March Adventures

[mayoninofukucho]

WHO: Hijikata and... YOU?
WHAT: Hanging out with his ghosts (and perhaps a visitor?) and questing!
WHEN: Throughout the first half-ish of March
WHERE: Forest of the Felled, Ash Mountains, Nicnevin
WARNINGS: Past fatal injury descriptions (including that burned ghost from last time) in Prompt 1, violence against the undead in Prompt 2A, violence against anthropophagi in Prompt 2B!



1) Back Home

[After the siege last month Hijikata spent about a week at Rinea's place in Camelot City to recover from the after-effects of Augusto's curse and the draining ritual Morganna asked them all to perform, but as soon as the new month arrived he convinced her that he was well enough to head home. He knew there was much repair work to be done in the city, plus the preparation of the farms north of the city and around at least one of the new townships, but he desperately needed to get away from it all for a little while - not so much because of the people, but because he was internally grappling with his first-hand experience of the illness that killed the woman he loved back home.

Now he's back at the outskirts of the Forest of the Felled, and at least on this evening his gloomy thoughts are dispersing as he spends time with his ghost subordinates (not all of them; one division is in Camelot City while the other one has a night off). Life has been returning to the forest now that it's free of vengeful ghosts and the dark season is drawing to a close, from young plants to the colourful prism tweeter birds that migrated here. Hijikata made a small campfire halfway between the hut and the bridge, his two pet compsognathuses are running around and playing after devouring a whole lot of cat food (he can't be arsed to buy them expensive meat from the butcher anymore), and the ghosts are working on their spirit magic. Tonight is an important occasion since several of them want to implement a permanent appearance change spell after much practice.

Everybody watches as they do their best, and Hijikata feels deep satisfaction and gratitude as he sees each of them succeed. Ugly flesh wounds disappear from a young man's form, the gaping cleft between an elder spectre's neck and shoulder closes up, and the young woman Hijikata only knew as a charred, blackened body that always drew a ghostly cloud of smoke behind her gets her skin and features restored. Their comrades are happy for them and congratulate them, and Hijikata pours more beer into the fire to vaporise and raises his own mayonnaise-filled Bottomless Mug.]

Well done! You've all been working hard to protect the living here on Avalon, but don't forget to look after yourselves, too.

[Leading the currently 20 ghosts has been a veritable full-time job in which he doesn't only need to give them orders but also also listen to their concerns, complaints, worries and fears, resolve any conflicts they can't resolve among themselves, encourage and try to comfort them when they're in a crisis... that's what makes a good Commander, isn't it? He can only hope that he's been doing right by them. Seeing them happy now, floating around and mingling around the small fire, chatting and laughing and practising smaller magical feats, he feels like he has.

It's a remote area, but if anyone finds their way across the Bridge of the Pure of Heart they'll be welcome to join in, even if they can't see his subordinates.]


2) Quests

A ⦿ Our Neighbour Growboro (for itsmypower)

[2 months ago Hijikata and Shoto took care of their first official quest as knight and squire, and it was a great success - apparently they both are so adept at hiding their emotions, and so fast and brash in their way of attacking, that they easily subdued the dangerous enemy before any cognitive magic attack could be levelled at them.

This time they decided to tackle the matter of the undead creatures loitering in the ruins of the southernmost mountain and scaring off the benevolent forest spirits. By now Hijikata managed to procure some gear to protect him from the daylight, so he currently looks like a mix of a motorcyclist, a ninja, a special operations soldier, and a knight (since he's still wearing his chainmail-enforced cloak on top of the double-layered full-coverage suit). He's grateful he was able to procure the outfit; coming here at night would have made the fight much harder for him and Shoto. Naturally he filled his squire in on his predicament.]

Ugh... I think I can already smell them, even with this helmet on. It's got to be zombies, maybe skeletons too. Let's put them back in the ground where they belong.

[Unless Shoto has other ideas about that - luring the undead away from this location shouldn't be too difficult.]

