he can dig - he'll find that the hand that gripped onto him, normally so well-manicured and cared for has the material of a glove weathered at the fingertips, raw and bleeding. the hand gives way to a wrist, a forearm, but he has to dig down. down, down, just as another hand, similarly caked with dirt and blood, reaches up - searching. grasping.]
he pauses in his digging for only a second, and it's just just to grab onto that hand and give it a soft squeeze. but he has to let go after, to go back to digging as he coughs every now and then. he will keep at this for as long as it takes. ]
[the soft squeeze gets the outreached hand to freeze for just a moment - before it grips back, first tightly and then letting go as though worried about holding too intensely.
the dirt gives way at some point, and the hands find purchase against the soil enough for mikazuki to pull himself the rest of the way - but he is disheveled, and he is gasping. it is unbecoming, how violently he tries to put oxygen back into his lungs, enough so that after the first few gulps he all but collapses, ragged.]
[ he immediately shifts his position so he can gather mikazuki onto his lap, moving him as carefully as he can.
the amount of relief that hits him is so intense it stings, but he focuses his attention on the other. he lowers his head to press his ear against mikazuki's chest, listening to his breathing. ]
[in this moment, he allows himself to be moved - though it's hard to say if he'd have strength left for otherwise. (perhaps he would. or if he did not, he would find it.) tsurumaru can listen to the rapidness of mikazuki's heart, beating angrily against his ribcage.
even now, he is trying to get his breathing back under control - but it is scattered with coughs, blue petals slipping past his lips before he just shifts to press his face against tsurumaru's hair. his hands reach for him almost instinctively - but refrain just before he makes contact.]
Hah... hah...
[he is, in fact, trying to laugh it off immediately.]
[it is a croaked out sound - from a throat raw from coughing, and at once simply trying to remember what it's like to breathe. there is the slightest furrow of mikazuki's brow, though he keeps his expression hidden against tsurumaru's hair.]
[ there are many thoughts that go through his head.
the first is that mikazuki likely does not know who's dead yet. the piece of paper that lists that information is probably lost somewhere in the dirt that was cast aside. he'll have to tell him.
the second is that he should alert the others who stayed with them that he located mikazuki. they're likely still searching for him throughout the hotel, and tsuru is concerned if they mentioned this to anyone.
the third is that all of that can wait, because mikazuki feels so fragile in a way that tsurumaru has only really seen one other time, but with a different version of the same sword. ]
that thought crosses his mind again - how fragile these bodies are - perhaps now more than ever. though he still has faith in his own strength, it comes differently after having to claw your way through six feet of dirt, upward.
his fingertips remain raw, bleeding slowly, and his robes are so dirty it's laughable. he hardly looks the part of a treasure. should tsurumaru's hand ghost over the back of mikazuki's head, he does not flinch - but there is a clearly tender, swollen area where he was hit with something hard.
but he searches for his composure, seizes it with these marred hands, and eventually breathes out.]
[ he shifts again, simply so he can press a kiss to mikazuki's forehead. ]
We need to move to my room. A lot has happened that I need to tell you about.
[ despite saying this, he doesn't actually make any move to get up. tsuru just waits for mikazuki to make the decision that he's ready to attempt to leave to somewhere else. ]
[his voice is soft - but he will take the opportunity where it is. if tsuru wants to speak instead of mikazuki trying and failing, having to hear the slight soreness to his own tones, then be his guest.
it takes a moment - just a moment - for mikazuki to straighten himself up enough. he is willing to accept support, walking arm in arm back, but the idea of stumbling or leaning too heavily...
despite everything, he can still not accept that just yet.]
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he can dig - he'll find that the hand that gripped onto him, normally so well-manicured and cared for has the material of a glove weathered at the fingertips, raw and bleeding. the hand gives way to a wrist, a forearm, but he has to dig down. down, down, just as another hand, similarly caked with dirt and blood, reaches up - searching. grasping.]
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he pauses in his digging for only a second, and it's just just to grab onto that hand and give it a soft squeeze. but he has to let go after, to go back to digging as he coughs every now and then. he will keep at this for as long as it takes. ]
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the dirt gives way at some point, and the hands find purchase against the soil enough for mikazuki to pull himself the rest of the way - but he is disheveled, and he is gasping. it is unbecoming, how violently he tries to put oxygen back into his lungs, enough so that after the first few gulps he all but collapses, ragged.]
