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Post by Yanagi Tsuneo on Nov 8, 2017 15:20:08 GMT -5
Yanagi supposed that one perk of having severe amnesia was the fact that every interaction he had was interesting. All of the people that he met were, in some way, fascinating, because as far as he knew he had never met anyone like them before. For example, he'd never met a young lady who happened to be a detective, or a real comedian, or a butler. It was sort of exciting, in a way, to find out fun, exciting to find out all of these new situations. One of the most interesting, of course, was a, verbatim, simple salesman.
It was curious, Yanagi thought, that someone could be chosen as the best teenage salesman in all of Japan. Was it simply his part time job-- was he even in high school? Surely he had to be enrolled in a high school, in order to participate in this game show for, well, high school student. He wasn't sure what his deal was--he hardly understood his own deal, so perhaps understanding someone else was a step in the right direction. Yanagi decided he had to focus on, not himself, but someone more interesting. There was hardly anything less interesting than knowing nothing about himself. So, after some internal debate, Yanagi decided to find out as much as he could about the other boy. After figuring out the newspaper situation and being, essentially, pinned to a wall by a comedian's leg, Yanagi noticed the aforementioned salesman lounging in a chair, looking as though he owned the place, comfortable as a cat in a sunbeam.
(Did Yanagi ever look that comfortable? Ever?)
Steeling his expression, Yanagi slid his hands into his pockets and quietly approached Shimakage, sliding into a chair next to him. There was an awkward silence for a few moments, long and quiet, Yanagi anxiously chewing his lip before he leans closer, frowning heavily. There were hundreds of questions he could ask, attempts to pry into Shimakage's personality, but the words he managed to say were:
"... How are you a salesman if you're in high school? Is the economy that bad?"
(God damn. Fuck. Shit.)
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Post by Shimakage Seitaro on Nov 9, 2017 14:59:59 GMT -5
The thing about fortune, Shimakage had come to realize, is that you never stop to appreciate everything you have until you lose it. It was a fact that became all too salient as he nestled into a comfortable seat in the lounge, leaning his head against the back of the chair as if the mere position had brought about immense bliss. When had he last sat in a chair this comfortable, he wondered? Surely it had been some months, if not several years (after all, for all he knew, the lot of them could have been cryogenically frozen for centuries). That, of course, wasn't what mattered in the moment. What mattered was the fact that, at this present time, Shimakage Seitaro was currently manspreading in what was possibly the most comfortable chair he'd ever had the fortune to come across. It wasn't until he heard the awkward shuffle of a body sliding into the seat next to him that he opened one eye lazily. The fact that Yanagi, of all people, had seen fit to approach him was interesting, to say the least. Sure, the boy was an amnesiac, but that didn't mean he needed to be so easily duped, especially after his spiel about not trusting anything they say. And yet, he had bought the lie about the owed money so effortlessly, almost as though the two really were old friends. Were it anyone else, Shimakage might write them off as a gullible fool, but, well, he supposed he was a conman; making people believe his lies was what he was good at. Then again, judging by the awkward silence that filled the air, it was just as likely that Yanagi Tsuneo was just a hot mess with the social skills of a wounded antelope. (An observation that was all but confirmed when Yanagi's mouth opened, spilling out words that were even more awkward than the silence.)  Shimakage shifted in his seat ever so slightly, straightening out his posture and crossing his legs; left ankle resting on right knee. Cradling his chin in his palm for a few moments, he observed Yanagi for any signs of a normal human reaction - a laugh, or even an explanation that ha-ha, he had been kidding - but upon receiving nothing satisfactory, Shimakage offered up a casual shrug.  He dropped one hand to the pile of loot on the seat beside him, eventually peeling a scratch-and-sniff sticker - orange, the color of Yanagi's eyes - off the sticker sheet and leaning forward to stick it squarely upon Yanagi's forehead.  |
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Post by Yanagi Tsuneo on Nov 9, 2017 17:12:35 GMT -5
Looking at Shimakage, Yanagi was unsure of how easily confidence came to him. He was easygoing and relaxed. Even the way he addressed Yanagi, calmly and with syrupy sweet ‘kun’s and smirks, Yanagi wondered if he could ever be taught how to be more confident, but the more he thought about it, the more he ended up frowning at his easy, relaxed posture, chin held delicately in his hand.
Something about Shimakage was a little magnetic- he seemed to simply be drawn to him, despite the fact that he was strangely suspicious-- perhaps it really was something about him being a salesman and knowing how to convince people to buy things they didn't need with money they didn't have. Yanagi wondered, if he really did have a talent, if his was as glaringly obvious as Shimakage's, apparent in all of his mannerisms right down to the way he spoke and acted as though the pair had grown up together and were old friends.
