[ To his credit, he does. The tentacles retract as soon as Akechi relents, though Azathoth doesn't return to the collective unconscious ether. It hovers besides Maruki as he makes a broad, sweeping gesture with one arm and doesn't otherwise budge.
He never walks in front of Akechi anymore for a reason, after all. ]
Akechi has half a mind to make him lead the way, since he's so adamant about confirming this whole ordeal.
He turns as requested - a pair of shitty leather gloves grabbed from the counter as he moves. Petulant. Irate. He opens the front door with force - tries to slam it in Maruki's goddamn face to prove a point about bossing people around. 'The hinge is broken' muttered under his breath when that doesn't work and-
Around they go. A familiar backyard. A training ground. The same place Akechi dragged Maruki with a certain degree of intensity when he realized that man helped killed the Green Knight.
And he stands there - arms crossed over his chest. Defiant. Rebelling. For no reason at all.]
If you were so eager to train, you should have said so. We could have avoided the distressing loss of our only kettle.
[ Maruki's simmering the whole way, his blood a low rolling boil in his veins. The nonsense Akechi has pulled on him while trying to keep the wool over his eyes – repeatedly speaking to him about the purely hypothetical idea of a psyche so split that it manifested two personas, as if Maruki's too stupid to realize that nothing he's ever said has been purely hypothetical – it absolutely infuriates him.
He can tolerate a lot from Akechi. A nearly infinite amount of bullshit. He can take verbal abuse, threats of all kinds, physical violence, sleepless nights, endless training, thankless work, mutual lies–
He can no longer tolerate Akechi faking certain things. His personality. His knowledge of the cognitive world. His estimation of what Maruki can observe and analyze.
There is a fundamental respect between them. And to Maruki's mind, if Akechi respects him at all, then he had better start respecting him enough not to treat him like a goddamn idiot.
They make it to the clearing behind the castle, partially obscured by a hill. The site of so many nighttime training sessions. The place where Akechi lay on the ground after the Green Knight was defeated, panting and staring up at the sky as Maruki admitted that it was in fact grief over a friend that drove him to discovering new heights of power.
Here he rounds on Akechi, the first part of what he's said drawing a couple wry quips onto the tip of his tongue to try to lessen the tension between them before they do battle, but then–
We could have avoided the distressing loss of our only kettle.
Maruki blinks.
Smiles at him, quick and sharp and nowhere near reaching his eyes before it drops away again.
Takes a step back.
Brings his hand up to adjust his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose– ]
Let's begin.
[ Bitten out. Harsh. Far more so than Akechi's likely to have heard before, two words even more acidic than whatever Maruki barked when he would break up fights in the forest.
And without further ado, there's a nice Piercing Strike headed straight for Akechi.
He's furious - a vile sort of righteous anger that takes the appearance of a disease and Akechi can see the infection course through his veins, corrupt his mind, unleash something new.
It delights him - an all too familiar attack catching him off-guard only because it's not the norm for this one to come out immediately. It's meant to end their sessions, temporarily stop a barrage, or force their hands into the final phase of training. Maruki never uses it first.
Akechi gets hit in quick succession - five rapid hits landing before he manages to guard. The pain miniscule - covered up by his own joy at a provocation finally breaking Maruki down. A honey coated smile meant to needle further spreads over his face, in a light, joyous tone full of feigned benevolence Maruki hates more than anything.]
Oh my - I didn't realize how mad you were. My deepest apologies. It's not my intent to cause such anger. I hope you can forgive me.
[And he knows what Maruki wants to see and-
'Robin Hood' appears in a barrage of light instead, a smug smirk peaking through Akechi's fingertips that are pressed against his face. Flames. Fire. A beam headed for the one weak point he knows about.
A Kouga, but one not directly aimed at single tentacle or Maruki - he needs to find that shitty healtacle first in the swarming mass of lookalikes.
The bright light is headed for the center of many, in hopes of sussing out healing one by the differences in damage.]
[ Of course it's the Prince disguise. Of course it's Robin Hood. What did Maruki really expect?
He isn't going to make demands now that they're out here and the battle has begun. He's going to ferret out the splintered, unstable parts of Akechi that he's managed to keep hidden until tonight using every tool in his arsenal. The same way he can get people to easily open up and tell him anything, he can draw out the jagged edges of a broken mind. If they slice his palms in the process, all the better. In the history of mankind, there's never been a martyr that didn't bleed.
He clocks the intent of Akechi's attack as soon as it makes contact with its target. Maruki has spent enough time with Azathoth now to recognize the different tentacles despite their identical appearance, but without the benefit of that connection, Akechi defaults to the easiest way to determine which is which. It's smart. He gets it.
He hates it.
Watching the Tentacle of Healing crumple from one attack irritates him every single time. It's the most important one; it shouldn't have such an easily exploitable weakness. The others don't, as far as he knows. Azathoth certainly doesn't.
It isn't knocked out of the battle yet – it always takes at least a few attacks before they get to that point – but it's down, twitching weakly among the writhing mass. The other two alongside it react in kind, nullifying or reflecting the attack back at Akechi and rearing up–
So that one can buff Maruki's defenses, for when Akechi inevitably switches his target, and the other can–
Maruki wants to see something. ]
You don't know what I'm really like, Akechi.
[ Normally, the Tentacle of Assistance acts as a sort of energy source for him, ramping up his power at steady intervals throughout their training. It's a reliable friend.
This isn't training, though.
Maruki knows the tentacles don't attack, necessarily, but if he can shift his intention to using them against Akechi rather than for himself, he thinks he might–
Ah. Yeah. There it is. Get Tarunda'd, idiot. ]
To borrow a turn of phrase... If you were holding back on me this whole time, I'll never forgive you.
[ It's time to Amplify Force! Enjoy the free turn, Akechi! ]
[It crumbles - writhes and shudders on the ground. A pathetic skill able to fell a power that destroyed a god. It calls back every moment in Mementos where bleeding, cowering, pathetic little creatures writhed, begged, pleaded under his heel while he crushed the life out of them. The tentacles don't do any of that. He wishes they did. Azathoth is unphased as ever. Maruki-
Resolute. Intense. The real Maruki Takuto drug out to rot in a fake world.]
As if I care about your forgiveness.
[The debuff hits - an annoyance. Attack down. A new power. One turn. Three turns. It doesn't matter in the goddamn slightest. He won't stop - won't ever stop and Loki thrums in his chest. Debilitate ready. Debilitate there, but-
Not yet. He doesn't need it. Loki is Akechi - it's his true self. Akechi won't give it easily or freely.
Maruki buffs himself. Whatever. Akechi will be pummeled with an infuriating powerful attack that sparks life into him as it takes it. Glee. Hit after hit of an unmatched power he wants to grasp and rip apart with his own hands.
He doesn't even brace for it.
Almighty doesn't work - not well. He doesn't fucking bother Megidolaon - the explosive SP gouging attack does little.
Instead, he moves closer to make up for his lack of power - Kouga unleashed against the downed healing tentacle and-
He pivots - knife sliding out of pocket and into his hand, moving to get as close to Maruki as possible to stab anywhere he can. Robin Hood preparing for another Kouga at his back.
That physical damage is impossible to avoid with the range of Maruki's attack - getting close won't change a goddamn thing, but if he's lucky, the man will be hit by his own ability or Akechi's fucking knife.]
One: Maruki's mind goes perfectly clear. Still and quiet. Placid as the surface of a pond. He wonders, sometimes, what it's like to be inside Akechi's mind. What a labyrinth (hah) of confusion and deception and desperation it is. How loud it must be. His own can get crowded at times, an overthinker even when he's at rest, but he's learning that when the chips are down, silence takes over.
It was the same against the Green Knight– mostly. In the heat of battle, his mind would slide into pleasant blankness to meld in with Azathoth. But it was his first true battle, and he couldn't maintain that flow state at all times.
He's trained quite a lot since.
It's easy to slip into. Easy to stay in. His mind turned to one great white palace, cavernous empty rooms, spiraling stairs. A bird flapping its wings the only motion. Peaceful. Eden.
Two: He calmly steps out of the way of Akechi's incoming barrage to let a mass of the lesser tentacles come between them.
Azathoth is fast. Brutal. Doesn't need to be told what to do, because who's in control when they share the quiet of his mind like this is always in question and always in flux. The tendrils wrap around Akechi's ankles and feet to anchor him to the ground and stop his advance on Maruki – around his torso to keep him from trying to lunge forward with the momentum he has left – around both arms, because Maruki knows by now that he can wield just as efficiently in his non-dominant hand–
And then one snakes around the hand holding the knife. Not to get him to drop it, to keep him gripping it tight as they bend his arm back until the blade points toward himself.
Force sufficiently amplified, he could easily strike Akechi when he's temporarily a sitting duck.
Doesn't. The attack lingers in the back of his mind. Maruki tips his chin down, brows coming together to meet in the middle, voice taking on an edge of placating sympathy. ]
How it feels for an ego to splinter so unevenly that multiple personas form from it... What kind of stress a psyche must undergo to develop not one, but two senses of rebellion against an unjust world. I wonder what that's like, Akechi?
[Trapped. It doesn't matter - tentacles coiled tight around his flesh and a knife about to be twisted from his grip.
Twisted from his hand.
Twisted towards his body with a sickening
disgusting
sickly
Tone meant to be a taste of his own fucking medicine from a goddamn doctor who dispenses without restraint.
The real Maruki Takuto and-
The real Akechi Goro.
A blade's tip pointed at his own body like a-
Puppet. Mannequin. Body distorted to follow the whims of whoever has Akechi Goro.
He's supposed to hold the power. Control. Conquer. A manipulator not meant to be tied down by the weight of his own fucking strings.
Maruki's words ring in his ear. His own statements thrown back in his face.
He's the one in control. Akechi Goro. Not Shido. Not Maruki. Not any other goddamn person in this shitty reality.
He laughs - vile, hateful and monstrous without a goddamn care who hears because the only thing left is Loki, Loki, Loki forming from red hot fire. Loki, Loki, Loki who gives him freedom and Loki, Loki, Loki who doesn't make a single goddamn appearance as-] You piece of shit - always a goddamn showoff. You think I'm bothered by the crap you're saying? Shut the hell up!
[Robin Hood appears.
He isn't controlled. Not a puppet. He won't be held hostage. Not by Shido, Maruki, anyone. A blade pointed - that's fine. Akechi's always held a knife to his own neck, carved splinters into a board holding a noose he's tightened, a serrated blade ripping at his own flesh again and again and hitting others again and again and pull Maruki up to dangle under ten splinters with a chair kicked out from under his feet, ten splinters that Shido won't have the benefit of seeing, because he would never taint his last remaining image of her with that man's bloated corpse hanging, hanging, hanging-
A Kouga hits the end of the blade, sending it straight into Akechi with force. He's not a hostage, he's the hostage taker. Not a victim, he's the aggressor. He won't be tied down by a piece of shit like him.
No pain, then burning. No pain, then it surges. No pain, then Loki drums and drums and drums and Robin Hood drums and drums and drums and Akechi can barely breathe through the gagging sort of crackled laugh. One he can hear. Can't. It's painful - adrenaline surging, body slumping, he's in the depths of Mementos and Joker ripped through him with an arsenal. Loki wanted to come out then.]
