There's the homework he talked about wishing for at the crystal, surrounding him on all sides like so many bloody handprints. In an instant, Maruki feels a crushing weight on his chest, feels like his sternum and all his ribs will splinter beneath it until his heart fails–
And then, in the blink of an eye, it's gone.
No damage done that he can see or feel, but he's rattled by it, that lingering sense of impending doom that hit faster than any of Akechi's other attacks ever have.
Takes after its predecessor. Akechi isn't interested in a back and forth with a shadow. Azathoth's continued presence-
Interesting. Dangerous. ]
Or not - I don't give a shit. You'll be dead soon anyway. If you want to beg for your life, you're welcome to try by answering this question - tell me what you are?
[ To his credit, Maruki does manage to look a little sheepish at that. Yeah, he wanted to torment Akechi, but coming clean is still...
Eh. Well. He doesn't expect Akechi to take it well, so the only thing he can do is be honest. ]
I felt satisfied with the work others have done to prove the potions have no adverse effects, and I figured that in the true reality I'll never be able to see what it's like to inhabit another form, so it would be foolish not to take advantage of the opportunity now. An indulgence of scientific and personal curiosity...
Akechi doesn't feel betrayal. Doesn't experience worry. There are consequences to every action - Maruki knew what he was doing when he downed a potion willingly sought out for his own pathetic indulgence.
A house ruined him. A partner ended it. He wants to be held to this world, wants to be tied to it, wants a reason to stay in a place that isn't meant for him because it's the only reality where he has anything.
Akechi Goro doesn't feel betrayal, but it stings all the same. There's no proof there are ill effects, there's no proof there isn't. It forms a needless connection to this world. There's less to gain and more to lose. Maruki isn't Joker, who Akechi knows can wield different powers innately and keep his heart separate from the rest.
Maruki gave in. Maruki gave up. Maruki made Akechi's job that much harder for no goddamn reason.
'An indulgence of scientific and personal curiosity.' Selfish. Idiotic. Tempted by a meaningless power. Even gods can't be sated.
He's furious - eyes settle on Maruki in full, unblinking. Unwavering. The molars in his mouth grind together. All at once, he can't stand Maruki Takuto and-]
Oh, is that so? That's all?
[Calm. So calm. Voice steady. Airy. He can't stand him. He gave in and it took nothing.]
To think you were this weak after all - you really were meant to be a politician. Always seeking more and more power under the guise of some shitty excuse. I thought you were better than that. Since you're so eager, take more.
[Call of Chaos is cast without warning - thrown at Maruki Takuto with zero hesitation. It won't do anything. Won't break his mind or heart, but the intent is there. The meaning is apparent. Akechi wastes no time in casting Call of Chaos on himself after, right as the flames dissipate from Maruki's form.]
[ An attack is expected; Call of Chaos right off the bat isn't, and for a moment Maruki's heart presses tight against his ribs as if trying to break free–
But nothing happens. The flames lick without burning, all of Akechi's rage apparent in them, and he knows he doesn't have long until Akechi breaks himself instead.
All of Azathoth's power concentrates rapidly as Amplify Magic surges in the mental connection between him and his persona. He won't be caught going easy on Akechi, not when things are starting this heated. Not when he did something to truly deserve it.
And he did.
Maruki knows he did.
Amidst Azathoth's swaying clawed appendages, he has the audacity to smile. ]
Thinking this makes me weak is your first mistake. My will is stronger than ever.
[ The proof is in the beam of bright violet light that strikes the ground in front of Akechi before Megidolaon engulfs the training ground. Think fast! ]
I don't make mistakes. You're just like every other nobody here - worthless and willing to take whatever slop is handed to you. Willing to sell your soul to a world that tempted you with a lie.
[There's a buzz. A static to the air that fills the too large area around them. Call of Chaos isn't the reason. The surge of power has a moment to consume him in its towering red flames before-
An all too familiar ability makes an appearance and the origin is the smug, smiling bastard that disappears in the expanding darkness between them. It's innate. It's in his own rotten heart. It takes a second for him to jump back from the expansion - the world between them ripped apart and destroyed when it vanishes without a victim.
Of course Maruki would manage to get that ability too. Frenzied in a split second - his own fury has never consumed him this fast. He can't stand it and-
Akechi lunges forward without gun, knife or otherwise. Attack Master and Call of Chaos bolstering him. The drive to kill Maruki stronger than ever.]
Plan to create an ideal world too? Perhaps in service to those you'll truly align yourself with in the end.
[The tentacles will stop him. He's done this time and time again - been captured short of ripping him to shreds time and time again.
But this time-
He doesn't care.
This time-
Maruki is asking for it. This time he unleashes Riot Gun after Riot Gun at the back of Maruki's heels to push him forward and towards Akechi's body. ]
[ He is asking for it. He knows exactly what he's doing, and exactly how unevenly matched they are when they get in close quarters.
And despite the adrenaline that ratchets his pulse closer to fear than anything else as he's propelled forward toward Akechi–
Maruki has to laugh.
He's laughing as he crashes into Akechi, both hands wrapping around his arms to try to keep him away as Azathoth's many tentacles surround them, poised to strike. ]
You have no idea what I'm willing to do to align myself with you above everyone else.
[Akechi doesn't stop. Riot Gun continues to shrink the little distance between them, Eigaon attacking the healing tentacle - he doesn't need to look to know exactly where it hovers. Doesn't need to target when his soul knows, remembers, has seen it act, react, and peel itself from the ground time and time again.
Maruki gets one arm. The other is left free. They're close. He can feel laughter against his cheek and it's vile. Finds thrill in it. Wants to choke the rest out him with bruising force.]
