eastbound | video; un: mind your fucking business

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video; un: mind your fucking business

[ hijikata's expression is flat and unimpressed as the feed flicks on, but then again it usually is. he's well aware there more pressing issues at hand but he feels like he's earned the right not to deal with the big problems anymore. it's practically policy for him by now.

no, he chooses instead to fixate on the little problems. mmm. middle sized problem, winnifred being approximately average human size.

he stands there cross-armed, her blonde head visible out of focus just over his shoulder. ]

Hey. Listen up. I need to know which one of you left this thing unattended and when you can come by to collect her—

[ there's a blurry wave and a cheerfully chirped 'hello!!' as he references his... guest. ]

Come get her before I put her out with the recycling.

[ that order of business handled... ]

Izumi, where are you?

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[He says he'll stay away, but after he finishes his shift, Kanesada slinks into the shadows of an alley across the street of where he's been living with Hijikata. He watches the place, looks for anything out of the ordinary, anything that spells danger.

It looks...normal?

Frowning, Kanesada crosses the street as quietly as he can. Kunihiro would be better at this. He's so much smaller and just generally more sneaky and quiet. But Kanesada does his best. He's stripped the Shinsengumi blue mantle from his shoulders, doing his best to blend in with the darkness more, and settles on the ground between the front door and the window. Things may look fine, but what for they sound like inside? He presses his head against the building, listening for anything.]

[ at first there's nothing, just the normal, unbroken ambience of the night. an almost eerie stillness, like there's no one here at all, but then—

there's a scratching noise, a harsh scrape of something against a hard surface. a single rasping breath, choked, the soft clatter of small objects as they hit the floor. hijikata sits braced against the wall, fallen stationary all around him. he's breathing hard, one hand clenched tight against his side, the other clamped hard over his mouth. his mind is hazy, skin clammy, feverish, agony overriding every thought, every want, every impulse save for one.

blood, he wants blood. needs blood. have it, drink it, spill it. he's at the very edge of his reason, the distinction between the three blurring, fading.

blood, he just needs blood.

he needs—

hijikata lifts his head, then slams it back against the wall, earning himself a bright, white-hot burst of pain.

he needs to breathe. he needs to hold on. he— ]

[At first, he wonders if he's just overthinking this. Maybe Hijikata just wanted time to himself. That dwelling is pretty small. Kanesada doesn't let himself linger on any other reasons his old master would want to keep him away.

But then the silence is broken and Kanesada tenses up, listening all the more intently. He doesn't dare peek in the window in case he is seen, so the sounds aren't immediately identifiable, but it's clear to him that there is something bad happening inside. The crashing noises, the heavy breathing, the thunk against the wall.

Something is wrong.

Now Kanesada leans up just enough to look inside. It's dark, so he can't see too much, but he makes out a person within. And more striking than anything is their white hair.

White hair? Who? Who the hell is in their house?

With a harsh exhale, Kanesada rises to his feet and twists the doorknob. If there's an intruder in their shitty little house, even if Hijikata didn't want him to show up tonight, then he'll still try and take care of it. What if Hijikata is in danger? He's only human. Humans bleed. Humans bleed so, so easily.

But the door resists him. Shit! He must have locked it. That's fine. Kanesada is strong. He takes a few steps back and then rushes at the door, throwing all his weight against it. It rattles in its frame, but remains shut. So he does it again to the same result, if leaving the frame a little weaker. The third time, however, he manages to burst through, falling through the suddenly open doorway with the force of his own momentum.

A minor setback. He pushes himself to his feet again and draws his blade, pointing it at the stranger.]

Who the hell are you?

[ teeth grinding hard enough to crack molars, hijikata rasps out a breath and trains the narrow slit of his vision upon the intruder. he hunches over himself, muscles pulled so taut that he trembles, the other figure in the room with him familiar, fond, treasured. madness pares him down, flays him in inches, reducing him to a mere presence spilling over with life.

there's a name in his mind, and he clutches it in a desperate, shaking grip. ]

Izumi, [ he forces out through his clenched jaw, the sound taking shape near to a snarl. ] Get out.

[The use of his nickname punches the air out of his gut. The voice that chokes it out is familiar and not, all at the same time. But also anguished. In obvious pain.

It tears at Kanesada's chest.]

Hijikata...

[This isn't right. None of this is right.]

Hijikata-san!

[He rushes over and falls to his knees in front of Hijikata's hunched form, his blade falling with an ignored clatter. Kaneaada reaches out, clasps his old master-but-not by the shoulders.]

Wh...what's going on? What's wrong?

[ toshi's jaw clamps down tighter still, tension making his head pound so badly that his vision swims. it's hard enough to think and now there's izumi gripping him like that, close enough to smell, close enough to taste. his body feels like nothing but shards of broken glass held together by burning skin.

he's not strong enough for this. ]

Izumi— [ he rasps out again in warning, in anger, but it's all he can manage. he can't see, can't hear, can't breathe.

his hands find izumi's shoulders in return, grip tight, inhumanly strong.

dragging izumi in, his teeth find the soft part of the man's left shoulder and tear in. ]

[So much happens, and so fast. Kanesada is still reeling from seeing Hijikata with white hair for no discernible reason, as well as scared for his obvious distress, so the sudden grip on him almost doesn't register.

It hurts, of course, but not nearly as badly as what comes next.

The bite, jaws clenching down so tightly that not even skin can resist those teeth. Human teeth. Blunt, aside from a few points Kanesada never learned the names of. The tearing isn't clean, not like a blade's cut. At least that would be preferable, he thinks, if he had half a mind to think.

A scream rips its way past his lips, his eyes water from the rush if it all. He's been damaged in battle before, but never like this. Why is it so much worse than a stray sword wound?

Is it because Hijikata is the one hurting him? Like a wolf, starving for anything, ready to maul and strip flesh from bone.

Fuck. Wolves. Miburou. It's almost poetic.

Some time passes, probably mere seconds, and Kanesada regains enough of his sense to reach up and grasp at Hijikata's head, trying to pull him away.]

Stop...! Get...off...!

[ blood floods into his mouth and toshi gulps it down without thought, without breath, without hesitation. pure instinct drives him, an ancient, animal demand. more than animal, it's primordial, an ancient and unspoken darkness they distilled into a curse. it's only when the haze begins to clear, when toshi begins to remember himself that he registers the heavy, acrid taste of raw metal on his tongue. it's far more bitter than the normal coppery aftertaste he's grown used to, the prevailing flavor rather than a simple facet.

distantly, he hears izumi's protests, feels the hands twisting through his hair.

breathing heavily he pulls back, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. he strips out of his shirt wordlessly, tearing a sleeve off with his teeth to wad into a compress that he presses down over the fresh wound in the center of izumi's shoulder. ]

...I told you to get out, [ he growls low, not meeting izumi's gaze quite yet. ]

Fuck, Izumi.

[Somehow, despite the searing pain, he can feel Hijikata practically sucking on the wound. Why is he drinking his blood? Why does he have white hair? Why is literally any of this happening? What the fuck? What the fuck?!

Kanesada isn't sure how long this lasts, but there's a relief when Hijikata finally releases him. His right hand immediately moves to press against the bite, hissing against the pain. Blood still seeps between his fingers despite the amount he's lost, but all he can do now is watch Hijikata, trying to make sense of this. Even when the other man divests himself of his shirt to help fix things, he just watches, obediently moving his bloodied hand out of the way.

It takes him a few moments to muster up any words and when he does, his voice is quiet, almost hesitant.]

You...you were in pain.

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