I hate you - I hate you! You piss me off and I'll rip you apart until nothing's left!
[Fuck him - Fuck him.
Another Kouga to keep the blade twisted into gut, muscle and bone, pierced somewhere near his rib. He's never felt better. Never breathed easier. He's laughing - wild, free and acidic and-
There's nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing.
and-
Blue flames vanish for red spirals climbing high, high, high into the sky above them. Robin Hood falls like a lost prince - a hero rises from the ashes of it.]
[ He expects Akechi's knife turned toward himself to become an attack. Would never force it himself, merely laid the trap to see what Akechi would do.
He'll never forget that first night exploring the forest together, Akechi trying in vain to fight against the Green Knight's thrall and driving his blade into his own shoulder. Whether it had been because of the entity attempting to control his mind or a purposeful ward against it, Maruki still isn't sure. Is it right to experiment with Akechi while they're mid-battle? Probably not, no, but there's very little of Maruki that cares about being right at the moment.
The blade sinks in with all the force of the attack behind it, the vile words spill forth, then it drives deeper, and Maruki's not training with him at the moment, no, but Akechi is still his ally. He's half a second away from directing the weakened Tentacle of Healing to do what it can before it's lost to the next attack directed at it when–
Loki.
The tentacles rip, tear, fall away from Akechi with the force of this new manifestation. Some wither and dissipate into the ground only to be replaced by twice as many new ones.
They don't lunge for Akechi, though. They move away from him as Maruki does, two or three steps back with an arm curled protectively in front of him, the same arm that took the brunt of the teakettle shrapnel earlier. Azathoth remains stalwart behind him, and they both watch as this new persona takes abrupt, violent shape.
It isn't fear that Maruki feels. It isn't anger, either, despite the rage that's driven him every step of the way so far.
There's a sick twist of pride through the center of his sternum, that bright, warm spot that exists only for Akechi and recognizes that he's finally beginning to see more of the whole of him.
And there's intrigue for all the unknown that Akechi represents, all the things Maruki can still learn from him.
And there's catharsis, after months spent suffering Akechi's false personality in order to better learn and perfectly uphold it.
And there's the soul-deep thrill of a better-matched fight.
Maruki folds his arms over his chest and grins. ]
Good. Show me who you really are.
[ Now it's time to hit with him the good old 2.5x Raining Seeds. ]
Edited (oh i guess i should add a cw lol hey how about just don't read this thread if you aren't cool with guys destroying themselves and each other) 2024-07-27 06:14 (UTC)
Free from the tight coils of persona contorting his body, latching him to a spot and
Free from the Robin Hood's leash, image, a false personality hidden behind a just prince manifest.
Maruki's smiling. Akechi is too - manic and ferocious with his fingers wrapped around the handle of a knife in his chest, the other threading through his hair and-
Loki is strong. Loki is unburdened. Loki doesn't have limits. Loki is wild and alive - floats behind him without intent to protect from the upcoming attack. Akechi's hit head on with it - doesn't bother to block or move. Laughter that -
Mocks. Thrives. Coats the sensation of blade sliding from his guts as he rips it out in one swift motion. Red blooming across his shirt, like an ocean made of thick crimson viscera. Like a boy turned god about to unleash his wrath on an unknowing world. He isn't in the Metaverse - a deep, twisting wound embedded and pulled out makes him dizzy, sick, and-
Happy - joyous.]
God, I live for this!
[Loud. Blooming like the spot on his chest. Riot Gun comes easy - Loki is strong. The healing tentacle will go down and everything, everything, everything will be hit and-
Akechi wastes no time in moving closer again, undeterred by a wound, emboldened by Loki behind him and-
Debilitate focused directly on Maruki - the only image his unblinking eyes are focused on.]
[ The same attack that happened in the kitchen, but with a far wider spread, more lethal intent. Azathoth and one of the tentacles take a small amount of damage; another repels, and the Tentacle of Healing goes down as intended. Maruki curls both arms protectively over his head as the static rain jolts and singes. His hiss is half one of pain, half exasperation at healing power gone when the bloodstain over Akechi's chest is growing steadily. He also ready knows he can regenerate them at will, it's just a matter of a little time.
There are more important things to deal with first.
He doesn't know what hits him, but he knows instantly when it does – both he and Azathoth feeling drained, leaden, rooted to the spot. Some sort of nerf.
He doesn't know.
He doesn't like it.
Maruki straightens up, takes one look at Akechi advancing on him, and what needs to be done coalesces in his mind instantly. ]
I regret not pointing this out to you sooner... You shouldn't mistake our powers as being equal.
[ That was a nice Debilitate, Akechi.
Unfortunately, the Tentacles of Assistance and Protection are both still up and in near perfect health. They undo the bulk of Akechi's work in two fell swoops – it isn't the boost of power that Maruki's used to, but it's back to baseline, and that's good enough for him.
His favored attack has never worked on Robin Hood. Maruki knows that. But this persona – this Loki, he can't believe Akechi kept that under his tongue for all the times Maruki used goddamn Loki as an example when talking about the collective unconscious – is about as different from Robin Hood as can be.
Maruki doesn't waste another second once the tentacles have done their work. The enormous ball of pure, glowing energy that heralds Eternal Radiance forms in the sky above them, bright enough to blind for a split second before erupting into innumerable cosmic eyes firing off at Loki, at Akechi, at anything within striking distance. ]
[You shouldn't mistake our powers as being equal. You shouldn't mistake our powers as being equal.
You shouldn't mistake our powers as being equal.
He knows.
It's an infuriating realization that hits him with every new attack discovered in midnight training sessions, in the way Azathoth hits, hits, hits with multiple attacks in quick succession - a man new to this and yet thriving in such undeniable power.
The same power that strikes Loki's weakness - sends Akechi to knees, grasping the wet spot on his chest that's coating his whole front now. Dizzying. Nauseating. Intense Debilitate did little - ]
Oh no - I'm so scared! I don't give SHIT!
[Said with his knees digging into wet ground - You can't hurt me next on his lips because he isn't hurt. Isn't bleeding from his chest. Isn't pressed against his will by a power that exploited his weakness. Doesn't need a second, two seconds, three seconds to catch his breath, remove a blood coated glove from his body, half push himself up through sheer obstinance.
He can't stand in full - knees lock. Doesn't matter. Loki's alive behind him with all the fury in Akechi's heart, the injustice of the world
A teenager born with an undeniable, with teammates, friends and-
A man born with unfathomable power, lonely and rotten like him and-
Akechi Goro who stands below both, whether they breathe or not. No matter what he does - it's always
Second best. He doesn't need them. Second best, despite everything. You shouldn't mistake our powers as being equal because Akechi has to resort to kills coated in viscera, silence and blood, instead of fog and agony.
Fuck them.
He can't breathe. Can. Loki prepares to enact Akechi's will, a column of swirling red lights surrounding the persona-] Do you really think your shitty attack will end this? That I'm so goddamn weak? Don't look down on me you piece of shit! You don't know where true power is - the broken chains on a heart. I'll shatter it again and again and again until you're dead!
[Loki's sword glows bright, bright, bright in Akechi's peripherals.
Red swirls, swirls, swirls and Akechi knows in a second - locking knees, a bleeding chest - none of it will matter. Call of Chaos explodes throughout - spreading from wound to body to brain in an instant.
And
everything
is so fucking meaningless.
He can't think he can't think he can't think he can't think hecan'thtinkhecan'tthinkc̸̨̲̩̻͇̖̦̮̙̥̰̠͕͎͋̊̾̎́̎̽͗̃̆̃̆̚͝a̴̧͔͇̖̮̭̲̠͈̣̗̽̽̔́̀͋̂̆̈̑̚͜n̵̢͙̭̻̹̳̈́̅̍̑̀̌͋͒͑͂͂̚̚͜ͅ'̴̢̡̡̢̟̫̫̯͇̗͖̟͓̥̹̰̓͌͆̂͛̄͌̉ţ̸͇̫̎͂́̑ ̸̨͔͙̫͍̠̬͈̯̖̜̭̤͖̍̍̇͜͜͝ṭ̶͓̥̻̪̱̇̌̈́̃̂̄̈́̂͠͠ĥ̸̢̨̡̬̘̖̬̦͖̝̭̤͔̰͋i̷̛̟̰̩͙͙̟͍̗͇̖̯̎͜͜n̸̢̛͎̙̼̪̖̲̺̤̋̄̓̄̌́̀̇̂̕͝ͅk̸̜̳̙͈͓̬̗͕̠̣̣͈̦̅̂̀̔̌̔̒͛̉̑̾̒̆͒]
It's laughter. He's standing tall again, like nothing in the world has ever phased him and-
As it happens – whatever it is – Maruki can only stare in open, wide-eyed fascination. It isn't an attack. It doesn't seem like a buff, either, not in a way that he's come to recognize so far.
But it gets Akechi up on his feet, and then some.
The blood isn't staunched. Not at all. That's the first thing Maruki catalogues. No healing to be seen, despite the undeniable surge of energy. It makes sense, of course – neither of Akechi's personas seem to have any capacity to heal. Why would they? He's hurt, he hurts, he wants the world to hurt along with him.
Idiot. He's going to get himself killed.
The Tentacle of Healing regenerates with a wave of his hand as Akechi cackles through the mounting power coursing through and around him. Maruki's just about to direct it – if it doesn't knock Akechi out of whatever spell he's put himself under, it can at least take care of that gaping wound – when another attack he hasn't experienced yet hits.
It feels brutal. Dark and heavy, antithetical to everything he feels with Azathoth. A nightmare, sleep paralysis, a demon on his chest. Azathoth can tank the hit fine, as it always does, but the utter newness of the sensation has Maruki dazed for a moment, choking on black smoke.
He straightens, staggers farther back from Akechi, tries to get a good look at him through his frenzy. There's a look in his eye that's almost, almost recognizable. If placid, peaceful emptiness had a twin opposite to it in every way but the one that matters most.
He grabs at his chest, coughs again through a squint before raising his voice. ]
Is that what you tried to do here?
[ To the gelfling they targeted. To whoever else he said he tested a surefire method on. ]
Maybe it only works on someone whose cognition is so susceptible to manipulation.
[ There's no one he saw become enthralled more times than Akechi, after all. ]
I wonder if my ability would work on you too, then. I wonder who you'd become.
[ It's an empty threat, and one said with nothing but seething, sneering compassion. Maruki would never do it. But he's furious with Akechi for hiding so much for so long, and he's too caught up in the battle to bite his words back – it might be a justified end befitting a Detective Prince, being coerced into playing that role and keeping up that perception for the rest of his life.
Healing forgotten for the moment, he focuses all of his energy on taking Akechi down with that same Bless attack again, curious to see what effect it will have on him in this new state. ]
To a meaningless nothing - a worthless piece of trash who didn't see it coming, saw nothing coming, Loki appeared to capture that trash trash trash and nothing happened
Nothing happened
Something happens
Maruki halted. Stopped. Surprised.
It
feels
great.