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[ he immediately shifts his position so he can gather mikazuki onto his lap, moving him as carefully as he can.
the amount of relief that hits him is so intense it stings, but he focuses his attention on the other. he lowers his head to press his ear against mikazuki's chest, listening to his breathing. ]
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even now, he is trying to get his breathing back under control - but it is scattered with coughs, blue petals slipping past his lips before he just shifts to press his face against tsurumaru's hair. his hands reach for him almost instinctively - but refrain just before he makes contact.]
Hah... hah...
[he is, in fact, trying to laugh it off immediately.]
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he doesn't move for a long moment, simply waiting for mikazuki to calm down a little more. ]
You know, I do accept any kind of surprise, but... I can't say I was a fan of this one.
[ he coughs again, although no flowers come out. ]
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[it is a croaked out sound - from a throat raw from coughing, and at once simply trying to remember what it's like to breathe. there is the slightest furrow of mikazuki's brow, though he keeps his expression hidden against tsurumaru's hair.]
It... took even me - off guard...
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[ he trails off, frowning, and then he finally sighs. ]
You are alive, Mikazuki Munechika. I have you.
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he says nothing in response to that, only sinking further into tsurumaru's hold and pressing his face against his neck.
his shoulders shake with a suppressed cough, and a few more blue petals fall past his lips.]
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the first is that mikazuki likely does not know who's dead yet. the piece of paper that lists that information is probably lost somewhere in the dirt that was cast aside. he'll have to tell him.
the second is that he should alert the others who stayed with them that he located mikazuki. they're likely still searching for him throughout the hotel, and tsuru is concerned if they mentioned this to anyone.
the third is that all of that can wait, because mikazuki feels so fragile in a way that tsurumaru has only really seen one other time, but with a different version of the same sword. ]
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that thought crosses his mind again - how fragile these bodies are - perhaps now more than ever. though he still has faith in his own strength, it comes differently after having to claw your way through six feet of dirt, upward.
his fingertips remain raw, bleeding slowly, and his robes are so dirty it's laughable. he hardly looks the part of a treasure. should tsurumaru's hand ghost over the back of mikazuki's head, he does not flinch - but there is a clearly tender, swollen area where he was hit with something hard.
but he searches for his composure, seizes it with these marred hands, and eventually breathes out.]
... it is past - this old man's bedtime.
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[ he shifts again, simply so he can press a kiss to mikazuki's forehead. ]
We need to move to my room. A lot has happened that I need to tell you about.
[ despite saying this, he doesn't actually make any move to get up. tsuru just waits for mikazuki to make the decision that he's ready to attempt to leave to somewhere else. ]
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[his voice is soft - but he will take the opportunity where it is. if tsuru wants to speak instead of mikazuki trying and failing, having to hear the slight soreness to his own tones, then be his guest.
it takes a moment - just a moment - for mikazuki to straighten himself up enough. he is willing to accept support, walking arm in arm back, but the idea of stumbling or leaning too heavily...
despite everything, he can still not accept that just yet.]
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[ it explains why tsuru keeps coughing now and then with no flowers coming out-- it's from the smoke. ]
Tomorrow will be another long day.
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but
for now there is just a brief passing expression of sorrow on his expression before it is again tempered into neutrality]
... let us see to your throat before bed.
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[ someone is in worse shape here and it's not tsuru. ]
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[he likes being taken care of but this is a little much, for him]
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[ he'll try to get them in his room before they accidentally run into anyone, which is doable by pc logic. ]
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Have I done something to upset my crane?
[I WONDER]
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[ it's not like he searched all day for mikazuki or anything. ]
Do you have any complains about this plan?
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[ he can think of a few. the horrors of being perceived, and all that. ]
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but admitting to those horrors is very well the same thing as being perceived.]
... I'm in your care.
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[ he stops walking long enough to just press his forehead against mikazuki's. ]
You are always in my care. Even when you don't need to be.
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... I shall hope you do not regret it.
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