[Why are there so many bubbles and why do they go so fast. He touches this one, a soft shimmer of blue allowing them to leave it.
For Kumon, the memory he shares is something heavy. Something he's carried with him. Maybe not this specific instance, but there's a feeling that this has happened before. He thinks too much, feels too deeply and works himself into a worried frenzy.
Kumon is laid out in bed, fever ravaging through his body, with his big brother, Juza, taking care of him.
Of all the people who deserve to be on the stage, it certainly shouldn't be you. All you've ever been able to do is let people down. You don't want to let them down, but your body keeps letting you down and there's nothing you can do personally to fight back against it.
He...failed, again. Again and again and again. He never manages to live up to what he wants, for himself or for the people around him. Juza was right when you first asked to get on stage, wasn't he? Kumon never should've been on stage. It's nothing but another group of people he's let down.
But Juza speaks, gentle, a soft smile on his features as he encourages you. There's no such thing as a right to be on stage, that you'll get through it this time.
This may not be as hectic or bloody or outright hellish as some memories, but there are a lot of things about this that strike a familiar chord with him. It reminds him a lot of someone, of someone he once held dear, a person always worrying that they would fall just shy of the expectations they believed others had set for them.
Kumon, as he remembers, is a person who's pretty in touch with his emotions. So he takes the chance to express himself as he does best, which isn't in word, but in gesture. He reaches out to pull him into a hug.]
[Words are so damn hard, god. But at least like this, he can feel like he's helping in some way. Eventually, he'll pull back and reach up to ruffle Kumon's hair instead.]
You're a pretty hard-working guy, huh? And that brother of yours isn't half-bad, either.
Best friends? [The concept isn't unknown to him, but still kind of foreign. He'll turn the word over in his head before nodding.] ...People you're real close to and can rely on no matter what, yeah?
Totally! I think you'd like it a lot, actually. There's like, fifty of us, so there's always stuff to do and guys around to talk to or play games with or whatever.
[Swords would probably also adore Kumon since he is very much like a big ol' friendly dog.]
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[Why are there so many bubbles and why do they go so fast. He touches this one, a soft shimmer of blue allowing them to leave it.
For Kumon, the memory he shares is something heavy. Something he's carried with him. Maybe not this specific instance, but there's a feeling that this has happened before. He thinks too much, feels too deeply and works himself into a worried frenzy.
Kumon is laid out in bed, fever ravaging through his body, with his big brother, Juza, taking care of him.
A memory begins to play (until 2:24).
Of all the people who deserve to be on the stage, it certainly shouldn't be you. All you've ever been able to do is let people down. You don't want to let them down, but your body keeps letting you down and there's nothing you can do personally to fight back against it.
He...failed, again. Again and again and again. He never manages to live up to what he wants, for himself or for the people around him. Juza was right when you first asked to get on stage, wasn't he? Kumon never should've been on stage. It's nothing but another group of people he's let down.
But Juza speaks, gentle, a soft smile on his features as he encourages you. There's no such thing as a right to be on stage, that you'll get through it this time.
You can only hope he's right.] ]
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This may not be as hectic or bloody or outright hellish as some memories, but there are a lot of things about this that strike a familiar chord with him. It reminds him a lot of someone, of someone he once held dear, a person always worrying that they would fall just shy of the expectations they believed others had set for them.
Kumon, as he remembers, is a person who's pretty in touch with his emotions. So he takes the chance to express himself as he does best, which isn't in word, but in gesture. He reaches out to pull him into a hug.]
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He lets himself get pulled into the hug, and hugs back, pressing his face against Kashuu's shoulder.
Words are difficult, but actions like this are always comforting.]
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You're a pretty hard-working guy, huh? And that brother of yours isn't half-bad, either.
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We all work really hard to do what we want to.
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Pretty determined group, huh?
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They're your comrades, huh?
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They're my best friends.
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People like that have that kinda effect. S'nice, right? Knowing you aren't alone.
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[Even if Kazu is currently the least himself he has ever been.]
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Sounds kinda like what I'm used to. I'm glad you know what it's like.
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Your teams at home? With the other swords?
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Mm, yeah. Except we're all just one big unit most of the time, y'know? We do missions in six-sword squads, but we're all part of the same army.
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[Swords would probably also adore Kumon since he is very much like a big ol' friendly dog.]
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[ He's just a puppy. ]
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We'll make sure it happens, then! You can count on me.
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[Kashuu is reliable and cool, after all.]
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Heh, you're a real sweet guy.