[No, you don't - repeated again and again and again. I know that you don't again and again and again.
Maruki only says it twice, but it doesn't matter. An echo's impossible to stop - it bounces around his skull. Reverberating. Repeating. Akechi knows how he feels - he knows he hates Maruki.
It bounces, until it doesn't. An abrupt end. Silence. He's furious - a white hot anger erupting over all thought, all words said to him.
Akechi's gun is across the room - he doesn't know why the thought occurs to him, in that moment.]
I hate you.
[Louder without a care about a potential audience. He can't think. There's nothing else and he can't think and he's-]
What makes you so goddamn special? A shitty researcher who failed accomplishing anything in his pathetic life - all you did was work hard enough to create problems for everyone around you.
Maruki tumbles down to his goddamn level, so he rises - like he always does. Abruptly forcing his body to stand in a single, erratic motion. A phone clatters to the ground, maybe. He can only feel the rush of air hit an empty hand.]
It was supposed to be so fucking easy at this point. You don't - you're -
[It's not a unintentional stumble when vile words fight for their right to rip through his throat. Akechi's fingers wrapped around the pulse of his own neck - grounding, consoling, tightening and moving up to his cheek, his hair - words need to come out, he wants them out, everything needs to come out and-]
Powerful, beloved, not held back by anything - you're free to whatever you please. What must it be like to live so blithely, unbound by bonds or others? If only Rumi could see you now, with such a powerful gift, she -
[Feigned surprise - an acidic laugh.]
Oh, she wouldn't even recognize you, would she? The one person whose list you should be on wants nothing to do with you.
Maruki has no idea what passes over his expression. What sound gets bitten back as it rips from his throat. It's a searing pain, whip-strong right across the rawest wounds of his heart.
Akechi was the first person in Somnius to say her name. Maruki will never forget how that felt – to hear her conjured outside of his own head, by someone else, with a simply stated kindness. She would be proud. It circles in his head constantly. She would be proud of you and what you've accomplished, but not for the reasons you think.
Hearing her name now–
It's tightly coiled, expertly pinpointed and unleashed. Blistering, sharpened, vile. Akechi isn't invoking her for any reason other than to do harm.
Maruki is governed by his emotions just as much as he is by a scientist's skepticism and reason. He is a sensitive man, desperate for understanding, for love. Heart and soul wide open for the pain of others to pile on top of his own until it's buried down deep. Until it gets ripped up like this, by someone who knows him too well, shoved down his throat until he chokes. The whole of him one aching wound.
And Akechi knows this. Knows he's sentimental, melancholy, emotional.
He probably expects Maruki to take the hit laying down. Roll over, retreat.
If so, he misunderstands those emotions that govern Maruki to a hilarious degree.
Maruki stands as well. The fucking bowl still in his hands. His jaw sets in place, eyes locked on Akechi's, uncompromising. ]
You're lashing out. Something I said upset you deeply, so you're taking it out on me. To what end, Akechi?
[ Something like pity rises up the back of his throat.
Powerful, beloved, not held back by anything– It's like Akechi's taken what he knows of Maruki's life and twisted it into some projected version of what he wishes he could have instead. Who is he really mad at, here? ]
If your goal is to push me away, you won't accomplish that with insults about my work and my life. Tell me what you really mean.
You're smarter than this - don't act so goddamn stupid. You think this is lashing out? Shut up, shut up, shut up!
[Every
pitiful twist in his expression is a
fucking gift.
A victory. Dragged down - he'll drag him completely down into rot and muck until nothing remains of Maruki Takuto to worry about and-
He's not worried. Doesn't give a shit. Live or die, the world is cruel. Dog eat dog and they're not even worthy of being called mutts. Maruki will live. Maruki will die. Akechi doesn't give a shit either way.
All he cares about is ripping him apart - miserable, pathetic Maruki.] No, I see everything clearly - more than I ever have. Even in this goddamn rural shithole, there's always someone better. Special. Incredible with others and powerful beyond measure - you don't have to do anything. You just worm your way in like a fucking leech to suck the life out of everyone around you.
[Head stings - hair in fingers, crooked, snaking around joints. His head sting. Hurts. Palm over ear that does nothing to stop the ringing from every tug at his head. Robin Hood's somewhere, Loki's everywhere - it rise, rise, rises with every volatile breath of air.
He can't stop laughing and -
Then he does and-
It's so interesting how fate continues to push him against these unwinnable foes.]
You didn't notice, really? Rumi's parents? Do you really think that's an accident? If you hadn't been distracted, you would have known. You didn't. You failed her and now her life is in shatters. Everything I worked for is following that path - the least you could have done that day is lay down like the ant you are and let someone step on you.
[He's crouching-
Standing-
Back against a wall that's cold, too cold, and he's running hot, too hot and-]
Why am I inferior to you in every goddamn way? The Detective Prince doesn't work with you or anyone here. I just want to be acknowledged and valued. I worked so hard to do this, only to have you look at me like that. Why are you so much better than me?
Every word spat about Rumi's family strikes, again and again, colossal damage on his weakest point of all. Akechi knows this. He knows Akechi knows this. It's all done with revolting intention.
It's bait.
Maruki uses every trick in his arsenal to not rise to it. Feet planted firmly on the ground, stance tall and unwavering as Akechi twists and hisses and winds himself farther and farther into this frenzy. Breath deep and even, measured, counted. One hand cradling beneath the bowl where the ceramic is hottest, scorching into his palm, keeping him present. Focused entirely on the moment, everything Akechi says heard, acknowledged, passed off so he can do the same for the next tirade. Not stuck in his memories, not thinking of what to say. Mindful.
It's that broken note at the end – why are you so much better than me? – that Maruki thinks might be the most honest thing of all.
A young life altered irrevocably by witnessing his mother's suicide. Years spent in constant flux, without a true home, without anyone stable and solid to provide the care that every person needs. Powers gained, celebrity status forged. On his own earlier than a teenager should be. Alone ever since.
I just want to be acknowledged and valued.
It isn't even pity now. It's such a deep, painful well of genuine care.
How much love has Akechi known?
It's no wonder that he doesn't know how to receive it without trying to destroy it, like everything else was destroyed before he had any control over his life at all.
Maruki weathers it calmly. Moves only to turn and set the bowl on the floor outside the still open door. There's no way any housemates home tonight haven't heard this, he's so loud, so raw.
Turns back to Akechi. Looks at him, undeterred. ]
You aren't inferior to me in any way. Akechi.
[ A step closer. Two. Unwise, potentially dangerous. Maruki doesn't care. If Akechi wanted him to back down, then he shouldn't have taken him through a destroyed city, snarled at him to get to his feet and fight or die.
Maybe there was a version of him that would have already walked away from this conversation, but Maruki hasn't been that man in a while now. ]
I acknowledge you. I value you. Not the Detective Prince. You.
Maruki doesn't leave. Maruki never leaves. Maruki isn't leaving.
Akechi will make him leave because he's not inferior - he is better. He's the best. A celebrity, a detective prince - he doesn't need to be Akechi Goro. Doesn't need to be-
"you"-
The Detective prince is false and Akechi Goro is rotten and maybe Akechi had a chance to be someone else before he met a man who would irrevocably change his life in the way-
He wants to puke, blood on the wall, blank dull eyes he rarely saw with a mask guarding his every expression and-
Maruki isn't guarded. Akechi wants him gone. Maruki looks at Akechi and thinks that's Akechi Goro-
Walk closer, is closer, every step forward adds an additional second Akechi will choke him in reality one, two, three steps and mumble, hum, taste and-
It's wild - the laughter that tumbles out of his throat. Remember a corpse, remember crossed arms, remember the way he took every step, step, step forward instead of backing out of the room.]
How goddamn pathetic - you value me. You really think that? You don't know a fucking thing.
[Leave leave leave leave leave leave leave leaveleave - and now he's taking a step forward, away from the wall. Not hot, not cold - he's nothing. It's clear. It's a fight. He wants to fight. A grotesque, twisted smile rips away the lost prince for good and in a single erratic gesture -
Both hands gesture outwards - out of coiled hair that still feels like it's torn when Akechi moves. Erratic. Acting. Posturing. Confident. ]
I killed Wakaba Isshiki and she's not the only one. I turned her brain to goddamn mush and watched her die. [He can't remember. Doesn't remember. His face was stuck in a toilet for hours after the shutdown - was he there? Papers in hand - at the office? In a street? He can't think. It doesn't matter.] I wanted to steal her research - doesn't that sound familiar? Or do I need spell every stupid thing out for you?
[ For a moment, it's horror. For a moment, it's shock. For a moment, it's fear.