A violent hum follows every vein, pours out of his chest with every spurt of blood from his own erratic, unstoppable unstoppable he is unstoppable movements towards Maruki. Joker never got to see this - Maruki does. Joker never saw Akechi alight with the flame of battle and an all too well worn hysteria that phantom walls in a dark coated world used to absorb. Joker only saw Akechi when bone, gut and gore gave life to a blank wall behind him.
Joker gave
life to everyone
around him. Akechi felt
alive
dead
and
Maruki's flesh, bone, and guts will create a new reality in this fake, fake world.
The attack hits. Akechi doesn't try to dodge. Back to his knees in crippling agony that he should feel, doesn't feel, can't feel with the freedom of his soul, unchained, untied, unleashed to keep going. He's strong - so strong. Loki doesn't make him strong - Loki exists because he's strong and he-
stands up again
Cackling, both hands threading and tearing and ripping at strands against his skull. It doesn't hurt - nothing does.
He'll kill Maruki.]
Oh, you're merciless, aren't you?
[Taunting. Wild. Happy. An attack already at the helm - the world's swimming from overwhelming euphoria as Loki burns, burns, burns behind him with every tug, tug, tug and-
Maruki would like
to paint his soul across this world
so akechi won't stop until he does.
Healing tentacle is the target for EIGAON - nothing to get in the way and-
He's back up. Forced up. His feet, legs, body pushed back up again and again and again and again and againandagainandagainandagainandagainandagain. He'll kill Maruki. He'll kill Shido. He'll kill Shido and-
Dizzy. Stumbles. Stands. Loki - with Loki - because of Loki - because of his willpower to create Loki-]
Die, die, die, die, die, DIE!
[Knife thrown to the ground, Loki preparing to hit Maruki with Laevateinn and-
Akechi pulls the gun from his side pocket, damp shirt leaking to his pants and lining it up with Maruki's face.
Slightly above his glasses, right between the eyes, against a
tile floor
starlit sky.
Edited (so used to adding cw: suicide i didnt actually need it this time) 2024-07-29 00:53 (UTC)
[ The same attack – not targeted at him this time – the Tentacle of Healing crumples to the ground again – two weaknesses then, Maruki's fury is beyond measure – useless, he feels useless – another attack being leveled at him the likes of which he's never seen – and then–
He's only had a couple seconds to register the gun when Laevateinn makes contact.
Maruki has gotten used to taking Robin Hood's attacks on the nose, but Loki is another beast entirely. The great spectral sword comes down on him and he hits the ground, hard. Pain cracks and jolts up from his knees from the force of the fall, down from his head from the strike, palms scraping and slicing against the ground as he tries to brace himself so as not to collapse under its weight entirely, a violent ringing in his ears.
His breath catches and seizes in his chest with the aftershocks of that pain – somehow, despite appearances, not magical in nature, entirely physical and much harder to shake off because of it – as he lifts his head to see–
The gun.
The same gun pointed at him in eternally dark woods.
The same gun Akechi must use back in their reality – the same gun that he will more than likely find himself up against after they return, his own hubris pushing the only ally he's ever had to turn on him, and he won't have Azathoth, he won't have anything, he'll be so useless. ]
Don't.
[ Despite the blows he's taken, his voice remains steady, strong.
It isn't fear that he feels, despite–
Endless white fields, an empty paddock where chickens would be raised in the spring, the bare branches of weeping trees, a frozen over pond, a home with the door left wide open despite the snowfall. Broken glass, footprints in the snow. The clatter of furniture overturned, shouts of confusion and panic. Gun fired once. A guttural, animal noise like none he's ever heard. Complete chaos. Rumi's screams. Fired again, and again, and again.
Maruki never saw the gun. Only heard it. Never saw anyone get shot. Only saw the bodies. By the time he emerged into the main house, the damage was done, the gun was gone. Frozen. Hadn't even been brave enough to try to get between the men and their only escape route. Could only watch in terror as hands wrapped around Rumi's throat before slamming her into a wall, could only unstick himself long enough to run to the door and watch them flee, trying to remember the car, the only car on the road, the empty road in an empty town on an empty day when nothing should have happened, and he couldn't do anything about it at all, never been more useless–
No, it isn't fear at all. ]
You're not going to kill me here, Akechi.
[ Maruki stands fast, all the blood rushing to his head, a hand out to brace himself against Azathoth's chassis as a wave of tentacles shoots forth to restrain Akechi again.
Knife on the ground – good.
Gun wrenched out of his hand and thrown aside – better.
Maruki doesn't direct Azathoth to attack. Doesn't think that far ahead. Doesn't think at all. Only advances on Akechi, wrapped in a mass of tentacles he'll surely soon be able to break free from, bleeding, gasping, laughing, psychotic. Tempestuous conviction rages in his voice – because he isn't scared of Akechi. He never has been. ]
You're not going to kill me until you have a good reason to do it.
[ Fist clenched. Arm pulled back. Useless. Knuckles connecting with jaw. Inelegant, unpracticed, but vicious, more than hard enough to hurt them both.
Maruki grips it in the opposite hand, pain radiating across knuckles that will bloom with bruises, and staggers back from him again so the Tentacle of Healing, battered but still functional, can finally take care of that goddamn stab wound. ]
And he finds it in Maruki's gaze. Resolute. Fearless. A far cry from the man cowering from an ant in the marketplace, worried about a knife in his direction.
His jaw aches
from the will of Maruki Takuto.
The blood staunches against his chest - his body sewing itself back together, everything else falling apart. Cooper crawls up his throat, into his mouth - over teeth, tongue, coating the insides of his cheeks. Eigaon misses the healing tentacle completely - the jolt from a fist against skull makes his vision swim.
Riot Gunmisses - targeting tree, ground and earth instead of the man two feet from him, the tentacles writhing around him.]Oh yeah? I decide the reason.
[
Mocking.
Bitter.
Lost and
Found by a man who sees
Every part of him and for the first time
Akechi sees him.
Subdued for a moment. Breaking free the next. Loki-
Appears. Vanishes. Flickers back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and a shining, shining sword glowsglowsglowsglows behind him, but-
[ Just as Loki takes a watchful backseat, so does Azathoth. Strange, considering how little direction it needs to defend him even at the best of times, but– perhaps it's purposeful. Or perhaps Maruki's mind is just that far from their connection at the moment.
Because all of his focus is tunneled down onto Akechi, barreling into him, knocking all the breath out of him as his back hits grass, stones, dirt. ]
We both know that's not true, you lunatic–
[ If Akechi didn't care about his life at all, he wouldn't have spent months warning him to keep his head down when they return to their true reality. It isn't only about staying out of Akechi's way for his own sake.
If Akechi didn't care about his life at all, he would have shot him in his sleep several times over by now.
Maruki knows he's at a disadvantage, has no real experience in a physical altercation. He brings one arm up to guard his face, drives the other elbow into Akechi's ribs as hard as he can to try to get him off.
And despite all of this – despite everything that's transpired tonight, hit after hit, threat after threat – there is no one in either reality that he feels he respects more than Akechi. Now more than ever. Maruki wheezes out a laugh, strikes him again, and needles, needles, because he knows he can, because he knows Akechi can take it as well as he doles it out. ]
Two personas from a broken mind? One that has the ability to shatter it further?
[ In the tone of a mildly fascinated Detective Prince: ]
You really are full of surprises.
cw: violence, eye damage, graphic violence. mmmm just dont click.
[Pressure against a stab wound. It digs in with every word and-
Akechi is delighted
because Maruki was never a waste of his time. Without Azathoth-
He's stronger.
A persona shaped god won't be around forever and Maruki
fights and fights and fights
Like his life depends on it. It does. Akechi doesn't hesitate to peel both gloves from his hand, press into the elbow trying to jab air out of him - it works.
It doesn't stop him.
The dizzying lack of air acting as oil.]
Shut up! [A splintered, airless laugh.] I'll make your last moments on here the most painful.
[He throws all his weight into pushing Maruki's arm to his face - fist directed to glasses. Hits until shards embed in his knuckles. Until he presses against Maruki's eye to dig those pieces into eyelid, cornea, pupil - destroy his vision. Exploit a weakness. Use it against him. Pinpricks rip at his skin - thin red lines all over his hands.
Nails dig into the flesh of his arm. Palm presses broken frame against his face. Thin lines shredded down whatever exposed flesh he can - peeling, ripping, tearing like his body will exude smoke and rot instead of muscle and blood.]
You think you know me? My mind is fine. Nothing is broken. I'm in control of you, Shido, and every other piece of shit here that falls for that pathetic act-
[
Shreds, and digs
and
listens to every piece of bait
and
Rips and tears
and
Destroys everything in sight.
Skin embeds under his fingertips - the same tracks torn into again and again and again and again and againandagainandagainandagain until it stains red, red, red on his hands. No gloves to cover it up this time. The sink will drain crimson for awhile. Akechi will wash his hands
one
two
three
hours until every thought spirals down the drain.] You're so fucking stupid!
cw eye trauma, graphic violence - truly you should not be reading this thread, stranger
[ My mind is fine as he crushes lenses beneath his fist, My mind is fine as he doesn't relent on the pressure for even a second, My mind is fine as shards of glass pierce and dig and bury into his eyes, My mind is fine as a noise like a wounded animal rips from his throat, My mind is fine as he thrashes, kicks, tries to throw him off, My mind is fine as white-hot-sharp-bright-vivid-red pain beyond pain sears through his mind over and over and over with every gouge and tear and shred and claw, My mind is fine as warm, viscous blood streaks down over his cheeks–
Maruki can't see. Can't hear whatever sounds he's making, or Akechi's cruel taunts, or anything beyond the blaring siren static of his own mind. Can't see. Can't breathe without hitching and choking on a stuttered gasp. Can't see. Can't fucking see. ]
Akechi–
[ Weakened, but not pleading. Faint, but still furious.
The same way he didn't know how he would react to having to fight until Akechi snarled at him to kill that kaiju, he didn't know how he would react to true violence done against him until Akechi pinned him down and tore him apart.
Eren once asked him if he'd rather lay down and die than be a burden on someone else. It was early, so early. Maruki hadn't even moved into the castle yet. At that point – yes, of course, there were any number of instances where he'd rather lay down than whatever the alternative was.
Things have changed.
He's changed.
Azathoth rages in the back of his mind, but it's nothing compared to Maruki's own will to live, to fight.
He grabs blindly at whatever he can – Akechi's shirt, arm, face, hair – tries to shove him off – no luck, and some of the blood has pooled down into his mouth, and he splutters on it, but he still fights– ]
I won't tell you again, get the hell off of me, now!
[ Neither of them can see it – Akechi too singularly focused on his target, Maruki stuck in flickering, bloodied darkness – but Azathoth grows as the power within Maruki ratchets up to an inferno.
Wretched noises are fuel. Matches against fire - stacked over and over and over and over again and-
Akechi doesn't notice a thing. Azathoth doesn't exist in his mind's eye or otherwise. Loki's presence ever shifting, a spiral of agony and joy bursting through his chest with little pop, pop, pops that align with every thrashing motion, every unsuccessful attempt to remove him.
He won't relent. Never. Shards deep into his own hand, chunks he grips tight until his palms are coated in the same bright bright crimson as Maruki's cheeks, his eyes and-
That palm slams into Maruki's eye with force - face, cheek, ear, chin, jaw. Bare skin is a target. Akechi shares the pain - every slice pushes the glass in. Facing consequences.