Then you've misunderstood where my own allegiance is. Trash like you could never understand. You took the easy route. You're like every other piece of scum in our reality and this one. You want this shit. You think you're so much stronger than this goddamn world. I don't share that sentiment.
[Maruki's laugh rings in his ears. He thinks it's funny. That this ordeal is funny and-
Akechi matches that visceral glee with a cackle all his own. He hates him. He hates Maruki Takuto.
An ego consumed that vial. The power of a god makes him feel untouchable.
But Akechi is touching. Akechi is touching. Akechi is pushing all his weight to throw him to the ground where he can win because he will win and he couldn't win and now he can because Maruki's will has broken with that moment of weakness.
Maruki's weak.
Akechi will exploit it. Twist it. Rip it free from the confines of his heart. Tear into rib after rib to do it.]
But perhaps there's still a way to siphon that trap from your gut.
[Loki begins an onslaught - Riot Gun against them both. Akechi's fingers curling into the fabric of Maruki's shirt as they're shot and-
Unclenches it. Rips his hand to grab a knife pressed into his side and-
Knows it won't matter if he carves every organ out of Maruki's body and lets liquid drench the earth as an offering against his stupidity. He's trapped here. He's trapped here. He trapped himself here. An ideal world is here. Akechi was stupid to think he could be trusted to pull free from it and-
Nothing hurts him. Nothing hurts him. Everything hurts Maruki. Everything will continue to hurt Maruki. Akechi will hurt Maruki with a blade aimed for the stomach, twisting and ripping into his abdomen if he doesn't move.]
[ The mass of tentacles around them can shield most of the damage of Riot Gun, but there's nothing that can be done about the flash of metal in the pale winter sunlight before Maruki feels the shock of pierced flesh, muscle, soft tissue, organ–
Maybe a gasp rattles through him. Maybe a scream. Maybe Akechi's name, or nothing at all– impossible to tell as his vision goes white with the shock of it, as his cognition is pulled in too many different directions at once. Regeneration first, to get the Tentacle of Healing back while Akechi is distracted, then–
A twisting blade. Blood coating over his tongue as he forces the words out between copper-stained teeth. ]
I don't think I'm stronger than this world. I don't think you are, either.
[ The lesser tentacles try to grapple Akechi away until they're recalled to Azathoth to bolster a growing attack, and Maruki is left to defend himself, hands scrabbling to clutch any part of Akechi that he can, nails digging into skin, fingers grasping and yanking hair. ]
We are. Together. Together.
[ If Akechi kills him, Maruki will make sure he goes down too. If one of them leaves, the other follows. The torn fabric of this reality will be their doing, and that has never once been in question.
His body is being shredded, carved, his hands already begin to feel numb where they fight, but–
Two claw-handed tentacles, more massive than any others Azathoth has manifested before, rise up from the ground on either side of them, a concentrated Nuclear Crush aimed straight at Akechi as the ground splinters beneath them. ]
Ringing. Echoing. It's far away now, even as Maruki drags them together, together, together.
It stings - everywhere. Barely felt. Maruki fights back - he loves this. Wants it. Craves it. Feels nail in flesh and clumps of hair weaved in a grip that threatens to rip off his entire head if he doesn't stop.
And he doesn't. Even as the ground cracks with brilliant streams of light, his knife never stops moving, tearing, ripping against skin and organ. Clumps of something drape over his hands, his arms - wet, sticky, grotesque. He doesn't stop. Spots of red, red, red drenching his chest, legs and-
Drenching Maruki's chest, legs and-
It's bright. So bright. New. Different. Miserable, erratic laughter coats his tongue with a twisting blade. Of course it's new. Of course it's new. Of course he can.
Maruki Takuto is a
God.
Maruki Takuto is a
King.
Maruki Takuto is a
World.
And his own world doesn't grow dark - not completely. This is nuclear. This isn't a tyrant. The power jolts him. Shakes him. Call of Chaos relinquishes its hold on his heart, but Akechi doesn't release his grip on a knife. Doesn't step back from the man.
But it hurts. It hurts. He's left breathless. Raw. Frustrated with Maruki Takuto in his grip. Whether he hears or not-]
[ Akechi doesn't stop his assault, and the Tentacle of Healing isn't far behind; the only reason Maruki doesn't falter into shock and bleed out fast is because that life stream that flows between them stitches and mends as quickly as Akechi slashes and tears. It's agony, soul-rending as his voice rattles hoarse– it would almost be kinder to slip into unconsciousness and let Akechi kill him.
But that's not possible. Maruki won't let it be possible. He's told Akechi before: Maruki won't let him kill him until he has a good reason to, and no matter what Akechi thinks, this isn't a good reason.
Akechi doesn't stop, but the knife does still, embedded deep into flesh that tries to heal around it, and then they're left staring at one another in the aftermath of that nuclear strike, breathing ragged and bloody.
Maruki grips weakened hands into the drenched fabric of Akechi's shirt, clenches his fists as tightly as he can. Doesn't try to wrestle him off, not yet. Maybe that's a mistake. It probably is. He can't care. ]
Why does it matter to you? No, really– why. [ He only looks away to turn his head to the side for a second, just long enough to spit bloody foam into the grass before looking back to Akechi. Second by second, his grip gains more strength. ] Tell me what's got you so worked up about this.
[Nothing ends with Maruki Takuto. He's awake. Aware. Talking. Akechi's knife remains pressed into his gut, twisting a healed wound open over and over.
Maruki keeps him close - together. He can't stand it. Will make him regret it. Will keep that blade dug deep until his hands are ripped off.]
