Mushball universe, anyone who'd like to talk to Jou

[yellowlion]

I sit on the grass in our rear yard, legs crossed, and try to let myself sink into a meditative state. I don't do this very often. It's usually helpful, when I do.

I had the oddest feeling when I first met Joe, that I'd met him before. That this was meant to happen, in some way. Except he should've been wearing a blue leather jacket, and he was in tears, in my lab. Not a shy, troubled schoolkid convinced everything was his fault.

I pushed it aside as a stupid dream. When you have weird-ass dreams all the time anyway it's only too easy to assign meaning to them later.

But now? Now I'm beginning to wonder.

Comments

[gibken]

"I don't understand how any of it can be that dangerous." I grumble, running my free hand through my hair, probably messing it up all to hell and back. "They're all my memories, aren't they? Even if they're... under other memories, or whatever."

I look down, and notice there's a spot where the grass has been all pulled up. I wonder who did that. "I have to know. I have to start putting it together."

[yellowlion]

"I wish I knew," I admit. "I don't know anything about psychological trauma."

He spies the place where Megumi destroyed the grass, and I cough, hoping he won't ask. Okay, good. "Let's see. I don't have it all back. There was a day when I rescued a baby in a pram, and there," I smile, "there was a young man there with a young woman, who got to it at the same time as I did."

Now, what happened next? "The young man was in a blue jacket. His friend was in pink. They fought off Zangyack, then we talked about something I don't quite recall, and I... I gave you my approval."

[gibken]

I sit back, finally releasing his shoulder and folding my hands on my own lap, listening to him explain. I can tell by the way he's piecing his words together that he's remembering as he speaks, the same way I've been doing for the last day or so. What happened to him? What happened to me?

"Blue jacket. I wore a blue jacket in my dream." I confirm. And there was a girl in pink, too.

I pause, blinking a few times. "No, that can't be right." Zangyack triggered something, but nothing clear, nothing concise, nothing I'm confident about. "Why were we fighting Zangyack? I was a part of Zangyack." That was the military I was involved in, the time that I shared with, I guess, the real version of Sid-sempai. Don wasn't there, then.

[yellowlion]

"I fought, too," I nod, realising. "Megumi and Yuusuke yelled at me about it later."

He remembers the jacket, okay, that's something. "You -- hm." I frown. "You must've left Zangyack by then? Because we were talking about a plot by Zang-"

Oh. Oh oh oh. The blueprints. I stare at him. "Barizorg," I say softly, tentatively.

[gibken]

"Left?" That makes sense, I suppose. Left Zangyack, to become a pirate. Because the Captain definitely wasn't military. Don either. Just... just me, so, you know. As if I didn't stand out enough as it is.

"Barizorg?" I repeat softly, and my voice cracks around the name, because it's not familiar, my it fits in my mouth like it maybe should be. Like I've said it fairly often. Like it was important for some reason. "What's that?"

[yellowlion]

Fuck.

That must be the source of his 'older friend who died' memory. I stare at him wordlessly, then reach out and gather him into a hug. "Your friend," I murmur, hoping this won't be the moment that triggers his complete meltdown. "We talked about his soul."

[gibken]

I startle a little when he reaches for me, hugs me. So it's not a good memory, obviously, though I could kind of figure that out by the sense of dread that settles low in my stomach when I think the name, or word, or whatever, again. Barizorg.

"My friend?" I didn't have a lot of them. I know that, neither version of me had a lot of friends. Don is one commonality. Sid is apparently another. And I know he's not talking about Don.

Something rises up inside my and I'm not sure if I'm about to be sick or if I'm about to start crying again.

[yellowlion]

"Yeah." I'm silent, trying to think how to raise it, not like I know his full story myself. His voice is thick and I wish we didn't have to talk about this, but wishing is no use. "He was... changed, by Zangyack."

[gibken]

I pull away sharply and shake my head and lift both hands to grip my hair. "No. I don't want to talk about this anymore." I don't mean to snap at him, and I know he's only trying to help. But I can't even start to address the memories he's hinting at, because even coming this close is threatening to overwhelm. Guilt, all there is there is guilt. My fault, my fault, it was my fault. What happened to Sid-sempai. And I don't want to know.

"Something else. Can we talk about something else?"

[yellowlion]

Alarmed, I fold my hands in my lap so I won't be tempted to reach out again. He -- I keep remembering snatches of it and it's insanely frustrating -- he was upset in my lab then, but not like this.

"Something else to do with this, or something completely different, son?"

[gibken]

I close my eyes tight and breathe slowly, in and out, a few times. And then I give up and move forward again, hiding my face against his chest. "Nothing. Never mind. I don't want to know any more." I take another shaky breath, but I don't pull away. I'm trying to escape. "I don't want to be like this."

[yellowlion]

My arms come up around him automatically and I go into protective papa bear mode.

"Come inside, then," I say gently. "Do your homework, have dinner. Watch TV. Whatever you want, son. Let us take care of you."

[gibken]

His voice is so soft I almost don't catch it. I have to piece it together after he's done. Normal suggestions for a normal boy, and parents who love and care for their child.

Why was I in the military so young? How did I end up a pirate? Why are so many people in my past dead? I'm not a normal boy, but I guess my parents aren't really normal either.

I can't pull away yet, though. I choke on a pathetic sob and I feel about five as I cry weakly into his shirt.

[yellowlion]

I guess it's my day for making people cry. Not that I'm entirely dry-eyed myself.

I don't say anything stupid apart from the occasional, "I love you," into his hair. I just keep holding him, rubbing his back gently, letting him get it out.