perfectmatch | week four

[After the voice-over concludes, Yi Sang picks up the card that states, One of you was kidnapped and drugged and forced to work on inhumane technology, and its corresponding envelope. While his heart aches and puzzles over everyone's unspoken stories, this one sparks a kind of concern, and for that reason he pockets it.]

. . . For the collective sake of my fellows and all those present, I shall refrain from speaking on the matter.

[ Shoko clocks the card, and given what they had talked about at the Pompompurin Cafe... ]

...Yi Sang.

[Now that the card is safely tucked away, he angles his head toward her at the call of his name.]

Miss Shoko.

I won't ask you to speak on it any further than you're comfortable with.

[ She remembers him saying it was better left classified. She remembers that a disagreement led to his departure, so perhaps she can be forgiven for drawing some conclusions for herself in place of asking him more questions. ]

But at least let me say... that I'm glad you walked away from it.

[He nods appreciatively. Shoko is among the few who knows, albeit vaguely, the circumstances from which he parted. The details of his departure aren't important, but one facet of the assignment might be dangerous to impart.]

Thank you.

[Sincerely, he relays his thanks.]

What of you? If there is aught on your mind, I would hear it.

Something on my mind, huh...

[ Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out her card. It's been crumpled by now, but remains legible all the same, as it tells of someone suturing their friend's corpse, allowing a student to take it over. ]

I guess when it comes to questionable ethics in science, you're not alone.

[He looks at the card, crumpled in a way that he imagines reflects a certain state of Shoko's heart.]

. . . For what reason did you do it?

[ Crumpled by way of Edamura, too, and his response to reading Shoko's card, but perhaps it's not wrong to think of it as a reflection of her own mangled feelings, too.

Even though her answer comes almost hoarsely. Exhausted. As if this reminder has placed her squarely back into the stress of that moment. ]

We were fighting the King of Curses named Sukuna. So we needed our strongest sorcerer, only he'd died fighting Sukuna, too. It was our contingency. A monster to fight another monster.

[ A beat, before she adds: ]

He was the white-haired guy you saw, that one night.

[ Her classmate. Her friend. ]

Mm . . .

[The pale-haired boy who'd lost as Shoko had in their earlier years. While the exact details of the story elude him, Yi Sang can ill bring himself to repeat her words and call the man's remains monstrous, regardless of the horrific things done to them.]

Then . . . he might have been prepared for such an outcome. Is that not so?

[ She nods. ]

I don't think he thought he would lose, but... we were prepared for it. I also—

[ She takes her cigarette out from between her lips, sighing smoke up into the air. ]

I thought he would win. But there's no changing the outcome now. We all did what we had to.

[In the end, the King of Curses must have been defeated, else the world would not be in the stage of recovery.

How Shoko must have suffered. She likely continues to feel the ache of handling a friend's body in such a manner in addition to the weight of his death. When time momentarily stops for her here and there, do her hands that have touched both life and death appear stained?]

If you will allow me to inquire, what was his name?

Gojo.

[ She'd always called him by his surname, as did most other people. But when they were young, he and Geto used to call each other by their given names, didn't they? Even their teacher... Perhaps she'd felt she'd drifted too far from him to ever call him by this name in their adulthood, but in the end, he was more than just 'Gojo,' who was the strongest sorcerer, wasn't he? There was still someone beneath the monster that was Gojo, bearer of the Six Eyes and Limitless. ]

...Satoru. That was his given name.

[This Gojo was once a boy. He was someone's son and another's friend. He was Satoru, a person cherished by Shoko, however tall the walls between them had become.]

Irrespective of what transpired, he was a dear friend of yours. Let us not refer to what he left you and your companions as something monstrous, and instead remember him as Satoru, for such an essence is immutable.

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irreversal - 2025-06-29 02:16 (UTC) - Expand

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poans - 2025-06-29 09:54 (UTC) - Expand

[ If he doesn't want to speak on it, she can't force him... but her gaze does sober with concern, tracking the card as he tucks it away.

Maybe this is why he'd said "fled" to describe how he'd moved from one place to another... or why he had to move to so many places after all. ]

You don't need to, if you don't want to.

[ From her place next to him, she puts a gentle hand on his back. If this is his decision, she's sure it's not one made lightly. ]

[Yingying's hand is heavy and comforting on his back. She reminds him that she's here, and the card sits heavier in his pocket for it.

