piratejournal | ☄ written (and/or action, if you so desire)

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☄ written (and/or action, if you so desire)

[It has taken nearly a week, but Yoshitsugu's hopes that all of this is nothing but an unwelcome dream have dwindled. He's kept mostly to himself, making the hostel his temporary home and leaving only a handful of times, unsure of what to do, but disorientation has given way to anger now (and a sense of personal loss, though he knows not why). Everything he worked for--his dream--had come to fruition, only for it to be taken from him in the blink of an eye. He is through with being idle.

There is proof enough that the journal is more than just that, so in script that is as beautiful in spite of a trembling hand, he writes:]

I've no doubt this has been asked before, but is there any reason to believe this mysterious gem that supposedly grants wishes actually exists? If it is indeed real, I find it quite difficult to believe it comes without a price. To be told that it's possible to accomplish whatever you like simply by making a wish would arouse suspicion in even the greatest of fools, one would think. Surely there's more to it if people are actually looking for it.

[It's not like him to express anything that resembles his actual thoughts, but until he gets his footing here, he'll have to from time to time. Not that he intends to be here long enough to become established to any degree, but he gets the impression that may be out of his hands.]

I'd also like to know if I'm wrong to assume that there's little hope of returning home through any other means. I have some important business I must get back to. I'd rather not dally unnecessarily.

[ooc: yoshitsugu can be found wandering around town for a while trying to put things together if you'd rather do action! an especially observant person might get the impression that there are some intense, possibly conflicted emotions lurking beneath the surface at the moment. otherwise, he'll come off relatively calm and put together.]

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[Maybe it's coincidence that Mitsunari decides today is a good day to check his journal. Maybe something more calculated is involved, something like fate. The end result is the same, one way or another.

Mitsunari instantly recognizes the handwriting that greets him within the journal's most recent entry, for it is all too familiar to ignore. He's seen it so many times it's been burned into his brain. There is no question, none at all --

This can't be.

He tears his focus away from the script and reads the meat of the words themselves, and then reads them again and he can hear it narrated in his head by a voice that will never leave him. The voice that guided his campaign of revenge, and the voice whose advice he heeded and trusted and believed in. And it belonged to a man who would never go behind his back. Never. He would never, could never. Even if Ieyasu betrayed him, (Ieyasu, he trusted him too -- maybe he will never learn) even if the world betrayed him, every single person in it, Gyoubu was always there, and then --

This can't be.

And yet it has to be.

A lot of things go through Mitsunari's mind. Disgust. Dismay. The sense of betrayal that never stops hurting no matter how many times it happens. Every single time it's just more salt carefully siphoned into a wound that will never heal so long as there are liars and traitors who call themselves friends.

He feels the little useless flicker of hope that maybe this isn't the same man, or better yet, this is the exact same man he always thought him to be. It's a big place, the universe. There are worlds beyond, worlds like theirs, where all is the same and yet different enough to change everything.

He's so wrapped up in all that he's learned since arriving here that he doesn't realize Gyoubu probably has no idea what Mitsunari is thinking. Even Gyoubu can't read minds. He surely doesn't know the bitterness and disappointment and turmoil that has festered inside of Mitsunari's chest for months on end.

Yet, what does he say? He's at a loss. His mind can't process this right now. His chest and his heart, on the other hand, are overloading. With so many emotions boiling inside and vying to be heard, which is the right one to act on? Not that Mitsunari is thinking as much. This is not a matter of conscious decision making.

There is one decision he can make for himself, and it is that he cannot turn away and pretend he has seen nothing, because that is not the kind of man he is. He doesn't want to play games and hide behind the written word. It feels too impersonal a way to address this man that means... that meant so much to him.

He cannot allow for a barrier to be placed between himself and Gyoubu. Text is insufficient. No, Gyoubu will hear his voice. And he needs to hear Gyoubu's.]

...

Gyoubu.

[He lets the name linger for a moment.

Please, may this be the Gyoubu he wants him to be, deep in his heart of hearts. If fate can smile upon him just once, please let it do so now.]

...I will give you... exactly one chance.

[His voice is disconcertingly flat. It's softer, quieter than normal, too. And there is no tenderness there.]

Else, I... with my own two hands... shall cut you down.

[The instant he hears that voice (that voice he'd recognize after even a thousand lifetimes), Yoshitsugu feels something within himself melt away. A calm he cannot explain falls upon him. Maybe even something akin to hope. But then Mitsunari continues, and for a moment, he can't breathe.

Every word that has ever left this man's mouth has been genuine, and up to this point, his trust in Yoshitsugu has been unfailing, absolute. What could have possibly happened to bring this about, he cannot imagine. He's been so careful; Mitsunari has never seen that side of him.

Yoshitsugu has never had this sort of reaction to a handful words before. He nearly feels ill.

It takes entirely too long for him to come back to himself, and when he does, his chest is still so tight. His voice, usually so even, is unsteady--nearly trembling. Even at his most oblivious, there's no way Mitsunari would be able to miss it.]

Mitsunari...?

[His breath catches again, and he falls silent for a second or two. When he continues, he's regained the slightest bit of control over his voice, but it's not nearly enough. Composure could not be further from his grasp.]

I don't understand.

[Gyoubu doesn't sound like himself.

Mitsunari can safely say that in all the time he's known Gyoubu, he has never sounded as he does now. It bothers Mitsunari on a very deep level to hear Gyoubu's voice so unsteady, because some part of Mitsunari has long since decided anything that would cause Gyoubu's voice to waver is not supposed to be happening in the first place. It's the same part of him that wants to hear Gyoubu out.

