#soseki hc

[wtowingedtragicobsidian]

BSD Gender & Orientation HCs pt5 ~Extra

~if a character/commentary is not included I’m just assuming they’re cis/straight~

Architect:

Gender: |Nonbinary| Uses neutral pronouns.

Natsume:

Gender: |Transman| born intersex female. He was able to transition early and has been living happily ever since.

Rimbaud:

Orientation: |Bi|

*he has an extremely loyal attachment style; when he is interested in somebody, they are the only person in his eyes.

Verlaine:

Orientation: |Gay| likes the self-empowerment of pleasure, sex and attraction—but struggles with being “loved”.

Albatross:

Orientation: |Pan| does not gaf about gender. If he finds some hot, he’s gonna tell them regardless.

Piano man:

Orientation: |Queer|

Lippmann:

Gender: |Genderqueer| does not care about pronouns or presentation, his only code of expression is to be the most attractive in the room.

[thewritetofreespeech]

hello! may i please request platonic headcanons with natsume soseki (from bsd)? maybe in which he's the reader’s gramps or dad/father figure.

Soseki feeling a deep connection to all the lost children he takes under his wing. Whether they are lost or not, he sees them that way.

Despite being in the witness protection program, he still makes this his mission to find lost souls and nurture them.

To what end, is entirely up to them and the motives are which are only known to Soseki. But he usually seems to have good intentions.

He often invites them over for tea or meals. Discussing books and life whenever they met. Making sure they are well cared for if they are not directly in his charge.

He doesn’t train ability users anymore. Fukuzawa and Mori were his last, but he does offer guidance when necessary.

Depending on their alignment in the world, Soseki uses his connection to steer them on the best path: Armed Detectives Agency, the Port Mafia, or Special Division.

Whatever path they choose, Soseki doesn’t offer judgement or support. Only guidance that they can take or leave.

He has been known to use his cat form to cheer them up on occasion. And, even still, appearing on the sidewalk from time to time once they are ‘out of his care’. But that may only be a coincidence of cats.

[imsosocold]

I bet during Dead Apple fiasco Natsume and his ability just curled up and slept together ( though he’d never fess up about that, Fukuzawa and Rin would be pissed) though the idea of Natsume and his ability getting into a literal cat fight is very funny.

[cathy-plus-e]

what do you think caused Mori's <<rational solution over emotions>> mentality?

was he always like that as a child or do you think he has trauma that made him like that?

#nopressureasks btw

i'm just curious about different ideas/HCs

As a person that is actually like that aka a Mori kinnie... I learned since I was small that being emotional doesn't help you

My mom → Always yelling and hitting me saying “I will hit you harder so you have a good reason to cry”

School → Acting rational makes you have the approval of authorities. Acting rational and worrying about logical things makes authorities happy

Personal thing → I never understood (and neither understand now) empathy, why being empathetic, why it matters...

I have always been so rational and logical too because I just thought anything, analyzed it and said «Okay let's do it» LMAO

Considering the book Vita Sexualis that I read (and it is amazing) it's so probable that Mori went through the same– Since the protagonist of the book is also the "weird (asexual) that cares for anything except emotions and sex"

We have to consider that also Soseki Natsume taught Mori to worry about thise things → End justifies the ways

And yes the Vita Sexualis protagonist has mommy issues since his relationship with his mother was problematic while he felt the necessity to get the approval and respect from his father

[2offayyo-kzt]

Small reminder of who is Taneda :

The military police and Special Division for Unusual Powers headed by Santouka Taneda (bald man) rule the day, the Port Mafia ruled by Mori rule the night, and the Armed Detective Agency led by Fukuzawa rule the evenings in between.

On the wiki its says "It is very possible that he was Sōseki Natsume's pupil as well."

And his ability allows him to see through the nature of someone's ability immediately if activated near him.

And for Natsume :

I quote "Until the end of the Cannibalism events, his ability remains unknown to anyone; only then he reveals the nature of his power to Fukuzawa, Mori, and Katai Tayama by turning back into his human form."

