Oda

[nosediving]

Comments

Week 3 - Monday

[nosediving]

[Here comes Shang Qinghua, who seems to be dropping by the study for a quick visit when he notices Oda.]

Don't mind me, sir. I'm only here to pick something up.

[odasaku]

[ when qinghua finds oda, he's sitting on a desk, focused on a piece of paper. in his hands is a pencil, and it looks like he's thinking of what to write but...

well, the sheet's still blank. and from the way that oda looks up with slight surprise, it's obvious that he's been fixed on writing something for a while now. ]

Oh. Yeah, go ahead. [ he sets the pencil down, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. ] I'm not really sure why I'm here in the first place.

[nosediving]

[ shang qinghua finds his gaze drawn to the paper, where it lingers for a moment longer than he intends. ]

It looks like you meant to write something. Should I come back later?

[odasaku]

No. It's fine.

[ he sets the pencil down, looking away from the paper ]

I'm practically wasting my time at this point.

[nosediving]

. . . If it's time, I have some to spare. What troubles you?

[odasaku]

[ oda.exe has stopped working ]

What troubles me?

[nosediving]

[ time to start pressing every key in sight. ]

Ah—this might be forward of me, but your difficulty with putting down the words in your mind . . . Is that not called a block? An open discussion may be of help.

[odasaku]

I...no, it's not forward. It's fine.

[ but he actually looks a little unsure about this. ]

I just don't know if I can do something like that. It's...really nothing that bad.

[nosediving]

[ he studies oda like he wants to say more, but ultimately doesn't press the matter. ]

I won't force you; however, I'll listen if you have anything to say.

[ anything at all. in the meantime, he reaches over to take a fountain pen. ]

Week 4 - Saturday

[nosediving]

[ to say oda was concerning toward the end of the trial would be an understatement. shang qinghua has no intention of seeking the man out—better to allow the grief to process first—so he snaps his head up in surprise when he spot oda in the lab. ]

Sir?

[odasaku]

What?

[ there's some rolls of bandages on the table and, obviously, there's some blood on the floor and dripped down his leg. he's sitting down, clearly interrupted in the middle of bandaging himself. ]

[nosediving]

[ oh, no. he strides over to pick up a roll of bandage. ]

Let me help. Are you still bleeding?

[odasaku]

Yeah.

[ a pause, as he looks at the wound continue to bleed with no expression on his face. he could be watching paint dry, for all that matters. ]

Didn't break a bone. Just muscle.

[nosediving]

This is . . . Sir, this can become serious if you don't take care of it now. Let me at least fetch some water, so you can clean your leg.

[ setting the roll of bandage down, he briskly exits the laboratory to return with a bucket of water and a washcloth. ]

[odasaku]

That...

[ well, he can't tell sqh that he shouldn't go since he's already gone but...when he comes back, oda can't look at his face. ]

Thanks. Sorry for the bother.

[nosediving]

[ he ran back and forth as fast as he could! setting the bucket down, he wrings excess water from the washcloth and offers it to oda. let the man keep face and wash his own leg. ]

It's no bother. Making sure that everyone's looked after is what I do.

[odasaku]

[ he already screamed himself hoarse in front of the remainder of the contestants he literally has no pride left.

but he'll take the washcloth, applying it around the wound to soak up the blood. ]

Mouri...said you're a lord. I never expected it.

w6, post trial

[odasaku]

[ oda left the trial before he did or said anything that he would regret. he went to the kitchen, the west wing, parlor— anywhere to ease the thoughts running through his head.

none of them work.

as a last attempt, oda decides to go to the study to settle down. even that idea leaves a bitter taste in his mouth but... he can deal with it. the same way he’s dealt with everything else, he can deal with this, too.

but when he walks into the study, the last thing he expected was shang qinghua to be there first—writing, apparently. ]

Ah— [ oda looks... visibly impressed?? ] You’re... writing. [ nice observation. ]

[nosediving]

[ shang qinghua is seated in front of the desk, on which the piece of paper he presented at trial lays. with a pen clutched in his right hand, he stops writing mid word to look up at oda.

his eyes dart to the side. caught red-handed, he's a little self-conscious. ]

Lately, I've been thinking about writing again while there's time. It isn't much, but getting the words out has given me a good feeling.

[odasaku]

Does it?

[ this is the most emotion oda has shown since his meltdown. he even looks a bit confused, as if sqh was suddenly talking a whole different language.

but then he looks away, a wry smile on his face. ]

Back at home... are you a writer?

[nosediving]

[ there's a fairly long pause before he gestures to himself, perhaps emboldened by oda's expression. he's already changed back into his robes. ]

Before all this, I wrote on the side. I wasn't too good at it, but I like to think that I've improved since.

[odasaku]

I see.

[ oda closes his eyes. it seems there’s something on his mind but...he doesn’t want to say it ]

It’s too bad I can’t read mandarin—I wish I knew what you wrote.

[nosediving]

What I have here is barely a scene . . . It's hardly worth the read.

[ also, a writer doesn't show his work-in-progress to just anyone! he'll guard this paper with his life. that being said, he beckons oda farther inside. ]

If the contest turns out in this one's favor, I'll tell you all about my most successful story.

In the meantime, how are your efforts coming along? Are you still struggling to put the words down?

[odasaku]

Alright.

[ oda breathes out through his nose, his small attempt at a laugh. upon shang qinghua’s request, he goes inside the study, sitting down next to him.

when asked, oda freezes again—only for a flash of a moment—and shakes his head again. ]

No. I think it’s proof that I was never meant to become a writer in the first place.

[nosediving]

[ blinking, he turns to oda with a curious look. never? he can hardly believe that. ]

What you're experiencing is a common obstacle that writers face every day. For your case, though, there seems to be more at play. Exactly what's stopping you from pursuing the paper with your pen?