[ choso has never been so grateful to be on stable ground as he is now, after that hectic flight with those hectic broads. really, the only thing that had kept him going was the knowledge that they had it: there was a destination, a goal, an end marker somewhere under the earth. all choso had to do was survive to get there.

one flight and a burgeoning sunburn later finds choso taking advantage of the cooler climes of the ruins, which is to say that he's collapsed facedown on a reed bed, gently steaming as the blood in his body works overtime to regain some semblance of stability after the flight and heat combined.

he's probably fine, but it wouldn't hurt to check, just in case.


whatever his status, choso proves he is indeed fine enough to accompany dr. masuda to the temple ruins. it is there, as he steps up to peer down the dark maw of the mystery tunnel, that the world goes sideways.

choso staggers, fetches up against the nearby wall with eyes gone wide, mouth agape as if struck. he isn't the only one here struck with the realization, surely, but as he stares down the darkened path, he clutches his chest, as if grasping at the pound of his heart, the pulse rabbiting almost visibly in his veins. steadily, the mark across his nose begins to bleed as he croaks a haggard, a horribly hopeful: ]

He's here.

[ the first thing that strikes choso is the smell of the place, the further the group proceeds. the air of the cavern sits heavy, thick and cold as blood congealed on the tongue, and no amount of swallowing can dispel the taste. it feels like an omen, dire and inauspicious, though choso has never been one for superstition.

pay attention, choso. the path ahead stretches on, and there are stones leading the way. at first glance, they seem to him like stalagmites, mineral formations in regular clusters, but that isn't right. too regular, too uniform. look, over there: is that not a gravestone looming in the dark? and there, beside it, another one? it doesn't take him long to realize that these aren't formations at all, the thrill of it raising the hairs on his neck in a cold wave. most sit too deep in the dark to make out, but as he continues on with the group, he swears that he can catch some characters, scraps of names. swears that the stone over there says 'Fushiguro', swears that that one just said 'Donato', that the one beyond it read 'Itadori', but as he staggers a step closer to see, it's gone as quick as he had noticed it.

pay attention, choso. the path continues ever onward, and there are voices ahead. it's a relief to leave these unnerving glimpses behind, and choso does so at a light run, eager to move on. whatever he'd been expecting to find under this cavern's fitful light, it isn't what greets him.

ahead, two strange figures stand in choso's path, and they are smiling; one warm and welcoming, the other bloody and leering. how strange, these figures, how monstrous. how laughable, that the guardian of this place should think to bar his way with these oddballs.

yet, here stands choso, frozen in place with a stricken expression twisting his features.

oh, dear. ]

[ as the smoke and dust settles over the battlefield, the skies cleared and Godzilla at last felled, choso staggers to his feet in the aftermath like another apparition amongst the ash. blood tracks red streaks through the soot smeared across his face, dripping steadily from the undulating mark across his nose, and his shoulders heave with breaths that he must struggle to draw. the after-effects of battle, or something else? ]

Gate... the gate. We must continue. I can't stop here.

(if you want to tango, please do hmu! i can be caught at apicultist or on discord under the same name!)