[ Maruki watches the wave of reactions from Akechi with great interest, because–
There is still so much that he doesn't understand. About Azathoth, about combat, about the specifics of moving through the cognitive world. Palace.
But he knows just enough to understand that his experience is not typical. Sure, Akechi has told him that he's new to this, that he only has anecdotal evidence about a few other cases, and that for all they know, perhaps Maruki's circumstances aren't as strange as they seem. Maruki believes about half of that on a good day. It was accepted at face value in the labyrinth, in that moment of sudden crystal clarity as his experience was dragged out into the light and validated, but it's been tested since.
Akechi is an incredibly good liar, and if Maruki were anyone but who he is, he would get away with it. No one knows how to recognize lies like another who deals so deftly in them. By that same token, he knows Akechi likely sees through more of his lies than he lets on.
Somehow, it isn't irritating, or frustrating, or worrisome. It only serves to strengthen Maruki's trust in him, as an ally and a friend.
His persona should not be able to do some of the things it does. He should not be as powerful as he is with so little experience under his belt. He is abnormal, and Akechi sees it, and he's about to engage with it directly.
Good.
And in the midst of it all: That rare laugh, that sincere burst of praise.
There is a space in his chest that only Akechi occupies, whether he's aware of it or not. It goes bright-white-hot then, flaring intensely enough that the space remains comfortably warm even when the moment passes. It won't be fully extinguished any time soon, no matter what else transpires between them. Someone who knows more about their shared abilities than him – someone whose will and convictions are as powerfully strong as his own – someone who never walks behind him anymore, only ever slightly in front or at his side – someone who has never thought him weak, who has in fact only encouraged his strength – someone who guides him with a hand that's anything but gentle but twice as effective – is openly, earnestly proud of his efforts. Of him.
Maruki Will Remember That.
And then, as suddenly as it appears, it passes and is replaced with a dozen more brewing micro-expressions before Akechi begins to stand.
Maruki's eyebrows raise up past his flop of fringe. ]
Keeping in mind that this ordeal ended a couple hours ago, are you sure this will be a fair fight on my end? Azathoth might be tired.
BLISSFUL SIGH
There is still so much that he doesn't understand. About Azathoth, about combat, about the specifics of moving through the cognitive world. Palace.
But he knows just enough to understand that his experience is not typical. Sure, Akechi has told him that he's new to this, that he only has anecdotal evidence about a few other cases, and that for all they know, perhaps Maruki's circumstances aren't as strange as they seem. Maruki believes about half of that on a good day. It was accepted at face value in the labyrinth, in that moment of sudden crystal clarity as his experience was dragged out into the light and validated, but it's been tested since.
Akechi is an incredibly good liar, and if Maruki were anyone but who he is, he would get away with it. No one knows how to recognize lies like another who deals so deftly in them. By that same token, he knows Akechi likely sees through more of his lies than he lets on.
Somehow, it isn't irritating, or frustrating, or worrisome. It only serves to strengthen Maruki's trust in him, as an ally and a friend.
His persona should not be able to do some of the things it does. He should not be as powerful as he is with so little experience under his belt. He is abnormal, and Akechi sees it, and he's about to engage with it directly.
Good.
And in the midst of it all: That rare laugh, that sincere burst of praise.
There is a space in his chest that only Akechi occupies, whether he's aware of it or not. It goes bright-white-hot then, flaring intensely enough that the space remains comfortably warm even when the moment passes. It won't be fully extinguished any time soon, no matter what else transpires between them. Someone who knows more about their shared abilities than him – someone whose will and convictions are as powerfully strong as his own – someone who never walks behind him anymore, only ever slightly in front or at his side – someone who has never thought him weak, who has in fact only encouraged his strength – someone who guides him with a hand that's anything but gentle but twice as effective – is openly, earnestly proud of his efforts. Of him.
Maruki Will Remember That.
And then, as suddenly as it appears, it passes and is replaced with a dozen more brewing micro-expressions before Akechi begins to stand.
Maruki's eyebrows raise up past his flop of fringe. ]
Keeping in mind that this ordeal ended a couple hours ago, are you sure this will be a fair fight on my end? Azathoth might be tired.
[ It isn't. ]