They're okay with it, some days. And other days, they're not-so okay with it.
But it's a necessary evil.
Like today, Mashiro ponders, staring at her friends- family, her mind reminds her- as they live and survive through one more grueling day. They don't really live, not really, not anymore. Not like they used to, anyway, when they had a home. Rose is tuning his guitar, sneaking glances at Lisa while she reads her porn. Mashiro wonders if Lisa knows that Rose has loved her for a long, long time, and is secretly grateful that she was pulled down with him. Mashiro supposes that Lisa is better off not knowing, happier in her ignorance.
Mashiro's brown gaze turns to Kensei, who is sleeping on the couch, relaxed for the first time in what has to be over a decade. His deep breaths and limp hand indicate a deep sleep, a sight that makes her happy. The sword resting near his hand, however, marks his hesitance to relax so much, even in the environment where they've all lived for nearly thirty years without a hitch. She sighs inwardly, but turns her sight elsewhere.
Shinji found a bouncy ball somewhere. She raises her eyebrows as the bright pink shape blurs into the air and falls down into his hand, only to repeat the process. Sometimes it hits the floor, landing on the concrete with a soft thunk, to soar upward again. He always manages to catch it. His brown eyes follow the toy's moments with a lazy interest, mixed with a boredom that he had never exhibited in the Soul Society. As a captain, he had always had things to do, people to direct, messes to clean up, meetings to attend, and paperwork to ignore. Now he has nothing more than some training and a bouncy ball to entertain him. Mashiro wonders, idly, if he misses his old home, old job, despite his vehement denial to such a claim.
In the corner, Love, Hachi, and Hiyori are arguing quietly, and a quick glance at the clock provides Mashiro with evidence to wager a guess that the argument is about dinner. How mundane, Mashiro muses, watching the anger, so familiar, rise in Hiyori's eyes as Love and Hachi fail to agree with her. They counter her words with quiet proposals that just seem to piss her off even more. And this, Mashiro sees, leaning forward a little bit to see better from the beam she's sitting on, is the necessary evil that is represented in the new, harsh fragments of their souls. Hiyori's eyes darken, and Love and Hachi back down. They never would have before, Mashiro knows, since Love had been a captain and Hiyori a lieutenant. She wouldn't have had the power to crush them and everyone else around if she got mad. Now, they all know what would happen.
That necessary evil would rise, and though it's over something as simple as dinner, it could very well be the death of them all. Mashiro turns her gaze to the ceiling as she reaches upward to touch it. The metal of the warehouse is cool and sharp under her fingertips, chilling her to the bone. It's gray and without a spirit, but in that moment, it's almost mocking in its absolute control over itself.
Her arm falls down to rest in her lap again, and she sighs. The sound attracts Shinji's attention, and he raises his gaze from the ball to meet her eyes. She smiles brightly at him, all teeth, happiness, and no worry. Ever perceptive, Shinji probably doesn't believe it, but he just smiles tiredly back. She's glad that he, at least, understands what isn't said.
This monster within her- within them all- saps their energy. It will, always, until they manage to get it completely under control. They're not the people they used to be. They're tired, aged, worn down versions of their old selves with an extra streak of knowledge of, not only the darkest dangers of the world that's shielded from adults as well as children, but also of what betrayal really feels like.
They know what it's like to fight without words or raising a blade.
But the darkness resides within everyone. And perhaps that's not all that comforting, but to be able to identify those darknesses within another makes them feel like maybe they're not so alone. It reminds them all that, while they have a physical manifestation of those darker parts of themselves, those darker parts still reside within others.
But no one likes to recognize those darker parts of themselves. Often, they scare people, so they deny the darkness and thrive on them when no one else is around. People are hypocrites, but Mashiro knew that.
Her eyes continue to roam until they snap over to Hiyori, who storms off in a huff towards the kitchen. Love and Hachi sink tiredly into the chairs behind them, sighing with the same familiar exhaustion that holds them all captive. She feels sympathy feel up within her, but squishes it down when she remembers that they're all tired, and Hiyori is always this troublesome, and they have no more of a right to be sighing than the rest of them. Well, sighing isn't really a right, since its essentially harder breathing, but whatever, Mashiro thinks to herself. She lies back on the beam and shivers when the cool metal sends icy touches through her clothes to her skin.
And so another day passes, and Mashiro longs for something different. At least in the Soul Society, they could move. They could leave their rooms and stand on the mountains to watch the sun if they had so desired. They could go to restaurants and bars with their friends once their works was done. Though work was tedious, at least it kept them all occupied. Now they didn't have those freedoms. She remembers longing for something different back then, too.