All the reactions that Akechi surely wanted to draw out him, there on his expressive face in full color.
But then–
Wakaba Isshiki's death was reported as a suicide, and cognitive psience fell out of the very little favor it had come into. Why? Stolen research. Stolen by who?
Two years ago. Akechi would have been fifteen, sixteen at most. He wasn't yet famous. A young teenager familiar enough with such a niche, esoteric field as cognitive psience to want to steal research? To want badly enough to kill for it? ]
You wanted her research? Is that so.
[ Reported as a suicide. Could easily be a coverup. Akechi has insinuated as much.
It's not paranoid. Don't you find Wakaba Isshiki's death odd?
Maruki stares at him, eyes wide and wild. No more horror, no more shock, no more fear.
Only rapidly dawning understanding, the scales falling from his eyes.
The version of his paper that he wrote for Akechi didn't include everything. The changes of heart, yes. The mental shutdowns and psychotic breaks, no. Cards held close to his chest for the time being because he knew that was central to Akechi's investigations, didn't want to push too hard on that just yet.
But Maruki knows. He's known. Those have been cognitive psience in action, too. Those have been orchestrated by the same man. And how would he have ever known how to accomplish them?
The only formal research on the topic that has ever existed. Wakaba Isshiki's, and his own.
I turned her brain to goddamn mush and watched her die.
Okumura's face permanently etched into his vision as he watched the news conference in a diner. Those blank eyes, that black liquid. A mental shutdown in action. Couldn't be covered up as a suicide, or a heart attack, or an accident–
Like getting hit by a truck–
Like rogue subway cars, dozens dead–
Maruki's gaze sharpens. ]
I lied to you. In that club. I told you that I believed my research was stolen.
[ His voice sounds very far from his own ears. ]
It was stolen. I know for a fact that it was, and I know who stole it.
[ Akechi feigning a lack of knowledge–
The Detective Prince is supposed to show his support on his policies when we return - isn't that funny?
Every goddamn piece of this puzzle has been laid out for him, and a not insignificant amount were handed to him directly from Akechi. ]
Masayoshi Shido stole it. Every time you've warned me lately, I've known who you were warning me about. If I go too far, stolen research and stymied funding won't be enough. He'll kill me. Or someone from his team will kill me.
[ Or–
It feels impossible, improbable, unthinkable–
It feels correct. Everything he knows, suddenly, everything he's suspected. Akechi's familiarity with the cognitive world. Cognitive psience. Changing cognitions.
Maruki steps closer, again. Uncrosses his arms. Puts both hands on Akechi's shoulders, with the full knowledge he could be ripped to shreds in an instant. ]
So– what, Akechi? You'll be the one to kill me?
[ The only piece of the puzzle that doesn't fit is how genuine Akechi's concern for him has been. He isn't as good of a liar as he thinks he is. None of that could have been convincingly faked.
Maruki hasn't sounded angry once this entire time, and he doesn't now. He's only firm in both his convictions and his compassion. ]
Let me ask you again. What path are you following?
Weaklings aren't worth his time and he's given more of that priceless, flickering, waning part of himself to Maruki than any other human being in his life.
The pieces connect and-
He's proud of him and
hates him visceral unrelenting hate that coats every memory together. Contorts. Breaks. Shatters.
Every mundane moment, breaks of laughter, teasing, discussions that rewired old views and solidified new ones
pressed deep into his heart - folded inside and protected with poison tipped barbs and spooling unrelenting wire
because he hadn't lied. Maruki will be with him when he kills Shido. Maruki will be with him with that steel coated gaze fixed on an enemy. Earlier flickering emotions the denoting victory because an image was shattered. One that never existed. Maruki gets it. Maruki will
After he talks. Final words. Final statements. Because Maruki has always given, afforded, allowed Akechi Goro to speak freely in the dimly lit cafe - not a cafe, a dimly lit kitchen. He let Akechi Goro stand by his side - listened, learned, trained, consumed every piece of knowledge Akechi doled out and offered his own words in turn.
Akechi remembers the day he realized Maruki was a liar and-
Remembers the moment when those truths escaped in exasperated mumbles, stern looks from doorways after late night texts, overextended stays at the bathhouse and battles of will in a cafe.
'Masayoshi Shido stole it' because the world is his and everyone is a pawn with a purpose. It is Shido's research because Maruki exists to serve and it's-
Another reason to pull him into the rot - Maruki, Akechi, Shido, the cabal and every single disgusting member of that inner circle.
No verbal confirmation - smiles of a distorted prince. Wild, manic gaze that follows strings of bright light across Maruki's face.
Maruki, hit by a car in front of Rumi, maybe. Poetic - she wouldn't even stop to call 119. What a shame she would utter as he bled out in front of the world. Made the 8 PM news. A small blip under election results. Maruki Takuto, dead.
Maruki, on TV to talk about Shujin, Shido, Cognitive Psience - eyes folding inwards until vein and strings of red meet the audience. Thick, viscous matter pooling against his lashes, strangling out mumble, hum, taste with choking force. Maruki Takuto, dead.
Maruki, walking across the street - ill from an unknown ailment that's plagued him all day. Nothing works - he can't breathe. Can't move. Stops in the middle of a busy intersection - caddycorner to a restaurant he hoped to take Rumi's parents someday, maybe. It's painful when the car smashes into his body - viscera coating the road. Maruki Takuto, dead.
Maruki Takuto, puts his hands against Akechi's shoulders.]
Didn't I mention that I killed Rumi's parents?
[Furious. Angry. Seeing red doesn't describe it - the force against his shoulders is an anchor he shuns. Shoulders moving to shrug the grip off - Maruki isn't angry. He will be now, but even Akechi-]
Just kidding! But I haven't only killed in the cognitive world. You're being rather brave right now.
[Sickly sweet, coated in honey - stated like he was-
A prince
once.
Never one. Will never be one. Never wanted to be one.
Maruki Takuto, puts his hands on a killer's shoulders-
Maruki Takuto, puts his hands on a traitor's shoulders and-
Akechi Goro, wraps his fingers around Maruki's throat - fingers pressing indents into pulse and neck. He'll face the consequences with Maruki this close now and he'll face the consequences with Maruki this close later and-]
Use your fucking brain. Whatever path keeps me by the side of my father, Masayoshi Shido. I will kill anyone to get there and I will rip him apart piece by goddamn piece when I do. Death will be my only mercy to him by the time I'm through. But that's not a surprise, is it? Now that you know? I sometimes wonder if evil is genetic. Cruelty must be.
[Moved from home to home to home to home to home and he didn't want them to leave leave leave leave leave leave leave leaveleave. Ignored. Unwanted. Taken in to exploit. Taken in for a price. Taken in for a cost. Taken in to be someone else and-
His mom would hate Akechi Goro. His mom would like Maruki Takuto, whose skin is turning pale red under the force of his indents. Pressure. Not strangling. Not yet.]
If it means killing you to get there, I don't care. It's because of that piece of shit that I was born and I will make him pay for it. Imagine how he'll look - prime minster of Japan and in control of all, only to have an unknown son rip him down to feel the same pain my mother did. For that, I will not hesitate.
cannot fucking believe i rolled a nat 20. cw for maruki being a special boy i guess
[ His own blood and primordial chaos pound so loudly in his ears as two hands wrap around his throat that he nearly doesn't hear it.
Nearly.
Father, more venomous than anything else, than any petty, childish, hateful, hurtful barb Akechi has aimed his way tonight. That's not Akechi lashing out, spewing bullshit. That's truth.
Time stills.
Azathoth roars to life at the back of his head the very moment that he's threatened, before Akechi's even gotten his words out. It will appear without his consent in an instant, because if the human condition bends toward survival at all costs, then Azathoth's bends toward his protection. All of the world a dream that the blind idiot god has in its slumber, and Maruki most of all. Its little dream, made manifest in a man a hair's breadth away from beginning to choke.
Maruki quiets it by force. Focuses. Listens. Breathes, pulse hammering into Akechi's fingers.
He wants to remember how Akechi looked when the pathetic facsimile of Shido appeared to them in the café. Wants to remember if there was anything hidden in his expression or his words that might have given it away – my father – I suppose he seemed somewhat familiar – maybe that man was a good omen – my father–
He wants to remember what Akechi said in the bath house as they quietly shared the stories behind their unwittingly displayed memories – sometimes I wonder if my father had a hand behind the scenes – a lowlife who wanted nothing to do us while she was alive–
He can't. All of his focus is tunneled down to what's right before him. Akechi, every last façade ripped away until he's all raw exposed nerves and roiling, seething violence. Every minuscule glimpse Maruki has gotten throughout their time together of a true nature shoved deep down now on vicious display.
