[ It does. It's the sound of a middle-aged man with a REALLY fucking weird silhouette, but that's YOUR middle-aged man's weird silhouette.
Except.
A silhouette is all it is. It's a half-transparent shadow of a man, raising his arms as he dashes into the room with palpable excitement, though it feels distant.
'Guess what? Your old man just booked his first gig on live television! Though, I'm still gonna perform at the Isetan rooftop. It was your favourite place to play growing up, after all.' ]
[ oh that sure is his middle-aged man with a weird silhouette. it's...listen even if it's a silhouette, it's the voice and the mannerisms and being at home and being on a ship for three weeks and being around murder and not hearing this for six years that kind of gets him, actually.
god...he doesn't even want to think about the part where he still goes to that rooftop now. or that he just went there with mizuki a few weeks ago in the simulation room because sometimes he retreats to what's familiar. he also doesn't want to think about the part where maybe if...what if...
if things were different...
but they're not, right? so he sort of just smiles faintly. ]
That's great, Dad. [ he can play along. he can just...talk to this shadow of a man who's never coming back. ] I knew you could do it.
[ 'I promise, your old man's going to be the face of comedy before you know it, as long as you have faith in me! Hey, that's the name of that new show they started, isn't it? FACE to FAITH?'
The silhouette laughs in overexaggerated motions. It's entirely unnatural, frankly. Its edges too sharp, its movements seeming to overcompensate.
[ it's a little creepy, yeah. he still has enough awareness to remember this is very much not correct, and watching the silhouette move in ways that aren't how a person should move keeps hm focused.
it's at least enough to make sure he can bat away other thoughts. 'it was a day i didn't think about wanting to die.' 'it was a day i think that could've been worse?' 'it was a day.'
but this isn't real. he's going to keep talking, but he's letting his gaze drift around the house. he vaguely wonders if roboji's actually in the closet here, too. ]
Fine, I guess. [ ...and then, a test. ] Amame and I spent some time together. And I started working on a new project.
[ 'Wow, that's amazing! I always knew you were a genius, Shoma. But don't get too holed up in your projects, okay? Even when I get big and famous, I'm always going to make time for you too.'
'You're my son, and I love you. No. Matter. What.'
The strange silhouette laughs. HA-HA. It makes robotic movements to hang up a pink coat up on the wall. It looks wrinkled, and half of it is red. It turns around, putting its hands on its hips, and the silhouette seems a little clearer --
A robotic face with a drawn-on face, like sharpie on paper. It's a smile, today! ]
[ he doesn't reply immediately, sort of sinking down into the kotatsu and watching the man's (robot's?) movements. you know i really hate that he had a conversation about if ais have a soul because now he is revisiting this line of thought as robo-ji putters around.
at least the robot's whole. that's an improvement. is it wearing a bow tie though or is that missing? ]
Yeah, I know. [ there's a pause. ] ...you and Amame always have, no matter what. I...
[ if only i had noticed back then...maybe none of this would have happened. ]
I love you, too. [ maybe it's what he should have said back then. this isn't real, but it's the only chance, maybe, that he will actually get to say that.
but it still doesn't change anything. and this is still extremely unsettling, actually. he looks around the house, kind of wondering now if this is more of a trap, but he pauses to try and think this through. ]
Hey, Dad. Wanna watch some TV together? [ if this world isn't real...he can simply try to change things and see what happens, right? so yeah. he's seeing if robo-ji is capable of going off -script and also trying to turn on the tv to see if he can get a sense of anything. ]
The strange simulacrum of Andes Komeji comes over. At this angle, Shoma can see that all four sides of his prism head have a different expression -- happy, sad, angry, and blank. Currently, we're on happy.
They can turn on the TV, and it's a comedy show -- it's his first live show, the one that flopped quite badly.