What good does it to do explain anything to the irrational? You made a choice.
[And he'll be trapped here. Could be trapped here. When the time comes to tear this reality to shreds, a little piece of Maruki will be stuck in this place. Pulling him back, pulling him here - Akechi can't come back. Won't come back. Maybe that's what Maruki's hoping for in the end.
Stay in a home filled to the brim with those he adores instead of returning to a world that lacks anything for him. Keep himself tethered to a place he was wanted by few, instead of unwanted by many. A king in a machiya is no different than a prince hiding in a city.
It's disappointing. Pathetic. He gave in with no warning. The Metaverse will tempt him - Akechi wonders how soon it will take for Maruki to wander in to poke and prod every corner.
It's none of Akechi's business what he does. They're nothing. Maruki's nothing and-
The handle feels slick in his grip - he inches the blade out, then forces it back in.]
I told you before - when the moment comes to leave, I won't waste time seeking you out or trying to ensure you can escape too. The idiots here who tied themselves to this world - they'll eventually pay for it. Akira. Eren. You. All of them.
[They're pathetic. They're all pathetic. A little power in a vial for an unknown price.]
It was wrong of me to assume that you could ward of the temptation of some pathetic, hand-me-down power.
[ Again and again, Akechi tries to carve him open – again and again, Maruki's vision goes white with pain in the seconds before the Tentacle of Healing takes over. How long can they go back and forth like this? Surely not eternity, but– every other time his power to regenerate has been knocked out of commission, it was because he battled to his limits with Azathoth. Here and now, he isn't fighting back. Only healing, allowing Akechi to continue to hurt.
There's something poetic about that, he supposes, as Akechi wedges the knife back into his gut.
Maruki's knuckles are white, grip so tight it shakes, lips pulled in against his teeth to keep his voice somewhat steady as he speaks. ]
You think that I've tied myself to this reality? Let's follow that line of logic, then.
[ Just in case– just in case, and while he has Akechi's focus inexorably on him, Tyrant Stance begins to coalesce at the base of Maruki's skull, Azathoth's tentacles slowly doubling in number. ]
We all take from this place. Because we have to and because we want to. How many wishes have you made, Akechi? How many pieces of your soul have you nailed down to this place? And how readily will you rip them up to break free?
Don't think for a second that I won't do the same.
cw: gore, eye trauma thoughts, violence.........mamaruki feelings. just kidding. it's more violence.
[Maruki's words incense. Make him livid. As if Akechi's wishes for his own ability, for mundane shitty supplies, rival an unsourced power under a loose cap. His hands are too wet to slide the blade out of his organs to stab through his eyes instead. Fury blooms. Loki appears behind him among the sprawling sea of tentacles he isn't paying attention to. It doesn't matter.
Akechi forces all his body weight into the knife, the wound. Tries to make it hurt. Tries to turn the blade, tries to force it up to let every organ spill out before Azathoth can sew Maruki's body back together.]
Don't start with that shit. The wishes have a cost that I fulfil. [Digs in. He digs in until the edge of the handle starts to disappear in the man's body.
Until Loki consumed by spiraling red flames. Until Akechi is too.]
The potion doesn't. It's given to you by someone whose name we don't even know. A cost we can never be sure of and you-
[Akechi hates him. Hates him. Hates him. So he digs, and digs, and digs until tip of his gloves fingers disappear under Maruki's skin too. He peels. Crushes. Tries to rip apart muscle and flesh to make room for a blade he'll never pull out.]
Just took it. [And he laughs, because it's funny. And he laughs, because it's so pathetic. And he laughs, because Maruki Takuto is like everyone else.] You gave up that piece of your soul without a fight, for no reason - who's to say you won't let it rot here if given a second bottle of liquid to do so? How does it feel to be such worthless trash? To give into temptation so easily?
It really is incredible - your worth is only that of a pawn after all.
[ Somewhere beneath the searing, roiling agony that slices through his nerves as Akechi works the blade deeper, Maruki manages to grasp just enough rational coherency to realize–
It isn't only rage that propels Akechi to bring this sort of violence to him– this close, this slow, this personal. It isn't only betrayal, or disappointment, or anything of the sort.
It's their bond.
Would he react this way if anyone else tied a piece of themselves to this reality, in his eyes? Perhaps Akira, but even then– it's not the same. Maruki knows it's not the same. One of the very first things they did here, even before Maruki moved into that castle, was vow to find a way back home together. Together. That promise was the foundation of everything that's come since – every quiet morning spent with coffee and a crossword puzzle, every chat over dinner, every text message in the middle of the night, every bloody battle, every moment of sorrow and joy alike. Every second they spent standing in that crystalline alcove, surrounded by visions of their bond persisting throughout time and space, across all reality.
Akechi cares.
He wouldn't be doing this if he didn't care so very, very much.
Consciousness begins to flicker, fade. There's so much blood pooling around them, between them, it's all Maruki can feel, taste, smell – the air itself buzzes tinny with copper, and Akechi's hand sinks in to embed the blade within him as it's an organ itself. An eternal reminder of just how violently Akechi cares, shoved up right against his soul to saw him straight in half.
He tries to get Tyrant Chaos off at the last gasp, but that phenomenal light doesn't overtake them. Only darkness, oppressive and quiet. Akechi's mouth spits venom, and Maruki can't hear the vile words leaking out. Akechi's hand twists, and Maruki can't see his lips moving. Akechi's heart beats, and Maruki can't feel the knife gouging out the very heart of him.
His own hands have long since fallen away, grip weakened until it goes slack, body unresponsive to the signals his brain desperately sends as he clings grimly to the last vestiges of life left for him with one
final
breath.