He glances at the crowd.]

I . . . do not wish to endanger anyone here.

[Ergo, it's less of a want and more of a necessity.]

[ Of course he would feel that way, if he was victimized at their hands so much. Her expression turns pensive, and she moves her hand in a soothing, gentle motion. ]

See, you're always thinking of everyone. [ Even after going through something like that.... ] If you really can't... I understand. But don't go thinking I'd leave you alone.

[ The sense she gets from his response is that it's not that he wouldn't open up — it's that he can't. But whatever the details, she's not afraid, especially if hearing it would ease his burden. ]

[It's because she stays that he feels obliged to answer within limits, turning his head to meet her eyes. She paints such a kind picture of him when reality is colder, no matter his wishes. He understands this and isn't overtaken by it, but he must be truthful in the face of her sweetness.]

. . . That is not true, Miss Yingying. The City whence I hail is a place where one must exploit others in order to escape abuse. I knew this . . . and, despite how it may have sounded, was a willing participant in unspeakable research by way of my apathy.

[He's guilty. He's felt guilty for some time, from the moment he left his homeland in search of greener pastures.]

[ Despite how it may have sounded? ]

Mm, but it said "kidnapped" and "forced"....

[ It's his past, so she won't push back too hard if that's what he says is the truth. But still, she has her own doubts. Either way, she doesn't show immediate alarm or contempt, simply furrowing her brow and trying to understand. ]

It's like I said before... I'm not a saint, either. [ She's really not, even though everyone seems to embrace her and genuinely wish for her well-being here. Her hands are stained in their own way, but even so, she doesn't think that would keep any of them from calling her kind, now. She reiterates the point gently, just wanting to show good faith and empathy. ] Was it to survive, then...?

[If she says so, he can only believe it. Yingying has lived through a long and harsh existence, many years of which must have been lost to grief. He would hear her tales sometime, to embrace understanding and connection.]

At one point, that might have been the truth.

[Closing his eyes, he folds his arms across his chest. Survival drove them from their homes. They—he and his compatriots—longed to live and love as opposed to struggle and wither. So they fled, and . . . ]

I was once part of an organization called the League of Nine, which unwittingly broke a core tenet of the district in which we gathered. After it exploded in a colorless fire, time ceased to move for me . . . and I was taken aside by a dear compatriot, who provided food, shelter, and resources to continue my research.

[This much, he feels that he can safely share. In the end, he was nothing more than a stepping stone for the people who sought to cage him. So long as he keeps the detail of what he was told to do to himself, he can expound on what he's already alluded to via his speech at the previous ceremony.]

I would take the blue supplements he brought me, not knowing that they were sedatives, while the plaything I had made was appropriated for another purpose. It was only after I followed the words of my left-handed self, who faithfully kept me company, that I saw what was happening and departed.

[His eyes open, and he searches again for Yingying's face.]

Before then, I cared not whom they threatened. And that . . . is the true story of what transpired between me and my last remaining compatriot.

[ ...A frown draws across her features, a strange expression on her usually serene and charming features. Perhaps easy to mistake as being directed at him, at first. When she speaks again, she sounds hurt on his behalf. ]

Your "dear compatriot" did all of that...?

[ Providing food and shelter to someone on the run, secretly giving them drugs, allowing Yi Sang's work to be used, unbeknownst to him, for other nefarious purposes? She draws her hand back, putting both in her own lap. What an awful friend he must have had. She's always known... that Yi Sang can be a bit oblivious, a bit passive, a bit unassuming. She always knew that there would be room for someone to take advantage of that. What she didn't know is that someone already had, and had betrayed his trust to such an extent. ]

Did you ever think that perhaps... if you hadn't been sedated, you might have felt differently?

[ Her talks with the apothecary about drugs and stimulants have taught her a lot. What psychological effects they can have on the mind. From what she understands, at least, apathy and inability to act are the most common symptoms associated with sedatives. ]

In fact, it seems to me that was by design.

[The expression on her face isn't off-putting, because it's an unhappy memory. Shameful, even. His arms unfold, however, at the unmistakable hurt in her tone.]

The sedatives were to keep me from seeing the door that was there all along . . . but you might be correct.