'Ahh. Your old man sure slipped that one up. But it's okay! If you slip, the answer is to eat another banana. Then, the next time you slip, it'll look like you did it on purpose. Right? RIGHT?' ]
he's not, like, thrilled that his dad can one-up the mayor from nightmare before christmas now, but that's the best he can get in a false world. currently we are on happy, and shoma can pretend to be happy, too.
he watches the tv for a moment, and even now that it's been some time he feels a faint ping of humiliation watching the way this plays out. the laugh that comes from him at the joke is weak, genuine but baffled all the same.
why. why did things happen the way they did? ]
Right. [ they can sit in silence while shoma thinks, looking around from his place under the kotatsu. the house is pretty drafty, so it's cozy here. looking at komeji, can he see anything else that's drastically wrong or that could pinpoint to something he should be doing? he's going to look around the walls of the house, too. the pictures, that stupid poem, the little family altar. all still there and unchanged? he'll even go as far as to let his gaze drift out the window. ]
[ The weather is sunny, but it's very much in the evening. It's chilly outside, a nice early-mid February day.
The furnishings look the same. The weird thing that sits on top of the chest in the corner is staring down at him. The poetry on the wall reads 'I HATE YOU'. The family altar is untouched.
There's silence. Weird mecha-Komeji's head turns, the happy exchanging itself for blank.
'You know, you didn't have to stay with me. I'm sure mom would be happy to have you and Amame with her.' ]
[ ...he kind of gets the sense that if he checks a calendar, it'd be a very specific day in february so actually fuck that.
he does do a double-take at the poetry on the wall and quickly looks away, shutting his eyes for a second to reorganize his thoughts. okay. okay. so this...thing is aware. and the happy face disappears, turning into something neutral and shoma returns it with a neutral look of his own.
he isn't sure how to say he hasn't actually spoken to his mom since the divorce. not really. he isn't sure how to say that he's been living alone in this house since he was 12 and nothing changed while everything changed simultaneously.
"...Sometimes, I still wonder what could've happened if I'd stayed with you and Dad instead."
he's thought about it a few times, if he had chosen to go with his mom. at the time when they'd made amame make the choice, he was too young to really decide and it just made sense for an even split. ]
Yeah I did. [ softly. ] I wanted to. It wouldn't have been the same to live with Mom instead. [ and then, in a slightly more dry tone: ] Besides, who else would you practice your jokes on?
Its laugh is flat, like a TTS that can't actually emulate any real humour, missing that warmth of laughter.
'But I know, it was really rough for you. Shoma. I know, living with me must have been difficult. In this old house. With these drafty walls. With these small rooms. Shoma. We barely even have a yard for you to build in.'
anyway yes. this is in fact a point of contention. this has always been a point of contention living in this old house with these small rooms and no space and no change and no money and no way of staying ahead.
"I already hated you for being unfunny, pathetic, and unpopular...and now you're a criminal too?"
"But...it was all for you."
"Stop making excuses!"
...maybe that's true. maybe he could have had a better life and a better upbringing if things were different. but they weren't. this was how things went. and there's a familiar feeling sort of compounding in his chest that he recognizes as the guilt he always feels when he lets himself think about this too long. would any of this had happened if he got into a less expensive hobby? was there anything he could have done back then to help bring in more money? if he required less and if his dad didn't think he was lacking, is it possible he wouldn't have been pushed to do whatever it took?
he knows his dad made some really, really stupid decisions. just like amame made really stupid decisions. choices. they both made choices and the more he thinks about it the more he finds himself thinking their choices really ruined his life. but...their lives were already ruined because of other things. they're still his family.
it took him a long time to even dream to think about the subject again, but now that he's older it's easier to see that komeji was doing the best he could to raise shoma on his own. and he just...
"I'm sick of it! You should just die already!" ]
I don't care about that. [ if he really did care he probably would have left. but he's stayed here for so many years after his father died. he looks away so he doesn't have to actually face komeji while he's talking. ] I'm...you did what you could. And I'm sorry I didn't make it any easier.
[ 'But you did. You cared. So did every kid in school.'
The simulacrum has lost all its humour by now, only looking at Shoma with its sad robo-face, its expression childish like it was drawn by a child. Maybe it was.
'And that made you angry. It made you angry in a way I couldn't see, because I was too caught up in my dreams.'
'Isn't that right? Ah-h-h-h, I wasn't a good father. Oh, I tried my best, but I chose money in the end.'
