[ Maruki has noticed that except on the rare occasion that he's busy for the evening, Akechi hangs out in the kitchen every time he makes dinner. Sometimes they chat, but mostly it's a quiet, companionable energy between them. An unspoken bond between two guys who miss the creature comforts of home – and perhaps who have both been lonely for longer than they'll admit to anyone, including and especially themselves.
A homecooked meal can be its own sort of therapy.
When Akechi wakes up on the morning of his birthday, there will be a tray outside his door with the best approximation of a traditional Japanese breakfast that Maruki has been able to cobble together. Some things are a little different – he's had to make do with whatever (non-hat wearing) fish could be caught, and he and Kurogiri's attempt to recreate miso paste doesn't taste quite right – but it's recognizable enough, and overall tasty. He practiced making it a couple times, late at night when the rest of the castle was asleep.
There is one addition not typically found in a classic breakfast – a cylindrical container of jagarico. Where did he get that?
Finally, a simple notecard sits on the tray as well:
Happy Birthday, Akechi!
To many more years of your happiness when we take back our true reality.
Maruki
It's been left right before the precise time he knows Akechi wakes up, so it's still hot, and if Akechi goes looking for him, he won't find him in the castle. ]
[A near miss with the tray, the scent a warning that saves him from a stubbed toe. The whole display - a note -
A reminder of his small hand tangled in the soft fabric of his mom's shirt in a kitchen that fit the two of them like a snug puzzle piece. He remembers when she would try - smells that permeated through a too small, dingy apartment. Their instant noodle meals more than enough because all he wanted was to sit in her lap, but the elation that ran through his body when he felt steam hit his face - the smell of almost burnt fish, an expression on her face that may have been a smile at one point in her life. She had stopped smiling by the time his memories started and-
He remembers.
This smells better. Looks better. Is probably similar to the photos he's sure she looked at online before she tried to recreate a meal beyond their normal microwave heat ups.
It tastes better. Feels the same. An insane churning in his stomach as he picks apart the fish, the eggs, a reminder of home he never experienced, but surges through his body all the same. Nostalgia and grief an overwhelming, crushing, burning-
A meal created for him with the same degree of care his mother must have tried to feel.
It was hard for her. She was obligated. She tried and he'll never begrudge how much it hurt her to try and try and try when he life was falling apart because of the person she was making birthday meals for.
The irony in knowing he's taking bites from a breakfast of someone who tries and tries , despite the bullet Akechi will be forced to put in his skull.
He pushes it down. Forces it down. Rips it from his throat so he can swallow. Tears it from his chest so he can breathe.
The note is laughable and-
Placed into his pillowcase. A lie Gone. A lie hidden. A lie that's his.
The jagarico an inside joke - sticks lost in a dream back in his hands in reality. Umami Seaweed. It's one of his favorites, stocked in his cabinet at home.
The text comes long after breakfast, well into the afternoon. After Akechi's washed the dishes and tray it came on.]
It was unnecessary to do that.
But it was delicious. I haven't had a breakfast like that in years.
Sometimes nostalgia is a nice sensation to revisit.
Yes, thank you. I prefer quiet days like this, so it's gone well.
[He could let it end there. Should. His lower back presses into the pillow that holds a secret, the rocky wall sharp on his upper spine. It's comfortable all the same.
Content. Calm. A numbness in that realization that makes him continue, as if he's come back from an afternoon with Joker. A level of ease he hasn't felt in months.]
My last birthday was boisterous compared the ones I had prior to being a celebrity.
All the online accolades, Good Morning Japan even made a comment on it, and I was given offers from up and coming restaurants to have food on their dime. I had to respond to comments and messages all day.
It's funny, then, how I find the birthday in some distorted world to be the better one.
[He lets sit. Stares at the words on the screen and-]
You were gone rather early. Was everything alright?
Maruki's sat at his desk in Eyn Sof, painstakingly indexing the the makeshift patient notes in his journal so that he can copy them down into true case files once his right arm is better. He glances over at the device as the first message comes in, smiles to himself – quiet birthdays are his preference too – and then the rest come.
Akechi is guarded. Calculated. A liar.
This doesn't feel like any of that. ]
Granted, I hate anyone making even the smallest fuss over me, but... honestly, something on that scale sounds like hell.
I can see why you'd prefer a day like today, even considering our circumstances.
[ In truth, he left way too early for his usual schedule, came to Eyn Sof, and immediately went back to sleep on the couch. He figured Akechi would want the privacy, but he isn't about to say that. ]
Yes, everything's fine! I wanted to get a head start on some of the more mind numbing administrative parts of the job to get them over with. Hah, surely you had annoying rote tasks like that as a detective.
[It's aptly appropriate that a man who spends his life doling out advice and listening to every woe, doesn't want a fuss made about himself. 99% of his day seems to feigning care and consideration for others, while he suffers with gaping wound covering half his back. Suffering for the sake of consequences, while trying to heal them in others.
If it wasn't so pathetic, it might be funny.]
Hell is a strong description. Of course, I'm grateful for the support of my fans and the fortune that has smiled upon me.
[And the odds him being alive next year -
19 was a milestone he never expected to make. 20 an impossible number to reach. It won't be a concern.]