Maruki's eyes are lost under thrashes
glass
A broken frame
A broken life
In a rural home with life tinted walls
In a rural town with damp, damp, grass under living corpses
In a small apartment with nothing left to lose.
Hand tearing into eye, the other full of peeled skin against his nails, dried blood staining and-
A rock - crueler than gun, or knife. Small enough to settle into the grooves of his hand, pointed enough to be a problem-
He
wants
Maruki
to hurt.
Because he's rotten. Because Akechi's cruel. Because both are stuck in muck and mud, festering uncontained wounds that spew pus and drainage. Sick. Spewing false cures while sharing disease and-
He slams the rock into Maruki's neck.
again
and again
and again.
Azathoth is strong because Maruki is strong.
Maruki is fighting. Maruki will fight. Maruki will rip, tear, destroy to get Akechi off of him on the tile floor, in a dark alleyway, beside a colorful poster -
Stone slams into his neck again
again
and again
and again.
Because he needs to learn what it will take to kill Akechi Goro if he wants to survive.]
cw graphic violence, eye trauma, near death experience
[ He doesn't know what hits him. Can't see Akechi pick up the rock. Can't see anything at all. Only feels the force come down against his neck and jolts with the new surge of pain, tries to block with the arm Akechi hasn't been clawing deep red trenches into–
But whatever it is hits again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again–
At some point, shock sets in and the pain stops registering at all. His vision stops fading from the glass dug into his eyes. His ears stop ringing from the echoes of his own shouting. He stops being able to shout. He stops being able to make any noise at all. Something in his throat cracks, snaps, collapses in on itself– he wants to scream, can't– wants to breathe, can't–
The volume of reality steadily turned down until it goes mute, his own labored half-breaths and his heart kicking into overtime the only sounds rattling around his emptied mind.
It doesn't look like Eden. It doesn't look like anything at all.
There are countless explanations of what happens to consciousness when death draws near. Spiritual explanations, religious ones. Psychological explanations, neurological ones. Maruki can't claim to be an expert in any of them. Has cognitive psience ever had anything to say on the matter? Likely not. It's research he could pioneer. It's research that could get him killed on a chilly winter's night in his tiny apartment kitchen– in an empty alley behind a trendy cafe or an udon restaurant or a jazz club– in a cognitive world whose shape he doesn't yet know– or here, on a grassy knoll behind a castle in the reality that delivered his life straight into the hands of the person who's meant to end it.
He can't fight anymore, but his synapses fire at a rapid pace, trying to stave off the heavy blanket of peace settling over his cognition, and–
Maruki draws a huge, gulping gasp of air as his eyes fly open. Throat structurally sound once more, eyes blurry with blood and tears but fully functional. He sees Akechi above him, the rock raised above his head, the blood coating his hands, the front of his shirt, his face, everywhere, everywhere.
A red-stained grin blooms across Maruki's face. A breathless laugh escapes.
It's over. ]
Azathoth.
[ The sky above them splits open as dark energy coalesces into a great glowing orb, and Maruki wrenches his arms free to grab Akechi around his knitted-together ribs and shove him sideways, down into the grass next to him, with every ounce of strength returned to him with that heal. He can't escape this blast, and he doesn't want to. He just needs to make sure it hits Akechi as hard as it hits him.
Tyrant Chaos aims inexorably at them both, and in the resulting explosion of blinding light, Maruki's only coherent thought is that if they kill each other like this, they'll deserve every second they spend in Inferna together. ]
Stone against skin, a rupture that twists thin streaks of red, muscle pulsing with air that escapes against Akechi's fingers. A hint of white that might be his spine and-
A discarded prince can never win against a decayed king.
Bone and flesh mend under his stained fingers. Expected. He doesn't fight it. Almost glad for it. Infuriated with it. Work undone in a blink, years of cultivated power overturned by natural gifts.
He can't stand it. The glass in his palm stings and -
Bruised ribs and sore body slammed into the ground. Expected.
Maruki's eyes are broken and bright under an ever growing light forming high above them.
Akechi doesn't look because it's nowhere near the brilliant shade pressing him down with gaze and arm.
He just
wanted
to burn
as bright as they do. Did.
Joker. Maruki. And a grotesque prince playing pretend.
He chokes out a laugh because he
wants
to stop
and he can't.
Because he wants
to live
and he can't. Because he wants to
play chess
with a friend
in a shitty cafe nestled in dark alleyway. Because he wants to
sit at a bar
in a shitty shoebox apartment
two subway rides away from a place that will never be home.
He wants to
to stop
he wants
to stop
he wants to stop
he wants to stop
he can't stop
he'll never stop
It's too late to stop.
Maruki's always there - even now, as he tries to push his exhausted, weary body beyond its limit, beyond the thrall of a distorted ability befitting of evil, of a monster, and Maruki's always there -
Confident, unshakeable Maruki -
He could leave and he doesn't. Stays by his side, pressed into the muck and dirt, willingly festering and rotting alongside. Akechi pulled him down. Maruki could rise. Akechi can't. Maruki could. Maruki doesn't.
Maruki's always there even as -
Blinding, piercing light fills his vision and then it doesn't. A flicker. A thought.
Joker saw a light, maybe, as he tried to focus on a dark tunnel aimed at him.
His mother saw a light, maybe, when the sun touched her dangling body in a small room that felt more like home than anything since.
There's nothing
and he thinks he's happy.
Then there's something and thick white foam is flowing from his mouth with lurching haggard breaths. A lack of food a blessing as everything inside his stomach hits blood soaked ground. On hands and knees, he doesn't remember getting up - an axe is hitting his skull again, again, again in ten even splinters that he's sure he could feel if he could move his glass coated hand to check. Shaking. Weak. Attack unclear. Attack unknown. Attack new.
[ It hits, and Maruki never wants to be on the receiving end of Azathoth's power– of his own power again.
For a long moment he only lays there, gasping, bruised, burning, unseeing. Pressed flat into the ground, chest heaving. His mouth opens, nothing escapes.
At his side–
Akechi breathes. He isn't dead.
Neither of them are.
The white slowly bleeds from his vision. A blurry form next to him. Curled in on himself, hunched, slight. Matted hair, streaks and swaths of blood.
Maruki reaches out–
And then he's up in motions so violently staggering that he thinks he's about to get pinned down and attacked again, but instead he only drags himself to hands and knees under his own power, of course, of course. Irrepressible, independent, inevitable Akechi.
In a marketplace of an unfamiliar town– on a dusty road leading to a castle– at a bar in a kitchen slowly becoming his own– in a ruined city filled with monsters tall as skyscrapers– in a living whipped up into a frenzy by an unknowable alien wind– in a perpetually dark forest– in a lake that knew too much– in a bathhouse that heard too much– in a club with low soothing music, in a cafe with obstinate rage– in every late night message and visit and training session– in a glowing alcove on a cliff overlooking a labyrinth they'll one day destroy together– in a grassy clearing stained with both their blood–
There's Akechi. There has always been Akechi.
Maruki hears him retching. Pushes himself to sit up, every muscle in his body screaming against it. Shattered and bent frames fall off his face, into his lap. He reaches out, lays a hand between his shoulder blades as he splutters and wheezes. ]
Akechi.
[ Voice rough, hoarse. Throat burning. Head pounding.
Maruki swallows. Rubs his hand back and forth, even that motion painful. Tries again. ]
[The pressure along his spine is unexpected and foreign. He mistakes it for the weakest punch he's ever felt in his life - plans to retaliate once the last taste of acrid spit leaves his mouth.
But Maruki says his name - tired, pained and rasp. Not a single hint of disdain or anger. The contact between his shoulders no longer feels malicious. The splitting headache dulls with the up, down, up, down, up, down, up, despite his muscles tensing with the movement.
He says they're done. Says Akechi's alright. They are done. He is alright.
Body stilled. Repetitive motion. Questions on his lips and-
It doesn't matter if he asks 'What are you doing?'
He already knows. Maruki's doing what he always does - stays there. Is there. Present.
If he asks 'What are you doing?'
Because Maruki doesn't flinch when Akechi spits vile and venom, fist and rock.
If he asks 'What are you doing?
Because he's foolish. Stupid. All resolve and will.
Loyal, to a fault.
Akechi inhales - slow and quiet. Stomach lurching with nothing inside. It's safe to push himself back to his knees - to take in the broken face next to him. His will unshattered. Unshaken.
They're done.]
They awoke at the same time.
[Voice raw and scratchy. Soft, but not by choice. He doesn't know why he's talking - the same bizarre compulsion he felt at the bathhouse, at the convenience store, on a grassy hillside.]
It felt like this.
[Miserable. Wretched. Fatigue peeling back every layer of skin, exposing nerve to air - every single movement an exhausting effort that drains what little is left inside a person. Maruki may never experience a traditional awakening, but that direct blast of divine energy comes close. It feels like vindication.
He presses a hand against Maruki's shoulder - gentle, at first. Inhale. Exhale. Loki's thrall long gone and nestled back between the barbs in his chest.
Then there's pressure forced down onto the barely mobile man, as Akechi pushes himself up to his feet. No glass in that palm. He tries to loosen small shards with a shake of his other hand and-
He
stands.
And he
Reaches out with the same stone wielding hand that sentenced Maruki to death seconds ago. Stained. Nails torn and chipped.]
There are some kernels of truth even in the lies that Akechi has told him over the months they've circled one another. How it felt to awaken to a mysterious power alone– and now, knowing that it happened twice at once– and with what Maruki has been able to piece together about how young he must have been–
It isn't pity that he feels toward Akechi. Not at all. Only a profound sense of gratitude. I'm glad you're here, even now, even after all that transpired as the sun set over Somnius.
Maruki takes his hand without a second thought, hauls up unsteadily to his feet.
Azathoth must have dissipated somewhere in their half-consciousness. Maruki takes stock of his own injuries, then Akechi's. Tries to call it forth again.
No luck.
That's new. Even after the battle against the Green Knight, he'd had no problem summoning Azathoth. Even before the spaghetti.
The difference is, he'd been in good shape then. Battered from the fight, but not as badly as now – death was never a tangible fear in his mind, guarded as he was by Azathoth – and then healed of his superficial wounds by Venat. Maruki looks down at the broken remnants of his glasses in his hand, remembers the delicate way she mended them for him before, slid them back onto his face with a smile like every star in the sky.
He closes his eyes, sighs through his nose. No Azathoth. No healing. It must have taken the very last of his spirit to save him from certain death and reverse only the worst of his injuries, because everything else remains.
The shards of glass embedded in Akechi's palm catch his eye, turn his stomach. ]
Let's get cleaned up.
[ A step toward the castle, two, three. Testing his strength. It's not like the morning they had to stagger out of the Enchanted Garden. In some ways, it's better; in others, much worse.
Maruki looks over at Akechi, more drained than he's ever seen him. ]
Lean on me if you need to.
[ Not that he expects Akechi to need to, or to accept the offer even if he does, but the state of him–
Maruki feels half-dead from what Akechi was able to do to him under that power. He can scarcely imagine how it must feel to be the one consumed by it. How it must feel to have two souls sprung forth from your own, whether they're cooperative or at war. How it must feel to have to maintain more masks on top of that. How it must feel to sleep little, eat little, work constantly, navigate the complex web of Masayoshi Shido on top of that. How completely depleted Akechi must be on a near constant basis, has been for years, still is even here.