In the end, that was the choice that led to the reality you live. Sure, it wasn't out of personal greed, but still. ]
[ he can't deny that. his shoulders are bunched up and he's ducking his head, curling in on himself just a little as he tries to think of a defense. if there even is one. he'd lost a lot of his friends back then because of his father's dumb choices to try and become a comedian and make a huge fool of himself. kids were cruel and shoma didn't exactly have the best coping mechanisms.
that part he could have maybe, someday, gotten over and grown out of.
the rest though...he remembers the anger far too well to dismiss this. he remembers the anger and frustration and the way komeji was rarely home and the way he got too far in over his head that he dragged amame in, too, and shoma was oblivious. he remembers that komeji did, in fact, choose money under the misguided idea that he could use it to take care of shoma but without realizing the lasting impact the loneliness and bitterness would leave. ]
...I wish you had tried to listen to me. [ is what he admits, because he was an angry child who lashed out in the only way he could and continued lashing out while his feelings were hurt and ignored. ] Why did you have to make such a stupid choice, Dad?
[ "why did you think you could outrun the problem", thinks shoma, an expert at outrunning his problems. ]
The laughtrack playing on the television at his expense sounds flat by now. There's no humour in anything. The laughter is dull and lifeless. The robotic Komeji's tone also becomes flatter and flatter, its delivery unwell.
[ oh good. this is now starting to actually get unnerving because the entirety of andes komeji's personality was always loud and obnoxious and bright, a man who didn't care what people thought of him as long as he could make them smile somehow, and yet a man who got in way too far over his head.
the question's asked, and he simply stares at him. ]
...I didn't mean it. [ or maybe he did at the time? no okay that's crazy, obviously he didn't want his father to actually die a few hours after he'd said it, but...his emotions are equally loud and obnoxious and bright and not always in the best way. ] Of course I remember them.
[ of course it does. it's been six years and he's still very much not over it and coping poorly. ]
I didn't mean it. [ repeating himself doesn't help, but yeah. it does, sometimes. often, actually, because he knows now that after they argued, his father went to studio dvaita and things went south.
but it wasn't all because of him. his father had made those choices on his own. but he hadn't helped, had he? ]
[ It's quiet again. The chill is settling in, something cold and once again -- lonely, so very lonely. Even the kotatsu barely helps -- it's a physical warmth, but it feels more like something that's lodged itself deeper in, in your heart, bleeding forever.
'You didn't mean it, but it doesn't change a thing.'
'What is cast cannot be undone. Right?'
With the frost, the world loses more and more of its colour.
it's a familiar feeling, but it's also an awful, lonely one. the warmth of the home drains away slowly leaving it almost a shell of itself. even if this isn't really his father, he can't look at him. he also can't really answer the question, hands balling into fists and gripping the bloody fabric of his jeans. ]
I... [ how do you say "alone"? how do you say "poorly"? how do you say any of the things that have led to an existence alone where not only is everyone different than you the people you love are gone? ] ...Dad, what am I supposed to do?
[ he feels incredibly stupid for asking when he knows this isn't real, just like he feels incredibly stupid trying not to straight up start crying, but nobody else is here so maybe it's just a reflection of the thoughts he's been avoiding for too long. ]
[ this is right. he has always found it easier to talk to and work with machines than people, especially lately. machines are less likely to hurt him and judge him. he still doesn't look up, turning the question over in his head. ]
I don't know. [ honestly. ] Everyone...I don't want to be left behind anymore. But I don't know how to fix this.
The option is always there, technically. It was your dad's own foolishness that led him down the path he went -- it was your sister's own impulse that led her to the den of the lion.
Have you ever considered you're too busy thinking of the life you have lived, rather than the life you could be living?
[ because it's what he knows. he can't fix the past, and the future is in shambles and unpredictable. at least if nothing changes he knows what to expect. not that that's an excuse.
"I heard you haven't been going to school. Do you mind telling me why?"