“Er… I, uh... Revisiting my comment about the economy, perhaps the labor of teenagers is more affordable. As for Madoka-san, I don’t know why she’s a detective. It doesn’t really make sense, does it.”
(You’d think, out of all the social skills he had, Yanagi would remember how to properly change the tone of his voice to imply that he was asking a question.)
The longer that Shimakage spoke, the more Yanagi's eyebrows furrowed, confused, and he blinked carefully at him, unflinching even as the other boy leaned away, picking up a sticker--though he violently flinched once a sticker was placed on his face, and was greeted by the subtle yet strong smell of artificial orange (though he wasn't sure how he knew that it was artificial). While he didn't react immediately, he waited for Shimakage to explain his actions. When he didn't, however, instead continuing on as though nothing had happened, Yanagi quietly reached to peel the sticker from his face, peer quietly at it, before replacing it onto his nose-- not out of desire for some kind of joke, but rather, because he quite enjoyed the smell of it, and if it was closer, then he could smell it more.
(Win-win. Though he wasn't sure what Shimakage was winning, here.)
"Ah? What do you mean, a push? Do you still think I'm lying about my amnesia, Shimakage-san... Because I don't really think I'm very talented at all. If I were, surely I'd remember it, or be more obvious about it. I mean, you, it's obvious you're a salesman. Osatsu-san, they're clearly a comedian. Me, I'm not even really sure. I... Perhaps I'm here by mistake? Or as the one 'normal student' here for the 'game show'."
(Though he did manage to use air quotes to signal that he was, supposedly, being sarcastic about who he was, or the 'game show' that was being spoken of.)
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Post by Shimakage Seitaro on Nov 10, 2017 0:50:02 GMT -5
Any ordinary person might have grown suspicious of Shimakage's calm demeanor - they were, after all, being held hostage, in a sense - but contrary to all reason, Yanagi seemed to be fascinated by it...which, in turn, was fascinating in and of itself. People were predictable, like puppets on strings, but for the first time in a very, very long time, someone had managed to hold his interest for longer than a millisecond. Humans, he was discovering, were infinitely more entertaining when they were blank slates. (Then again, maybe he just wanted that twenty thousand yen.)  And then Yanagi did something else surprising; he relocated the scratch-n-sniff sticker to his nose, and he did so with the most unreadable poker face Shimakage had ever seen. Suddenly, he found himself stifling a snort, fingertips curling around his jaw as Yanagi sat there with a sticker dangling off the end of his nose. If only the others could see him like this, they'd surely find him as harmless as a puppy. Eventually, however, he straightened up and sprawled out in his chair once again, peering at Yanagi with a calculated smirk.  |
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Post by Yanagi Tsuneo on Nov 13, 2017 2:57:39 GMT -5
Peering quietly at Shimakage, Yanagi's eyebrows furrowed in... Almost concern. Concern about Shimakage? No, concern about his reputation--and Shimakage's comment about him apparently being a playboy only caused him to sink further into his chair, cheeks tinted an uncomfortable red before he swallowed, shaking his head.
He was humiliated, in truth--something about having a bad reputation was settling into his stomach like a weight, causing acidic, painful anxiety to rise in his throat. He didn't understand why Shimakage thinking badly of him caused him to feel this way, but he quicky, desperately shook his head, swallowing hard.
"No, I-... She just seems like a cute little kid, I think. Calling her by her last name feels too... Formal. But- that's not the point- I mean, er. That's the only real explanation for Japan apparently prioritizing teenage talent instead of people who could contribute to society."
Suddenly, it seemed Yanagi did something he'd never done before: he made someone laugh.
He'd never done that intentionally, or unintentionally. Something about it was a little exciting, honestly--because it was the first time.
(Amnesia was a long series of firsts, apparently.)
Though he didn't understand why Shimakage was laughing--he didn't understand what was so funny about wanting to smell a good-smelling sticker, if that was the thing making Shimakage laugh. His shoulders slumped, and, after a moment, he bit his lip, frowning at the corner of Shimakage's chair, suddenly nervous about making eye contact. Was this what it was like to be laughed at? Was this what being a nerd was like? Getting bullied? Something about it was a little exciting, he thought. Maybe he really was a nerd before his amnesia, maybe he was getting bullied all of the time. Perhaps it really, really was a clue as to who he was.
(Or, perhaps, he had fallen so far out of touch with societal norms thanks to his amnesia that he was now a complete and utter social outcast... And he was no closer to finding out the truth about himself. Terrifying.)
"... Are you saying you're my mom, Shimakage-san?"
(No, no. Try that again, idiot.)
"I mean, er, no. Hm. How... How do you think you would go about doing that, Shimakage-san? I'm interested, I, uh, I guess. I'd like to be normal, hah."
