beat â ď¸ daisukenojo bito (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stillarhino) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamcrystals2022-09-09 09:02 pm
stillarhino) wrote in dreamcrystals2022-09-09 09:02 pm
open đ first recording | passive dream
Sender: Beat
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive Dream Recording
Warnings: Some spoilers for the OG The World Ends With You.
Whenever this time of the year came around, a sense of dread would bubble up deep within him. It would start in his stomach and slowly make its way up to his throat, settling itself there. It was uncomfortable and no matter what he'd do to try to gulp it down, it remained stuck.
This day was no different.
Beat seems to be a few years younger, wearing a slouchy beanie with a skull sewn onto it, his hair pulled back and tucked underneath it. His usual headphones are absent from his head. Heâs dressed in a school uniform, but his surroundings do not depict him to be in any such place.
Instead, he wanders Shibuya aimlesslyâriding down the streets of Dogenzaka on his skateboard, perusing new albums available in Tower Records, even just hanging out at the convenience store by the Moyai statue. Everywhere but where he was supposed to be.
He reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, navigating his way to the unread message from someone named âRhymeâ.
A moment passes before he types up a reply:
His message was cold and he knows it deep down. But he sends it anyway, tucking his phone away before he continues loitering about the city.
By nightfall, he finds himself staring up at a modest two-story home, standing just outside its gate. He doesn't know how much time has passed since he's gotten here, but he lets out a sigh, steeling himself for what was to come. The gateâs hinges creak slightly as he pushes it open, a plaque on the gate reading the family name âBitoâ.
The lump in his throat still remains.
It isnât before long that he finds himself standing in front of a Japanese man, dressed in business attire, his tie loose around his neck after a long day at work. To his side sits a rather tall woman with blond hair, an apron draped in front of her dress. Heâs filled with dread once again, the pit in his stomach growing larger and deeper as a tightness begins to form in his chest.
Beat reaches out and hands over a card toward them. On it are his grades for the semester. They are well above the passing grade, but nothing spectacular. He knows theyâre nothing spectacular. He knows he isnât anything spectacular. Not in their eyes.
The expression on his face is hard to read as they go over his grades and Beat hasnât said a single word throughout. His lips remain a straight line and his eyes appear to be downcast. Is it apathy? Is it fear?
He opens his mouth, ready to put himself down, ready to fight them. Thatâs how it always is after all.
âGood job, son.â
The words catch in his throat before they could leave him. Beatâs eyes widen and his mouth hangs open, staring at them. They look back at him with proud smiles on their faces.
âYou did well, Daisukenojo,â said the man.
Beat recoils when he hears the name but doesnât say anything at first. He continues to stare at them for a moment longer, dumbfounded by the turn of events. âAre you two serious?â he finally asks. His usual manner of speech is missing, but the same inflections and brash tone of his voice remain.
âOf course weâre serious.â This time itâs the woman who speaks, looking back at him incredulously. âYou did your best, didnât you? As long as you do that, we couldnât be any prouder of you.â
The man stands from his seat and walks to Beat, placing a hand on his shoulder. âLetâs eat out tonight to celebrate, all four of us. How does hot pot sound?â
Beat looks at the man, then the woman. Finally, the surprise on his face disappears and he lets out a laugh. His voice almost cracks when he speaks. âYeah, hot pot sounds great, dad.â
He hears a quiet ring of a bell nearby. Turning towards the source, he sees a young girl with blonde hair and blue eyes smiling at him, a bell pendant hanging from a leather strap around her neck. He smiles back at her, blinking back the tears that begin to pool at the edge of his eyes.
And then he wakes.
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive Dream Recording
Warnings: Some spoilers for the OG The World Ends With You.
Whenever this time of the year came around, a sense of dread would bubble up deep within him. It would start in his stomach and slowly make its way up to his throat, settling itself there. It was uncomfortable and no matter what he'd do to try to gulp it down, it remained stuck.
This day was no different.
Beat seems to be a few years younger, wearing a slouchy beanie with a skull sewn onto it, his hair pulled back and tucked underneath it. His usual headphones are absent from his head. Heâs dressed in a school uniform, but his surroundings do not depict him to be in any such place.
Instead, he wanders Shibuya aimlesslyâriding down the streets of Dogenzaka on his skateboard, perusing new albums available in Tower Records, even just hanging out at the convenience store by the Moyai statue. Everywhere but where he was supposed to be.
He reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, navigating his way to the unread message from someone named âRhymeâ.
Are you coming home soon?
A moment passes before he types up a reply:
ill head home when i feel like it
His message was cold and he knows it deep down. But he sends it anyway, tucking his phone away before he continues loitering about the city.
By nightfall, he finds himself staring up at a modest two-story home, standing just outside its gate. He doesn't know how much time has passed since he's gotten here, but he lets out a sigh, steeling himself for what was to come. The gateâs hinges creak slightly as he pushes it open, a plaque on the gate reading the family name âBitoâ.
The lump in his throat still remains.
It isnât before long that he finds himself standing in front of a Japanese man, dressed in business attire, his tie loose around his neck after a long day at work. To his side sits a rather tall woman with blond hair, an apron draped in front of her dress. Heâs filled with dread once again, the pit in his stomach growing larger and deeper as a tightness begins to form in his chest.
Beat reaches out and hands over a card toward them. On it are his grades for the semester. They are well above the passing grade, but nothing spectacular. He knows theyâre nothing spectacular. He knows he isnât anything spectacular. Not in their eyes.
The expression on his face is hard to read as they go over his grades and Beat hasnât said a single word throughout. His lips remain a straight line and his eyes appear to be downcast. Is it apathy? Is it fear?
He opens his mouth, ready to put himself down, ready to fight them. Thatâs how it always is after all.
âGood job, son.â
The words catch in his throat before they could leave him. Beatâs eyes widen and his mouth hangs open, staring at them. They look back at him with proud smiles on their faces.
âYou did well, Daisukenojo,â said the man.
Beat recoils when he hears the name but doesnât say anything at first. He continues to stare at them for a moment longer, dumbfounded by the turn of events. âAre you two serious?â he finally asks. His usual manner of speech is missing, but the same inflections and brash tone of his voice remain.
âOf course weâre serious.â This time itâs the woman who speaks, looking back at him incredulously. âYou did your best, didnât you? As long as you do that, we couldnât be any prouder of you.â
The man stands from his seat and walks to Beat, placing a hand on his shoulder. âLetâs eat out tonight to celebrate, all four of us. How does hot pot sound?â
Beat looks at the man, then the woman. Finally, the surprise on his face disappears and he lets out a laugh. His voice almost cracks when he speaks. âYeah, hot pot sounds great, dad.â
He hears a quiet ring of a bell nearby. Turning towards the source, he sees a young girl with blonde hair and blue eyes smiling at him, a bell pendant hanging from a leather strap around her neck. He smiles back at her, blinking back the tears that begin to pool at the edge of his eyes.
And then he wakes.