This means Teneda with his ability was necessarily aware of the power of his sensei (natsume), and he deliberately hid this information to Mori and Fukuzawa.

It is known that Fukuzawa loves cats, and I'm absolutely convince that this situation happened in the past :

Taneda probably saw Fukuzawa petting a calico cat and thought "you are petting a 60 years old man..." but he let him do it.... (I really want to draw that scene)

To conclude :

I just wanted to talk about one of my favourite character and how Natsume ability is really fucked up (being a cat but no one know it)

Taneda also know how dazai ability work as well (with their meeting for the new career of the mafioso)

[kayfarafey]

Brry married life thoughts?,,, 😔❤️

...i just found this in my askbox i am so fucking sorry.

i think it takes a significant amount of time for them to finally accept that they could have this relationship permanently and that they want to have it permanently. they're one of those "have been in a relationship longer than anyone else in the friend group and are the last to get married" couples, because barok is intensely devoted to ryuunosuke but he does not want him to lose his independence and ryuunosuke hasn't ever processed that he could get married, just because he never really contemplated his future at length. in the end the proposal is basically: "would you like to get married?" "oh! sure!"

they absolutely get a cat, either one of wagahai's kittens or some injured stray ryuunosuke scooped off the street. i actually asked @nonbiriyani if they had any thoughts irt a name a little while ago and bvz adamantly refuses to let the cat be called jugemu (after the rakugo folktale) so she ends up with a name like menodora or tsukiko* and she is the most spoiled cat in the world and she is barok's little girl

but other than that not much changes in their dynamic, ryuunosuke "moves in" but it wasn't like he didn't practically live there in the first place, and the majority of the time they just. do their own thing together. reading or working on their cases or whatever because it's just comfortable and natural to be around each other. they have a pretty solid relationship based on trust and their belief in each other and it's extremely easy for them to go "yeah, let's just do this forever"

[sosekisuggestions]

❖ What is something that you regret deeply?

((I am very sorry for the delay. I’m a hella slow writer. Also, long post, be ye warned, people. Also has more dialogue than usual, so yay!))

There was no denying that Sensei was a storyteller.

The very first story that he wrote was about a calico cat who watches over humans. It was similar to a children’s book in its humor, in its persistence to laugh at all the wrongdoings. He wrote about humans like they were shadows, but there was this sincere breath of life to them and it turned him into the beloved author that he was to this day.

His friends at the military would hear his stories with childlike joy. He would tell them stories during his watch duty like it was nothing but a night in the campfire. The scent of burning oil filled the room while shadows of the rabbit, the owl, and the cat appeared on the wall, all made from the shapes of his hands.

He told them about home. He told them about family, about friends, about the loved ones they will come back to. Anything to keep them away from the war.

“–her name is Mei An.”

He couldn’t remember the soldier’s face. He could have been like any other ones with the silver badges adorning his chest and the rifle settled by his side. All he remembered was the picture of the child he always carried. A little girl, seven years old. She had the brightest smile he had ever seen.

“I can’t stop thinking about my daughter.” The soldier’s fingertips caressed the edge of the photograph like one would wipe tears from a child’s eyes. “In six months, it’s going to be over. The war is going to end. It has to.”

“…and why is that?” Sensei asked him.

He could see the soldier’s mind wandering. Those eyes were gentle, like a man who has found his life’s meaning. “Mei An’s birthday. It’s a nice thought, isn’t it, coming home to a wife and child? Coming home to the ones you love?”

He knew better than to share his vulnerable moments in the face of another. You’re loving a shadow, they would say. “Have you thought about what you’re going to get her? A present, maybe?”

“Oh, I’ve got something better than a present - me!”

The soldier laughed at his own joke. It was terrible, so terrible and Sensei couldn’t help but grin at it.

“I think of her, you know? I think of her when I get up in the morning. I think of her when I’m about to fight out there. I think of her when I’m laying down on the ground, when my life was about to flash before my eyes. I don’t care what will happen. I will live on for her, that’s all that matters.”