And then, nothing. Nothing at all. ]
cw: gore, violence, death, suicidal ideation MAYBE, freak shit frankly they need to be locked up
Maruki Takuto was always meant to be slain by his hand.
Maruki Takuto could have lived if he ignored the noxious, corrupting rot that lives inside of Akechi Goro.
A king slumps to ground, heavy and warm. Akechi wonders if he can still feel the metal affixed to his organs, his fingers tearing at flesh, the weight of his own body curved around him in a manner that may have looked protective to the uninformed.
He wonders if hearing is the last to go and if he was waiting for Akechi Goro to apologize in those final moments.
Maruki's chest doesn't move, and Akechi laughs at the absurdity of it all - quiet, vile, and muffled by fabric that doesn't rise or fall. Of course he won.
He won.
He won.
He feels sick.
It's a broken body slumped over a metal table covered in red, red, red and-
He wants to puke.
Happier than ever.
His head aches.
He can't breathe and he doesn't need to breathe because Maruki isn't breathing and Akechi won he was always going to win he didn't want to win he can't stand that he won against the lingering warmth under him that should have won he can't stand it he hates him he hates him hehateshimhehateshimhehateshim.
He's still warm. He wanted this. Akechi thinks he wanted this. Akechi wanted this. They both wanted this and-
The knife is dislodged and Akechi waits - one, two, three seconds for Azathoth to rip him off Maruki Takuto, to sew the wound up in front of his eyes and-
It leaks still. Dark red. Specks of discolored white. Purple flecks. Clumps of yellow. Akechi presses his blood slicked palm against the deep, visceral slashes on abdomen and torso.
Akechi won. He's happy. So happy. Elated and-
He doesn't want Kurusu Akira. He doesn't want Maruki Takuto. He doesn't want Akechi -̷̨̝̓̿̂̌͒͠-̷̖̙̃̅͗-̵̨̨͖̣̽́..
Akechi won. He's happy. So happy. Elated and-
A warm breakfast plated and set in front of him. Half hearted arguments over crossword clues, people they know, plans for the day and-
Fingers light against the top of his head, shared grief that neither acknowledges, a day trip Akechi thinks about over and over and over and over and-
Maruki Takuto lost. He deserves this. The blood pools against Akechi's hand. Maruki Takuto lost. He deserves this. Akechi wants this more than anything. Maruki Takuto lost. He deserves it. Akechi feels Robin Hood burn bright in his chest - blooming, brilliant, revolting.
It's a skill new to him - one born among the thieves he travelled with for a short time, a betrayal always at the forefront of his mind.
But it was
fun.
In a way. For a moment. For a second. He felt wanted among his peers, needed by a rival and-
Being with Maruki was
fun.
In a way. For a moment. For a second. He felt loved by someone that saw only Akechi Goro and no one else.
He doesn't want, but a dazzling, radiant light forms concurrent circles and-
Akechi doesn't remember it. Barely thinks about it. It's not his soul that formed, created, molded this skill that brings life. It was a trick. A trap. He doesn't know. He can't remember. There are stems, flowers, stalks that appear out of the cooling corpse his forehead presses against. Maruki doesn't deserve it. He hears the flutter, a whisper, life given again with samarecarm.
The wound heals entirely under Akechi's palm. He doesn't move. A chest rises and falls against his forehead. He doesn't move.
At the end of everything, he will always be alone. In an empty world, white-walled on all sides, the space where his heart once was taken up by the weight of humanity's pains.
He blinks and finds himself there. Nothing hurts, because nothing feels like anything at all. Every memory of what it was like to live fully in the world – in any world, even a false reality far from home – is distant, distorted, unreachable. His hands are empty, no one left to reach for them. Love is a dream someone else had last night. He's not tired, because he's not conscious. He simply is. Was. Will always be.
At the end of everything, there is only the essence of a soul that persists beyond life and death, beyond time and reality. Who is he, when broken down to his base components? Who is Maruki Takuto at all?
Eden doesn't greet him, and neither does Inferna. Nothing does at all for those infinitesimal, eternal moments his soul is held in stasis. Neither living nor dead, he waits, and–
He feels a breeze on his face.
The wings of a butterfly, the first thing he sees as his eyes ease open.
For a moment, all he can see are the great blue flowering vines that surround them, and Akechi curled against his chest.
Maybe they both died, he thinks, and then he realizes the fact he can think it at all means he lives. And if Maruki lives, they both live.
His arms are splayed out against the ground. One lifts, comes to rest over Akechi's back. Real. Solid. Breathing. They're both breathing.
He holds on tight as that brilliant light dissipates in a burst of fluttering wings. ]
Akechi.
[ His voice comes out steady, awakened, alive.
Azathoth has long since disappeared. That's not unusual; any time Maruki has saved himself from the brink of death, that's spelled the end of his persona's abilities for a little while. Nothing works to summon it again until he rests, his own energy too spent.
That's not the case now. Maruki feels Azathoth's presence radiating from the back of his skull pressed into bloody ground, down his spine, up into his ribs, beating hard against his heart. Energized. Ready to fight. Alive.
No, this is nothing like when he's saved himself. Which means–
A blood-soaked hand clutches into Akechi's shirt. ]
Does it matter? Would you prefer to be rotting on the ground? I suppose it's an insult to have your own killer raise you from the grave.
[It doesn't matter. The bunched up fabric against his back, held tight by a warm - too warm, incredibly warm hand doesn't matter. The means of his revival doesn't matter. Robin Hood is long gone, samarecarm's ethereal light disappearing into blooming sunlight around them.