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Post by Shimakage Seitaro on Nov 16, 2017 8:55:28 GMT -5
He hadn't expected Yanagi to react so strongly to what was more or less a playful remark, so when the amnesiac began to almost curl in on himself, Shimakage's brows furrowed in contemplation. It was easy to forget, despite all his social faux pas, that Yanagi wouldn't understand things like sarcasm or teasing, and while Shimakage couldn't say he harbored any particular fondness for a boy he'd just met some hours ago, it also wouldn't do to drive him away. The last thing he wanted to do was unravel all the progress he'd made, after all, so he softened his posture and his expression, shaking his head almost gently.  Ironic, really, that he should be telling Yanagi not to trust his peers, when he himself was attempting to pull the wool over his eyes, but, well, if Yanagi ended up using his own pep talk to avoid falling victim to his lies, then Shimakage figured he didn't deserve to be conned, after all. Besides, it wasn't as though he was asking much; twenty thousand yen was a third of the cost of a video game console. It wasn't as though a Super High School Level individual would have his life ruined over the price of two traffic tickets. And then Shimakage let out a quiet chuckle, eventually raising his arms into a shrug and sighing as though Yanagi had hit the nail on the head.   |
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Post by Yanagi Tsuneo on Nov 17, 2017 5:15:52 GMT -5
Once again, Shimakage is offering some sort of advice--and while part of Yanagi wants to not trust anything that Shimakage says, wants to be more wary, part of him believes Shimakage's promise of not letting harm come to him. It feels good, he realizes, to be cared about, and so he allows himself to smile, softly, tilting his head before quietly cupping his head in his chin.
"It's hard not to take everything people say at face value--especially when I don't know any of you, because I can't tell when you're kidding. But.. Ah. Do you really think they'd try to manipulate me into someone they want me to be? That seems... Oddly malicious, for a group of teenagers."
He was still wary, though a part of him seemed to long to be trusted and cared about, so he hummed, peering at Shimakage with wide eyes as he explained his theory about why he couldn't, possibly, be a playboy--and he was nearly offended. Why wouldn't they fall at his feet in his current state? Sure, he was awkward, but, judging from his photo on his I.D., he wasn't ugly.
Was he intimidating, in some way? He didn't seem to be, by the way those he spoke to seemed to fall into some sort of comfort or ease around him; especially Shimakage, with his relaxed, casual tone. Shimakage didn't seem to care what he thought, which obviously meant he didn't feel like he had to impress him. Frowning at his lap, Yanagi quietly wondered if he really was ugly--since it seemed as though no one wanted to impress him.
(The logical answer was that they were in a terrifying situation and no one was thinking of romance, currently.)
Chewing the inside of his cheek, Yanagi's gaze slides away from Shimakage's face to survey the rest of the room with a quiet sigh, eyebrows drawing into a tight line when Shimakage teases him--he should be used to it by now, since all he did was either offer advice or tease him, but when orange eyes finally met grey once again, Yanagi frowned calmly.
It wasn't as though he was worried about what he said, but as time went on, Yanagi felt increasingly pessimistic about his chances of ever getting his memories back. At this point, it seemed that the best thing to do was to attempt to create a new identity based upon what he currently knew- and perhaps by his strategy of finding out his likes and dislikes, things he could do... But perhaps a helping hand would speed the process along.
"How do you suggest we do that? So far, Christmas isn't reminding me of anything--so what other situations would you suggest, Shimakage-san?"
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Post by Shimakage Seitaro on Nov 17, 2017 9:00:00 GMT -5
Again, Shimakage found himself issuing a mental reminder to treat Yanagi a bit more delicately. He was operating with less than a fraction of the information the rest of them possessed, so of course he wouldn't be so immediately distrusting of his peers. Slowly, the conman tapped his bottom lip as though lost deeply in thought. It wouldn't do to make Yanagi feel stupid - far from the case, as Shimakage wagered he was probably smarter than most of them - but he also needed to fill him in on what information he had about the outside world.  He paused, glancing over at Yanagi to see if he was still listening, suddenly worrying that he'd talked his ear off and put him to sleep. Instead, however, he was met with...not much of anything, actually. In fact, it seemed as though Yanagi was nervous about something, and while Shimakage had half a mind to reassure him again - reiterate that he wouldn't let Ishida within a ten foot radius if he could help it - there remained the possibility that his earlier remarks about the golfer were what seemed to be weighing on Yanagi. Of course, he'd made plenty of comments, so it was equally possible that he was bothered by something else entirely, but he decided not to take that chance. From the pile of gacha items at his side, Shimakage picked up a sketchbook and placed it in his lap, drumming his fingers on it slowly before doing what he seemed to do best: teasing Yanagi.  (Telling someone a personal detail about yourself will get them to trust you.) |
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