It doesn't matter if Akechi needs it, actually. Maruki grips his arm with steadying force anyway, pulls him along. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He never walks in front of Akechi anymore for a reason, after all. ]
Lead the way. You know where we're going.
no subject
Akechi has half a mind to make him lead the way, since he's so adamant about confirming this whole ordeal.
He turns as requested - a pair of shitty leather gloves grabbed from the counter as he moves. Petulant. Irate. He opens the front door with force - tries to slam it in Maruki's goddamn face to prove a point about bossing people around. 'The hinge is broken' muttered under his breath when that doesn't work and-
Around they go. A familiar backyard. A training ground. The same place Akechi dragged Maruki with a certain degree of intensity when he realized that man helped killed the Green Knight.
And he stands there - arms crossed over his chest. Defiant. Rebelling. For no reason at all.]
If you were so eager to train, you should have said so. We could have avoided the distressing loss of our only kettle.
no subject
He can tolerate a lot from Akechi. A nearly infinite amount of bullshit. He can take verbal abuse, threats of all kinds, physical violence, sleepless nights, endless training, thankless work, mutual lies–
He can no longer tolerate Akechi faking certain things. His personality. His knowledge of the cognitive world. His estimation of what Maruki can observe and analyze.
There is a fundamental respect between them. And to Maruki's mind, if Akechi respects him at all, then he had better start respecting him enough not to treat him like a goddamn idiot.
They make it to the clearing behind the castle, partially obscured by a hill. The site of so many nighttime training sessions. The place where Akechi lay on the ground after the Green Knight was defeated, panting and staring up at the sky as Maruki admitted that it was in fact grief over a friend that drove him to discovering new heights of power.
Here he rounds on Akechi, the first part of what he's said drawing a couple wry quips onto the tip of his tongue to try to lessen the tension between them before they do battle, but then–
We could have avoided the distressing loss of our only kettle.
Maruki blinks.
Smiles at him, quick and sharp and nowhere near reaching his eyes before it drops away again.
Takes a step back.
Brings his hand up to adjust his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose– ]
Let's begin.
[ Bitten out. Harsh. Far more so than Akechi's likely to have heard before, two words even more acidic than whatever Maruki barked when he would break up fights in the forest.
And without further ado, there's a nice Piercing Strike headed straight for Akechi.
Better act fast. ]
no subject
He's furious - a vile sort of righteous anger that takes the appearance of a disease and Akechi can see the infection course through his veins, corrupt his mind, unleash something new.
It delights him - an all too familiar attack catching him off-guard only because it's not the norm for this one to come out immediately. It's meant to end their sessions, temporarily stop a barrage, or force their hands into the final phase of training. Maruki never uses it first.
Akechi gets hit in quick succession - five rapid hits landing before he manages to guard. The pain miniscule - covered up by his own joy at a provocation finally breaking Maruki down. A honey coated smile meant to needle further spreads over his face, in a light, joyous tone full of feigned benevolence Maruki hates more than anything.]
Oh my - I didn't realize how mad you were. My deepest apologies. It's not my intent to cause such anger. I hope you can forgive me.
[And he knows what Maruki wants to see and-
'Robin Hood' appears in a barrage of light instead, a smug smirk peaking through Akechi's fingertips that are pressed against his face. Flames. Fire. A beam headed for the one weak point he knows about.
A Kouga, but one not directly aimed at single tentacle or Maruki - he needs to find that shitty healtacle first in the swarming mass of lookalikes.
The bright light is headed for the center of many, in hopes of sussing out healing one by the differences in damage.]
Maruki-san - this really isn't like you.
no subject
He isn't going to make demands now that they're out here and the battle has begun. He's going to ferret out the splintered, unstable parts of Akechi that he's managed to keep hidden until tonight using every tool in his arsenal. The same way he can get people to easily open up and tell him anything, he can draw out the jagged edges of a broken mind. If they slice his palms in the process, all the better. In the history of mankind, there's never been a martyr that didn't bleed.
He clocks the intent of Akechi's attack as soon as it makes contact with its target. Maruki has spent enough time with Azathoth now to recognize the different tentacles despite their identical appearance, but without the benefit of that connection, Akechi defaults to the easiest way to determine which is which. It's smart. He gets it.
He hates it.
Watching the Tentacle of Healing crumple from one attack irritates him every single time. It's the most important one; it shouldn't have such an easily exploitable weakness. The others don't, as far as he knows. Azathoth certainly doesn't.
It isn't knocked out of the battle yet – it always takes at least a few attacks before they get to that point – but it's down, twitching weakly among the writhing mass. The other two alongside it react in kind, nullifying or reflecting the attack back at Akechi and rearing up–
So that one can buff Maruki's defenses, for when Akechi inevitably switches his target, and the other can–
Maruki wants to see something. ]
You don't know what I'm really like, Akechi.
[ Normally, the Tentacle of Assistance acts as a sort of energy source for him, ramping up his power at steady intervals throughout their training. It's a reliable friend.
This isn't training, though.
Maruki knows the tentacles don't attack, necessarily, but if he can shift his intention to using them against Akechi rather than for himself, he thinks he might–
Ah. Yeah. There it is. Get Tarunda'd, idiot. ]
To borrow a turn of phrase... If you were holding back on me this whole time, I'll never forgive you.
[ It's time to Amplify Force! Enjoy the free turn, Akechi! ]
no subject
Resolute. Intense. The real Maruki Takuto drug out to rot in a fake world.]
As if I care about your forgiveness.
[The debuff hits - an annoyance. Attack down. A new power. One turn. Three turns. It doesn't matter in the goddamn slightest. He won't stop - won't ever stop and Loki thrums in his chest. Debilitate ready. Debilitate there, but-
Not yet. He doesn't need it. Loki is Akechi - it's his true self. Akechi won't give it easily or freely.
Maruki buffs himself. Whatever. Akechi will be pummeled with an infuriating powerful attack that sparks life into him as it takes it. Glee. Hit after hit of an unmatched power he wants to grasp and rip apart with his own hands.
He doesn't even brace for it.
Almighty doesn't work - not well. He doesn't fucking bother Megidolaon - the explosive SP gouging attack does little.
Instead, he moves closer to make up for his lack of power - Kouga unleashed against the downed healing tentacle and-
He pivots - knife sliding out of pocket and into his hand, moving to get as close to Maruki as possible to stab anywhere he can. Robin Hood preparing for another Kouga at his back.
That physical damage is impossible to avoid with the range of Maruki's attack - getting close won't change a goddamn thing, but if he's lucky, the man will be hit by his own ability or Akechi's fucking knife.]
The true Maruki? You're nothing but trash!
no subject
One: Maruki's mind goes perfectly clear. Still and quiet. Placid as the surface of a pond. He wonders, sometimes, what it's like to be inside Akechi's mind. What a labyrinth (hah) of confusion and deception and desperation it is. How loud it must be. His own can get crowded at times, an overthinker even when he's at rest, but he's learning that when the chips are down, silence takes over.
It was the same against the Green Knight– mostly. In the heat of battle, his mind would slide into pleasant blankness to meld in with Azathoth. But it was his first true battle, and he couldn't maintain that flow state at all times.
He's trained quite a lot since.
It's easy to slip into. Easy to stay in. His mind turned to one great white palace, cavernous empty rooms, spiraling stairs. A bird flapping its wings the only motion. Peaceful. Eden.
Two: He calmly steps out of the way of Akechi's incoming barrage to let a mass of the lesser tentacles come between them.
Azathoth is fast. Brutal. Doesn't need to be told what to do, because who's in control when they share the quiet of his mind like this is always in question and always in flux. The tendrils wrap around Akechi's ankles and feet to anchor him to the ground and stop his advance on Maruki – around his torso to keep him from trying to lunge forward with the momentum he has left – around both arms, because Maruki knows by now that he can wield just as efficiently in his non-dominant hand–
And then one snakes around the hand holding the knife. Not to get him to drop it, to keep him gripping it tight as they bend his arm back until the blade points toward himself.
Force sufficiently amplified, he could easily strike Akechi when he's temporarily a sitting duck.
Doesn't. The attack lingers in the back of his mind. Maruki tips his chin down, brows coming together to meet in the middle, voice taking on an edge of placating sympathy. ]
How it feels for an ego to splinter so unevenly that multiple personas form from it... What kind of stress a psyche must undergo to develop not one, but two senses of rebellion against an unjust world. I wonder what that's like, Akechi?
cw: violent thoughts, graphic violence @ self, suicide reference, murder
Twisted from his hand.
Twisted towards his body with a sickening
disgusting
sickly
Tone meant to be a taste of his own fucking medicine from a goddamn doctor who dispenses without restraint.The real Maruki Takuto and-
The real Akechi Goro.
A blade's tip pointed at his own body like a-
Puppet. Mannequin. Body distorted to follow the whims of whoever has Akechi Goro.
He's supposed to hold the power. Control. Conquer. A manipulator not meant to be tied down by the weight of his own fucking strings.Maruki's words ring in his ear. His own statements thrown back in his face.
He's the one in control. Akechi Goro. Not Shido. Not Maruki. Not any other goddamn person in this shitty reality.
He laughs - vile, hateful and monstrous without a goddamn care who hears because the only thing left is Loki, Loki, Loki forming from red hot fire. Loki, Loki, Loki who gives him freedom and Loki, Loki, Loki who doesn't make a single goddamn appearance as-] You piece of shit - always a goddamn showoff. You think I'm bothered by the crap you're saying? Shut the hell up![Robin Hood appears.
He isn't controlled. Not a puppet. He won't be held hostage. Not by Shido, Maruki, anyone. A blade pointed - that's fine. Akechi's always held a knife to his own neck, carved splinters into a board holding a noose he's tightened, a serrated blade ripping at his own flesh again and again and hitting others again and again and pull Maruki up to dangle under ten splinters with a chair kicked out from under his feet, ten splinters that Shido won't have the benefit of seeing, because he would never taint his last remaining image of her with that man's bloated corpse hanging, hanging, hanging-
A Kouga hits the end of the blade, sending it straight into Akechi with force. He's not a hostage, he's the hostage taker. Not a victim, he's the aggressor. He won't be tied down by a piece of shit like him.
No pain, then burning. No pain, then it surges. No pain, then Loki drums and drums and drums and Robin Hood drums and drums and drums and Akechi can barely breathe through the gagging sort of crackled laugh. One he can hear. Can't. It's painful - adrenaline surging, body slumping, he's in the depths of Mementos and Joker ripped through him with an arsenal. Loki wanted to come out then.]
I hate you - I hate you! You piss me off and I'll rip you apart until nothing's left!
[Fuck him - Fuck him.
Another Kouga to keep the blade twisted into gut, muscle and bone, pierced somewhere near his rib. He's never felt better. Never breathed easier. He's laughing - wild, free and acidic and-
There's nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing.
and-Blue flames vanish for red spirals climbing high, high, high into the sky above them. Robin Hood falls like a lost prince - a hero rises from the ashes of it.]