The soldier paused to look at the rifle in his arms, like he was cradling a newborn baby.

“I miss my daughter. I miss her so much,” he continued. “Do you know what frightens me? My wife wrote to me about her. She said Mei An’s sick, terribly sick. She’s warning me, she’s warning me to end this war soon. She’s warning me that Mei An is going to leave me. She’s warning me that this is going to be the last time that I will ever see my daughter again.”

He remembered bowing to him. It was a bow meant for a friend, an inspiring person - a father.

They were only humans. They live for the sake of their loved ones. They do not live for the sake of war, no matter what the blood on their hands told them. They will never be able to run from the remorse, from the loss, not until they became shadows, until they linger to remind them of what they have done.

“My friend, I wish you safe journeys. May you return home to your daughter’s side for her birthday.”

He saw his friend’s smile before the other bowed back.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The soldier never made it home. Blood loss. Shot multiple times through the lungs. Six months later, all Mei An got for her birthday was a letter from the military about her father. She’s dead now.

Sensei needed to forget.

He should have known that it was impossible.

All the people that he met and all the people that he lost, they became shadows. He wrote about all that he had seen so terribly. The love he felt for the woman he lost, the regret he had for committing his crimes, the guilt he felt for outliving his comrades, all the wrongdoings, all of the pain - reduced to a corrupt comedy.

One night Sensei told a story about the afterlife. He told the military boys about the world had come to end and the time when all of life will wait for their final judgement.

“What have you done in your life?” He asked, deepening his voice to resemble a sentient, godly being. “What have you done with your time in the world?”

His hands formed the shapes of animals. First it was the rabbit, and then the owl, and then the cat.

“I ate and I made children,” ‘the animals’ said.

That was all that animals said. He spoke in their place, highly-pitched and silly-sounding, and he sent his storytelling audience into bouts of roaring laughter. He spoke the words, over and over, forming one shadow after another. He never failed to make them smile.

The laughter never stopped until Sensei put his fists on top of each other against the light. A shadow of a human face was seen on the wall.

“What have you done in your life?” He asked, deepening his voice to resemble a sentient, godly being. “What have you done with your time in the world?”

“I have learned.” ‘The human’ spoke. “I have learned to love and to care, to win and to lose, to feel pain and to feel pleasure, to fear and to suffer. To dream, to hope, to struggle, and to regret. I have committed many crimes. I have done terrible things, but still I cherished my time in the world. I have learned my lesson and I have passed them down to my children after me.”

There was silence before he made the sentient being speak again.

“And what happened to your children?”

He pulled his hands away. The shadows were gone. All that’s left was a man who has seen too much of everything.

“They died in the war.”

send me a ❖ + a question and my muse will be forced to tell the truth.

❖ What is something that you regret deeply?

Losing all those people. 

[soulcluster-moved]

[ultraviolet-ink]

Aight, so it’s Pride Month, Time for Headcanons– DGS/TGAA Part One

Since this game hasn’t been released yet, I’m going to put the characters under the cut to prevent spoilers for my mutuals who haven’t been able to play yet/want to go into the game as blind as possible, full disclosure, I will be using the localized names that have been officially confirmed by Capcom. These are just mine, but I can’t wait to see some more if you’d like to interact! ^-^ Tomorrow, I will do part two focusing on the second game!

