a lost love again that he was willing to accept even the barest imitation as a substitute. He didn't have time for hallucinations or mistaken identities or whatever was going on. After he dealt with the shadow, he could find cold comfort in... in...

"Hajime..."

God, he looked just like he used to. Kiyotaka almost forgot he'd been so bald once. If he was imagining things, why would he imagine Hajime looking as he did when they met instead of how Kiyotaka had grown used to?

Unless...

They never could locate their younger selves. They'd suffered the same temporal displacement as their older counterparts, presumably at the same time. Could it be that with the death of the Hajime of his time, the one that truly belonged here was able to exist again? Who even knew how all of that worked, anyway? That didn't matter. Kiyotaka wasn't going to think too deeply about it. All he knew was that he needed to protect this boy at all costs.

Maybe if he fell, his own self that belonged here could be reunited with him. And he could be where he belonged.

For now, though, he didn't know where to even begin with explaining the situation. Nobody needed to know about their unjust death in a cruel and twisted future. The most he could do was keep trying to prevent that future.

"If you want to help, I... Stay with me." Please. "Your life might count on it."

Not strange or unsettling in the least.

"S...Sir...?"

Whatever reaction he might have expected, it couldn't possibly have been that. Under the unsteady blaze of a focused flame and the rapt scrutiny of those burning eyes, Hajime couldn't help but back up a step from the sheer intensity.

"What... do you mean...?"

Beyond an unnamed ache somewhere in the base of his heart, he couldn't for the life of him place this stranger. He could see, beyond any doubt, the absolute sincerity behind his words, but the whole thing radiated danger like a big yellow warning sign.

"Sir, you... do you need to sit down...?"

Sir.

Hajime really didn't recognize him at all. Maybe that was for the best. One way or another, Kiyotaka was certain he wasn't going to last much longer in the present. It was best not to let him feel any kind of attachment towards him, so it wouldn't hurt him when the time came, whether it was through a violent struggle or just time's own way of sorting things out.

"No," he snapped without meaning to. Every fiber of his being burned with loss and grief and anger and now confusion with no available outlet. "...No, I have to eliminate a threat." I need to save you this time. "I'll explain after that."

At the very least he'd pass on Hajime's own dire warning to himself as well.

Kiyotaka's threat wasn't very far off. Behind him, a distant shadow approached, its dark blade dragging silently along the ground. He was too focused on Hajime to notice.

The whole thing set what little hair he had on end, dread flooding his already uneasy nerves. Surely, he didn't need to really know. When helping someone at their rope's end--as this man surely was--he only needed the barest of details to aid them.

He swallowed down his uncertainty. Everything was falling apart around here, and he couldn't afford to do the same when people were so desperate.

"Right... yes, of course. Focus on what's important. I'll do everything I can to help y..."

His gaze slid over to the shadow, plodding ever closer over the campus. He stiffened, remembering the first mustachioed copy he'd seen, the narrow and dangerous escape he'd made with Kiyotaka. Unthinking, the unarmed teen stepped forward, between the powerful experienced men with weapons.

"Look out!"

The sudden warning kicked Kiyotaka's reflexes into high gear. Really, he'd been careless - he should have been on high alert at all times, no matter what kind of emotional devastation he was suffering. If he hadn't grown so careless in the safe comforts of the school, maybe none of this would have happened in the first place. At least all his outlet finally showed its wicked face.

He charged forward, ramming his shoulder into Hajime's with full force. A bruise and maybe a sore ass from losing balance was nothing compared to what he would risk by facing the shadow without the weapons or experience that his older counterpart had. Hell, look what good having those two things even did. Kiyotaka snarled and raised his sword, the shadow mirroring his every move as the blades clashed.

"You--" His gaze may have been focused on his opponent, but his words were undoubtedly direct at Hajime. "You still cheer, right?! Do it! Do it now!"

He probably should have seen that coming, but this was all sort getting hard to take in, and the part of him that begged to protect the stranger was not helping to clarify matters in his head. Still, there was only one way he could protect anyone, and the stranger knew it.

"O... osu!"

Hajime scrambled to his feet, and reached out to connect his will with the tumultuous blaze belonging to the battered man. Something even more confusing and indistinguishable grabbed a hold of Hajime, the familiarity of a soul he absolutely knew, but could not identify under all its scars.

There was no time to waste on his uncertainties, however. His support needed to be as focused and powerful as he could muster. It would be a struggle--the shadow did move off of a piece of the stranger's own spirit--but so long as he kept focus, he could keep the energy going where it mattered.

"OORAH! GO FOR IT!"

The familiar touch of Hajime's spirit, while invigorating, was a double-edged sword. In Kiyotaka's grieving, unstable state, it was all too easy to get caught up in the feeling and want nothing more for the rest of the world to disappear, leaving him only with that. So he could pretend he'd never lost something so precious to begin with and that he never would.