B ⦿ Knight Quest (for luciing)

[Last year Hijikata and Somnus tried to investigate the mysterious anthropophagi quest and whether it resulted in any such creatures actually being summoned to Avalon, but their search left them in a dead end... until now.

As soon as Hijikata learns what the latest knight quest entails he loses no time contacting Somnus. He's very relieved to find the other man back among the living after he perished during the siege - it seems that he found a competent necromancer. Part of Hijikata thinks that he really should start studying up on that discipline of death magic, but another part of him simply doesn't want to meddle in reviving the dead and puppeteering corpses around. It feels like a slippery slope, somehow.

With Somnus' agreement to come along on the quest the two of them soon find themselves on the way to the mountains. It's a two-day journey, so Hijikata provided a horse for Somnus (he brought his Black Star for himself) and brought camping gear in his huge inventory-slot-enhanced backpack. Again he's totally sun-protected behind layers of black specialty clothing, plus the helmet with a dark-tinted face shield. He disclosed his predicament to his companion, of course; this kind of outfit begs an explanation.

After the long journey they dismount at the foot of the Lotus Pod Mountain. Hijikata unfolds the map he's been given of the devastated settlement's location.]

It shouldn't be too hard to find. At least it's not inside one of the caves. Now we can only hope that those bastards haven't moved on to the next place yet. I'd say we first try to confirm that, then we can decide when and how we want to attack.

[He already let Somnus know of his other predicament, too - his weredog affliction. Last night when they slept in their tent the moon wasn't quite full enough yet, but this coming night it will be. Whether they wait until then, attack in two waves, or use the night to hunt down any escapees, his enhanced strength and speed might come in handy.]

C ⦿ Secret Knight Quest (for positive CR - please see note at the bottom!)

[It's been a long time - just over a year - since Hijikata last spoke with King Arthur one-to-one, but he's been acting as a knight in his service ever since he gained the title, loyally protecting his kingdom, enforcing his orders, and looking after his people to the best of his abilities (... okay, so he meddled with some sketchy business here and there, but only to stop it!) And now the king has entrusted him with a special task.

Usually Hijikata is happy to work with just about anyone going on the same quest as him, but this time he had to carefully choose his companion - and even this trusted person wasn't allowed to learn the truth behind this mission. Hijikata found it hard to lie, but there's just too much at stake, for everyone involved. If nothing else he'll be the only one who can be held accountable if they are caught (which, naturally, he's hoping to avoid). Nicnevin Castle lies before them in the moonlight.]

Alright. Should we go over the plan once more?


[OOC: If you'd like any additional prompts and/or would like to do the secret knight quest with Hijikata please feel free to hit me up on my plotting post (in the latter case it's because he'll tailor a different lie depending on who goes with him)! PMing me is fine too. If more than one person would like to do the secret knight quest please be aware that only one mission will have a chance of succeeding! Also here are Hijikata's permissions.]

Comments

cw: dismemberment, gore from this point on...

[itsmypower]

[A fine blade. His eyes brighten, beaming starlight back at him before he's brushed against something, bony hands gripping shoulders. And just like that, his very white, very clean sword's scything through black teeth and cartilage; far more startle-response than skill yet, detached efficiency sweeping the edge up and through. ...Ah. Still that easy. The head's dropped first. Milky eyes peering up at him. Still vacant, though he's taking steps back.

He's frozen the rot over. Splintering through like dropped crystals, dry ice protruding.]

Mom- [starting over again,] Mom liked the blue ones best. The amaryllis.

[Distractly. One zombie down. Getting used to things over again—the violence. Scents rattle him more than sights do, but he's recalling sights too, again; a young uncertainty rising up in him, the bright-eyes dimming, seeking approval, permission. Anything but the scolding that Heroes shouldn't react this way. Even if monstrous, still vaguely human—life. At one point. The very thing he'd scolded Stain for, for killing, coming too easily for him. He's eyeing the corpse again.]

...Sorry.

[To what's left of it. He has to do this... protect the still living. He won't let anything touch. The swordsman's far too precious to him.