And him, the target of it.
He can feel his heartbeat rattling through every limb. Breath quick, pupils dilated. Primal survival instincts.
He swallows, rough, voice harsh beneath Akechi's hands. ]
You don't have to kill me to get there. Let go of me.
[ Both hands come up to grip Akechi's wrists, tight, far tighter than the pressure on his throat.
Azathoth doesn't appear, no, but there is that aurora-like waver through the air as Maruki wrenches his hands away, twisting and shoving Akechi away from him with a quick, brutal strength that he shouldn't, doesn't possess.
He doesn't see what Akechi's face does in that moment, if it does anything. His vision is obscured entirely in the few seconds it takes to free himself, push away, breathe in. Nothing, for the moment, but endless white walls, floors, ceilings, stairs, blinding in its purity and brilliance, a single bird flapping out of the way.
He blinks his vision back. The aurora dissipates. He only sees Akechi and the rest of this depressingly monastic room.
Maruki's left arm extends between them, distance forced. ]
Don't touch me again. I won't hesitate to fight you, Akechi. Just talk to me.
[ Another inhale, sharp and frigid as shards of ice. It's the dead of summer. He shouldn't feel so cold. ]
You've been working with him to take him down? Your father. Him?
SPECIAL SPECIAL GOD BOY cw: murder, violent thoughts
Another wave of a calm. A blanket forced over his head until he suffocates under the weight of his own wrath.
Maruki will persevere and-
Akechi wants him to die and-
Akechi wants him to go back to his shitty apartment and pretend there isn't a slumbering power in the depths of his soul - the same gift that makes him so goddamn special. That reveals itself in hidden strength to rip his hands free from the encroaching vice grip and pushes Akechi's body back.
Maruki won't have Azathoth in reality.
Of course Akechi stumbled. Akechi never stumbles and he would, now, in the wake of this man's power. It's always like this. In the Metaverse, he'll never stand a chance.
In their true reality, everything will work in his favor and-
His stomach churns, heart races, at every vile thought about his end.]
All that shit you stuck your nose into-
[Talk. He wants to talk. Says Don't touch me because a prince's hands are disgusting - coated in the last bit of life of lost lives. I won't hesitate to fight you, Akechi as if-
Akechi wants to talk. He doesn't want to talk. Why would he want to talk when they could fight. Akechi could attack him from behind - justice and fair play is all bullshit in the end. Loki's presence a comforting, sweltering hug as it wraps around his throat again, again, again.
Akechi chokes out laugh - malicious and cruel. Choked through fingers touching his own throat to guide Loki around it and-
Choked through every thought that makes him think Maruki can be moved down a list and-
Maybe the death of a leader was enough to save unknowing followers and-
It doesn't matter. Does. A sidestep towards a pillow showing his intent on talk versus fight, but-]
Does talking change any goddamn thing? I'm a murderer working for the most disgusting, rotten scum on Earth and you want to talk.
[Don't touch me he said. Akechi will oblige. Another sidestep. The room is dizzying shades of muted color - the pillow a new focus. There's a gun in there and he doesn't know why he thinks about it.
But he stops a step short of his threat. He can't remember when a hand fell back against his skull. It feels better when a hand coils around his hair, so he does.]
Fine, you've been so kind to me - let's talk. I've been thinking about you often since we met - don't you wonder what number you are on his extensive list? Important enough to have your research stolen, but not valuable or enough of a threat to make it above a shitty fast food CEO. Your life is worth less than a goddamn burger.
[ Maruki watches every step he takes toward that pillow. Azathoth rumbles through his mind, foreshocks before a quake. He closes his eyes, briefly, quiets it again.
It's when his eyes are closed that that last hit lands, and Maruki–
Laughs. Quiet, but genuine. Like they just made a stupid joke over a crossword clue, or shared a ridiculous bit of gossip gleaned from Oracle. For a moment, it's so normal.
His eyes open and fall back on Akechi. ]
Good. I'm glad it is. I hope my life remains that worthless for as long as it can.
[ Stupid. What is Akechi even trying to hit at anymore? He's an animal backed into the farthest corner of his cage, snarling and snapping at air.
The protective arm held between them drops. Maruki tucks both hands into his pockets to try to stop them from trembling. He isn't scared. He doesn't know what he is.
No, he does, and it's so–
Stupid. He cares so much, it's an aching wound in his chest worse than whatever bullet Akechi's going to bury there. ]
I'm not interested in changing anything. That's not why I want to talk to you. I only want to understand.
[ It occurs to him right then, so he voices it right as the thoughts coalesce: ]
Have I ever tried to change anything about you since we've known each other? Why would I start now?
[ Well. Perhaps because he's been overtly threatened tonight, verbally and physically, while bloody confessions dripped from Akechi's tongue.
In time, the full gravity of what Akechi's owning up to will sink in, and Maruki will deal with that in his own way. For the moment, this isn't about him. Not even a bit, not at all, despite the words being spat at his feet.
Akechi isn't a murderer working for Shido. He's a murderer because he works for Shido, because he has to be to attain his goal. There is not a single sliver of Maruki that isn't convinced of that. He has seen enough of what Shido is like in the public eye, experienced only the vaguest whispers of it at his back. He can scarcely imagine what the man is like in private. How Akechi has been warped and twisted to do his father's bidding.
Every time he remembers, it rips through him like wildfire up and down his nerves. The story he was told in the bathhouse, their discussions of a woman who didn't stand a chance against what society had stacked against her. A society that Masayoshi Shido has had no small hand in building and wants to perpetuate. How many lives has he carelessly crushed on his ascent to power just as he did Akechi's?
And then to have Akechi at his side–
It's the most disgusting thing of all. Bile thick over Maruki's tongue to even consider it. What level of manipulation must be occurring behind the scenes.
Earlier he wanted to ask for Akechi's protection. It's entirely turned around now. They will return to their reality, and Maruki will keep his head down, and Akechi will do what needs to be done, and Maruki will repay him for letting him keep his life by trying to help Akechi keep his.
Simple. That's the plan now. There's no alternative.
A steadying breath. A question calmly put forth. ]
How will you do it? You've clearly been planning this for some time. I have no intention of talking you out of it, so– how will you ensure that you can take him out and get away with it?
[Maruki doesn't leave through a doorway or in a battle meant to end Akechi's life. He leaves the situation with a laugh.
It lacks the same wild mania that tinged Akechi's own volatile, unprovoked laughter. It's soft - comforting and calm. A voice heard through a shared wall, over a counter, in the living room while they both scroll posts and look over one another's shoulder to judge the stupid shit said.
Akechi stares at him - Maruki Takuto. Visions of his corpse at the forefront of his mind still - his imagination filling in gaps from scenarios that jump, jump, jump around, but-
There's a thin layer of static drowning out the thump of a car hitting body, body hitting floor, muffled shot in a room where the walls reverberate every noise, like sharpened bullets, until his ears feel full of bleed.
Furious. Angry. Maruki hasn't fallen to anything he's spewed out - Akechi has more. Can go all night. Tenacious in his skill of pushing away, ripping apart, tearing everything to pieces. Only an idiot would fall for the ploy of I won't change you because the Detective Prince is necessary for others.
'Have I ever tried to change anything about you since we've known each other? Why would I start now?'
But not for Maruki, who picked at threads of Akechi Goro until it unraveled in quiet moments alone and now-
When he picks at the frayed, thin, short strands of Akechi that feel impossible to pinch to between fingers, but he does.
No movement towards the pillow. Towards anything. Akechi keeps his hands pressed tight against his side, no longer full of the same dramatic flair used to prove his nonchalance, his innate cruelty, how little he cared about every life lost in his goal.
It's quiet - silent. The first time in awhile. In that emptiness, Akechi becomes -
Acutely aware at how his voice was bouncing around the walls. A clarity returning like a flickering, shitty flashlight in slowly dissipating fog.
It's quiet. No movement. He blinks, for the first time in awhile.
The thin stands of light that were painting Maruki's face vanish. A man tired - confident and-
Persevering.
Maruki wants Akechi Goro. Akechi. Hates the Detective Prince. Shido. It could be a trick, but for all of Maruki's lies, a fire brewed, raged, devoured in that man's vision at Shido's appearance. A gaze that rivaled his own. Bitter, unresolved anger. An eruption brewing, all because of Shido.
Even Akechi couldn't incite that fire to burn.