Manifest, Loki!
cw referenced self-harm
He'll never forget that first night exploring the forest together, Akechi trying in vain to fight against the Green Knight's thrall and driving his blade into his own shoulder. Whether it had been because of the entity attempting to control his mind or a purposeful ward against it, Maruki still isn't sure. Is it right to experiment with Akechi while they're mid-battle? Probably not, no, but there's very little of Maruki that cares about being right at the moment.
The blade sinks in with all the force of the attack behind it, the vile words spill forth, then it drives deeper, and Maruki's not training with him at the moment, no, but Akechi is still his ally. He's half a second away from directing the weakened Tentacle of Healing to do what it can before it's lost to the next attack directed at it when–
Loki.
The tentacles rip, tear, fall away from Akechi with the force of this new manifestation. Some wither and dissipate into the ground only to be replaced by twice as many new ones.
They don't lunge for Akechi, though. They move away from him as Maruki does, two or three steps back with an arm curled protectively in front of him, the same arm that took the brunt of the teakettle shrapnel earlier. Azathoth remains stalwart behind him, and they both watch as this new persona takes abrupt, violent shape.
It isn't fear that Maruki feels. It isn't anger, either, despite the rage that's driven him every step of the way so far.
There's a sick twist of pride through the center of his sternum, that bright, warm spot that exists only for Akechi and recognizes that he's finally beginning to see more of the whole of him.
And there's intrigue for all the unknown that Akechi represents, all the things Maruki can still learn from him.
And there's catharsis, after months spent suffering Akechi's false personality in order to better learn and perfectly uphold it.
And there's the soul-deep thrill of a better-matched fight.
Maruki folds his arms over his chest and grins. ]
Good. Show me who you really are.
[ Now it's time to hit with him the good old 2.5x Raining Seeds. ]
no subject
Free from the tight coils of persona contorting his body, latching him to a spot and
Free from the Robin Hood's leash, image, a false personality hidden behind a just prince manifest.
Maruki's smiling. Akechi is too - manic and ferocious with his fingers wrapped around the handle of a knife in his chest, the other threading through his hair and-Loki is strong. Loki is unburdened. Loki doesn't have limits. Loki is wild and alive - floats behind him without intent to protect from the upcoming attack. Akechi's hit head on with it - doesn't bother to block or move. Laughter that -
Mocks. Thrives. Coats the sensation of blade sliding from his guts as he rips it out in one swift motion. Red blooming across his shirt, like an ocean made of thick crimson viscera. Like a boy turned god about to unleash his wrath on an unknowing world. He isn't in the Metaverse - a deep, twisting wound embedded and pulled out makes him dizzy, sick, and-
Happy - joyous.]
God, I live for this!
[Loud. Blooming like the spot on his chest. Riot Gun comes easy - Loki is strong. The healing tentacle will go down and everything, everything, everything will be hit and-
Akechi wastes no time in moving closer again, undeterred by a wound, emboldened by Loki behind him and-
Debilitate focused directly on Maruki - the only image his unblinking eyes are focused on.]
You're next in line to die!
no subject
There are more important things to deal with first.
He doesn't know what hits him, but he knows instantly when it does – both he and Azathoth feeling drained, leaden, rooted to the spot. Some sort of nerf.
He doesn't know.
He doesn't like it.
Maruki straightens up, takes one look at Akechi advancing on him, and what needs to be done coalesces in his mind instantly. ]
I regret not pointing this out to you sooner... You shouldn't mistake our powers as being equal.
[ That was a nice Debilitate, Akechi.
Unfortunately, the Tentacles of Assistance and Protection are both still up and in near perfect health. They undo the bulk of Akechi's work in two fell swoops – it isn't the boost of power that Maruki's used to, but it's back to baseline, and that's good enough for him.
His favored attack has never worked on Robin Hood. Maruki knows that. But this persona – this Loki, he can't believe Akechi kept that under his tongue for all the times Maruki used goddamn Loki as an example when talking about the collective unconscious – is about as different from Robin Hood as can be.
Maruki doesn't waste another second once the tentacles have done their work. The enormous ball of pure, glowing energy that heralds Eternal Radiance forms in the sky above them, bright enough to blind for a split second before erupting into innumerable cosmic eyes firing off at Loki, at Akechi, at anything within striking distance. ]
cw: violent thoughts, murder
You shouldn't mistake our powers as being equal.
He knows.It's an infuriating realization that hits him with every new attack discovered in midnight training sessions, in the way Azathoth hits, hits, hits with multiple attacks in quick succession - a man new to this and yet thriving in such undeniable power.
The same power that strikes Loki's weakness - sends Akechi to knees, grasping the wet spot on his chest that's coating his whole front now. Dizzying. Nauseating. Intense Debilitate did little - ]
Oh no - I'm so scared! I don't give SHIT!
[Said with his knees digging into wet ground - You can't hurt me next on his lips because he isn't hurt. Isn't bleeding from his chest. Isn't pressed against his will by a power that exploited his weakness. Doesn't need a second, two seconds, three seconds to catch his breath, remove a blood coated glove from his body, half push himself up through sheer obstinance.
He can't stand in full - knees lock. Doesn't matter. Loki's alive behind him with all the fury in Akechi's heart, the injustice of the world
A teenager born with an undeniable, with teammates, friends and-
A man born with unfathomable power, lonely and rotten like him and-
Akechi Goro who stands below both, whether they breathe or not. No matter what he does - it's alwaysSecond best. He doesn't need them. Second best, despite everything. You shouldn't mistake our powers as being equal because Akechi has to resort to kills coated in viscera, silence and blood, instead of fog and agony.
Fuck them.
He can't breathe. Can. Loki prepares to enact Akechi's will, a column of swirling red lights surrounding the persona-] Do you really think your shitty attack will end this? That I'm so goddamn weak? Don't look down on me you piece of shit! You don't know where true power is - the broken chains on a heart. I'll shatter it again and again and again until you're dead!
[Loki's sword glows bright, bright, bright in Akechi's peripherals.
Red swirls, swirls, swirls and Akechi knows in a second - locking knees, a bleeding chest - none of it will matter. Call of Chaos explodes throughout - spreading from wound to body to brain in an instant.
And
everything
is so fucking meaningless.
He can't think he can't think he can't think he can't think hecan'thtinkhecan'tthinkc̸̨̲̩̻͇̖̦̮̙̥̰̠͕͎͋̊̾̎́̎̽͗̃̆̃̆̚͝a̴̧͔͇̖̮̭̲̠͈̣̗̽̽̔́̀͋̂̆̈̑̚͜n̵̢͙̭̻̹̳̈́̅̍̑̀̌͋͒͑͂͂̚̚͜ͅ'̴̢̡̡̢̟̫̫̯͇̗͖̟͓̥̹̰̓͌͆̂͛̄͌̉ţ̸͇̫̎͂́̑ ̸̨͔͙̫͍̠̬͈̯̖̜̭̤͖̍̍̇͜͜͝ṭ̶͓̥̻̪̱̇̌̈́̃̂̄̈́̂͠͠ĥ̸̢̨̡̬̘̖̬̦͖̝̭̤͔̰͋i̷̛̟̰̩͙͙̟͍̗͇̖̯̎͜͜n̸̢̛͎̙̼̪̖̲̺̤̋̄̓̄̌́̀̇̂̕͝ͅk̸̜̳̙͈͓̬̗͕̠̣̣͈̦̅̂̀̔̌̔̒͛̉̑̾̒̆͒]
It's laughter. He's standing tall again, like nothing in the world has ever phased him and-
He's headed for Maruki again, Eigaon brewing, ready, targeted.] Try AGAIN, idiot!
cw brainwashing lmao here we go
As it happens – whatever it is – Maruki can only stare in open, wide-eyed fascination. It isn't an attack. It doesn't seem like a buff, either, not in a way that he's come to recognize so far.
But it gets Akechi up on his feet, and then some.
The blood isn't staunched. Not at all. That's the first thing Maruki catalogues. No healing to be seen, despite the undeniable surge of energy. It makes sense, of course – neither of Akechi's personas seem to have any capacity to heal. Why would they? He's hurt, he hurts, he wants the world to hurt along with him.
Idiot. He's going to get himself killed.
The Tentacle of Healing regenerates with a wave of his hand as Akechi cackles through the mounting power coursing through and around him. Maruki's just about to direct it – if it doesn't knock Akechi out of whatever spell he's put himself under, it can at least take care of that gaping wound – when another attack he hasn't experienced yet hits.
It feels brutal. Dark and heavy, antithetical to everything he feels with Azathoth. A nightmare, sleep paralysis, a demon on his chest. Azathoth can tank the hit fine, as it always does, but the utter newness of the sensation has Maruki dazed for a moment, choking on black smoke.
He straightens, staggers farther back from Akechi, tries to get a good look at him through his frenzy. There's a look in his eye that's almost, almost recognizable. If placid, peaceful emptiness had a twin opposite to it in every way but the one that matters most.
He grabs at his chest, coughs again through a squint before raising his voice. ]
Is that what you tried to do here?
[ To the gelfling they targeted. To whoever else he said he tested a surefire method on. ]
Maybe it only works on someone whose cognition is so susceptible to manipulation.
[ There's no one he saw become enthralled more times than Akechi, after all. ]
I wonder if my ability would work on you too, then. I wonder who you'd become.
[ It's an empty threat, and one said with nothing but seething, sneering compassion. Maruki would never do it. But he's furious with Akechi for hiding so much for so long, and he's too caught up in the battle to bite his words back – it might be a justified end befitting a Detective Prince, being coerced into playing that role and keeping up that perception for the rest of his life.
Healing forgotten for the moment, he focuses all of his energy on taking Akechi down with that same Bless attack again, curious to see what effect it will have on him in this new state. ]
cw: violent thoughts, gore, murder, self harm (???)
What
he tried
to do
To a meaningless nothing - a worthless piece of trash who didn't see it coming, saw nothing coming, Loki appeared to capture that trash trash trash and nothing happenedNothing happened
Something happens
Maruki halted. Stopped. Surprised.It
feels
great.
A violent hum follows every vein, pours out of his chest with every spurt of blood from his own erratic, unstoppable unstoppable he is unstoppable movements towards Maruki. Joker never got to see this - Maruki does. Joker never saw Akechi alight with the flame of battle and an all too well worn hysteria that phantom walls in a dark coated world used to absorb. Joker only saw Akechi when bone, gut and gore gave life to a blank wall behind him.Joker gave
life to everyone
around him. Akechi feltalive
dead
andMaruki's flesh, bone, and guts will create a new reality in this fake, fake world.
The attack hits. Akechi doesn't try to dodge. Back to his knees in crippling agony that he should feel, doesn't feel, can't feel with the freedom of his soul, unchained, untied, unleashed to keep going. He's strong - so strong. Loki doesn't make him strong - Loki exists because he's strong and he-
stands up again
Cackling, both hands threading and tearing and ripping at strands against his skull. It doesn't hurt - nothing does.He'll kill Maruki.]
Oh, you're merciless, aren't you?
[Taunting. Wild. Happy. An attack already at the helm - the world's swimming from overwhelming euphoria as Loki burns, burns, burns behind him with every tug, tug, tug and-
Maruki would like
to paint his soul across this world
so akechi won't stop until he does.