He straightens. Considers his sword a long moment. Softened smile creasing his mouth before he's swiping its gore off. Reassuring himself.] I, uh, [stumbling over words again. His eyes lower briefly.] This is just what samurai do, right? [The rest comes thoughtfully: an almost wonder lacing into it, quietly. He's thought a lot about something; the samurai, lately.] This means I'll fight in your world, now. [A true swordsman. He'll do this many times over again; ugly things with pure intentions. A good, awful calling. His eyes flash brighter.] That's one down.

[He'll be the wakizashi.]

Let's hope they're all this weak.

[Recovering already. He's pushing ahead with far more confidence now.]

[mayoninofukucho]

[And just like that the fighting starts. Shoto dispatches the zombie in an instant, but now they're both on high alert, knowing there are probably more around very close by. Hijikata takes note of how well his squire swings his sword, even just instinctively, and of how sharp it is... he must have trained hard on his own, and spent much thought (and gold) on the weapon if he custom-commissioned it. He knows that anything that looks this effortless usually comes at a high price.

When Shoto apologises to the zombie Hijikata's eyes soften behind his helmet. They can't afford these creatures pity or mercy - hell, he can't even spare those things for fellow human beings in the conflict back home -, but he doesn't want to admonish him. It's a good sentiment, a kind sentiment, one that shouldn't be drilled out of anyone if it can be helped.]

The regular ones are pretty weak, yeah. Slow, too, and they can't feel or think anymore. Their souls are long gone.

[He knows less about the skeletons. To his best knowledge they're intelligent compared to zombies, but do they still harbour souls? He'll probably get to find out sooner rather than later.]

The samurai job really is pretty similar to the knight job. Both cut down those who threaten the land and the people--

[A group of three zombies, shambling around behind a heap of debris, comes into view as Hijikata and Shoto carefully more forward in the rubble, and he dashes at them before they can even turn their heads in their direction, slicing them to pieces with powerful slashes. It's easier, much easier, than cutting up living people, since the zombies' bodies are already rotting.]

Don't hesitate to put your whole body into it and use your full momentum!

extra cw: impalement

[itsmypower]

[No one's souls left to pity.

...But no one's told him this. Naturally, he's still surprised he isn't committing the world's worst offenses. That clouded eyes show minds emptied, much as white nothing indicates. That only dried husk's remaining.

He'd assumed they'd all felt at least, wanting to kill them off quickly. Though he's imagined a lot of things. That even monsters feared their ends at times.]

So, all this time...

[His eyes lift, finally, warm relief cooling instantly watching limbs fall to pieces—the path that darker blade's moving. As if through water, the ease with which his sword extends, Hijikata's speed and strength intwining in sharp, fluid motions. A deepening split between man and student; how hours of sparring seemed meaningless, seeing a weapon in the elder's hands. Their difference in years stretched ahead of him: to push himself harder, further, twice as far for half his speed if ever he's hoped to come near to that. His desperation's igniting... But even now he's being tutored, reminded again to use his strengths, himself, the limit's edge of his fullest abilities; to use his own body. Limbs move faster than his thoughts expand, and then eyes on new targets, sprinting ahead towards another two, he's dragging his sword up.]

I understand!

[Words are all the push he's needed. Use your momentum; don't hesitate. His sweeping arc's his full force: magic trailing along its ends, bladed crescents across the skin and squire's mirrored imitation. Cutting them down as knight demonstrates—and only still shadow miming him. This isn't his first time facing the dead, but ranged assaults as repeating Ice Walls hadn't come close to "real" fighting; an impersonal distance kept between hands then and monsters. Though a corpse doesn't feel, he's told; as if this knowing unburdens him, each slash imbedding shards, snow, residual frost in molding skin remaining behind as white crystals. Splitting the heads from cooled bodies. Letting his ice seep through all of him.