[Days spent in a nearly muted haze, his retinas blinded by the white walls of that cubic room. He recalls the lassitude that surged from him when he beheld the horrors taking place just next door—the wave of regret that he hadn't swallowed all those pills he'd hidden from Gubo, the wish to pretend that nothing was wrong after the only person he had left had violated him so.]

He was there when I spoke of it. That I wanted the mirror to remain as an object of laughter between us . . . I had wanted there to be a misunderstanding, but I knew that was not the case. Thus, I departed . . . and eventually found myself here.

[ Then, that's the real reason behind this oft-mentioned "journey." It's no small wonder the sort of state he was in when he arrived... nor the despondency and apathy he carried with him like a burden. Gently as she can, she takes both of his hands, her touch feather light and cool. ]

You did the right thing, walking away. Even if that meant being alone...

[ It takes a certain kind of strength to walk forward without any hope of companionship or trust at his side. She admires him even more, now, knowing the shape of his gentle sensitivity. How could anyone trample on that so carelessly? Her heart hurts. She keeps her gaze low, at the loose hold on his hands — how hard it must be for him to let anybody close, now. She won't take that for granted ever again. ]

I'm not happy it happened, but I'm glad taking this path led you to us. [ One of her thumbs strokes the back of his hand gently, almost tentatively, like she's ready for him to pull away at any second. ] No compatriot who really cared for you... would ever think to use and hurt you like that.

[ She can't imagine any of their number stooping to do something so cruel. Could he believe that? Believe that he was undeserving of such a heartless act? ]

And of course there might be things you feel remorse about from back then... but I hope that you wouldn't feel ashamed. For having been led astray.

[Yingying's hands are warm. He doesn't pull back, grounded by the comforting gesture as he is.

He won't speak overlong on this, because he will never be able to put to words the enormity of what everyone has done for him. Leaving the white square, he tottered into the night with only the clothes on his back and the faintest glimmer of hope for a place to belong. Greater still was the despair of thorough isolation, as well as his resignation to a violent death that very night, be it through wrong company or his violation of the curfew amid his wandering in the rain.

Instead, he came here where there's color and lives are treated preciously. In the gardens here, he met Yingying, whose sweetness and understanding warmed as opposed to sear. Yingying, who always considers others whereas Gubo cared for himself the most. So Yi Sang won't pull away; rather, he grasps her hands back in return.]

I may have gone astray and lost sight of where I was . . . but now, I believe I have found a path. [He looks up at her with a gentle smile.] One I shall continue to walk for as long as I am able.

Thank you, Miss Yingying. And . . . I am glad to have met you.

[ She meets his smile with a quiet one of her own, keeping their hands entwined for so long as he permits it. She's happy that he can say that so surely — and so directly, too, without so many words shrouding the true meaning. ]

Have you given it any thought? Where that path will lead you to next.

[ It's coming up, after all... soon, they'll all have to go separate ways. She knows there are those among them who intend to follow others home, perhaps even herself among them if she takes up Odile's offer of a place to start her recovery. Yi Sang... shouldn't go back to where he came from, that's for certain.

But perhaps most importantly of all, where he charts out to next is something Yi Sang needs to choose for himself, after being yanked around by the people around him. Her own home is always looking for more brilliant minds like his, and she's sure he'd have lots to offer the Bureau, if he so chose... but she wants him to see the path ahead as clearly and openly without distraction or input. This is a path he needs to forge for himself, and she wouldn't tarnish that or take that away from him for her own personal feelings. As before... she's happy just seeing him get to this point. ]

[He sees before him two paths.]

There is something I must do.

[One takes him back to the City, where wrongs brought about by his slothfulness must be righted. This is something he eventually wishes to do, but not without some forethought so as not to squander the new lease on life he's been granted. It's also much too risky to speak of it openly here.

As for the other . . .

He spends a moment studying Yingying's face, his eyes roaming to take in every detail from the individual strands of her hair to her fond gaze and the contours of her visage against the evening lighting. The delicate crease of her brow and charming curvature of her lips that contrast the innocent wonderment in her wide eyes . . . Recalling the resilient blooms on the dying wisteria, his hands close lightly around hers.]

Until then . . . if you will have me, I would like to stay by your side and enjoy the sights together.

week four | mingle

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Dedicating these grippers to you before I lose my chance

thanks i'll treasure these grippers my sweet jae...

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