Ryuunosuke Naruhodo- Bisexual Cis Man (He/Him) Susato Mikotoba- Bisexual Cis Woman (She/Her) Kazuma Asogi- Demiromantic Queer Cis Man (He/Him) Herlock Sholmes- Pansexual Cis Man (He/Him) Iris Wilson- Demiromantic Demisexual Cis Female (She/Her) Barok van Zieks- Greyromantic Demisexual Cis Man (He/Him The Case of the Visiting Professor Yujin Mikotoba- Bisexual Cis Man (He/Him) John Wilson- Cishet (He/Him) Takesutchi Auchi- Cishet (He/Him) Satorou Hosonaga- Gay Cis Man (He/Him) Iyesa Nosa- Cishet (He/Him) Kyurio Korekuta- Aromantic Asexual Cis Man (He/Him) Jezaille Brett- Lesbian Cis Woman (She/Her) The Case of the Stricken Steamship Vilen Borshevik- Aromantic Asexual Cis Man (He/Him) Nikolina Pavolva- Demiromantic Asexual Cis Woman (She/Her) Bif Strogenov- Gay Cis Man (He/Him) The Case of the Deadly Omnibus Mael Stronghart (Hart Vortex)- Aromantic Asexual Cis Man (He/Him) Magnus McGilded- Gay Cis Man (He/Him) “Thrice Fried” Mason- Cishet (He/Him) Beppo- Cishet (He/Him) Lay D. Furst- Gay Cis Male (He/Him) Bruce Fairplay- Cishet (He/Him) Gina Lestrade- Lesbian Cis Woman The Adventure of the Clouded Kokoro Soseki Natsume- N/A because I don’t want to force hcs on a real person (check out his work, it’s very interesting!) John Garrideb- Cishet (He/Him) Joan Garrideb- Cishet (She/Her) Patrick O’Malley- Cishet (He/Him) Rola O’Malley- Cishet (She/Her) Tobias Gregson- Bisexual Cis Man (He/Him) The Adventure of the Unspeakable Story Hatch Windibank- Gay Cis Man (He/Him) Robert Crogley (our eggy boy)- Gay Cis Man (He/Him) Nemmy Tinpillar- Gay Cis Man (He/Him) Tully Tinpillar- Cishet (He/Him)

[seoafin]

gojo, doing the nasty with mc after getting blueballed for 10 years : i DO NOT BEG for PUSSY. Imma ask 11 times thats it 🗣💯.

literally no thoughts head empty,, my face is like that lisa staring at the plate meme

the only thing i like abt gojo atp is that ijk his wallet and dick is big,, JSJSJS i just rly like the concept of “strongest man” on his knees for 1 (one) person + his kids,,, now if only mc agree with mei mei’s plan of generational wealth redistribution

ok but if u put this in the backburner for the longest time, i dont rly mind either way bc u writing whatever u want/ like will still come top notch either way,,, but ANYWAYS tysm for indulging 💞

and i HATE that whatever thoughts abt gojo shut down immediately the moment i saw that u posted sth abt geto 😭

geto teaching mc patiently while leaning over their shoulder and one of his hands is resting on the back of the chair and the other one lay flat on the desk (he insists that he’ll guide mc “properly” even tho mc has somewhat understand the problem more than b4 and would like to try solving it w out his help),, his bangs brushed the side of mc’s forehead before he tried tucking it behind his ear (it did not work, but mc asked to try to braid it and he may or may not allow it)

+ sharing snacks during break time with their ankles brushing each other under the desk and it will eventually lead to gojo and shoko walking on them leaning forward across the desk closer than necessary with their school books arranged neatly together aside and they’re discussing abt natsume soseki’s kokoro

the discussion was put to a stop when gojo and shoko pulled chairs so they end up talking abt another thing. when they return to their respective room, geto realize that mc’s bookmark is still attached to the book but mc never ask for it so he kept it with him (when he re read the book years after his defection, the twins swore that sth akin to wistfullness and fondness flashed across his face while he brought the bookmark closer and then putting it back into the page he remembered that struck mc when they first read it together)

murakami’s norwegian wood/ colorless tsukuru tazaki and his years of pilgrimage/ kafka on the shore or dazai’s setting sun/ no longer human give sum existential dread too 🥴