A year's allowance was too much gold to waste in doubting oneself. He doesn't mean to draw back, to hesitate, but fingers sprouting beneath the rubble, tugging at pant's leg, keep him rooted in place. He brings sword up and over them, plunging down to freeze marrow, bone, the very ground beneath as if entombing things over again. Fragile glaciers left behind instead; he doesn't need to feel pity, to think on anything more than fighting, remaining alive until the next's approached. His breaking dolls apart. That empty nothings can't haunt him; his lingering sympathies meant to free them, allowing himself to go unhindered—lethal. Though he's disposed of the easy few, he's taken his eyes off another, and withering hands are too close for his swords to cut down again. His arm's up defensive, forcing his hand through thinned body, touch consuming the rest in ice and sharp explosion of needle points.

An ice iron maiden.

No one's souls left to pain over. His casting's wildly unpredictable, rendering bodies completely useless. At the least, making sure they're never used again. Sparing them one final kindness, to not lose his own again. He's promised his friend as much.]

You can rest now.

[Murmur to no one. Shifting eyes to Hijikata, whom he's drawn to, though he doesn't say a word to him, he's instinctively keeping himself close to watch.]

[mayoninofukucho]

[Hijikata pays no mind to any difference in skill and strength - Shoto is capable; he's mowing down zombies that Hijikata might otherwise struggle to keep off his back. On every quest so far he's always been a valuable asset, a reliable comrade. Hijikata sees no need to measure the particulars of his efforts; it's the result that counts.

Shoto's fighting style is spectacular, his ice magic leaving the undead and the very soil decorated with faintly shimmering crystals as he moves in a deadly dance, impaling and cutting and burying them too fast for the eye to follow. Hijikata is briefly alarmed as he sees one zombie about to wrap its arms around Shoto, but he dispatches it with what looks like countless icicles.]

Good work!

[And just as he says that he sees the skeletons. There are three of them, each with its own rusty sword in hand as they run up to the scene. He immediately rushes at them, again relying on his swordfighting experience and on the enchantments imbued in Muramasha. It already was a cursed blade when it first entered his possession, and now it's a death magic blade, able to harm even incorporeal spectres. It can't undo the curse that keeps these skeletons alive, but the damage it deals them is amplified.

A strong swing immediately takes the skull off one enemy, leaving the body without orientation and easily cut apart in the middle. The next skeleton manages to parry Hijikata's strike, but as the third one tries to encircle him he quickly drops, rolls, and kicks the second one into its companion's sword, which gets stuck in its ribcage long enough for Hijikata to move back in and lop both adversaries' skulls off.]

Damn, these guys don't quit!

[He heftily kicks the skull away in different directions, then cuts apart the still-standing bodies. Nevertheless the skeletons keep trying to fight on, even the first one that is dragging both halves of its body towards each other, clearly intent on rejoining them.]

[itsmypower]

[Words are nearly drowned as weapon's ice slips through bone again, but the praising does find him, rising murmur beneath the din, swordman's voice at once familiar and seeping through, quietly. While rushing legs press ahead again; pushing to charge another dead-thing before zombies crowd either first. Half the swordsman hope's drawn him to—his weapon sweeps through old bodies, locking swords with another's as his ice escapes hands instead. His freezing spell's instability. His watching eyes wander everything, adrenaline surging before a corpse-soldier snaps at him. Its teeth catch his sword instead, and Shoto jerks his blade upwards, opened palm to edge of sword seeping out ice and blood both now. Splintering bones and ice shattering; he's echoed Quirks and fractured spells; his flames and golds a bright furnace, feeling this burning's too "similar". Though this power's his too, now.

His bleeding palm's sealing magically.]

Sensei! [Over the crush of things,] Just call if you need a shield next!

[But off he goes again; steps luring more zombies, drawing eyes and threats closer, heat when flames ignite fully and bloom in sharp blues instead. Though something new shifts inside him—his freedom found more in fighting, the sleeping self he's been shaped to be. A mesh of abilities stitched together: a patchwork quilt of those he's cared about. Another's flames; his mother's ice; his sensei's patience his swordplay. When now he cuts at limbs harder. Putting names to things as All Might does. And, the sound of broken glass follows him, mix of ice and flames mingling, his biting colds to superheating blues. The rapid shifts in airs blending.