It's quiet, until it's not. Akechi doesn't move, until he does. Exhausted. Tired. Hungry. Sick. Dizzy. Nauseated. His shoulder hits the wall and-]
My plan is mine alone. In the end, I'm sure I'll pay for everything I've done with the same amount of blood I've spilled from others. There's more than Shido behind the scenes - any number of his pathetic, sniveling sycophants will fill the power vacuum and tie up loose ends.
[A shift. His back presses against the castle wall - the shared one. The tip of his foot touches the corner of the pillow, but he doesn't care. A gun's there. He ignores it. Robin Hood tempers. Loki protects. Both nestle and fit into spurs and tightly coiled wire around his heart.]
I don't plan to roll over and die by any means. I'll fight, but I don't care about 'getting away with it'. That's hardly relevant. I want the world to see that disgusting man for what he is, what he's done, and have him die for good under my heel.
[ The tangible shift in his energy, tone, stance – it's all noted. And a relief, but not a total one. He isn't safe by a long shot, but he's at least bought some time, and some more lucid conversation.
More than Shido behind the scenes– well, Maruki isn't naïve. He could have guessed that. Has guessed that. What does he always tell people here? It's never just one person, especially not a figurehead. There are always others in the shadows, waiting in the wings.
He listens to the plan summarized, the disregard for his own life, and after a beat, Maruki's mouth twists into a wry smile. ]
Well, if you need a place to lay low...
[ He finally dislodges a hand from his pocket and holds it up lazily, palm out. It's no longer shaking. ]
I'm kidding. But only because I'm sure there's no one you'd be less safe around than me. Two birds, one stone.
[ Replaced in his pocket. Maruki doesn't dare relax against the wall as well, doesn't move an inch, but his shoulders do at least untense and relax back and down. Exhaustion creeps up behind his eyes. A long day only getting longer.
He has to wonder when Akechi will be able to enact this plan. In his version of their reality, Masayoshi Shido already had his heart changed, and very little real change came of it. Christmas Eve, and the man was still alive. But the way the sky distorted over Tokyo, the way the colossal skeletal remains speared up through the ground and toward the blood-red heavens...
Who knows. Maybe somewhere out there, Akechi was getting his revenge. ]
Akechi... Look.
[ He sighs, lets his eyes fall shut again. ]
Don't mistake this for me carelessly condoning murder. And if anyone from our reality ever asks, this conversation never happened. But...
[ Eyes open, chin tipped up so he can look at the ceiling. ]
Even if you hadn't told me anything else aside from your plan, I would still look the other way. I don't believe there is any good in our country or our world with a man like him at the helm. Whatever means need to be used to take him down– fine. But now, with the context that you've given me tonight...
[ That space in the center of his chest reserved only for Akechi burns. How painful is it, to already care so deeply for someone and then to learn everything they've suffered in silence since long before you knew them.
Maruki is a fixer. A healer. A man accustomed to regrets and what-ifs. Of course his traitorous imagination supplies him with one right now: What if somehow, he had been able to meet Akechi earlier back in their reality? Could any of this have been avoided?
Maybe. Probably not. He doesn't know. It isn't worth dwelling on. His eyes sting and his sternum aches as he finally turns his focus back to Akechi again. ]
I can't fault you for what you'll do.
[ Not what he wants to do. What he will do. Conviction ever-present. ]
[Maruki makes a joke - exhales with that weathered exhaustion Akechi's come to recognize. Could place the origin of it with his eyes closed and no small amount of distance away.
He makes a joke with a blanket of truth around it - as if Akechi could really stay in that shitty shoebox apartment to hide out from a political assassination of the most powerful man in Japan. If tension wasn't holding every part of his body hostage, he-
Might laugh politely, as the Detective Prince. Might provide some unhelpful commentary about the lack of space and joke about how it's a roundabout ploy for access to unlimited funds - money that would be inaccessible the second it happened, as Akechi Goro.
As Akechi -
Akechi, with pinpricks of stone against his spine. Akechi, who doesn't care about the world around him or the one to come. Akechi, whose fingertips have residual heat from being pressed tight around Maruki's neck.
Akechi who is looking, listening, watching Maruki who is looking, listening, watching-
He doesn't know what Akechi would have done and-
It's ignored. Discarded. Not worthy of a place in the barbs and crushed before it can see any sort of light, through being voiced or otherwise.
Maruki looks up. That's stupid. The little red indents along his neck fading, but obvious. He needs more training and-
Then he looks back and words fall out of his mouth in that grotesquely genuine, understanding manner that is strictly
Maruki.
Not Maruki Takuto. Not a counselor. Not a researcher. Not a liar. It's Maruki who
Who justified his mother's existence in bathhouse-
Who gives Akechi Goro a voice-
Who says 'I can't fault you for what you'll do. Not at all.'
Placating. Considerate. Sentimental and-
Unnecessary. Soothing.
Loyal.
Akechi looks away - from the red dots along Maruki's neck, from shoes, body and foot to-
Wall, floor, statue and-]
Every time I think I've figured you out, you surprise me. It's interesting how you don't mind bodies littering the floor, so long as they aren't related to you. Maybe you'll end up like us before long - heartless, cruel and willing to accept the unthinkable for a prize.
[Bite to coat-
Gratitude, maybe. Akechi isn't sure. An indecipherable foreign sensation in a chest full of unknowns.
Cold steel to the thought. Unnecessary. Pointless.
'If we had met sooner' on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't know why he thinks it. It's ignored. Forgotten, as quickly as the thought forms.]
I don't regret any of it - not for a moment. To rip that man down, I would do it over again and will continue to until I achieve my goal. You understand that, don't you? Justice, friendship, allies - I don't care about any of it.
[ Another smile – so small it's barely a quirk at both corners of his mouth, so tired, so genuine still. ]
Yeah. I understand the ends justifying the means better than you might think.
[ He hasn't lied once to Akechi tonight. Hasn't even obfuscated. Hasn't had the mental presence to, so focused as he's been on navigating Akechi's volatility.
But somehow, in an evening of raw truths shoved into the light, that's the most honest statement of all. There is a weight to those words that none else have held.
They aren't the same. Maruki regrets. Every single day of his life, for years, has been steeped in remorse.
They are the same. He would still do it again. And again, and again, and again.
There are at least two other Maruki Takutos out there. One in the reality Akechi is from, who hasn't yet brought Azathoth forth into their world, and one who spent some ill-gotten time in a strange city based on sins. There are doubtlessly countless others. They have likely all made the choice that he did. He can't imagine any of them would change it. It's so foundational to who he is, who they are. In every timeline, he would choose to do it again. Lose Rumi. Hurt himself to heal another.
It isn't the same at all, really. But Maruki does understand.
And regardless of whether or not Akechi cares, he has an ally now. Tonight hasn't changed that. Maruki isn't about to say it and risk starting another fight; besides, words are empty so often. He'll simply prove it in coming days, weeks, months.
He doesn't delude himself into thinking either of them have years ahead of them now. ]
[The verbal confirmation becomes less of a surprise when Akechi remembers-
Not even a week ago, they took to the streets of Somnius together with a thought that some would consider abhorrent. Neither one confirmed who the real target would be, but they walked all the same. Distorted cognition, or attempted to, with no real result to note.
Later that night, Akechi tried again, with a full proof method of manipulation and-
Nothing. If he had told Maruki-
Akechi can't be sure if he would have shunned the thought of using a psychotic break to their advantage.
No, it doesn't surprise him in the slightest that the ends justify the means falls from his lips - the only mystery is where it stems from. Rumi? To what end, when his research was stolen and-
The murders? Why would it matter, when Maruki didn't have a plan for revenge nipping at his heel.
It's a problem for a day when a nail isn't being pressed into his skull with increasing force - a persistent throbbing pain at the nape of his neck.]
I don't need rest and I don't know what questions you could possibly have. Everything is clear. Whatever you want to know, get it out now and I'll decide if I want to answer.
[ Maruki just laughs at that, soft and not unkind. Sure. If Akechi even wakes up for breakfast, he'll be surprised. ]
No, it's all stuff we can discuss later. Seriously.
[ It wasn't a question, it was a statement. He should let Akechi rest, and he will. End of story.
But for the briefest moment, he hesitates. Touches his neck gingerly. It only hurts a little, it'll fade soon. No permanent damage. Only a persistent memory of the rage boiling over in Akechi's eyes, the heat of it made tangible in palms and fingers dug into his throat.
He has a lot to sort through in his mind. Akechi will rest, but he won't.
Stupid to turn his back on Akechi to leave, but he does it anyway. It's only a few steps outside the door. It's a test of trust.
He pauses, looks down at the now cold bowl of soup tucked into the hall right outside the door.
