[It was only a few days ago, a week ago, a time he could count down with two hands - ten fingers, ten cracks in a fractured ceiling beam, ten seconds between a trigger pulled and a man's agony.
It sends pinpricks of
joy
absolute joy
Complete and utter joy because he was
right.
Maruki knows he's right. Maruki sees Akechi is right and it's not a
drip
drip
drip.
It stains the grass in a single blink, it drowns the earth in two. Maruki writhes in agony and Akechi knows it's more than genetic cruelty that makes him feel alive with another's death. That only a rotten heart could find happiness - pure, unadulterated and all encompassing in the scene before him.
It's power.
Akechi is strong.
Akechi is stronger.
Maruki isn't weak, but he's
Exploitable.
And Akechi is an exploiter. A manipulator. He could kill Maruki - finish the blow. Wonders why his aim veered to the side in the last second. Doesn't matter, because he sees nothing but red and flecks of gore cover the stone ground in a room too dark, too small, with a table that Maruki's head will smack against -
In a field, not a room-
Not a table, but the ground.
And he isn't dead. He isn't dead. He isn't dead and he should be dead. Akechi can make sure he's dead and he takes steps to finish the job because it was always meant to be this way.
The barrel is supposed to be pressed right above the rim of his glasses in a shitty shoebox apartment.
Maruki should look at him, know it's him, understand that it's Akechi Goro that pulls the trigger. Not Shido, not Loki, not a power completely under his control.
He's on the ground, so Akechi's on him.]
I hate you. I hate you.
[Becomes a whispered mantra - louder and louder or maybe softer and softer - Akechi doesn't know because his lips repeat it over and over, insults and curses, barrages of vile things as he straddles Maruki's chest and-
A gun still in hand, the other free - his fingers wrap around his throat, and it may seem like he's staunching the wound. For a moment, he might be. For a second, and it doesn't matter. A barrel to forehead, a hand pressed into an open wound, clumps of loose flesh and muscle sticking between his fingers - he can't take it. He can't take it. It's all he wants - it's everything he wants. He can do it again - stick his hands under the sink until they're raw and burning, puke until his throat feels the same. He can already feel bile rise when he presses the hot metal to Maruki's forehead. Swallows it down, when his palm presses tight against an exposed windpipe.
He can do it again. He'll do it again. Maruki will learn it will happen again and -
Maruki might give him peace again, as the world burns bright above them. Blinding. Explosions of color and light reflect on the weapon. Akechi doesn't pull the trigger. It blinds and burns, so he doesn't pull the trigger. He presses and holds as blood seeps past cuff and against his skin and he doesn't pull the trigger and he came over here to strangle life from flecks of flesh and bone and he doesn't pull the trigger and-
He should pull the trigger. Azathoth is above them and if he pulls the trigger they won't win and Azathoth can't attack and Akechi will live and Maruki will die and he wants Maruki to die and he
he wants to die.
And he hopes Maruki dies.
And for a second he dies. For a moment he dies. In the blissful nothing that follows after a strike of almighty hits him. It might be stronger. It may not. The final blast of someone close to the death trying to save. No persona - he never summons either. Loki's power brewing, and then nothing. Akechi doesn't want it. He doesn't want it.
It's quiet. It's so quiet, and he's happy.
It's quiet, so quiet, and it's over minutes after it began.]
cw suicide, gore, gun violence, murder, emeto, suicidal ideation
It sends pinpricks of
joy
drip
It stains the grass in a single blink, it drowns the earth in two. Maruki writhes in agony and Akechi knows it's more than genetic cruelty that makes him feel alive with another's death. That only a rotten heart could find happiness - pure, unadulterated and all encompassing in the scene before him.
It's power.
Akechi is stronger.
Maruki isn't weak, but he'sExploitable.
And Akechi is an exploiter. A manipulator. He could kill Maruki - finish the blow. Wonders why his aim veered to the side in the last second. Doesn't matter, because he sees nothing but red and flecks of gore cover the stone ground in a room too dark, too small, with a table that Maruki's head will smack against -Not a table, but the ground.
And he isn't dead. He isn't dead. He isn't dead and he should be dead. Akechi can make sure he's dead and he takes steps to finish the job because it was always meant to be this way.The barrel is supposed to be pressed right above the rim of his glasses in a shitty shoebox apartment.
Maruki should look at him, know it's him, understand that it's Akechi Goro that pulls the trigger. Not Shido, not Loki, not a power completely under his control.
He's on the ground, so Akechi's on him.]
I hate you. I hate you.
[Becomes a whispered mantra - louder and louder or maybe softer and softer - Akechi doesn't know because his lips repeat it over and over, insults and curses, barrages of vile things as he straddles Maruki's chest and-
A gun still in hand, the other free - his fingers wrap around his throat, and it may seem like he's staunching the wound. For a moment, he might be. For a second, and it doesn't matter. A barrel to forehead, a hand pressed into an open wound, clumps of loose flesh and muscle sticking between his fingers - he can't take it. He can't take it. It's all he wants - it's everything he wants. He can do it again - stick his hands under the sink until they're raw and burning, puke until his throat feels the same. He can already feel bile rise when he presses the hot metal to Maruki's forehead. Swallows it down, when his palm presses tight against an exposed windpipe.
He can do it again. He'll do it again. Maruki will learn it will happen again and -
Maruki might give him peace again, as the world burns bright above them. Blinding. Explosions of color and light reflect on the weapon. Akechi doesn't pull the trigger. It blinds and burns, so he doesn't pull the trigger. He presses and holds as blood seeps past cuff and against his skin and he doesn't pull the trigger and he came over here to strangle life from flecks of flesh and bone and he doesn't pull the trigger and-
He should pull the trigger. Azathoth is above them and if he pulls the trigger they won't win and Azathoth can't attack and Akechi will live and Maruki will die and he wants Maruki to die and he
he wants to die.
And for a second he dies. For a moment he dies. In the blissful nothing that follows after a strike of almighty hits him. It might be stronger. It may not. The final blast of someone close to the death trying to save. No persona - he never summons either. Loki's power brewing, and then nothing. Akechi doesn't want it. He doesn't want it.
It's quiet. It's so quiet, and he's happy.
It's quiet, so quiet, and it's over minutes after it began.]