Violent more and more often; his weapon mimicking Hijikata's, catching his movements, glassing the stronger man's talents. He lifts his palm, shouting.] Hell's Gate! Burning Flashfire Heatwave! [Lacing his spells again: Kasha's flames in fiery circling applied to still-frozen corpses, aiming from one to the next two, searing through limbs in nearly too-quick succession. His switched degrees behind all of it. Swordless hand digging nails in when crowding's too close for him. Sparks and water next rapidly: running current's bolts passing from hands through as livewires. The way his skin lights as always: bursts with flames another time or two. His magic shifts still unstable... And more the boy's leaking frost, slipping himself between opponents, finding his sword against their ribs before he's halving through quietly, spilled remains freezing over again.

Finding his rhythm now.

And still, he slows to watch, always seeking Hijikata when pause comes sporadically, thoroughly fascinated.

He's feeling too far from him... plants his palms against the ground instead, crouched in place with half murmur, sending ice as waves travel, snake the ground to crawl up bones, corpse, whatever "thing" the man targets next, to freeze it still if he's able to. Lesser, Heaven Piercing Ice Wall.

Please, let it work; please let it reach safely.

He wants so much to be useful here.]

[mayoninofukucho]

[Being called 'sensei' is still unfamiliar, and it drives a surge of affection through Hijikata. With them both preoccupied with the enemy he doesn't notice Shoto's injury before he heals it - another show of the boy's strength and self-sufficiency. Hijikata acknowledges the offer of a shield only with a sharp nod as he continues to decimate the skeletons, unorthodoxly kicking their bones all over the place to scatter them for a long time.

More and more zombies are drawn to the sounds of the battle, undeterred by the danger and only following their dim senses in search for fresh flesh, but Shoto and Hijikata are decimating them at a steady rate and not in danger of being overrun. One zombie surprises Hijikata by crawling out of the ground behind him while he's slicing apart another, but once it stands and wraps its hands around his head it only grasps the smooth helmet, and the next second Hijikata's elbow sends it staggering back before he takes its head off with Muramasha.

That's when he hears Shoto's shouts, his incantations. He turns his head, using the brief break in action to observe his squire. He's amazed that Shoto is still willing to rely on his magic to this degree despite its instability - he himself has all but stopped calling on his elements. Seeing the magic blasts torch through the frozen undead is like watching fireworks, only a more brutal kind, and the water-funneled lightning currents do their part to down the creatures. Hijikata is impressed and deeply proud - Shoto is learning so fast, adapting on the go, combining every ability he has. Witnessing his swordmanship is beyond rewarding on an even more personal level.

He turns his attention to the next shambling adversary, only to find it slowing down to a stop and offering no resistance to his attack. When Muramasha's impact is crisp and shattering, rather than sloshy and tearing, he realises that he had some help. He briefly turns back to Shoto and sees him crouched on the ground, channeling his ice through the soil. Their eyes meet, and since the helmet obscures Hijikata's face he gives a gloved thumbs-up to show his approval.]

You could do this all on your own! What am I even here for?

[His voice carries the jest, but Shoto truly is as capable as a whole little squadron, able to hold his ground and provide support to Hijikata. At this rate he'll become a competent leader in his own right before he even knows is. A brief glance around shows that the zombie supply seems to be slowing down, with only a few more ambling towards the swordsmen.]

I think there aren't too many left in the area!

[He runs towards the nearest one, and on the way he notices a couple that had been crawling on the ground and were caught in Shoto's ice wave. He decapitates them in passing. This boy is making it too easy. I'll get all rusty! There's a grin on his face under the helmet as he swings at the zombie. It feels like the brunt of the battle may already be behind them.]

[itsmypower]

[What a mess... His once-delicate applications bursting large and unsteady, his tight control all but useless here. And still he's smiling once eyes meet; shy grin returning signal, dry frost reclaiming skin before he snaps himself free again, springing up running. Either exploding or freezing still; White Amaryllis a black-stained flash scything smoothly through corpses. His steadied hands keep the rhythm, and wandering thoughts express, quietly: I can do anything. We can do anything.