"I do mind, but I'll tell you. Isn't it obvious? I'm all alone."
he has to keep going at least for amame's sake. he has to be by her side and support her until someone else can come along and do so. but what about after that? and what about now in the time she's gone? is college even an option? does he even have a future when he, himself, can never physically change? mentally he's changed a lot, but there's always that disconnect.
why stay in the cold... ]
Because I'm tired. [ which isn't much of an answer but it does encompass a few things. he's tired of living sometimes. he's tired of fighting and dealing with the way the world views him more often than not. he's tired of not being able to defend himself properly. he's tired of thinking how he's going to outlive everyone and be alone in the end no matter what. he's tired of...everything. it's a deep-seated depression he's well aware exists, so how do you even...
the door to the cage has been open, but he's too scared to leave. ]
[ The admission is difficult, isn't it? Frost laces your breath as you say it out loud -- it doesn't matter that your answer, verbally, doesn't say much. After all, this is your confessional created by the Bough. The only answer that matters is the one that means something to yourself.
It's quiet, but it still feels like it cracks the ice somehow.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Except.
A silhouette is all it is. It's a half-transparent shadow of a man, raising his arms as he dashes into the room with palpable excitement, though it feels distant.
'Guess what? Your old man just booked his first gig on live television! Though, I'm still gonna perform at the Isetan rooftop. It was your favourite place to play growing up, after all.' ]
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god...he doesn't even want to think about the part where he still goes to that rooftop now. or that he just went there with mizuki a few weeks ago in the simulation room because sometimes he retreats to what's familiar. he also doesn't want to think about the part where maybe if...what if...
if things were different...
but they're not, right? so he sort of just smiles faintly. ]
That's great, Dad. [ he can play along. he can just...talk to this shadow of a man who's never coming back. ] I knew you could do it.
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The silhouette laughs in overexaggerated motions. It's entirely unnatural, frankly. Its edges too sharp, its movements seeming to overcompensate.
'How about you? How was your day, Shoma?' ]
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it's at least enough to make sure he can bat away other thoughts. 'it was a day i didn't think about wanting to die.' 'it was a day i think that could've been worse?' 'it was a day.'
but this isn't real. he's going to keep talking, but he's letting his gaze drift around the house. he vaguely wonders if roboji's actually in the closet here, too. ]
Fine, I guess. [ ...and then, a test. ] Amame and I spent some time together. And I started working on a new project.
[ he just straight-up holds out his robot arm. ]
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'You're my son, and I love you. No. Matter. What.'
The strange silhouette laughs. HA-HA. It makes robotic movements to hang up a pink coat up on the wall. It looks wrinkled, and half of it is red. It turns around, putting its hands on its hips, and the silhouette seems a little clearer --
A robotic face with a drawn-on face, like sharpie on paper. It's a smile, today! ]
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at least the robot's whole. that's an improvement. is it wearing a bow tie though or is that missing? ]
Yeah, I know. [ there's a pause. ] ...you and Amame always have, no matter what. I...
[ if only i had noticed back then...maybe none of this would have happened. ]
I love you, too. [ maybe it's what he should have said back then. this isn't real, but it's the only chance, maybe, that he will actually get to say that.
but it still doesn't change anything. and this is still extremely unsettling, actually. he looks around the house, kind of wondering now if this is more of a trap, but he pauses to try and think this through. ]
Hey, Dad. Wanna watch some TV together? [ if this world isn't real...he can simply try to change things and see what happens, right? so yeah. he's seeing if robo-ji is capable of going off -script and also trying to turn on the tv to see if he can get a sense of anything. ]
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'Sure thing, sure thing.'
The strange simulacrum of Andes Komeji comes over. At this angle, Shoma can see that all four sides of his prism head have a different expression -- happy, sad, angry, and blank. Currently, we're on happy.
They can turn on the TV, and it's a comedy show -- it's his first live show, the one that flopped quite badly.