Thinks to place it back inside the room, then thinks better of it.
Maruki leans an arm against the doorframe when he turns back to smile at Akechi, truly exhausted now. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ITS FINE ITS FINE ITS FINE
Maruki only says it twice, but it doesn't matter. An echo's impossible to stop - it bounces around his skull. Reverberating. Repeating. Akechi knows how he feels - he knows he hates Maruki.
It bounces, until it doesn't. An abrupt end. Silence. He's furious - a white hot anger erupting over all thought, all words said to him.
Akechi's gun is across the room - he doesn't know why the thought occurs to him, in that moment.]
I hate you.
[Louder without a care about a potential audience. He can't think. There's nothing else and he can't think and he's-]
What makes you so goddamn special? A shitty researcher who failed accomplishing anything in his pathetic life - all you did was work hard enough to create problems for everyone around you.
[Beloved. Wanted. Adored. Maruki. Unloved. Unwanted. Maruki.
Unloved, loved, wanted, unwanted-
Maruki tumbles down to his goddamn level, so he rises - like he always does. Abruptly forcing his body to stand in a single, erratic motion. A phone clatters to the ground, maybe. He can only feel the rush of air hit an empty hand.]
It was supposed to be so fucking easy at this point. You don't - you're -
[It's not a unintentional stumble when vile words fight for their right to rip through his throat. Akechi's fingers wrapped around the pulse of his own neck - grounding, consoling, tightening and moving up to his cheek, his hair - words need to come out, he wants them out, everything needs to come out and-]
Powerful, beloved, not held back by anything - you're free to whatever you please. What must it be like to live so blithely, unbound by bonds or others? If only Rumi could see you now, with such a powerful gift, she -
[Feigned surprise - an acidic laugh.]
Oh, she wouldn't even recognize you, would she? The one person whose list you should be on wants nothing to do with you.
no subject
Maruki has no idea what passes over his expression. What sound gets bitten back as it rips from his throat. It's a searing pain, whip-strong right across the rawest wounds of his heart.
Akechi was the first person in Somnius to say her name. Maruki will never forget how that felt – to hear her conjured outside of his own head, by someone else, with a simply stated kindness. She would be proud. It circles in his head constantly. She would be proud of you and what you've accomplished, but not for the reasons you think.
Hearing her name now–
It's tightly coiled, expertly pinpointed and unleashed. Blistering, sharpened, vile. Akechi isn't invoking her for any reason other than to do harm.
Maruki is governed by his emotions just as much as he is by a scientist's skepticism and reason. He is a sensitive man, desperate for understanding, for love. Heart and soul wide open for the pain of others to pile on top of his own until it's buried down deep. Until it gets ripped up like this, by someone who knows him too well, shoved down his throat until he chokes. The whole of him one aching wound.
And Akechi knows this. Knows he's sentimental, melancholy, emotional.
He probably expects Maruki to take the hit laying down. Roll over, retreat.
If so, he misunderstands those emotions that govern Maruki to a hilarious degree.
Maruki stands as well. The fucking bowl still in his hands. His jaw sets in place, eyes locked on Akechi's, uncompromising. ]
You're lashing out. Something I said upset you deeply, so you're taking it out on me. To what end, Akechi?
[ Something like pity rises up the back of his throat.
Powerful, beloved, not held back by anything– It's like Akechi's taken what he knows of Maruki's life and twisted it into some projected version of what he wishes he could have instead. Who is he really mad at, here? ]
If your goal is to push me away, you won't accomplish that with insults about my work and my life. Tell me what you really mean.
no subject
[Every
pitiful twist in his expression is a
fucking gift.
A victory. Dragged down - he'll drag him completely down into rot and muck until nothing remains of Maruki Takuto to worry about and-
He's not worried. Doesn't give a shit. Live or die, the world is cruel. Dog eat dog and they're not even worthy of being called mutts. Maruki will live. Maruki will die. Akechi doesn't give a shit either way.
All he cares about is ripping him apart - miserable, pathetic Maruki.] No, I see everything clearly - more than I ever have. Even in this goddamn rural shithole, there's always someone better. Special. Incredible with others and powerful beyond measure - you don't have to do anything. You just worm your way in like a fucking leech to suck the life out of everyone around you.
[Head stings - hair in fingers, crooked, snaking around joints. His head sting. Hurts. Palm over ear that does nothing to stop the ringing from every tug at his head. Robin Hood's somewhere, Loki's everywhere - it rise, rise, rises with every volatile breath of air.
He can't stop laughing and -
Then he does and-
It's so interesting how fate continues to push him against these unwinnable foes.]You didn't notice, really? Rumi's parents? Do you really think that's an accident? If you hadn't been distracted, you would have known. You didn't. You failed her and now her life is in shatters. Everything I worked for is following that path - the least you could have done that day is lay down like the ant you are and let someone step on you.
[He's crouching-
Standing-
Back against a wall that's cold, too cold, and he's running hot, too hot and-]Why am I inferior to you in every goddamn way? The Detective Prince doesn't work with you or anyone here. I just want to be acknowledged and valued. I worked so hard to do this, only to have you look at me like that. Why are you so much better than me?
cw suicide mention
Every word spat about Rumi's family strikes, again and again, colossal damage on his weakest point of all. Akechi knows this. He knows Akechi knows this. It's all done with revolting intention.
It's bait.
Maruki uses every trick in his arsenal to not rise to it. Feet planted firmly on the ground, stance tall and unwavering as Akechi twists and hisses and winds himself farther and farther into this frenzy. Breath deep and even, measured, counted. One hand cradling beneath the bowl where the ceramic is hottest, scorching into his palm, keeping him present. Focused entirely on the moment, everything Akechi says heard, acknowledged, passed off so he can do the same for the next tirade. Not stuck in his memories, not thinking of what to say. Mindful.
It's that broken note at the end – why are you so much better than me? – that Maruki thinks might be the most honest thing of all.
A young life altered irrevocably by witnessing his mother's suicide. Years spent in constant flux, without a true home, without anyone stable and solid to provide the care that every person needs. Powers gained, celebrity status forged. On his own earlier than a teenager should be. Alone ever since.
I just want to be acknowledged and valued.
It isn't even pity now. It's such a deep, painful well of genuine care.
How much love has Akechi known?
It's no wonder that he doesn't know how to receive it without trying to destroy it, like everything else was destroyed before he had any control over his life at all.
Maruki weathers it calmly. Moves only to turn and set the bowl on the floor outside the still open door. There's no way any housemates home tonight haven't heard this, he's so loud, so raw.
Turns back to Akechi. Looks at him, undeterred. ]
You aren't inferior to me in any way. Akechi.
[ A step closer. Two. Unwise, potentially dangerous. Maruki doesn't care. If Akechi wanted him to back down, then he shouldn't have taken him through a destroyed city, snarled at him to get to his feet and fight or die.
Maybe there was a version of him that would have already walked away from this conversation, but Maruki hasn't been that man in a while now. ]
I acknowledge you. I value you. Not the Detective Prince. You.
[ Even right now.
Another step. Arms folded over his chest. ]
So tell me. What path are you following, exactly?
cw: violent thoughts, murder almost forgot!!!
[Leave leave leave leave leave leave leave leave leave
Maruki doesn't leave. Maruki never leaves. Maruki isn't leaving.
Akechi will make him leave because he's not inferior - he is better. He's the best. A celebrity, a detective prince - he doesn't need to be Akechi Goro. Doesn't need to be-"you"-
The Detective prince is false and Akechi Goro is rotten and maybe Akechi had a chance to be someone else before he met a man who would irrevocably change his life in the way-He wants to puke, blood on the wall, blank dull eyes he rarely saw with a mask guarding his every expression and-
Maruki isn't guarded. Akechi wants him gone. Maruki looks at Akechi and thinks that's Akechi Goro-Walk closer, is closer, every step forward adds an additional second Akechi will choke him in reality one, two, three steps and mumble, hum, taste and-
It's wild - the laughter that tumbles out of his throat. Remember a corpse, remember crossed arms, remember the way he took every step, step, step forward instead of backing out of the room.]
How goddamn pathetic - you value me. You really think that? You don't know a fucking thing.