We're fighting together now.

Blinding sword paired with small wakizashi; shifting eyes on Hijikata—who never wastes movements, never hesitates to follow through. A thousand things he's picking up on: threading throughout his own tactics, inks imprinting on human scroll in master's intricate brushstrokes. The way his actions still mimic now, always watching, intensely observing the elder man's efforts. Mute instruction read on hands, fingers, absorbing his fight's wordless teaching: reminding him, always. To never again waste half his strength; that he's been born just for this. His seeping ice coats the edge of things, letting his sword carry weight instead. Splitting heads from soft shoulders, his every movement trailed in blizzards, white, his winds on another littered in snowflakes and bone dust. Sweeping storm with sharp momentum. Though Hijikata's seems effortless: as if his blade's his extension, sword and arm combined seamlessly in one endless ribbon. Brilliant.

Shoto lights at him.]

Don't get any ideas about that...

[He absolutely does need him.]

We're finishing this together!

[Dusting the snow off. He can't restrain his own frost, magics—how fingers freeze and glass over, spilling the rest in spiking waves the second he drops palms to dirt again. Calling on ice and another boy's strength in twining expansions of Zero Point, raised stalagmites sprouting. He's using far too much magic, too much effort once his flames exhaust; and then he can't light to warm himself; can't switch his winter off to burn in bright golds instead. But this is an ice he knows deeply: always her's and still familiar, still emitter's ruined failsafe pouring out violent and freely; his dropped degrees slipping lower, an absolute-zero in every wound staining its rot as white frostbite.

Turning his path to dried tundra, pale white bloom in every corpse his hands and sword's splintered frozen. His quiet thoughts still a murmur: I'm watching... I'm watching! I'm with you until the end now! All Might's warmed, famous words aligned with his own reassurance: "I am here!" in youth's own voice and carried as unspoken promise. He doesn't mind how he's numb. Doesn't care beyond their mission, goals; knighthood's honor beneath the violence; the swordsman opposite. His Amaryllis still in hand and edged in unrestrained spellwork. Leaving snow in his sword dance: blood in the ice-lace left behind laid across bones and stiff bodies. He's 5-years-old again, watching—eyes and heart reserved for heroes; hopes; swordsmen different and darker, flashing sword replacing fists and hero's world's strongest Quirk now. Edge of blade catching sunlight. But he's calling out spells again, his and another's joining force in one combined incantation.]

Zero Point Breakthrough! Earth Edition!

[With all he has, his power's still-unstable bridging linked between mind-state and magics, combining earth and cold shockwaves, his reckless tactics fusing bones, skin, a skeleton's limbs encased in stone and sealing in bursts of iced "blossoms". Casting stubbornly and repeatedly, a separate pulse for each target, his own affection leading hands in student's last full defiance; for someone else's sake. Though its ice seals him too, next, he watches close with palms rooted, eyes still warm despite his freezing, bright.]

They're yours now, sensei!

[Plus Ultra, Hijikata-san!]

1/2

[mayoninofukucho]

[Hijikata has no idea how much Shoto observes and absorbs even in the flurry of battle, how he lets go of his last remnants of hesitation and tears through the undead with his full strength now, mirroring the samurai's own no-holds-barred determination while still adding his own, more inherent, elemental devastation to his attacks.

He smiles under his helmet at Shoto's declaration. We're finishing this together. Such a loyal squire. The boy's stalagmites impale zombies like paper, sharp as needles and sudden like lightning; his frost keeps covering the whole area in his wake - and then he calls out the next spell, the one that simultaneously petrifies and freezes the last undead standing, and leaves them for Hijikata to take down.]

Right--!!

[Usually Rei is his backup weapon, the one that will save his life if Muramasha ends up broken or lost, but now he draws it. It's safe - these enemies can't even move, let alone use his lack of experience in dual-bladed combat against him. He twirls around, slicing through the frozen zombies with either blade, using sheer brute force, speed and momentum. They all crumble and fall gradually, slowly, only when he's finished with the last one.]