'Ahh. Your old man sure slipped that one up. But it's okay! If you slip, the answer is to eat another banana. Then, the next time you slip, it'll look like you did it on purpose. Right? RIGHT?' ]
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he's not, like, thrilled that his dad can one-up the mayor from nightmare before christmas now, but that's the best he can get in a false world. currently we are on happy, and shoma can pretend to be happy, too.
he watches the tv for a moment, and even now that it's been some time he feels a faint ping of humiliation watching the way this plays out. the laugh that comes from him at the joke is weak, genuine but baffled all the same.
why. why did things happen the way they did? ]
Right. [ they can sit in silence while shoma thinks, looking around from his place under the kotatsu. the house is pretty drafty, so it's cozy here. looking at komeji, can he see anything else that's drastically wrong or that could pinpoint to something he should be doing? he's going to look around the walls of the house, too. the pictures, that stupid poem, the little family altar. all still there and unchanged? he'll even go as far as to let his gaze drift out the window. ]
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The furnishings look the same. The weird thing that sits on top of the chest in the corner is staring down at him. The poetry on the wall reads 'I HATE YOU'. The family altar is untouched.
There's silence. Weird mecha-Komeji's head turns, the happy exchanging itself for blank.
'You know, you didn't have to stay with me. I'm sure mom would be happy to have you and Amame with her.' ]
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he does do a double-take at the poetry on the wall and quickly looks away, shutting his eyes for a second to reorganize his thoughts. okay. okay. so this...thing is aware. and the happy face disappears, turning into something neutral and shoma returns it with a neutral look of his own.
he isn't sure how to say he hasn't actually spoken to his mom since the divorce. not really. he isn't sure how to say that he's been living alone in this house since he was 12 and nothing changed while everything changed simultaneously.
"...Sometimes, I still wonder what could've happened if I'd stayed with you and Dad instead."
he's thought about it a few times, if he had chosen to go with his mom. at the time when they'd made amame make the choice, he was too young to really decide and it just made sense for an even split. ]
Yeah I did. [ softly. ] I wanted to. It wouldn't have been the same to live with Mom instead. [ and then, in a slightly more dry tone: ] Besides, who else would you practice your jokes on?
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Its laugh is flat, like a TTS that can't actually emulate any real humour, missing that warmth of laughter.
'But I know, it was really rough for you. Shoma. I know, living with me must have been difficult. In this old house. With these drafty walls. With these small rooms. Shoma. We barely even have a yard for you to build in.'
The head changes to Sad.
'You could've had a better parent than me.' ]
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anyway yes. this is in fact a point of contention. this has always been a point of contention living in this old house with these small rooms and no space and no change and no money and no way of staying ahead.
"I already hated you for being unfunny, pathetic, and unpopular...and now you're a criminal too?"
"But...it was all for you."
"Stop making excuses!"
...maybe that's true. maybe he could have had a better life and a better upbringing if things were different. but they weren't. this was how things went. and there's a familiar feeling sort of compounding in his chest that he recognizes as the guilt he always feels when he lets himself think about this too long. would any of this had happened if he got into a less expensive hobby? was there anything he could have done back then to help bring in more money? if he required less and if his dad didn't think he was lacking, is it possible he wouldn't have been pushed to do whatever it took?
he knows his dad made some really, really stupid decisions. just like amame made really stupid decisions. choices. they both made choices and the more he thinks about it the more he finds himself thinking their choices really ruined his life. but...their lives were already ruined because of other things. they're still his family.
it took him a long time to even dream to think about the subject again, but now that he's older it's easier to see that komeji was doing the best he could to raise shoma on his own. and he just...
"I'm sick of it! You should just die already!" ]
I don't care about that. [ if he really did care he probably would have left. but he's stayed here for so many years after his father died. he looks away so he doesn't have to actually face komeji while he's talking. ] I'm...you did what you could. And I'm sorry I didn't make it any easier.
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The simulacrum has lost all its humour by now, only looking at Shoma with its sad robo-face, its expression childish like it was drawn by a child. Maybe it was.
'And that made you angry. It made you angry in a way I couldn't see, because I was too caught up in my dreams.'
'Isn't that right? Ah-h-h-h, I wasn't a good father. Oh, I tried my best, but I chose money in the end.'