Akechi hasn't moved. Does now. His hand slides off a now phantom wound against his stomach, head raising to meet Maruki's open eyes - bright, as if he wasn't only gasping for his last breath seconds ago. Tired, as if this was a tussle gone too far.]
This is a good opportunity for you. If you want revenge, take it now. It's not a skill I can use on myself.
[ As they stare at one another, it occurs to Maruki that this could so easily become a cycle. Kill, revive, kill, revive, until Akechi's bored of it or simply runs out of stamina.
It could, but it won't. He doesn't truly fear that as a possibility.
When he looks at Akechi, exhausted as he is right now, he doesn't fear anything at all.
He isn't aiming for revenge, and Akechi knows it, so there's no point in even addressing that absurd statement. Maruki's arm falls away from him, lands back in the blood-stained grass. His expression is more curious than anything else. ]
[Maruki doesn't bat an eye at the bait - Akechi didn't expect anything different.
It's only with the innocuous question that he starts to move off of Maruki and slide to a bloody patch of grass to sit next to him. As if they were going to chat about the weather and world. As if Akechi's hands weren't knuckle deep in his guts seconds ago.]
I told you I operated with the Thieves for a short period. The skill appeared then and I used it a handful of times because they were incapable of going through a simple palace without getting knocked out. [They had their own healers, navigators - he can't recall how extensive its use was.] I assume it was born from their need at the moment. It was nothing Robin Hood had prior to that excursion.
[ The weight lifts, and Maruki pushes himself to sit upright as well. A hand over his solar plexus– his shirt is slashed and bloodied, but the skin beneath perfectly pristine, even more so than when the Tentacle of Healing patches him up when things go too far. Utterly bizarre... ]
You didn't have it before, did you? I distinctly remember you telling me Robin Hood had no healing capabilities.
[Akechi wasn't wrong - there's a caveat to revive. This isn't diarahan. ❤️
He doesn't meet Maruki's eyes because he can already visualize the expression that will follow. Instead, he plucks at some bloody grass. Not the bloodbath he wanted in full. A shame.]
This is revival, not healing. I never said it couldn't bring you back from death.
[Also? He never wanted this shit back. ]
It's a completely useless and worthless skill. It wasn't worth mentioning.
[ Revival is basically souped up healing, isn't it? Ah, well. It's not worth arguing. Maruki stretches his arms out in front of him, rotating his wrists and then folding forward to reach toward his toes. He feels good... Spry, even... ]
I would say it has at least a little worth. I appreciate you using it on me, whether it was intentional or not.
[ He turns his head to look over, eyebrows raised. ]
Well? Should we go back inside and clean up, or are you not satisfied?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
That's new.
There's the homework he talked about wishing for at the crystal, surrounding him on all sides like so many bloody handprints. In an instant, Maruki feels a crushing weight on his chest, feels like his sternum and all his ribs will splinter beneath it until his heart fails–
And then, in the blink of an eye, it's gone.
No damage done that he can see or feel, but he's rattled by it, that lingering sense of impending doom that hit faster than any of Akechi's other attacks ever have.
He stares wildly at Akechi. ]
What was that?
no subject
[The false version of Maruki-
Takes after its predecessor. Akechi isn't interested in a back and forth with a shadow. Azathoth's continued presence-
Interesting. Dangerous. ]
Or not - I don't give a shit. You'll be dead soon anyway. If you want to beg for your life, you're welcome to try by answering this question - tell me what you are?
no subject
I think you know better than anyone that I don't beg for my life.
[ Azathoth stays out. Poised and ready. ]
What do you mean, what am I? Are you feeling well?
[ A beat, and his expression flattens out entirely. ]
Enthralled?
no subject
Makes him halt. An onslaught paused, his own body tense. Still.
That word, that joke - how much of Maruki could have been copied? The mimic may know the word, but the inflection, tone, and expression -
Could this be Maruki?
And if it is-]
Explain what's happening immediately, Maruki.
no subject
Eh. Well. He doesn't expect Akechi to take it well, so the only thing he can do is be honest. ]
I felt satisfied with the work others have done to prove the potions have no adverse effects, and I figured that in the true reality I'll never be able to see what it's like to inhabit another form, so it would be foolish not to take advantage of the opportunity now. An indulgence of scientific and personal curiosity...
[ A beat. ]
If you try to blow me up again, I'll understand.
no subject
Akechi doesn't feel betrayal. Doesn't experience worry. There are consequences to every action - Maruki knew what he was doing when he downed a potion willingly sought out for his own pathetic indulgence.
A house ruined him. A partner ended it. He wants to be held to this world, wants to be tied to it, wants a reason to stay in a place that isn't meant for him because it's the only reality where he has anything.
Akechi Goro doesn't feel betrayal, but it stings all the same. There's no proof there are ill effects, there's no proof there isn't. It forms a needless connection to this world. There's less to gain and more to lose. Maruki isn't Joker, who Akechi knows can wield different powers innately and keep his heart separate from the rest.
Maruki gave in. Maruki gave up. Maruki made Akechi's job that much harder for no goddamn reason.
'An indulgence of scientific and personal curiosity.' Selfish. Idiotic. Tempted by a meaningless power. Even gods can't be sated.
He's furious - eyes settle on Maruki in full, unblinking. Unwavering. The molars in his mouth grind together. All at once, he can't stand Maruki Takuto and-]
Oh, is that so? That's all?
[Calm. So calm. Voice steady. Airy. He can't stand him. He gave in and it took nothing.]
To think you were this weak after all - you really were meant to be a politician. Always seeking more and more power under the guise of some shitty excuse. I thought you were better than that. Since you're so eager, take more.