As for administrative work, I do understand. That was a majority of my job as a detective. I even assisted with those tasks at the Public Prosecutors Office, so I'm acutely aware at how they can pile up. It's smart to take advantage of the time you have.
I won't keep you then. I simply wanted to express my gratitude.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
birthday !!
A homecooked meal can be its own sort of therapy.
When Akechi wakes up on the morning of his birthday, there will be a tray outside his door with the best approximation of a traditional Japanese breakfast that Maruki has been able to cobble together. Some things are a little different – he's had to make do with whatever (non-hat wearing) fish could be caught, and he and Kurogiri's attempt to recreate miso paste doesn't taste quite right – but it's recognizable enough, and overall tasty. He practiced making it a couple times, late at night when the rest of the castle was asleep.
There is one addition not typically found in a classic breakfast – a cylindrical container of jagarico. Where did he get that?
Finally, a simple notecard sits on the tray as well:
Happy Birthday, Akechi!
To many more years of your happiness when we take back our true reality.
Maruki
It's been left right before the precise time he knows Akechi wakes up, so it's still hot, and if Akechi goes looking for him, he won't find him in the castle. ]
no subject
A reminder of his small hand tangled in the soft fabric of his mom's shirt in a kitchen that fit the two of them like a snug puzzle piece. He remembers when she would try - smells that permeated through a too small, dingy apartment. Their instant noodle meals more than enough because all he wanted was to sit in her lap, but the elation that ran through his body when he felt steam hit his face - the smell of almost burnt fish, an expression on her face that may have been a smile at one point in her life. She had stopped smiling by the time his memories started and-
He remembers.
This smells better. Looks better. Is probably similar to the photos he's sure she looked at online before she tried to recreate a meal beyond their normal microwave heat ups.
It tastes better. Feels the same. An insane churning in his stomach as he picks apart the fish, the eggs, a reminder of home he never experienced, but surges through his body all the same. Nostalgia and grief an overwhelming, crushing, burning-
A meal created for him with the same degree of care his mother must have tried to feel.
It was hard for her. She was obligated. She tried and he'll never begrudge how much it hurt her to try and try and try when he life was falling apart because of the person she was making birthday meals for.
The irony in knowing he's taking bites from a breakfast of someone who tries and tries , despite the bullet Akechi will be forced to put in his skull.
He pushes it down. Forces it down. Rips it from his throat so he can swallow. Tears it from his chest so he can breathe.
The note is laughable and-
Placed into his pillowcase. A lie Gone. A lie hidden. A lie that's his.
The jagarico an inside joke - sticks lost in a dream back in his hands in reality. Umami Seaweed. It's one of his favorites, stocked in his cabinet at home.
The text comes long after breakfast, well into the afternoon. After Akechi's washed the dishes and tray it came on.]
It was unnecessary to do that.
But it was delicious. I haven't had a breakfast like that in years.
Sometimes nostalgia is a nice sensation to revisit.
Thank you for the meal.
no subject
Don't even mention it. It was my pleasure.
Has it been a good birthday?
no subject
[He could let it end there. Should. His lower back presses into the pillow that holds a secret, the rocky wall sharp on his upper spine. It's comfortable all the same.
Content. Calm. A numbness in that realization that makes him continue, as if he's come back from an afternoon with Joker. A level of ease he hasn't felt in months.]
My last birthday was boisterous compared the ones I had prior to being a celebrity.
All the online accolades, Good Morning Japan even made a comment on it, and I was given offers from up and coming restaurants to have food on their dime. I had to respond to comments and messages all day.
It's funny, then, how I find the birthday in some distorted world to be the better one.
[He lets sit. Stares at the words on the screen and-]
You were gone rather early. Was everything alright?
no subject
Maruki's sat at his desk in Eyn Sof, painstakingly indexing the the makeshift patient notes in his journal so that he can copy them down into true case files once his right arm is better. He glances over at the device as the first message comes in, smiles to himself – quiet birthdays are his preference too – and then the rest come.
Akechi is guarded. Calculated. A liar.
This doesn't feel like any of that. ]
Granted, I hate anyone making even the smallest fuss over me, but... honestly, something on that scale sounds like hell.
I can see why you'd prefer a day like today, even considering our circumstances.
[ In truth, he left way too early for his usual schedule, came to Eyn Sof, and immediately went back to sleep on the couch. He figured Akechi would want the privacy, but he isn't about to say that. ]
Yes, everything's fine! I wanted to get a head start on some of the more mind numbing administrative parts of the job to get them over with. Hah, surely you had annoying rote tasks like that as a detective.
no subject
If it wasn't so pathetic, it might be funny.]
Hell is a strong description. Of course, I'm grateful for the support of my fans and the fortune that has smiled upon me.
[And the odds him being alive next year -
19 was a milestone he never expected to make. 20 an impossible number to reach. It won't be a concern.]
As for administrative work, I do understand. That was a majority of my job as a detective. I even assisted with those tasks at the Public Prosecutors Office, so I'm acutely aware at how they can pile up. It's smart to take advantage of the time you have.
I won't keep you then. I simply wanted to express my gratitude.
no subject
Well, gratitude accepted. Say no more on the matter.
Are you doing anything to celebrate tonight?
no subject
god. jesus god
[ He's picking up a new crossword on his way back to the castle. No more big deals about the birthday need be made, just that silent gesture. ]