2/2

[mayoninofukucho]

[Once the combat stops it's eerily quiet. The pale sun is still shining as it was before, reflecting brightly off the countless ice crystals coating the battlefield. Most of the zombies (and also the dismembered, partly petrified skeletons) lie still, either headless or cut up even worse, with some still impaled. If they had been alive before the massacre it would be a horrible sight, but the knowledge that they were already empty husks - the skeletons left no visible souls behind either - makes it easy for Hijikata to remain casual as he surveys the scene.]

None left. Good work.

[He tries to use water magic to clean his swords of the grime they're stained with, but it malfunctions and lightning comes out instead, crackling along the blades. He sighs and sheathes them as they are; he'll clean them manually at home. It's only then that he properly focuses on Shoto, and seeing his skin still frosted over immediately concerns him. While the helmet hides his frown it may carry in his voice.]

Shoto, are you cold? Did you overdo it?

[There's no criticism in his tone, only worry. Instantly he starts mentally chiding himself. Shoto overdid it, wanting to do his absolute best for him! What if he cooled out too much? What if he's getting frostbite? Hijikata immediately leafs through his options of warming him up, and with his own magic as dysfunctional as it is he's getting deeply concerned. He doesn't even have an Everwarm potion on him!]

[itsmypower]

[Now that their dust's settled, he's eyeing the aftermath through his detached sort of vacancy, staring along with him. Scanning the graveyard. All smashed debris and halved bodies, winding remains and trailing limbs pieced and strewn about, wildly. He's sitting with one the many corpses still, watching the man a long moment. Then, making to right himself, breaking away once his pulse settles, shaking his frost from things. He seems docile now—calmer.] ...Not really. [Shrugging his crystals off. He's been uncomfortably used to this; sort of distractedly nonchalant regarding his ice with indifference, eyeing his palms instead. His icing's clearly routine for him, his dry response coming evenly, holding a sense of disinterest. He shakes his head a bit, thoughtful, snapping his ice from it.]

I didn't exactly have the choice this time. I never had the control to begin with, but it's all the same outcome. So long as it's gotten the right results. [All that's mattered now; all that would matter; he hadn't any need for caution here, but "freeze" was all he could for him: cold focused, hot tempered, not considering things causing burn-outs or frostbite. The squire's now thoroughly weathered himself, plainly unmoved but still conscious, limbs still sluggish once he's freed himself and shifting to stand again. Not for the first time.

But then brows knot lightly, and Shoto's glancing at the other, pale eyes widening once he speaks again. Not quite focused.] Why do you... sound so worried? [Dragging his speech a little, tracing the frost on arms idly, boots sloshing along the snow when he makes his way over to him. One motion before its other and animate more in slowed movements, watching his ice web his fingers. Then, softening smile on whitened skin, increasingly drowsy since their danger's past.]

This— [the white skin: lacy, plaque-diamonds forming] happens every time, you know. It's like half of me remembers... The way my Quirk worked, before. When I wasn't using flames at all. I would just...

[Freeze this way. Slow and listless: the fog in searching eyes dissipates, and though he's no less exhausted, there's sudden sparks lighting up in him, as if he's forgotten something still terribly important, snapping to life again. Rushing as fast as his thoughts carry, a matter of far more importance moving his steps towards the other. His blunt concerns and sharp worries urging on steps automatically, lingering cold pushed aside next. Forgetting he's numb at all. As if he wasn't just ice before, picking his way across deaths to him. He practically stumbles.]

Are you injured?

[Peering around him... His asking's come much more lively here, the boy still dizzily unaware of how spooky his own appearance is.] Sorry. It might be cold if I try to heal this time...

[mayoninofukucho]

[Seeing Shoto shake the ice off as he gets up puts Hijikata at ease, though he internally objects to his indifferent explanation... the end results, to him, aren't worth a badly injured Shoto! But if there had been innocent lives on the line here they would both have had to risk their lives with no reservations, so he won't even admonish him, because at the core he's right. As he explains further Hijikata relaxes more - if this is really a holdover from his Quirk it makes sense that this would happen no matter what -, but as he observes his sluggish, stumbling movements as he tries to speed up the worry creeps back in fast. He's in this shape, yet he's only concerned for me again, huh?]