In the end, that was the choice that led to the reality you live. Sure, it wasn't out of personal greed, but still. ]
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that part he could have maybe, someday, gotten over and grown out of.
the rest though...he remembers the anger far too well to dismiss this. he remembers the anger and frustration and the way komeji was rarely home and the way he got too far in over his head that he dragged amame in, too, and shoma was oblivious. he remembers that komeji did, in fact, choose money under the misguided idea that he could use it to take care of shoma but without realizing the lasting impact the loneliness and bitterness would leave. ]
...I wish you had tried to listen to me. [ is what he admits, because he was an angry child who lashed out in the only way he could and continued lashing out while his feelings were hurt and ignored. ] Why did you have to make such a stupid choice, Dad?
[ "why did you think you could outrun the problem", thinks shoma, an expert at outrunning his problems. ]
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The laughtrack playing on the television at his expense sounds flat by now. There's no humour in anything. The laughter is dull and lifeless. The robotic Komeji's tone also becomes flatter and flatter, its delivery unwell.
'That was all a while ago now. Wasn't it?'
'The last words you said to me.'
'Do you still remember them?' ]
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the question's asked, and he simply stares at him. ]
...I didn't mean it. [ or maybe he did at the time? no okay that's crazy, obviously he didn't want his father to actually die a few hours after he'd said it, but...his emotions are equally loud and obnoxious and bright and not always in the best way. ] Of course I remember them.
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'It isn't as if you sent me there. It isn't as if you put me in that body bag.'
'But sometimes, it feels like you did, didn't it?' ]
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I didn't mean it. [ repeating himself doesn't help, but yeah. it does, sometimes. often, actually, because he knows now that after they argued, his father went to studio dvaita and things went south.
but it wasn't all because of him. his father had made those choices on his own. but he hadn't helped, had he? ]
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'You didn't mean it, but it doesn't change a thing.'
'What is cast cannot be undone. Right?'
With the frost, the world loses more and more of its colour.
'Since I've been gone...'
'How have you been living your life, Shoma?' ]
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it's a familiar feeling, but it's also an awful, lonely one. the warmth of the home drains away slowly leaving it almost a shell of itself. even if this isn't really his father, he can't look at him. he also can't really answer the question, hands balling into fists and gripping the bloody fabric of his jeans. ]
I... [ how do you say "alone"? how do you say "poorly"? how do you say any of the things that have led to an existence alone where not only is everyone different than you the people you love are gone? ] ...Dad, what am I supposed to do?
[ he feels incredibly stupid for asking when he knows this isn't real, just like he feels incredibly stupid trying not to straight up start crying, but nobody else is here so maybe it's just a reflection of the thoughts he's been avoiding for too long. ]
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Komeji seems to consider this for a moment, its head turning slowly to Blank again. He rephrases the question.
'How do you want to live your life?' ]
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I don't know. [ honestly. ] Everyone...I don't want to be left behind anymore. But I don't know how to fix this.
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The option is always there, technically. It was your dad's own foolishness that led him down the path he went -- it was your sister's own impulse that led her to the den of the lion.
Have you ever considered you're too busy thinking of the life you have lived, rather than the life you could be living?
'Why stay in the cold, Shoma?' ]
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"I heard you haven't been going to school. Do you mind telling me why?"
"I do mind, but I'll tell you. Isn't it obvious? I'm all alone."
he has to keep going at least for amame's sake. he has to be by her side and support her until someone else can come along and do so. but what about after that? and what about now in the time she's gone? is college even an option? does he even have a future when he, himself, can never physically change? mentally he's changed a lot, but there's always that disconnect.
why stay in the cold... ]
Because I'm tired. [ which isn't much of an answer but it does encompass a few things. he's tired of living sometimes. he's tired of fighting and dealing with the way the world views him more often than not. he's tired of not being able to defend himself properly. he's tired of thinking how he's going to outlive everyone and be alone in the end no matter what. he's tired of...everything. it's a deep-seated depression he's well aware exists, so how do you even...
the door to the cage has been open, but he's too scared to leave. ]
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It's quiet, but it still feels like it cracks the ice somehow.
'The warmth is waiting for you, out there.'
'Will you ever take it?' ]
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