At least this has to be a genuine reaction. He can't be acting. Right? Then again, Mitsunari thought Gyoubu was being perfectly honest during each and every other interaction they'd ever had, too. How often was Gyoubu speaking the truth, and how often was he deceiving him? Every exchange of words between them has been cast into suspicion.

Mitsunari doesn't provide Gyoubu with any explanations just yet. There's something else he's decided is more important to address.]

...You must swear to me... you will answer honestly to everything I ask you, without exception.

[It sickens him that he even needs to say this.]

[His stomach drops. This shouldn't be happening. Yoshitsugu has always been so careful with him. Mitsunari has seen how he's manipulated people into joining them, but that is part and parcel of his duties. Whether he approves or not, Mitsunari has said as much. Any number of his schemes would breed this sort of disgust, but to threaten (promise) to end his life when Yoshitsugu is all he has left--

Mitsunari must believe him a traitor. To who? Him? Hideyoshi? Yoshitsugu's motives have always been his own, but he's never done anything that could be labeled betrayal. Not to Mitsunari or the Toyotomi. Not without being able to read his thoughts.

And then he's hit with a sickening realization. There's one thing he's done--one thing big enough--to elicit this sort of reaction.

There's no way he could have found out. Mouri would never offer up that information, and the idea of Mitsunari believing anything Kanbei might say is laughable. It's simply not possible. There must be something else he's forgotten. (Or someone else who knew. He doesn't want to consider that possibility.)

He's going to have to lie through this no matter what, he knows that, but there's nothing disingenuous in the words he speaks next, even if his confused tone is fake. He just hopes he's wrong.]

What's this about?

[If it were anyone else, anyone at all, this might be easier. He thought this would be easier, he was sure it would, because for the last year or so, the Gyoubu he thinks of is a traitor.

A man who betrayed not only him (who sullied his hands with an unforgivable sin) but a mutual ally. His -- friend.

Mitsunari has begun to understand that his own losses are not unique. Now, out of all the billions of people, most could never dream of understanding his pain, because what do they know of loss? They didn't lose Hideyoshi. And he still believes as much. He's placed Hideyoshi on a pedestal too high for any other human being to match.

But there is at least one person out there who has lost many someones who mattered to him a great deal indeed. Those dead men were not Hideyoshi, and could never attain his level of splendor, but that certain someone cared about those men just as much as Mitsunari cared about Hideyoshi. And had Mitsunari -- that world's Mitsunari, but maybe they're the same -- been more vigilant, his friend would not have suffered the pain of betrayal.

Yet Gyoubu the traitor, one of the two who orchestrated this shameful, disgusting crime -- he's Mitsunari's friend too. (He was, he is, he's -- curse this ambiguity. Curse everything.) This damnable hope creeps into his heart and under his skin like some kind of well-intentioned disease, and he hates it. He wants it exorcised out of his very being so he may never again suffer the disappointment intrinsically linked with it. This man here, this is a Gyoubu he may or may not know, and that may not even matter, and it might be change everything, and he doesn't know.

(Even if this Gyoubu were different, would he still need to bear the guilt of what another him did, as Mitsunari felt responsible for what happened in Motochika's life? He'd ended up figuring if Shikoku's destruction took place in both of their worlds, it probably happened the same way both times... but what if it didn't? Maybe this sense of responsibility he's felt for so long was misplaced. Maybe they'd both be absolved. Maybe not. Maybe there is no clear answer.)

In his mind, he shamefully asks for Lord Hanbei to grant him an ounce of his wisdom so that he may handle this as is right, and that Lord Hideyoshi impart to him just a fraction of his strength, which he has no right to ask for, and he knows it, and he prays he will be absolved for being weak enough to need it.

He forces his focus to remain on at the immediate situation. He knows that Gyoubu didn't swear honesty as he was clearly told to do. He knows Gyoubu would have no need to do so if he could be trusted, and would naturally be confused. Should he press for his vow of honesty, or answer his question first? ...The question, he decides.]

The destruction in Shikoku.

[He says it through his teeth.]

Going behind my back... betraying Motochika...

[That's it, then. He knows. Yoshitsugu doesn't stop to wonder how. He can't--not now. Not with the way his heart races (he can hear it pounding inside his head; it's dizzying), the instantaneous fever that consumes him, the way his guts churn.

It's over. Whether or not he slithers his way out of this, it's the end of something. Even if the words lacked meaning, the way they're spoken leaves no room for doubt. The faith Mitsunari had in him is in tatters--completely and utterly destroyed--and it's unlikely he'll ever get it back. What he's feeling (he's feeling)--he can't make sense of it. He achieved his goal; Mitsunari is no longer useful to him. Should it become necessary, Yoshitsugu should have little problem putting an end to him. This feeling--it's only the shock. Mitsunari is disposable. He always has been. (So why does the mere thought agonize him? Every outcome to this fill him with dread?)

Even so, there's no cause to voluntarily out himself. The reply he must give is simple.]

Shikoku was Tokugawa's doing.

[It's scripted, but the way he speaks doesn't change. He cannot suddenly display confidence; that would do naught but raise suspicion. How much of it is genuine though, how much of it is put on--Yoshitsugu himself is uncertain.]

Where does this come from?

[voice] AND TL;DR GOOD GOD I'M SORRY

[voice] never be sorry

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