I'm fine, not least thanks to you having my back the whole time! I don't need any healing. I was worried that maybe your magic was going out of control to the point of turning against you, so I'm glad it didn't. You still look cold, though.

[He looks him over... yeah, this boy needs to be warmed up with a proper meal and given an opportunity to rest in a decent location. Hijikata brought enough totems to easily get them back to civilisation.]

I wanted to ask if you'd like to stay a little longer and see if the forest spirits appear, now that we've cleaned the place up, but who knows when they'll come back... I'd have to leave you alone, too, since they're shy of adults.

[Sure, he could leave Shoto with a totem, but ollying out and leaving him alone feels wrong, even if he could potentially see some wondrous magical creatures! What if more undead appear? Shoto surely wouldn't even entertain the idea in a reverse scenario either. Hijikata clasps his shoulder with a gloved hand, hoping to convey his appreciation.]

Let's head back to Camelot, shall we? Or do you want to go to the Red Springs? I'd say we've earned a stay at the resort!

[itsmypower]

[It's just as Tetsutetsu's said,]

"We risk it all when it matters". [Just as All Might would.] Even it'd turned on me, we'd have finished our jobs here. [And this mattered! But Shoto softens now, eases a little with the other's confirmation, his slow relief washing over him when he speaks again.] But I'm so glad you're alright, sensei.

[I'm fine, what he takes from this. ...All he's cared to.

But they're alright, aren't they? Even the boy, who sighs his cloud-frost, touch to shoulder bringing him back to all his half-frozen senses, still strengthens automatically once the man's voiced concerns for him. For all their moments together, here the small realization that they've rarely made contact, don't try, boy's life of detachments knotting its hard sort of coldness in him. Heart close, but stance distanced. And, though he blinks at first—barely feels beneath this lingering numbness—he still straightens as though it's his next proudest moment, smiling sweetly at him.

It'd been worth it.]

But I don't need to see the spirits. [Then, gently,] Can we really go to the Springs?

[All sudden wonder, his asking him bright-eyed as if it's the moon he's suggesting; not quite believing yet. (A real resort with real rest there!) Though he'd go anywhere, really. And here, only one—just one of the little creatures peeking out from its distance; though the boy doesn't mention this, barely motions with hand raised slightly, leaving it signal with somehow warm-still expression; letting his eyes stray over.

It's alright now.

Separate worlds here. He's trading his youth for more weapons, wonder for swords when childish wants don't exist for him; can't. He's still in his war back at home. But Hijikata understands; he must; this squire would not leave his shadow. If you can't, then I can't, he thinks. All his choice; I choose YOU clear as wording, boldly obvious with smiling eyes turning back again, then, quiet-made request this time:]

I think I want a bath there. [Up to his chin, then.] We should get going now.

[Together!]

[mayoninofukucho]

We risk it all when it matters alright.

[Once more he swallows down what else he wants to say - that he doesn't want Shoto to push himself to the limit when there's no deadly urgency - because, in fairness, it really wouldn't have done them any good to dawdle here. The undead might actually have overran them then.

He's relieved that his squire's eyes are looking more lively and focused again now. Shoto really is excited for the springs, huh? That cinches it; Hijikata will make sure he gets a relaxing bath, a good filling dinner, and a long night's sleep! He gives his shoulder one more squeeze, then lets go to search a totem in his bag, missing out on Shoto's sighting of the forest spirit - but if he had turned around the shy creature would have disappeared in a blink, anyway.]

You'll get the best soak you can imagine.

[He lights the totem on fire, then sets it on the ground and steps back, waiting for the smoke to develop so they can walk through. At the Red Springs Resort they'll first clean their swords in the training grounds complex - a samurai's sword always comes first -, then their own turn in the showers and hot springs afterwards will feel all the more rewarding.]