[Call of Chaos is cast without warning - thrown at Maruki Takuto with zero hesitation. It won't do anything. Won't break his mind or heart, but the intent is there. The meaning is apparent. Akechi wastes no time in casting Call of Chaos on himself after, right as the flames dissipate from Maruki's form.]
Pathetic. You're absolutely pathetic!
no subject
But nothing happens. The flames lick without burning, all of Akechi's rage apparent in them, and he knows he doesn't have long until Akechi breaks himself instead.
All of Azathoth's power concentrates rapidly as Amplify Magic surges in the mental connection between him and his persona. He won't be caught going easy on Akechi, not when things are starting this heated. Not when he did something to truly deserve it.
And he did.
Maruki knows he did.
Amidst Azathoth's swaying clawed appendages, he has the audacity to smile. ]
Thinking this makes me weak is your first mistake. My will is stronger than ever.
[ The proof is in the beam of bright violet light that strikes the ground in front of Akechi before Megidolaon engulfs the training ground. Think fast! ]
no subject
[There's a buzz. A static to the air that fills the too large area around them. Call of Chaos isn't the reason. The surge of power has a moment to consume him in its towering red flames before-
An all too familiar ability makes an appearance and the origin is the smug, smiling bastard that disappears in the expanding darkness between them. It's innate. It's in his own rotten heart. It takes a second for him to jump back from the expansion - the world between them ripped apart and destroyed when it vanishes without a victim.
Of course Maruki would manage to get that ability too. Frenzied in a split second - his own fury has never consumed him this fast. He can't stand it and-
Akechi lunges forward without gun, knife or otherwise. Attack Master and Call of Chaos bolstering him. The drive to kill Maruki stronger than ever.]
Plan to create an ideal world too? Perhaps in service to those you'll truly align yourself with in the end.
[The tentacles will stop him. He's done this time and time again - been captured short of ripping him to shreds time and time again.
But this time-
This time-
Maruki is asking for it. This time he unleashes Riot Gun after Riot Gun at the back of Maruki's heels to push him forward and towards Akechi's body. ]no subject
And despite the adrenaline that ratchets his pulse closer to fear than anything else as he's propelled forward toward Akechi–
Maruki has to laugh.
He's laughing as he crashes into Akechi, both hands wrapping around his arms to try to keep him away as Azathoth's many tentacles surround them, poised to strike. ]
You have no idea what I'm willing to do to align myself with you above everyone else.
cw: gore, violent thoughts, very violent thoughts
Maruki gets one arm. The other is left free. They're close. He can feel laughter against his cheek and it's vile. Finds thrill in it. Wants to choke the rest out him with bruising force.]
Then you've misunderstood where my own allegiance is. Trash like you could never understand. You took the easy route. You're like every other piece of scum in our reality and this one. You want this shit. You think you're so much stronger than this goddamn world. I don't share that sentiment.
[Maruki's laugh rings in his ears. He thinks it's funny. That this ordeal is funny and-
Akechi matches that visceral glee with a cackle all his own. He hates him. He hates Maruki Takuto.
An ego consumed that vial. The power of a god makes him feel untouchable.
But Akechi is touching. Akechi is touching. Akechi is pushing all his weight to throw him to the ground where he can win because he will win and he couldn't win and now he can because Maruki's will has broken with that moment of weakness.
Akechi will exploit it. Twist it. Rip it free from the confines of his heart. Tear into rib after rib to do it.]
But perhaps there's still a way to siphon that trap from your gut.
[Loki begins an onslaught - Riot Gun against them both. Akechi's fingers curling into the fabric of Maruki's shirt as they're shot and-
Unclenches it. Rips his hand to grab a knife pressed into his side and-
Knows it won't matter if he carves every organ out of Maruki's body and lets liquid drench the earth as an offering against his stupidity. He's trapped here. He's trapped here. He trapped himself here. An ideal world is here. Akechi was stupid to think he could be trusted to pull free from it and-
Nothing hurts him. Nothing hurts him. Everything hurts Maruki. Everything will continue to hurt Maruki. Akechi will hurt Maruki with a blade aimed for the stomach, twisting and ripping into his abdomen if he doesn't move.]
You stupid piece of shit!
cw gore
Maybe a gasp rattles through him. Maybe a scream. Maybe Akechi's name, or nothing at all– impossible to tell as his vision goes white with the shock of it, as his cognition is pulled in too many different directions at once. Regeneration first, to get the Tentacle of Healing back while Akechi is distracted, then–
A twisting blade. Blood coating over his tongue as he forces the words out between copper-stained teeth. ]
I don't think I'm stronger than this world. I don't think you are, either.
[ The lesser tentacles try to grapple Akechi away until they're recalled to Azathoth to bolster a growing attack, and Maruki is left to defend himself, hands scrabbling to clutch any part of Akechi that he can, nails digging into skin, fingers grasping and yanking hair. ]
We are. Together. Together.
[ If Akechi kills him, Maruki will make sure he goes down too. If one of them leaves, the other follows. The torn fabric of this reality will be their doing, and that has never once been in question.
His body is being shredded, carved, his hands already begin to feel numb where they fight, but–
Two claw-handed tentacles, more massive than any others Azathoth has manifested before, rise up from the ground on either side of them, a concentrated Nuclear Crush aimed straight at Akechi as the ground splinters beneath them. ]
cw gore <3 violence <3
Together. Together. Together. Together. Together. Together. Together. Together. Together. Together. Together. Together. Together. Together. Together.
Completely wrong.
Together. Together.
Ringing. Echoing. It's far away now, even as Maruki drags them together, together, together.It stings - everywhere. Barely felt. Maruki fights back - he loves this. Wants it. Craves it. Feels nail in flesh and clumps of hair weaved in a grip that threatens to rip off his entire head if he doesn't stop.