AGAIN,, TYSM FOR TAKING THE TIME TO WRITE AND SHARE THAT HC WITH US, HOPE UR DOING WELL </3- 🐱

11 TIMES PLS 😭😭

I SEE THAT INNUENDO 👀

if they’re in the library...i am not ashamed to say i’d suck his dick....im a weak woman,,..,,.,.,

geto can be bold but at the same time he’s so sly about it. normally when getting tutored you’d sit across from the person, but geto takes a seat next to you and leans in real close, then gets flustered when you meet his gaze while he’s right next to your face. NOT THE BRUSHING ANKLES....this is victorian level pining LMFAO

geto also does things like subtly pulling you a little closer to him, hand on your waist, in a crowd so you don’t “get lost” even though he and gojo are always heads tall above the rest of the crowd. offers you a bite of his ice cream when he sees you staring then goes red when he realizes it's an indirect kiss. brushing the hair out of your face while you’re trying to eat and it’s windy outside...im..... 🥺

gojo on the other hand just grabs your hand and tugs you wherever. bites your food without asking and steals handfuls of your candy. makes fun of you when you drop your ice cream 🤜😎

[pxperhearts]

hc + movies (Sosi, because he deserves love!)

send me  ‘ hc ‘  + a word >> accepting!!

Soseki is the type that’s like, you mention a movie and he goes, ‘oh I read the book!’ and you think, there’s a book for that movie??? But like any good procrastinator, Soseki loves putting on documentaries and gaining a ton of useless information to tuck away for later, for a story or a conversation topic or whatever. Regarding more current movies, he’s very out of the loop of who is who and what’s out and what’s going on. He also often confuses big name actresses and actors. He also really enjoys watching movies that are in his native language.

[yosanosuggestions-blog]

hc on soseki

1. This guy loves plays, he likes sneaking into theaters as a cat and just watching the plays that are showing.

2. When he’s in human form he enjoys spending time in the rain, it gives him ideas for new novels and relaxes him.

3. Loves cuddles, cuddle this poor man. He wants them all. 

4. He likes sleeping on tables and desks the most, you can find him asleep usually on bar tables, or on random tables in the offices.

5. His favourite book is the one he hopes Oda will write. 

[blackjacketmuses]

hc; oda 1

Background

Born to parents he never knew in the slums of Yokohama and who died when he was too young to register it, Oda spent most of his young life in that place, wandering around and learning to survive. His ability manifested when he was four, and it was a useful thing when any move could be your last in that awful place.

When he was six, a stranger came to the slums and, seeing Oda use his ability, took him in --- the man was an assassin, and he taught Oda his trade. Oda knew the man only as Venus, never by his real name, and though they were teacher and student, neither of them were remotely close personally.

Oda took his first job as an assassin at seven, and continued work in the trade for seven years, killing so many people he lost count. (Including, when he was 14, an encounter with former government assassin Yukichi Fukuzawa and 13 year old Ranpo Edogawa.) His background in the slums and training by Venus made him a formidable force, and he was so skilled with a gun that he was a legend in the underground even as a teenager. He couldn’t say he was unhappy or happy with any of it, however; none of it mattered. It was a routine, and people who met him would describe there as being nothing in his eyes, no emotion or life. He killed because he was good at it, that was all, and nothing really mattered beyond that. He didn’t have a reason to live, but he didn’t have a reason to die. He just was.

When he was fourteen, a little after his brief encounter with Fukuzawa, he found a book at the site of one of his jobs. Not having anything much better to do, he took it with him. Somehow, though, the book fascinated him, catching his attention more than anything else had before. He read it constantly, tucked into a corner spot at a cafe where he went often between jobs (usually just to sit and nurse a cup of coffee to pass the time), and eventually managed to get his hands on the second volume of the story. It was at that cafe that he met a strange man, who noticed what he was reading and asked about the third and final book of the series. That conversation, ending with the man -- Natsume Soseki -- giving him a copy of the third book, changed his life.

He eventually killed Venus -- the last man he would ever kill, he decided, a start of a new life -- and struck out on his own, leaving the life of an assassin behind and resolving never to kill again. One day, he decided, he would earn enough money to escape the underbelly of the world, and on that day he’d buy himself a house by the sea somewhere away from Yokohama (by the sea because he knew he’d miss the city he was born in and lived in for his whole life, and because he loved the water) and write books.

