Infinitie - Blog Posts

“i believe that you will find out soon enough.” if the little mice scrambling around the main building are anything to go by, or so he thinks dismissively.

through the winding vines and thick foliage he can sense the embers of a curse’s rage, the putrid smell that comes with it and which coats his senses, the closer their feet take them to its current position. perhaps satoru can sense it - no, he’s definitely capable of it, even beyond that, should his eyes focused on the task. so he finds the remark a tad bit petulant, for old time’s sake, maybe? well, he can be petty, if petty is what satoru wants.

“so a curse, then,” he decides, his eyes never leaving satoru’s face. fingers, half unfurled, rest with ease, folded under his robes. “a first grade.”

suguru looked at him properly now, standing only a stone-throw away from each other in the space offered by old trees. a bird flew along next to them, unburdened by the phantom thread tightening as seconds pass. they’re managing, for now, but surely it won’t last for eternity. there’s little to do, and there’s no other way towards the curse’s hideout that doesn’t lead him back to satoru. as it always has.

a sour taste floods through suguru’s mouth. though partly hidden by white gauze, suguru’s mind conjures the kind of expression that he imagines satoru’s making, the distinct frown, eyes blue and sharp like tidal waves. 

he doesn’t mention that satoru could’ve opted for teleportation, defying matter and any obstacle. 

he doesn’t mention that he, suguru, could’ve taken a different route, retrieved what he came here for and pretended that they weren’t who they were, always skirting around each other’s territories like ships at night.but it’s a loud secret, as they’d always had. “there’s no use, you should know. i can sense it just as well as you do.”

A third of Satoru expected to find Suguru out here. Another third hoped that he wouldn’t, yet the last third of him that still grappled with his loss hoped that he would. Seeing him meant that he was well – or, at least, well as one could say Suguru was given his usual state. He was alive in this foolishness and as much as Satoru hoped that for his sake that he’d change his mind, he knew that he was set in his ways and didn’t want to - couldn’t, for that matter - push him otherwise, as much as he recited the scene in his mind.

“Suguru.” Satoru greets him in turn, his voice guarded in an equally practiced manner. It'd taken a while to get to this point. Maybe if they'd come across each other sooner, Satoru might've sounded more vulnerable.

“I take you’re after a curse yourself.” He hasn’t found the curse yet, perhaps distracted by the presence of his old friend’s cursed energy made manifest. They must be chasing the same target if he's made note of it.

Satoru’s hands remain at his side, though, twitching, as if considering the idea of going through with the execution order that hadn't yet lifted on Suguru’s head… but they both know that Satoru could never pull it off, so it remains a mere suggestion in his mind that unpleasantly replays.

“You have a lot of nerve getting out,” Satoru remarks, remaining in place trying to maintain a casual stance and allowing Suguru to approach. But if there's anything predictable about Suguru, it's his audacity. It's the one thing that Satoru still finds himself admiring to this day.

“It’s not any of your business what I'm doing out here or what the curse is up to. Don't you have some kind of establishment to take care of?” Establishment, cult. Whatever it is that Suguru would call it. Satoru doesn't want to care, though he'd be lying to himself if he didn't find himself thinking about it – what Suguru was up to with it, how many curses and people he managed to rope in. All because Satoru let it get to that point. “Stay out of my way.” Despite these words, his delivery isn't as cold as he hoped it would be.

@einshi

summer uncoils memories, a sleeping python and its gaping mouth hovering in the back of his mind.

it was hot back then, too, heat oozing off the concrete. white shirts sticking to their bodies, the deafening, mournful cry of the cicadas, hair that’s too damp and unruly to keep together. as his steps take him further into the mountain, these recollections cease to gnaw at him, the endless stream finally settling into something that he’s not quite sure can be called peaceful stillness or momentary subjugation: the knot in his stomach tells him it’s the latter.

suguru barely flinches when satoru’s shape comes to view, shadowed by the leaves moving like fish in the water. it only adds to the hermetic sensation that’s been following him since the first moment he sensed the familiar cursed energy roaming about. instinct is cyclical, a silent baring of teeth, ebbing away the closer his feet took him to where satoru stood unbothered.

bear it with dignity, right up until the reminiscence begins to touch the raw-edged remnants of feelings long expired. his voice is serene, divested of the practiced theatrics of a false deity, and perhaps the most sincere he’s ever been in the past months.

“ satoru! ” voice feather-like, it surprises him that every syllable tastes the same rolled around his tongue, easy as though time was nonexistent. each invisible stitch seeks to replicate the ease and form by which satoru knew him — his original imperfection, as suguru remembered it. it comes to naught. their features are sharper, their bodies taller, broader, and the scent of their cursed energy honed in a way that told suguru about the curses that lay crushed beneath satoru’s feet.

a sigh of relief, then, disguised by his relaxed posture. i suppose i don’t have to worry, we’re still on opposing sides. “ i’ll make a risky assumption and say that i’m not the target this time. what about the curse? have you squashed it yet?”

@infinitie