And he doesn't. Even as the ground cracks with brilliant streams of light, his knife never stops moving, tearing, ripping against skin and organ. Clumps of something drape over his hands, his arms - wet, sticky, grotesque. He doesn't stop. Spots of red, red, red drenching his chest, legs and-
Drenching Maruki's chest, legs and-
It's bright. So bright. New. Different. Miserable, erratic laughter coats his tongue with a twisting blade. Of course it's new. Of course it's new. Of course he can.
God.
King.
World.
And his own world doesn't grow dark - not completely. This is nuclear. This isn't a tyrant. The power jolts him. Shakes him. Call of Chaos relinquishes its hold on his heart, but Akechi doesn't release his grip on a knife. Doesn't step back from the man.
But it hurts. It hurts. He's left breathless. Raw. Frustrated with Maruki Takuto in his grip. Whether he hears or not-]
What the hell were you thinking?
oh cw gore blood etc whatever.... just look away
But that's not possible. Maruki won't let it be possible. He's told Akechi before: Maruki won't let him kill him until he has a good reason to, and no matter what Akechi thinks, this isn't a good reason.
Akechi doesn't stop, but the knife does still, embedded deep into flesh that tries to heal around it, and then they're left staring at one another in the aftermath of that nuclear strike, breathing ragged and bloody.
Maruki grips weakened hands into the drenched fabric of Akechi's shirt, clenches his fists as tightly as he can. Doesn't try to wrestle him off, not yet. Maybe that's a mistake. It probably is. He can't care. ]
Why does it matter to you? No, really– why. [ He only looks away to turn his head to the side for a second, just long enough to spit bloody foam into the grass before looking back to Akechi. Second by second, his grip gains more strength. ] Tell me what's got you so worked up about this.
cw: cont shuts eyes
Maruki keeps him close - together. He can't stand it. Will make him regret it. Will keep that blade dug deep until his hands are ripped off.]
What good does it to do explain anything to the irrational? You made a choice.
[And he'll be trapped here. Could be trapped here. When the time comes to tear this reality to shreds, a little piece of Maruki will be stuck in this place. Pulling him back, pulling him here - Akechi can't come back. Won't come back. Maybe that's what Maruki's hoping for in the end.
Stay in a home filled to the brim with those he adores instead of returning to a world that lacks anything for him. Keep himself tethered to a place he was wanted by few, instead of unwanted by many. A king in a machiya is no different than a prince hiding in a city.
It's disappointing. Pathetic. He gave in with no warning. The Metaverse will tempt him - Akechi wonders how soon it will take for Maruki to wander in to poke and prod every corner.
It's none of Akechi's business what he does. They're nothing. Maruki's nothing and-
The handle feels slick in his grip - he inches the blade out, then forces it back in.]
I told you before - when the moment comes to leave, I won't waste time seeking you out or trying to ensure you can escape too. The idiots here who tied themselves to this world - they'll eventually pay for it. Akira. Eren. You. All of them.
[They're pathetic. They're all pathetic. A little power in a vial for an unknown price.]
It was wrong of me to assume that you could ward of the temptation of some pathetic, hand-me-down power.
cw gore... violence.... son feelings....
There's something poetic about that, he supposes, as Akechi wedges the knife back into his gut.
Maruki's knuckles are white, grip so tight it shakes, lips pulled in against his teeth to keep his voice somewhat steady as he speaks. ]
You think that I've tied myself to this reality? Let's follow that line of logic, then.
[ Just in case– just in case, and while he has Akechi's focus inexorably on him, Tyrant Stance begins to coalesce at the base of Maruki's skull, Azathoth's tentacles slowly doubling in number. ]
We all take from this place. Because we have to and because we want to. How many wishes have you made, Akechi? How many pieces of your soul have you nailed down to this place? And how readily will you rip them up to break free?
Don't think for a second that I won't do the same.
cw: gore, eye trauma thoughts, violence.........mamaruki feelings. just kidding. it's more violence.
Akechi forces all his body weight into the knife, the wound. Tries to make it hurt. Tries to turn the blade, tries to force it up to let every organ spill out before Azathoth can sew Maruki's body back together.]
Don't start with that shit. The wishes have a cost that I fulfil. [Digs in. He digs in until the edge of the handle starts to disappear in the man's body.
Until Loki consumed by spiraling red flames. Until Akechi is too.]
The potion doesn't. It's given to you by someone whose name we don't even know. A cost we can never be sure of and you-
[Akechi hates him. Hates him. Hates him. So he digs, and digs, and digs until tip of his gloves fingers disappear under Maruki's skin too. He peels. Crushes. Tries to rip apart muscle and flesh to make room for a blade he'll never pull out.]
Just took it. [And he laughs, because it's funny. And he laughs, because it's so pathetic. And he laughs, because Maruki Takuto is like everyone else.] You gave up that piece of your soul without a fight, for no reason - who's to say you won't let it rot here if given a second bottle of liquid to do so? How does it feel to be such worthless trash? To give into temptation so easily?
It really is incredible - your worth is only that of a pawn after all.
cw gore, violence, death <3
It isn't only rage that propels Akechi to bring this sort of violence to him– this close, this slow, this personal. It isn't only betrayal, or disappointment, or anything of the sort.
It's their bond.