[Leave leave leave leave leave leave leave leave leave - and now he's taking a step forward, away from the wall. Not hot, not cold - he's nothing. It's clear. It's a fight. He wants to fight. A grotesque, twisted smile rips away the lost prince for good and in a single erratic gesture -
Both hands gesture outwards - out of coiled hair that still feels like it's torn when Akechi moves. Erratic. Acting. Posturing. Confident. ]
I killed Wakaba Isshiki and she's not the only one. I turned her brain to goddamn mush and watched her die. [He can't remember. Doesn't remember. His face was stuck in a toilet for hours after the shutdown - was he there? Papers in hand - at the office? In a street? He can't think. It doesn't matter.] I wanted to steal her research - doesn't that sound familiar? Or do I need spell every stupid thing out for you?
cw suicide mention
[ For a moment, it's horror. For a moment, it's shock. For a moment, it's fear.
All the reactions that Akechi surely wanted to draw out him, there on his expressive face in full color.
But then–
Wakaba Isshiki's death was reported as a suicide, and cognitive psience fell out of the very little favor it had come into. Why? Stolen research. Stolen by who?
Two years ago. Akechi would have been fifteen, sixteen at most. He wasn't yet famous. A young teenager familiar enough with such a niche, esoteric field as cognitive psience to want to steal research? To want badly enough to kill for it? ]
You wanted her research? Is that so.
[ Reported as a suicide. Could easily be a coverup. Akechi has insinuated as much.
It's not paranoid. Don't you find Wakaba Isshiki's death odd?
Maruki stares at him, eyes wide and wild. No more horror, no more shock, no more fear.
Only rapidly dawning understanding, the scales falling from his eyes.
The version of his paper that he wrote for Akechi didn't include everything. The changes of heart, yes. The mental shutdowns and psychotic breaks, no. Cards held close to his chest for the time being because he knew that was central to Akechi's investigations, didn't want to push too hard on that just yet.
But Maruki knows. He's known. Those have been cognitive psience in action, too. Those have been orchestrated by the same man. And how would he have ever known how to accomplish them?
The only formal research on the topic that has ever existed. Wakaba Isshiki's, and his own.
I turned her brain to goddamn mush and watched her die.
Okumura's face permanently etched into his vision as he watched the news conference in a diner. Those blank eyes, that black liquid. A mental shutdown in action. Couldn't be covered up as a suicide, or a heart attack, or an accident–
Like getting hit by a truck–
Like rogue subway cars, dozens dead–
Maruki's gaze sharpens. ]
I lied to you. In that club. I told you that I believed my research was stolen.
[ His voice sounds very far from his own ears. ]
It was stolen. I know for a fact that it was, and I know who stole it.
[ Akechi feigning a lack of knowledge–
The Detective Prince is supposed to show his support on his policies when we return - isn't that funny?
Every goddamn piece of this puzzle has been laid out for him, and a not insignificant amount were handed to him directly from Akechi. ]
Masayoshi Shido stole it. Every time you've warned me lately, I've known who you were warning me about. If I go too far, stolen research and stymied funding won't be enough. He'll kill me. Or someone from his team will kill me.
[ Or–
It feels impossible, improbable, unthinkable–
It feels correct. Everything he knows, suddenly, everything he's suspected. Akechi's familiarity with the cognitive world. Cognitive psience. Changing cognitions.
Maruki steps closer, again. Uncrosses his arms. Puts both hands on Akechi's shoulders, with the full knowledge he could be ripped to shreds in an instant. ]
So– what, Akechi? You'll be the one to kill me?
[ The only piece of the puzzle that doesn't fit is how genuine Akechi's concern for him has been. He isn't as good of a liar as he thinks he is. None of that could have been convincingly faked.
Maruki hasn't sounded angry once this entire time, and he doesn't now. He's only firm in both his convictions and his compassion. ]
Let me ask you again. What path are you following?
cw: violent thoughts, graphic violence, murder, suicide, abuse/neglect implication, attempted murder
When Maruki's face
contorts breaks shatters steels
Itself because he's strong.Weaklings aren't worth his time and he's given more of that priceless, flickering, waning part of himself to Maruki than any other human being in his life.
The pieces connect and-
He's proud of him andhates him visceral unrelenting hate that coats every memory together. Contorts. Breaks. Shatters.
Every mundane moment, breaks of laughter, teasing, discussions that rewired old views and solidified new onespressed deep into his heart - folded inside and protected with poison tipped barbs and spooling unrelenting wire
because he hadn't lied. Maruki will be with him when he kills Shido. Maruki will be with him with that steel coated gaze fixed on an enemy. Earlier flickering emotions the denoting victory because an image was shattered. One that never existed. Maruki gets it. Maruki willleave leave leave leave leave leave leave leave leave LEAVE.
After he talks. Final words. Final statements. Because Maruki has always given, afforded, allowed Akechi Goro to speak freely in the dimly lit cafe - not a cafe, a dimly lit kitchen. He let Akechi Goro stand by his side - listened, learned, trained, consumed every piece of knowledge Akechi doled out and offered his own words in turn.Akechi remembers the day he realized Maruki was a liar and-
Remembers the moment when those truths escaped in exasperated mumbles, stern looks from doorways after late night texts, overextended stays at the bathhouse and battles of will in a cafe.
'Masayoshi Shido stole it' because the world is his and everyone is a pawn with a purpose. It is Shido's research because Maruki exists to serve and it's-
Another reason to pull him into the rot - Maruki, Akechi, Shido, the cabal and every single disgusting member of that inner circle.
No verbal confirmation - smiles of a distorted prince. Wild, manic gaze that follows strings of bright light across Maruki's face.
Maruki, hit by a car in front of Rumi, maybe. Poetic - she wouldn't even stop to call 119. What a shame she would utter as he bled out in front of the world. Made the 8 PM news. A small blip under election results. Maruki Takuto, dead.
Maruki, on TV to talk about Shujin, Shido, Cognitive Psience - eyes folding inwards until vein and strings of red meet the audience. Thick, viscous matter pooling against his lashes, strangling out mumble, hum, taste with choking force. Maruki Takuto, dead.
Maruki, walking across the street - ill from an unknown ailment that's plagued him all day. Nothing works - he can't breathe. Can't move. Stops in the middle of a busy intersection - caddycorner to a restaurant he hoped to take Rumi's parents someday, maybe. It's painful when the car smashes into his body - viscera coating the road. Maruki Takuto, dead.
Maruki Takuto, puts his hands against Akechi's shoulders.]
Didn't I mention that I killed Rumi's parents?
[Furious. Angry. Seeing red doesn't describe it - the force against his shoulders is an anchor he shuns. Shoulders moving to shrug the grip off - Maruki isn't angry. He will be now, but even Akechi-]
Just kidding! But I haven't only killed in the cognitive world. You're being rather brave right now.
[Sickly sweet, coated in honey - stated like he was-
A prince
once.
Never one. Will never be one. Never wanted to be one.Maruki Takuto, puts his hands on a killer's shoulders-
Maruki Takuto, puts his hands on a traitor's shoulders and-
Akechi Goro, wraps his fingers around Maruki's throat - fingers pressing indents into pulse and neck. He'll face the consequences with Maruki this close now and he'll face the consequences with Maruki this close later and-]
Use your fucking brain. Whatever path keeps me by the side of my father, Masayoshi Shido. I will kill anyone to get there and I will rip him apart piece by goddamn piece when I do. Death will be my only mercy to him by the time I'm through. But that's not a surprise, is it? Now that you know? I sometimes wonder if evil is genetic. Cruelty must be.
[Moved from home to home to home to home to home and he didn't want them to leave leave leave leave leave leave leave leave leave. Ignored. Unwanted. Taken in to exploit. Taken in for a price. Taken in for a cost. Taken in to be someone else and-
His mom would hate Akechi Goro. His mom would like Maruki Takuto, whose skin is turning pale red under the force of his indents. Pressure. Not strangling. Not yet.]
If it means killing you to get there, I don't care. It's because of that piece of shit that I was born and I will make him pay for it. Imagine how he'll look - prime minster of Japan and in control of all, only to have an unknown son rip him down to feel the same pain my mother did. For that, I will not hesitate.
cannot fucking believe i rolled a nat 20. cw for maruki being a special boy i guess
Nearly.
Father, more venomous than anything else, than any petty, childish, hateful, hurtful barb Akechi has aimed his way tonight. That's not Akechi lashing out, spewing bullshit. That's truth.
Time stills.
Azathoth roars to life at the back of his head the very moment that he's threatened, before Akechi's even gotten his words out. It will appear without his consent in an instant, because if the human condition bends toward survival at all costs, then Azathoth's bends toward his protection. All of the world a dream that the blind idiot god has in its slumber, and Maruki most of all. Its little dream, made manifest in a man a hair's breadth away from beginning to choke.
Maruki quiets it by force. Focuses. Listens. Breathes, pulse hammering into Akechi's fingers.
