[ 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}
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.