When he was nineteen, just after the old boss of the mafia finally died and was replaced by a man named Ougai Mori, he was recruited into the organization. He had been made offers before, but it wasn’t until Mori took over that he accepted them -- the former boss had been too violent and cruel, but under Mori he thought he would be able to uphold his vow to never kill.

When he was twenty, he met the newest member of the mafia, fifteen year old Osamu Dazai, having been asked by Hirotsu to escort the younger boy on a job. They hit it off, somehow, and though their friendship was only on a professional basis, they became friends. Oda saw his past self in the childish but empty young teen, and hoped in some small way that he could help him put life in those eyes.

In the next year, he and Dazai hung out together a fair bit, doing some jobs together and spending some nights at a small bar they'd found. He also met Dazai's partner, Chuuya Nakahara, and though they didn't become close, they met several times during the year.

During the Dragon Head incident, Oda found a bunch of children orphaned in the conflict. On an impulse, wanting to make sure they didn't end up like him -- and having a streak of fussing over children as it was -- he took them in, asking the owner of his favorite curry place (one he'd frequented since before he joined the mafia, whose owner was a retired mercenary) to watch them in exchange for mafia protection. The man agreed.

It was after the Dragon Head incident, or more specifically after Dazai was promoted to executive, that they met Ango Sakaguchi. This also coincided with Dazai growing closer to Oda and Ango, though Oda didn't know the reason save for mention of Chuuya's regular absence from Yokohama and growing distance from Dazai.

While the three of them hung out a lot over the next two years, none of them knew each other's backstories or personal lives. It wasn't a friendship like that; they were friends who didn't ask and didn't judge, who just spent time joking around and talking about light topics, a chance to be regular guys at a bar and not who they were outside of that. Sometimes Oda wanted to break that invisible wall, especially in regards to Dazai, who he felt like was desperately in need of a friend to help him find his way out of the darkness, but he could never really work up the will to cross that line, no matter how quietly he worried.

[sosekisuggestions]

Vanilla Chai Latte

“Don’t you think you should move on with another girl?”

“She’s dead.”

Sensei’s answer was too immediate. His words came out like a slur, soon to be washed down by the drink in his hand. He was young enough to be stupid. He was young enough to cope with liquor, the throbbing pain in his head in the morning was a not-so-gentle reminder of the nights he spent down at the bar.

The bartender raised an eyebrow at him. “Hence I said ‘move on’.”

“She’s dead.”

It took him half a whiskey bottle forced down his throat for Sensei to realize he would not be dying that night.

That might have been what started it all. These lapses of judgement, these escapades he had with women whose names he could barely remember. He’s a hollow man. He might have been infatuated with those women, some he might even obsess over, but in the end he would always leave with a growing string of broken hearts behind him. He would love only one woman, that fallen beauty that he once lost. He would love only her, now and always.

They were decoys to him, as heartless as that sounded to anyone else, as heartless as the way he abruptly ended his affairs, but he was sincere with them. He would never love them, he told them, plain and simple. He would never hold them close, would never press his forehead against theirs, would never kiss them slowly and tenderly, because he could never bring himself to love them. They distracted him, a plethora of pretty little company to get through the lonely nights, because he could never feel anything for them.

One moment he called for another round, his voice sounding like it was soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months, and then taken outside and run over with a car, and the next he walked out of the bar with his arm around some broad’s waist. That was how it went for a little while, lonesome and foolish little while.

Sensei had to admit, when he was younger, he made mistakes–falling for that woman was one of them. He liked to think that he had grown out of his habits of making them, but he was none the wiser. A fool falls in love, so deeply in love, and he would be a happy fool if he could love her for the rest of his days.

Cafe Asks ☕️Vanilla Chai Latte: Are you in love?

…Now and always. 

[sosekisuggestions]

RIP

Send me an RIP and I will write how my muse is going to do. 