Healing tentacle is the target for EIGAON - nothing to get in the way and-He's back up. Forced up. His feet, legs, body pushed back up again and again and again and again and againandagainandagainandagainandagainandagain. He'll kill Maruki. He'll kill Shido. He'll kill Shido and-
Dizzy. Stumbles. Stands. Loki - with Loki - because of Loki - because of his willpower to create Loki-]
Die, die, die, die, die, DIE!
[Knife thrown to the ground, Loki preparing to hit Maruki with Laevateinn and-
Akechi pulls the gun from his side pocket, damp shirt leaking to his pants and lining it up with Maruki's face.
Slightly above his glasses, right between the eyes, against a
tile floor
starlit sky.
cw gun violence, murder, physical assault
He's only had a couple seconds to register the gun when Laevateinn makes contact.
Maruki has gotten used to taking Robin Hood's attacks on the nose, but Loki is another beast entirely. The great spectral sword comes down on him and he hits the ground, hard. Pain cracks and jolts up from his knees from the force of the fall, down from his head from the strike, palms scraping and slicing against the ground as he tries to brace himself so as not to collapse under its weight entirely, a violent ringing in his ears.
His breath catches and seizes in his chest with the aftershocks of that pain – somehow, despite appearances, not magical in nature, entirely physical and much harder to shake off because of it – as he lifts his head to see–
The gun.
The same gun pointed at him in eternally dark woods.
The same gun Akechi must use back in their reality – the same gun that he will more than likely find himself up against after they return, his own hubris pushing the only ally he's ever had to turn on him, and he won't have Azathoth, he won't have anything, he'll be so useless. ]
Don't.
[ Despite the blows he's taken, his voice remains steady, strong.
It isn't fear that he feels, despite–
Endless white fields, an empty paddock where chickens would be raised in the spring, the bare branches of weeping trees, a frozen over pond, a home with the door left wide open despite the snowfall. Broken glass, footprints in the snow. The clatter of furniture overturned, shouts of confusion and panic. Gun fired once. A guttural, animal noise like none he's ever heard. Complete chaos. Rumi's screams. Fired again, and again, and again.
Maruki never saw the gun. Only heard it. Never saw anyone get shot. Only saw the bodies. By the time he emerged into the main house, the damage was done, the gun was gone. Frozen. Hadn't even been brave enough to try to get between the men and their only escape route. Could only watch in terror as hands wrapped around Rumi's throat before slamming her into a wall, could only unstick himself long enough to run to the door and watch them flee, trying to remember the car, the only car on the road, the empty road in an empty town on an empty day when nothing should have happened, and he couldn't do anything about it at all, never been more useless–
No, it isn't fear at all. ]
You're not going to kill me here, Akechi.
[ Maruki stands fast, all the blood rushing to his head, a hand out to brace himself against Azathoth's chassis as a wave of tentacles shoots forth to restrain Akechi again.
Knife on the ground – good.
Gun wrenched out of his hand and thrown aside – better.
Maruki doesn't direct Azathoth to attack. Doesn't think that far ahead. Doesn't think at all. Only advances on Akechi, wrapped in a mass of tentacles he'll surely soon be able to break free from, bleeding, gasping, laughing, psychotic. Tempestuous conviction rages in his voice – because he isn't scared of Akechi. He never has been. ]
You're not going to kill me until you have a good reason to do it.
[ Fist clenched. Arm pulled back. Useless. Knuckles connecting with jaw. Inelegant, unpracticed, but vicious, more than hard enough to hurt them both.
Maruki grips it in the opposite hand, pain radiating across knuckles that will bloom with bruises, and staggers back from him again so the Tentacle of Healing, battered but still functional, can finally take care of that goddamn stab wound. ]
CW: VIOLENCE!!!!!!!!! of all kinds
His
sole
purpose
seek
the truth
And he finds it in Maruki's gaze. Resolute. Fearless. A far cry from the man cowering from an ant in the marketplace, worried about a knife in his direction.
His jaw aches
from the will of Maruki Takuto.The blood staunches against his chest - his body sewing itself back together, everything else falling apart. Cooper crawls up his throat, into his mouth - over teeth, tongue, coating the insides of his cheeks. Eigaon misses the healing tentacle completely - the jolt from a fist against skull makes his vision swim.
Riot Gun misses - targeting tree, ground and earth instead of the man two feet from him, the tentacles writhing around him.]Oh yeah? I decide the reason.
[
Mocking.
Bitter.
Lost and
Found by a man who sees
Every part of him and for the first timeAkechi sees him.
Subdued for a moment. Breaking free the next. Loki-Appears. Vanishes. Flickers back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and a shining, shining sword glowsglowsglowsglows behind him, but-
Blood spit from his mouth. Mind
scrambling
running
████ ████ ████̝̺̠̖̭́͟͝f̷̡̩̲͈̺̘͍͚̻̤ŗ̸̛̲͙͉͓͚̘̯̙͈̫̹̜͢ͅȩ̛̣̰͓̻͎̘̯̙͈̫̹̜͢͡ͅȩ̣̰͓̻͎͡ ̝̺̠̖̭́͟͝f̷̡̩̲͈̺̘͍͚̻̤ŗ̸̛̲͙͉͓͚̘̯̙͈̫̹̜͢ͅȩ̛̣̰͓̻͎̘̯̙͈̫̹̜͢͡ͅȩ̣̰͓̻͎͡ ̝̺̠̖̭́͟͝f̷̡̩̲͈̺̘͍͚̻̤ŗ̸̛̲͙͉͓͚̘̯̙͈̫̹̜͢ͅȩ̛̣̰͓̻͎̘̯̙͈̫̹̜͢͡ͅȩ̣̰͓̻͎͡.]
Whether you live or die - none of it means SHIT TO ME!
[Loki hovers - ever watchful, ever present, ever a true guardian in a world full of rot and-
Akechi lunges for the man, intent to grappling him right to the ground.]
no subject
Because all of his focus is tunneled down onto Akechi, barreling into him, knocking all the breath out of him as his back hits grass, stones, dirt. ]
We both know that's not true, you lunatic–
[ If Akechi didn't care about his life at all, he wouldn't have spent months warning him to keep his head down when they return to their true reality. It isn't only about staying out of Akechi's way for his own sake.
If Akechi didn't care about his life at all, he would have shot him in his sleep several times over by now.
Maruki knows he's at a disadvantage, has no real experience in a physical altercation. He brings one arm up to guard his face, drives the other elbow into Akechi's ribs as hard as he can to try to get him off.
And despite all of this – despite everything that's transpired tonight, hit after hit, threat after threat – there is no one in either reality that he feels he respects more than Akechi. Now more than ever. Maruki wheezes out a laugh, strikes him again, and needles, needles, because he knows he can, because he knows Akechi can take it as well as he doles it out. ]
Two personas from a broken mind? One that has the ability to shatter it further?
[ In the tone of a mildly fascinated Detective Prince: ]
You really are full of surprises.
cw: violence, eye damage, graphic violence. mmmm just dont click.
Akechi is delighted
because Maruki was never a waste of his time. Without Azathoth-He's stronger.
A persona shaped god won't be around forever and Marukifights and fights and fights
Like his life depends on it. It does. Akechi doesn't hesitate to peel both gloves from his hand, press into the elbow trying to jab air out of him - it works.It doesn't stop him.
The dizzying lack of air acting as oil.]Shut up! [A splintered, airless laugh.] I'll make your last moments on here the most painful.
[He throws all his weight into pushing Maruki's arm to his face - fist directed to glasses. Hits until shards embed in his knuckles. Until he presses against Maruki's eye to dig those pieces into eyelid, cornea, pupil - destroy his vision. Exploit a weakness. Use it against him. Pinpricks rip at his skin - thin red lines all over his hands.
Nails dig into the flesh of his arm. Palm presses broken frame against his face. Thin lines shredded down whatever exposed flesh he can - peeling, ripping, tearing like his body will exude smoke and rot instead of muscle and blood.]
You think you know me? My mind is fine. Nothing is broken. I'm in control of you, Shido, and every other piece of shit here that falls for that pathetic act-
[
Shreds, and digs
andlistens to every piece of bait
andRips and tears
andDestroys everything in sight.
Skin embeds under his fingertips - the same tracks torn into again and again and again and again and againandagainandagainandagain until it stains red, red, red on his hands. No gloves to cover it up this time. The sink will drain crimson for awhile. Akechi will wash his handsone
two
three
hours until every thought spirals down the drain.] You're so fucking stupid!cw eye trauma, graphic violence - truly you should not be reading this thread, stranger
Maruki can't see. Can't hear whatever sounds he's making, or Akechi's cruel taunts, or anything beyond the blaring siren static of his own mind. Can't see. Can't breathe without hitching and choking on a stuttered gasp. Can't see. Can't fucking see. ]
Akechi–
[ Weakened, but not pleading. Faint, but still furious.
The same way he didn't know how he would react to having to fight until Akechi snarled at him to kill that kaiju, he didn't know how he would react to true violence done against him until Akechi pinned him down and tore him apart.
Eren once asked him if he'd rather lay down and die than be a burden on someone else. It was early, so early. Maruki hadn't even moved into the castle yet. At that point – yes, of course, there were any number of instances where he'd rather lay down than whatever the alternative was.
Things have changed.
He's changed.
Azathoth rages in the back of his mind, but it's nothing compared to Maruki's own will to live, to fight.
He grabs blindly at whatever he can – Akechi's shirt, arm, face, hair – tries to shove him off – no luck, and some of the blood has pooled down into his mouth, and he splutters on it, but he still fights– ]
I won't tell you again, get the hell off of me, now!
[ Neither of them can see it – Akechi too singularly focused on his target, Maruki stuck in flickering, bloodied darkness – but Azathoth grows as the power within Maruki ratchets up to an inferno.
No, he won't die here. He's only just begun. ]
cw: ohhhh graphic violence oooo eye trauma, self harm (??), rock based violence!
red
redredredredred
red
redredredredredred̲r̲̲e̲̲d̲̲r̲̲e̲̲d̲̲r̲̲e̲̲d̲̲r̲̲e̲̲d̲̲r̲̲e̲̲d̲̲r̲̲e̲̲d̲
and-Wretched noises are fuel. Matches against fire - stacked over and over and over and over again and-
Akechi doesn't notice a thing. Azathoth doesn't exist in his mind's eye or otherwise. Loki's presence ever shifting, a spiral of agony and joy bursting through his chest with little pop, pop, pops that align with every thrashing motion, every unsuccessful attempt to remove him.
He won't relent. Never. Shards deep into his own hand, chunks he grips tight until his palms are coated in the same bright bright crimson as Maruki's cheeks, his eyes and-
That palm slams into Maruki's eye with force - face, cheek, ear, chin, jaw. Bare skin is a target. Akechi shares the pain - every slice pushes the glass in. Facing consequences.
Maruki's eyes are lost under thrashes
glass
A broken frame
A broken life
In a rural home with life tinted walls
In a rural town with damp, damp, grass under living corpses
In a small apartment with nothing left to lose.
Hand tearing into eye, the other full of peeled skin against his nails, dried blood staining and-
A rock - crueler than gun, or knife. Small enough to settle into the grooves of his hand, pointed enough to be a problem-
He
wants
Maruki
to hurt.