He wants to remember how Akechi looked when the pathetic facsimile of Shido appeared to them in the café. Wants to remember if there was anything hidden in his expression or his words that might have given it away – my father – I suppose he seemed somewhat familiar – maybe that man was a good omen – my father–
He wants to remember what Akechi said in the bath house as they quietly shared the stories behind their unwittingly displayed memories – sometimes I wonder if my father had a hand behind the scenes – a lowlife who wanted nothing to do us while she was alive–
He can't. All of his focus is tunneled down to what's right before him. Akechi, every last façade ripped away until he's all raw exposed nerves and roiling, seething violence. Every minuscule glimpse Maruki has gotten throughout their time together of a true nature shoved deep down now on vicious display.
And him, the target of it.
He can feel his heartbeat rattling through every limb. Breath quick, pupils dilated. Primal survival instincts.
He swallows, rough, voice harsh beneath Akechi's hands. ]
You don't have to kill me to get there. Let go of me.
[ Both hands come up to grip Akechi's wrists, tight, far tighter than the pressure on his throat.
Azathoth doesn't appear, no, but there is that aurora-like waver through the air as Maruki wrenches his hands away, twisting and shoving Akechi away from him with a quick, brutal strength that he shouldn't, doesn't possess.
He doesn't see what Akechi's face does in that moment, if it does anything. His vision is obscured entirely in the few seconds it takes to free himself, push away, breathe in. Nothing, for the moment, but endless white walls, floors, ceilings, stairs, blinding in its purity and brilliance, a single bird flapping out of the way.
He blinks his vision back. The aurora dissipates. He only sees Akechi and the rest of this depressingly monastic room.
Maruki's left arm extends between them, distance forced. ]
Don't touch me again. I won't hesitate to fight you, Akechi. Just talk to me.
[ Another inhale, sharp and frigid as shards of ice. It's the dead of summer. He shouldn't feel so cold. ]
You've been working with him to take him down? Your father. Him?
SPECIAL SPECIAL GOD BOY cw: murder, violent thoughts
fights
back.
Another wave of a calm. A blanket forced over his head until he suffocates under the weight of his own wrath.Maruki will persevere and-
Akechi wants him to die and-
Akechi wants him to go back to his shitty apartment and pretend there isn't a slumbering power in the depths of his soul - the same gift that makes him so goddamn special. That reveals itself in hidden strength to rip his hands free from the encroaching vice grip and pushes Akechi's body back.Maruki won't have Azathoth in reality.
Of course Akechi stumbled. Akechi never stumbles and he would, now, in the wake of this man's power. It's always like this. In the Metaverse, he'll never stand a chance.
In their true reality, everything will work in his favor and-
His stomach churns, heart races, at every vile thought about his end.]
All that shit you stuck your nose into-
[Talk. He wants to talk. Says Don't touch me because a prince's hands are disgusting - coated in the last bit of life of lost lives. I won't hesitate to fight you, Akechi as if-
Akechi wants to talk. He doesn't want to talk. Why would he want to talk when they could fight. Akechi could attack him from behind - justice and fair play is all bullshit in the end. Loki's presence a comforting, sweltering hug as it wraps around his throat again, again, again.
Akechi chokes out laugh - malicious and cruel. Choked through fingers touching his own throat to guide Loki around it and-
Choked through every thought that makes him think Maruki can be moved down a list and-
Maybe the death of a leader was enough to save unknowing followers and-
It doesn't matter. Does. A sidestep towards a pillow showing his intent on talk versus fight, but-]
Does talking change any goddamn thing? I'm a murderer working for the most disgusting, rotten scum on Earth and you want to talk.
[Don't touch me he said. Akechi will oblige. Another sidestep. The room is dizzying shades of muted color - the pillow a new focus. There's a gun in there and he doesn't know why he thinks about it.
But he stops a step short of his threat. He can't remember when a hand fell back against his skull. It feels better when a hand coils around his hair, so he does.]
Fine, you've been so kind to me - let's talk. I've been thinking about you often since we met - don't you wonder what number you are on his extensive list? Important enough to have your research stolen, but not valuable or enough of a threat to make it above a shitty fast food CEO. Your life is worth less than a goddamn burger.
no subject
It's when his eyes are closed that that last hit lands, and Maruki–
Laughs. Quiet, but genuine. Like they just made a stupid joke over a crossword clue, or shared a ridiculous bit of gossip gleaned from Oracle. For a moment, it's so normal.
His eyes open and fall back on Akechi. ]
Good. I'm glad it is. I hope my life remains that worthless for as long as it can.
[ Stupid. What is Akechi even trying to hit at anymore? He's an animal backed into the farthest corner of his cage, snarling and snapping at air.
The protective arm held between them drops. Maruki tucks both hands into his pockets to try to stop them from trembling. He isn't scared. He doesn't know what he is.
No, he does, and it's so–
Stupid. He cares so much, it's an aching wound in his chest worse than whatever bullet Akechi's going to bury there. ]
I'm not interested in changing anything. That's not why I want to talk to you. I only want to understand.
[ It occurs to him right then, so he voices it right as the thoughts coalesce: ]
Have I ever tried to change anything about you since we've known each other? Why would I start now?
[ Well. Perhaps because he's been overtly threatened tonight, verbally and physically, while bloody confessions dripped from Akechi's tongue.
In time, the full gravity of what Akechi's owning up to will sink in, and Maruki will deal with that in his own way. For the moment, this isn't about him. Not even a bit, not at all, despite the words being spat at his feet.
Akechi isn't a murderer working for Shido. He's a murderer because he works for Shido, because he has to be to attain his goal. There is not a single sliver of Maruki that isn't convinced of that. He has seen enough of what Shido is like in the public eye, experienced only the vaguest whispers of it at his back. He can scarcely imagine what the man is like in private. How Akechi has been warped and twisted to do his father's bidding.
Every time he remembers, it rips through him like wildfire up and down his nerves. The story he was told in the bathhouse, their discussions of a woman who didn't stand a chance against what society had stacked against her. A society that Masayoshi Shido has had no small hand in building and wants to perpetuate. How many lives has he carelessly crushed on his ascent to power just as he did Akechi's?
And then to have Akechi at his side–
It's the most disgusting thing of all. Bile thick over Maruki's tongue to even consider it. What level of manipulation must be occurring behind the scenes.
Earlier he wanted to ask for Akechi's protection. It's entirely turned around now. They will return to their reality, and Maruki will keep his head down, and Akechi will do what needs to be done, and Maruki will repay him for letting him keep his life by trying to help Akechi keep his.
Simple. That's the plan now. There's no alternative.
A steadying breath. A question calmly put forth. ]
How will you do it? You've clearly been planning this for some time. I have no intention of talking you out of it, so– how will you ensure that you can take him out and get away with it?
no subject
It lacks the same wild mania that tinged Akechi's own volatile, unprovoked laughter. It's soft - comforting and calm. A voice heard through a shared wall, over a counter, in the living room while they both scroll posts and look over one another's shoulder to judge the stupid shit said.
Akechi stares at him - Maruki Takuto. Visions of his corpse at the forefront of his mind still - his imagination filling in gaps from scenarios that jump, jump, jump around, but-
There's a thin layer of static drowning out the thump of a car hitting body, body hitting floor, muffled shot in a room where the walls reverberate every noise, like sharpened bullets, until his ears feel full of bleed.
Furious. Angry. Maruki hasn't fallen to anything he's spewed out - Akechi has more. Can go all night. Tenacious in his skill of pushing away, ripping apart, tearing everything to pieces. Only an idiot would fall for the ploy of I won't change you because the Detective Prince is necessary for others.
'Have I ever tried to change anything about you since we've known each other? Why would I start now?'
But not for Maruki, who picked at threads of Akechi Goro until it unraveled in quiet moments alone and now-
When he picks at the frayed, thin, short strands of Akechi that feel impossible to pinch to between fingers, but he does.
No movement towards the pillow. Towards anything. Akechi keeps his hands pressed tight against his side, no longer full of the same dramatic flair used to prove his nonchalance, his innate cruelty, how little he cared about every life lost in his goal.
It's quiet - silent. The first time in awhile. In that emptiness, Akechi becomes -
Acutely aware at how his voice was bouncing around the walls. A clarity returning like a flickering, shitty flashlight in slowly dissipating fog.
It's quiet. No movement. He blinks, for the first time in awhile.
The thin stands of light that were painting Maruki's face vanish. A man tired - confident and-
Persevering.