((This one took way too long than intended, I’m so sorry. Considering this is a RIP drabble, there’s going to some trigger warnings in this, mainly mercy killing and war descriptions. Also has an OC stand-in.))

He was agnostic about violence.

Sensei always had others to do it for him.

“–are you listening to me, my boy?”

He was always ever-so-stubborn. His head was held high, his rigid back was as straight and narrow as his mind, but the look in his eyes was defiant yet solemn, like a crane that bides its time in the rice field. He was a man who had made up his mind.

In front of him was a young man sitting on the tatami on his folded legs - his dear remaining friend, who was shaking like a leaf at the words thrown at him.

“Y-y-yes! I’m so sorry, S-Sensei, but I can’t do this!”

He could barely remember his name. A man from the military force, soft around the edges and fresh as a daisy. A bottom feeder with barely two months of experience from the looks of it. He had a gun to his side, a fully loaded one, but Sensei could see this one growing chubby behind the counter that he would never even use it.

“Why not? It is only a simple favor.”

“Yes, Sensei! I am devoted to you, Sensei, and so are all the officers in Yokohama! We are indebted to your wisdom and …and I a-admire you and I look up to you!” The man’s voice was high-pitched and nervous. He would have broken his spine from all that repeated bowing to the older man, if he had any. “…but why me? Sensei, why me?”

Devotion is a… strange word, he must admit.

The man in front of him was a dime a dozen. He knew the type, one of those boys who wanted a home with wife and kids to call his own, who wanted to protect the remaining shambles of what was left of his home, and who has yet to look at the face of death right in the eye and sneer because death had long evaded him instead.

Sensei was never sure what devotion meant, but he knew it binds him, like he was a puppet with strings.

“You are young. You understand the price of freedom, but you have never felt loss.” He said, as if he was trying to soothe the other. “I have taught you my lessons, my boy. I do not care that you have never held a gun to a man’s head. I ask you to honor my wish. I am a humble man, my boy, and I am only one man of many. I have taught you my final lesson and it is time for you prove yourself.”

…and with that, the young man’s expression softened. His furrowed eyebrows relaxed, yet his eyes were grim and distant. His shoulders felt tense, like there was this dreadful weight forced upon them, and his hands grasped at his knees like he was holding back tears.

“I have nothing to offer but silence. All I ask is for your help. Is that not what you are devoted to do?”

“Sensei, don’t say that! You have served our country! You have given us our city, you have given us our rights, our freedom. But you’re asking me to–”

“–I am asking you a favor. As a friend, of course.” Sensei bowed his head to him. He kept his eyes downcast like he was pleading. “This may seem a lot to ask from you, but trust me when I say that you are the only one left who is able to do this.”

He has seen people come and go.

He has seen people come and go without him.

Ushigome, after all the firestorm and decay, had been turned into this massive slaughterhouse. It had been one of those districts that was sacrificed during the war, one of those crater-sized cemeteries with severed arms stretched out from under the rubble and lifeless eyes staring from burned faces that once gasped for help. The only building that remained intact was the one they were staying in, a small residence by the river, right by the dead crops and piles of carcass and there was nothing left to do but to suffocate themselves with ashes and bear witness to the horrors of war.

It was not until later when the young man had proven his worth, when the single shot rang through his ears, when he looked around the walls to see the portraits hanging on the wall that the young man realized this used to be Sensei’s home.

Yokohama survived, safe and sound and forever grateful, but Ushigome and the others had slipped through their fingers. Sensei had lost his family, his friends, the ones he dearly loved, and he had been keeping his silence sealed under the words of wisdom and his self-sacrifice under the pledge of loyalty.

He was agnostic to violence, to the act of killing, because he believed in the phrase ‘there is value to the experience of loss’.

Was this Sensei’s final lesson? 'Loss’ is the price of freedom?

The young man, who would later be adorned in his silver badges in the promising future, stared at the open field and watched the cranes stare back at him. He would never back down - his eyes are now defiant, solemn, like someone who has experienced loss.