The sound of clashing steel rang through the air again and again in a din that echoed the pounding of his own heart as he advanced forward on his double, teeth clenched hard enough to numb his jaw. While they were evenly matched in every way physically, the shadow had the advantage of sharing none of Kiyotaka's love and sentiment or the pesky weak spots of a human body. Each blow that struck it did little more than send a bug or two skittering off, but all it needed was to land a single one to end this pitiful game.

The way Kiyotaka kept stealing glances at Hajime was his fatal mistake.

How darkly fitting it was that he'd made eye contact with the boy for the split second that it took for the doppelganger's sword to make contact with his side. The gash was deep and painful and wet crimson blossomed around the new hole in the already tattered jacket he wore.

He fucked up. The one thing he had left to care about and he'd messed up so soon...

A gutteral noise of pain rumbled from his throat as he dropped down to one knee. The shadow decided that was as good as any killing blow and turned its attention to Hajime, taking a few slow strides toward him, deciding it could definitely take its time with this runt.

That would end up being the shadow's own mistake.

"Nyrrgh--!"

The spiritual feedback of the hit sent Hajime staggering for balance himself, the ghost of pain lancing through his side for just an instant. He'd blown it.

"No!"

For all he told himself he needed to focus, an uncontrolled panic had risen up, a desperate need to get the man away from danger and a horrified dread that said it was impossible. His own confusion over these unwanted emotions certainly hadn't lent towards calming himself in the slightest, either.

Seeing his new comrade fallen and dripping red made the fear clench up over his heart, while his thoughts went numb. He'd failed, he'd truly lost and broken his word, how could he have let this happen--

The shadow, steady as it was deadly, drew his attention as it came for the defenseless boy, and his dread took a hold of his movements, as he tightened his connection to the dying will of the stranger.

"Please... please, you can't give up!" He backed away from the shadow as he tried to send his power to the fallen warrior. "You can do this, please, I need you to get up!"

Get up.

Get up!

The desperation in Hajime's voice, coupled with the sudden burst of will, was enough to pull Kiyotaka from his daze. He was in tremendous pain, but he wasn't dead yet. Cutting himself off from all else but the simple goal of striking the shadow down, he lurched forward, swinging the blade with all his might.

The force was enough to be the final decisive blow. The shadow's head came clean off, still smirking as it hit the ground and burst into a dozen bugs. The rest of the body followed, the bugs making a sound not unlike muffled rushing water as they scattered and burrowed into the earth.

Just one more hit, thank god. That was all Kiyotaka had the strength for anyway. It was over. The bugs tended not to copy the same thing twice if they could help it. He settled back onto his knees, hunching over and placing a hand to his side. That was definitely... definitely a lot of blood he was losing, he could vaguely feel it spilling out between his fingers. But it didn't seem to hurt as badly now.

He looked back up to Hajime, his eyes tired and apologetic. "Sorry," he rasped. For breaking their promise. For letting him down. For dying right in front of him like this-- oh, he knew he was, it wasn't the first time he'd felt himself bleeding out and slipping away. But this time he wasn't afraid.

Well, that was an image that'd haunt all his dreams here on in. Gaping at the empty patch of earth where the bugs had dispersed, Hajime felt an overwhelming urge to be sick. The faint thread of pain reverberating through his ribs didn't ease it.

Wait--that's right, more importantly--Hajime fell to one knee, by the man who'd saved him. His hands reached out, trembled, and stopped. He needed to do something, needed to fix this, he had to, he had promised to protect him by cheering him on, and he couldn't let this happen. He had used the spirit of a wounded person for his own sake--that wasn't helping, that was selfish, demented, and he had to make things right.

"Hang on." His voice was choked, shakier even than his hands. "I-I'll get someone, you'll be okay, just hang on, please. You--you'll be fine."

He wouldn't, though. Hajime could see the dwindling light as the darkness spread out over the jacket and the ground. He'd failed this man, who he had sworn to protect, to be by his side.

"I'm sorry, please, just hang on, a little longer, please."

Hajime's voice was distant to him, vaguely distorted. But it was still something familiar, and in his increasingly light-headed state Kiyotaka could easily mistake it for the gruffer voice he'd grown accustomed to. It was comforting, even as a twisted facade of his final wish to die at Hajime's side.

"It's fine..." He was only half-paying attention to Hajime's actual words. Now that the danger was gone, he was exhausted. If he closed his eyes and slept, he would wake up where he belonged, alongside who he belonged with. Like Hajime, he would be replaced by the proper, younger version of himself, one that hopefully wouldn't follow down the same road they had.

"No matter what... what happens now..."

His head drooped ever forward, his breathing growing deeper and slower. The hardest part of dying was the wait.

"...stay..."

It was not a very long one.

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inspirethefire - 2014-08-18 06:42 (UTC) - Expand

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Dorm Log

THE 28TH

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so... much... tldr... why...

AND THEN

here we go again

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kicks you for the last line

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