Maruki wants Akechi Goro. Akechi. Hates the Detective Prince. Shido. It could be a trick, but for all of Maruki's lies, a fire brewed, raged, devoured in that man's vision at Shido's appearance. A gaze that rivaled his own. Bitter, unresolved anger. An eruption brewing, all because of Shido.
Even Akechi couldn't incite that fire to burn.
It's quiet, until it's not. Akechi doesn't move, until he does. Exhausted. Tired. Hungry. Sick. Dizzy. Nauseated. His shoulder hits the wall and-]
My plan is mine alone. In the end, I'm sure I'll pay for everything I've done with the same amount of blood I've spilled from others. There's more than Shido behind the scenes - any number of his pathetic, sniveling sycophants will fill the power vacuum and tie up loose ends.
[A shift. His back presses against the castle wall - the shared one. The tip of his foot touches the corner of the pillow, but he doesn't care. A gun's there. He ignores it. Robin Hood tempers. Loki protects. Both nestle and fit into spurs and tightly coiled wire around his heart.]
I don't plan to roll over and die by any means. I'll fight, but I don't care about 'getting away with it'. That's hardly relevant. I want the world to see that disgusting man for what he is, what he's done, and have him die for good under my heel.
no subject
More than Shido behind the scenes– well, Maruki isn't naïve. He could have guessed that. Has guessed that. What does he always tell people here? It's never just one person, especially not a figurehead. There are always others in the shadows, waiting in the wings.
He listens to the plan summarized, the disregard for his own life, and after a beat, Maruki's mouth twists into a wry smile. ]
Well, if you need a place to lay low...
[ He finally dislodges a hand from his pocket and holds it up lazily, palm out. It's no longer shaking. ]
I'm kidding. But only because I'm sure there's no one you'd be less safe around than me. Two birds, one stone.
[ Replaced in his pocket. Maruki doesn't dare relax against the wall as well, doesn't move an inch, but his shoulders do at least untense and relax back and down. Exhaustion creeps up behind his eyes. A long day only getting longer.
He has to wonder when Akechi will be able to enact this plan. In his version of their reality, Masayoshi Shido already had his heart changed, and very little real change came of it. Christmas Eve, and the man was still alive. But the way the sky distorted over Tokyo, the way the colossal skeletal remains speared up through the ground and toward the blood-red heavens...
Who knows. Maybe somewhere out there, Akechi was getting his revenge. ]
Akechi... Look.
[ He sighs, lets his eyes fall shut again. ]
Don't mistake this for me carelessly condoning murder. And if anyone from our reality ever asks, this conversation never happened. But...
[ Eyes open, chin tipped up so he can look at the ceiling. ]
Even if you hadn't told me anything else aside from your plan, I would still look the other way. I don't believe there is any good in our country or our world with a man like him at the helm. Whatever means need to be used to take him down– fine. But now, with the context that you've given me tonight...
[ That space in the center of his chest reserved only for Akechi burns. How painful is it, to already care so deeply for someone and then to learn everything they've suffered in silence since long before you knew them.
Maruki is a fixer. A healer. A man accustomed to regrets and what-ifs. Of course his traitorous imagination supplies him with one right now: What if somehow, he had been able to meet Akechi earlier back in their reality? Could any of this have been avoided?
Maybe. Probably not. He doesn't know. It isn't worth dwelling on. His eyes sting and his sternum aches as he finally turns his focus back to Akechi again. ]
I can't fault you for what you'll do.
[ Not what he wants to do. What he will do. Conviction ever-present. ]
Not at all.
no subject
He makes a joke with a blanket of truth around it - as if Akechi could really stay in that shitty shoebox apartment to hide out from a political assassination of the most powerful man in Japan. If tension wasn't holding every part of his body hostage, he-
Might laugh politely, as the Detective Prince. Might provide some unhelpful commentary about the lack of space and joke about how it's a roundabout ploy for access to unlimited funds - money that would be inaccessible the second it happened, as Akechi Goro.
As Akechi -
Akechi, with pinpricks of stone against his spine. Akechi, who doesn't care about the world around him or the one to come. Akechi, whose fingertips have residual heat from being pressed tight around Maruki's neck.
Akechi who is looking, listening, watching Maruki who is looking, listening, watching-
He doesn't know what Akechi would have done and-
It's ignored. Discarded. Not worthy of a place in the barbs and crushed before it can see any sort of light, through being voiced or otherwise.
Maruki looks up. That's stupid. The little red indents along his neck fading, but obvious. He needs more training and-
Then he looks back and words fall out of his mouth in that grotesquely genuine, understanding manner that is strictly
Maruki.
Not Maruki Takuto. Not a counselor. Not a researcher. Not a liar. It's Maruki whoWho justified his mother's existence in bathhouse-
Who gives Akechi Goro a voice-Who says 'I can't fault you for what you'll do. Not at all.'
Placating. Considerate. Sentimental and-Unnecessary. Soothing.
Loyal.
Akechi looks away - from the red dots along Maruki's neck, from shoes, body and foot to-
Wall, floor, statue and-]
Every time I think I've figured you out, you surprise me. It's interesting how you don't mind bodies littering the floor, so long as they aren't related to you. Maybe you'll end up like us before long - heartless, cruel and willing to accept the unthinkable for a prize.
[Bite to coat-
Gratitude, maybe. Akechi isn't sure. An indecipherable foreign sensation in a chest full of unknowns.
Cold steel to the thought. Unnecessary. Pointless.
'If we had met sooner' on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't know why he thinks it. It's ignored. Forgotten, as quickly as the thought forms.]
I don't regret any of it - not for a moment. To rip that man down, I would do it over again and will continue to until I achieve my goal. You understand that, don't you? Justice, friendship, allies - I don't care about any of it.
no subject
Yeah. I understand the ends justifying the means better than you might think.
[ He hasn't lied once to Akechi tonight. Hasn't even obfuscated. Hasn't had the mental presence to, so focused as he's been on navigating Akechi's volatility.
But somehow, in an evening of raw truths shoved into the light, that's the most honest statement of all. There is a weight to those words that none else have held.
They aren't the same. Maruki regrets. Every single day of his life, for years, has been steeped in remorse.
They are the same. He would still do it again. And again, and again, and again.
There are at least two other Maruki Takutos out there. One in the reality Akechi is from, who hasn't yet brought Azathoth forth into their world, and one who spent some ill-gotten time in a strange city based on sins. There are doubtlessly countless others. They have likely all made the choice that he did. He can't imagine any of them would change it. It's so foundational to who he is, who they are. In every timeline, he would choose to do it again. Lose Rumi. Hurt himself to heal another.
It isn't the same at all, really. But Maruki does understand.
And regardless of whether or not Akechi cares, he has an ally now. Tonight hasn't changed that. Maruki isn't about to say it and risk starting another fight; besides, words are empty so often. He'll simply prove it in coming days, weeks, months.
He doesn't delude himself into thinking either of them have years ahead of them now. ]
I have questions, but I should let you rest.
no subject
Not even a week ago, they took to the streets of Somnius together with a thought that some would consider abhorrent. Neither one confirmed who the real target would be, but they walked all the same. Distorted cognition, or attempted to, with no real result to note.
Later that night, Akechi tried again, with a full proof method of manipulation and-
Nothing. If he had told Maruki-
Akechi can't be sure if he would have shunned the thought of using a psychotic break to their advantage.
No, it doesn't surprise him in the slightest that the ends justify the means falls from his lips - the only mystery is where it stems from. Rumi? To what end, when his research was stolen and-
The murders? Why would it matter, when Maruki didn't have a plan for revenge nipping at his heel.
It's a problem for a day when a nail isn't being pressed into his skull with increasing force - a persistent throbbing pain at the nape of his neck.]
I don't need rest and I don't know what questions you could possibly have. Everything is clear. Whatever you want to know, get it out now and I'll decide if I want to answer.
no subject
No, it's all stuff we can discuss later. Seriously.
[ It wasn't a question, it was a statement. He should let Akechi rest, and he will. End of story.
But for the briefest moment, he hesitates. Touches his neck gingerly. It only hurts a little, it'll fade soon. No permanent damage. Only a persistent memory of the rage boiling over in Akechi's eyes, the heat of it made tangible in palms and fingers dug into his throat.
He has a lot to sort through in his mind. Akechi will rest, but he won't.
Stupid to turn his back on Akechi to leave, but he does it anyway. It's only a few steps outside the door. It's a test of trust.
He pauses, looks down at the now cold bowl of soup tucked into the hall right outside the door.
Thinks to place it back inside the room, then thinks better of it.
Maruki leans an arm against the doorframe when he turns back to smile at Akechi, truly exhausted now. ]
Just try to take it easy, Akechi. I'll be around.