Because he's rotten. Because Akechi's cruel. Because both are stuck in muck and mud, festering uncontained wounds that spew pus and drainage. Sick. Spewing false cures while sharing disease and-He slams the rock into Maruki's neck.
again
and again
and again.
Azathoth is strong because Maruki is strong.
Maruki is fighting. Maruki will fight. Maruki will rip, tear, destroy to get Akechi off of him on the tile floor, in a dark alleyway, beside a colorful poster -
Stone slams into his neck again
again
and again
and again.
Because he needs to learn what it will take to kill Akechi Goro if he wants to survive.]cw graphic violence, eye trauma, near death experience
But whatever it is hits again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again–
At some point, shock sets in and the pain stops registering at all. His vision stops fading from the glass dug into his eyes. His ears stop ringing from the echoes of his own shouting. He stops being able to shout. He stops being able to make any noise at all. Something in his throat cracks, snaps, collapses in on itself– he wants to scream, can't– wants to breathe, can't–
The volume of reality steadily turned down until it goes mute, his own labored half-breaths and his heart kicking into overtime the only sounds rattling around his emptied mind.
It doesn't look like Eden. It doesn't look like anything at all.
There are countless explanations of what happens to consciousness when death draws near. Spiritual explanations, religious ones. Psychological explanations, neurological ones. Maruki can't claim to be an expert in any of them. Has cognitive psience ever had anything to say on the matter? Likely not. It's research he could pioneer. It's research that could get him killed on a chilly winter's night in his tiny apartment kitchen– in an empty alley behind a trendy cafe or an udon restaurant or a jazz club– in a cognitive world whose shape he doesn't yet know– or here, on a grassy knoll behind a castle in the reality that delivered his life straight into the hands of the person who's meant to end it.
He can't fight anymore, but his synapses fire at a rapid pace, trying to stave off the heavy blanket of peace settling over his cognition, and–
Maruki draws a huge, gulping gasp of air as his eyes fly open. Throat structurally sound once more, eyes blurry with blood and tears but fully functional. He sees Akechi above him, the rock raised above his head, the blood coating his hands, the front of his shirt, his face, everywhere, everywhere.
A red-stained grin blooms across Maruki's face. A breathless laugh escapes.
It's over. ]
Azathoth.
[ The sky above them splits open as dark energy coalesces into a great glowing orb, and Maruki wrenches his arms free to grab Akechi around his knitted-together ribs and shove him sideways, down into the grass next to him, with every ounce of strength returned to him with that heal. He can't escape this blast, and he doesn't want to. He just needs to make sure it hits Akechi as hard as it hits him.
Tyrant Chaos aims inexorably at them both, and in the resulting explosion of blinding light, Maruki's only coherent thought is that if they kill each other like this, they'll deserve every second they spend in Inferna together. ]
cw: emeto, murder, suicide, graphic violence! suicidal ideation (????)
and it's what he deserves.
Exploitable. Ruined. Rotten.Maruki will live
and it's what he deserves.
Resourceful. Unrelenting. Powerful.Stone against skin, a rupture that twists thin streaks of red, muscle pulsing with air that escapes against Akechi's fingers. A hint of white that might be his spine and-
A discarded prince can never win against a decayed king.
Bone and flesh mend under his stained fingers. Expected. He doesn't fight it. Almost glad for it. Infuriated with it. Work undone in a blink, years of cultivated power overturned by natural gifts.
He can't stand it. The glass in his palm stings and -
Bruised ribs and sore body slammed into the ground. Expected.
Maruki's eyes are broken and bright under an ever growing light forming high above them.
Akechi doesn't look because it's nowhere near the brilliant shade pressing him down with gaze and arm.
He just
wanted
to burn
as bright as they do. Did.
Joker. Maruki. And a grotesque prince playing pretend.He chokes out a laugh because he
wants
to stop
and he can't.Because he wants
to live
and he can't. Because he wants toplay chess
with a friend
in a shitty cafe nestled in dark alleyway. Because he wants tosit at a bar
in a shitty shoebox apartment
two subway rides away from a place that will never be home.He wants to
to stop
he wants
to stop
he wants to stop
he wants to stop
he can't stop
he'll never stop
It's too late to stop.
Maruki's always there - even now, as he tries to push his exhausted, weary body beyond its limit, beyond the thrall of a distorted ability befitting of evil, of a monster, and Maruki's always there -
Confident, unshakeable Maruki -
He could leave and he doesn't. Stays by his side, pressed into the muck and dirt, willingly festering and rotting alongside. Akechi pulled him down. Maruki could rise. Akechi can't. Maruki could. Maruki doesn't.
Maruki's always there even as -
Blinding, piercing light fills his vision and then it doesn't. A flicker. A thought.
Joker saw a light, maybe, as he tried to focus on a dark tunnel aimed at him.
His mother saw a light, maybe, when the sun touched her dangling body in a small room that felt more like home than anything since.There's nothing
and he thinks he's happy.
Then there's something and thick white foam is flowing from his mouth with lurching haggard breaths. A lack of food a blessing as everything inside his stomach hits blood soaked ground. On hands and knees, he doesn't remember getting up - an axe is hitting his skull again, again, again in ten even splinters that he's sure he could feel if he could move his glass coated hand to check. Shaking. Weak. Attack unclear. Attack unknown. Attack new.Azathoth is strong because Maruki is strong and -
Akechi never had a doubt otherwise.]
cw get cared for after ALL THAT, IDIOT
For a long moment he only lays there, gasping, bruised, burning, unseeing. Pressed flat into the ground, chest heaving. His mouth opens, nothing escapes.
At his side–
Akechi breathes. He isn't dead.
Neither of them are.
The white slowly bleeds from his vision. A blurry form next to him. Curled in on himself, hunched, slight. Matted hair, streaks and swaths of blood.
Maruki reaches out–
And then he's up in motions so violently staggering that he thinks he's about to get pinned down and attacked again, but instead he only drags himself to hands and knees under his own power, of course, of course. Irrepressible, independent, inevitable Akechi.
In a marketplace of an unfamiliar town– on a dusty road leading to a castle– at a bar in a kitchen slowly becoming his own– in a ruined city filled with monsters tall as skyscrapers– in a living whipped up into a frenzy by an unknowable alien wind– in a perpetually dark forest– in a lake that knew too much– in a bathhouse that heard too much– in a club with low soothing music, in a cafe with obstinate rage– in every late night message and visit and training session– in a glowing alcove on a cliff overlooking a labyrinth they'll one day destroy together– in a grassy clearing stained with both their blood–
There's Akechi. There has always been Akechi.
Maruki hears him retching. Pushes himself to sit up, every muscle in his body screaming against it. Shattered and bent frames fall off his face, into his lap. He reaches out, lays a hand between his shoulder blades as he splutters and wheezes. ]
Akechi.
[ Voice rough, hoarse. Throat burning. Head pounding.
Maruki swallows. Rubs his hand back and forth, even that motion painful. Tries again. ]
Akechi. You're alright. We're done here.
DIRE DIRE DIRE OHHH EVIL CAITLIN
But Maruki says his name - tired, pained and rasp. Not a single hint of disdain or anger. The contact between his shoulders no longer feels malicious. The splitting headache dulls with the up, down, up, down, up, down, up, despite his muscles tensing with the movement.
He says they're done. Says Akechi's alright. They are done. He is alright.
Body stilled. Repetitive motion. Questions on his lips and-
It doesn't matter if he asks 'What are you doing?'
He already knows. Maruki's doing what he always does - stays there. Is there. Present.
If he asks 'What are you doing?'Because Maruki doesn't flinch when Akechi spits vile and venom, fist and rock.
If he asks 'What are you doing?Because he's foolish. Stupid. All resolve and will.
Loyal, to a fault.Akechi inhales - slow and quiet. Stomach lurching with nothing inside. It's safe to push himself back to his knees - to take in the broken face next to him. His will unshattered. Unshaken.
They're done.]
They awoke at the same time.
[Voice raw and scratchy. Soft, but not by choice. He doesn't know why he's talking - the same bizarre compulsion he felt at the bathhouse, at the convenience store, on a grassy hillside.]
It felt like this.
[Miserable. Wretched. Fatigue peeling back every layer of skin, exposing nerve to air - every single movement an exhausting effort that drains what little is left inside a person. Maruki may never experience a traditional awakening, but that direct blast of divine energy comes close. It feels like vindication.
He presses a hand against Maruki's shoulder - gentle, at first. Inhale. Exhale. Loki's thrall long gone and nestled back between the barbs in his chest.
Then there's pressure forced down onto the barely mobile man, as Akechi pushes himself up to his feet. No glass in that palm. He tries to loosen small shards with a shake of his other hand and-
He
stands.
And heReaches out with the same stone wielding hand that sentenced Maruki to death seconds ago. Stained. Nails torn and chipped.]
Get up.
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There are some kernels of truth even in the lies that Akechi has told him over the months they've circled one another. How it felt to awaken to a mysterious power alone– and now, knowing that it happened twice at once– and with what Maruki has been able to piece together about how young he must have been–
It isn't pity that he feels toward Akechi. Not at all. Only a profound sense of gratitude. I'm glad you're here, even now, even after all that transpired as the sun set over Somnius.
Maruki takes his hand without a second thought, hauls up unsteadily to his feet.
Azathoth must have dissipated somewhere in their half-consciousness. Maruki takes stock of his own injuries, then Akechi's. Tries to call it forth again.
No luck.
That's new. Even after the battle against the Green Knight, he'd had no problem summoning Azathoth. Even before the spaghetti.
The difference is, he'd been in good shape then. Battered from the fight, but not as badly as now – death was never a tangible fear in his mind, guarded as he was by Azathoth – and then healed of his superficial wounds by Venat. Maruki looks down at the broken remnants of his glasses in his hand, remembers the delicate way she mended them for him before, slid them back onto his face with a smile like every star in the sky.
He closes his eyes, sighs through his nose. No Azathoth. No healing. It must have taken the very last of his spirit to save him from certain death and reverse only the worst of his injuries, because everything else remains.
The shards of glass embedded in Akechi's palm catch his eye, turn his stomach. ]
Let's get cleaned up.
[ A step toward the castle, two, three. Testing his strength. It's not like the morning they had to stagger out of the Enchanted Garden. In some ways, it's better; in others, much worse.
Maruki looks over at Akechi, more drained than he's ever seen him. ]
Lean on me if you need to.
[ Not that he expects Akechi to need to, or to accept the offer even if he does, but the state of him–
Maruki feels half-dead from what Akechi was able to do to him under that power. He can scarcely imagine how it must feel to be the one consumed by it. How it must feel to have two souls sprung forth from your own, whether they're cooperative or at war. How it must feel to have to maintain more masks on top of that. How it must feel to sleep little, eat little, work constantly, navigate the complex web of Masayoshi Shido on top of that. How completely depleted Akechi must be on a near constant basis, has been for years, still is even here.
It doesn't matter if Akechi needs it, actually. Maruki grips his arm with steadying force anyway, pulls him along. ]
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cw injury descriptions (i don't think they're graphic, but. shrug)
cw: injury description cont!
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cw: flaying fun fact!
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cw eye trauma, graphic violence