He still remembered what Sensei asked of him many years ago. He felt strangely bound to it, and many years later he would pass down Sensei’s lessons to his subordinates.

He wanted them to understand the price of freedom.

'I want you to pull out your gun. I want it right between my eyes.’

…He was devoted to Yokohama.

“We’re going to blow my fucking brains out.’

[sosekisuggestions]

Hot Chocolate?

((I’m so sorry about the lateness. I hope you don’t mind that I turned this another part of the opium!au hc for Natsume Soseki since I do think for this question he has a broader sense of the word and thus would be more comprehensible if it’s answered in narrative format. Long post, be warned.))

Sensei always thought the power of words to be… overwhelming.

He was a writer. His words, full of wise oaths carefully chosen on pieces of paper, were his best weapon. He had the power to turn the raging storm into teardrops, to turn ignorance into blissful curiosity, to turn even the tales of sorrow into stories of heroes and saviors of children. His words, in their truest form of sincerity, were powerful.

‘Love’, however, was a weaker word for him to use.

Love, for lack of a better word, is overused. To him, love is being a friend when his temporary owners needed their calico cat to cope with their problems. Love is being a parent when he had to stay in subdued grief while his troubled family unfolds before him. Love is being a martyr when the woman he fell for depended on opium and he had to work through sleepless nights just to keep her happy.

'All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players’.

Shakespeare. An old favorite.

Sensei couldn’t help but wonder just how sincere those words are. Cold and brutal, like sincerity ought to be, but still he cherished the people he met, all the memories they shared together gazed back at him while his clock winds and he nears his wait for the last chime. There was, however, a certain warmth he felt when he laid on his bed, thinking that today could be his last, and he waited for the night that he would slip into an eternal slumber. There was warmth in remembering those who came and those who left in his fleeting little life. There was warmth in knowing that he had a remarkable ride with all those people.

Love is a weaker word. It simply wasn’t enough. It’s too simple to describe what he felt. All the gain and loss, all the joy and suffering, it wouldn’t be fair to label them as a two-syllable word that rendered its own meaning useless and vague and fickle to the people who don’t have the slightest clue of what it’s like to grow old, to watch those he cared for leave him behind while he wallowed in the shrieking nothingness as he waited for his time to come ever so slowly.

…There is, however, a more powerful word. He called it 'affection’.

He held her close. He didn’t have his pen and paper. His tongue felt weak just like the rest of his body, but still he had his arms wrapped around her while she cried to her heart’s content on his shoulder.

This word, 'affection’ - it confounded him. These warm yet simple gestures, they somehow managed to speak in a thousand more words than he could ever try to the people that he loved.

He always had a way with words.

His words were fierce and bold when he stood on the blackened sands of Yokohama, his vows of bravery sharp against the cannon’s mouth to his comrades of war.

His words were calm and soothing when he stood before his disciples, his whispers of fatherly pride piercing through their lost gazes while they seek him for guidance.

His words were mute when he was with that woman. Her tongue lashed out to him like a horrific game of hangman until she broke down in front of him.

She was the madness that he had to live with in the early years of his life, and when she turned a deaf ear to him he could do nothing but watch her scream like some penitent drunk because, oh, how miserable she was without those wretched drugs! How sad it was to see her lying down and getting wasted on the bed while he had his fingers battered in blood because of her! Oh, how hurting it must be for her inside her own mind even though she was the one hurting him, forcing him to watch as she turned from the woman that he once loved turning into this pitiful creature that hurts him everyday because of how much he still cares about her!

His words were not overwhelming, but he couldn’t even admit that.

“Why won’t you say anything?”

He wanted to tell her he loved her. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, how he never wanted her to succumb to her madness, and yet his words never came. He held her still, in this affectionate embrace, because his words failed him and there was nothing more he could do.

“I’ve got nothing to say.”

Cafe Asks ☕️ Hot Chocolate : Are you an affectionate person?

Perhaps I am, to the ones I love.