Would he react this way if anyone else tied a piece of themselves to this reality, in his eyes? Perhaps Akira, but even then– it's not the same. Maruki knows it's not the same. One of the very first things they did here, even before Maruki moved into that castle, was vow to find a way back home together. Together. That promise was the foundation of everything that's come since – every quiet morning spent with coffee and a crossword puzzle, every chat over dinner, every text message in the middle of the night, every bloody battle, every moment of sorrow and joy alike. Every second they spent standing in that crystalline alcove, surrounded by visions of their bond persisting throughout time and space, across all reality.
Akechi cares.
He wouldn't be doing this if he didn't care so very, very much.
Consciousness begins to flicker, fade. There's so much blood pooling around them, between them, it's all Maruki can feel, taste, smell – the air itself buzzes tinny with copper, and Akechi's hand sinks in to embed the blade within him as it's an organ itself. An eternal reminder of just how violently Akechi cares, shoved up right against his soul to saw him straight in half.
He tries to get Tyrant Chaos off at the last gasp, but that phenomenal light doesn't overtake them. Only darkness, oppressive and quiet. Akechi's mouth spits venom, and Maruki can't hear the vile words leaking out. Akechi's hand twists, and Maruki can't see his lips moving. Akechi's heart beats, and Maruki can't feel the knife gouging out the very heart of him.
His own hands have long since fallen away, grip weakened until it goes slack, body unresponsive to the signals his brain desperately sends as he clings grimly to the last vestiges of life left for him with one
breath.
And then, nothing. Nothing at all. ]
cw: gore, violence, death, suicidal ideation MAYBE, freak shit frankly they need to be locked up
Maruki Takuto was always meant to be slain by his hand.
A king slumps to ground, heavy and warm. Akechi wonders if he can still feel the metal affixed to his organs, his fingers tearing at flesh, the weight of his own body curved around him in a manner that may have looked protective to the uninformed.
He wonders if hearing is the last to go and if he was waiting for Akechi Goro to apologize in those final moments.
Maruki's chest doesn't move, and Akechi laughs at the absurdity of it all - quiet, vile, and muffled by fabric that doesn't rise or fall. Of course he won.
He won.
It's a broken body slumped over a metal table covered in red, red, red and-
He wants to puke.His head aches.
He's still warm. He wanted this. Akechi thinks he wanted this. Akechi wanted this. They both wanted this and-
The knife is dislodged and Akechi waits - one, two, three seconds for Azathoth to rip him off Maruki Takuto, to sew the wound up in front of his eyes and-
It leaks still. Dark red. Specks of discolored white. Purple flecks. Clumps of yellow. Akechi presses his blood slicked palm against the deep, visceral slashes on abdomen and torso.
Akechi won. He's happy. So happy. Elated and-
He doesn't want Kurusu Akira. He doesn't want Maruki Takuto. He doesn't want Akechi -̷̨̝̓̿̂̌͒͠-̷̖̙̃̅͗-̵̨̨͖̣̽́..
Akechi won. He's happy. So happy. Elated and-A warm breakfast plated and set in front of him. Half hearted arguments over crossword clues, people they know, plans for the day and-
Maruki Takuto lost. He deserves this. The blood pools against Akechi's hand. Maruki Takuto lost. He deserves this. Akechi wants this more than anything. Maruki Takuto lost. He deserves it. Akechi feels Robin Hood burn bright in his chest - blooming, brilliant, revolting.Fingers light against the top of his head, shared grief that neither acknowledges, a day trip Akechi thinks about over and over and over and over and-
It's a skill new to him - one born among the thieves he travelled with for a short time, a betrayal always at the forefront of his mind.
But it was
fun.
In a way. For a moment. For a second. He felt wanted among his peers, needed by a rival and-Being with Maruki was
fun.
In a way. For a moment. For a second. He felt loved by someone that saw only Akechi Goro and no one else.He doesn't want, but a dazzling, radiant light forms concurrent circles and-
Akechi doesn't remember it. Barely thinks about it. It's not his soul that formed, created, molded this skill that brings life. It was a trick. A trap. He doesn't know. He can't remember. There are stems, flowers, stalks that appear out of the cooling corpse his forehead presses against. Maruki doesn't deserve it. He hears the flutter, a whisper, life given again with samarecarm.
The wound heals entirely under Akechi's palm. He doesn't move. A chest rises and falls against his forehead. He doesn't move.
Maruki Takuto is alive again and-
he wants to go home.]
cw near death experience
It doesn't look like anything at all.
At the end of everything, he will always be alone. In an empty world, white-walled on all sides, the space where his heart once was taken up by the weight of humanity's pains.
He blinks and finds himself there. Nothing hurts, because nothing feels like anything at all. Every memory of what it was like to live fully in the world – in any world, even a false reality far from home – is distant, distorted, unreachable. His hands are empty, no one left to reach for them. Love is a dream someone else had last night. He's not tired, because he's not conscious. He simply is. Was. Will always be.
At the end of everything, there is only the essence of a soul that persists beyond life and death, beyond time and reality. Who is he, when broken down to his base components? Who is Maruki Takuto at all?
Eden doesn't greet him, and neither does Inferna. Nothing does at all for those infinitesimal, eternal moments his soul is held in stasis. Neither living nor dead, he waits, and–
He feels a breeze on his face.
The wings of a butterfly, the first thing he sees as his eyes ease open.
For a moment, all he can see are the great blue flowering vines that surround them, and Akechi curled against his chest.
Maybe they both died, he thinks, and then he realizes the fact he can think it at all means he lives. And if Maruki lives, they both live.
His arms are splayed out against the ground. One lifts, comes to rest over Akechi's back. Real. Solid. Breathing. They're both breathing.
He holds on tight as that brilliant light dissipates in a burst of fluttering wings. ]
Akechi.
[ His voice comes out steady, awakened, alive.
Azathoth has long since disappeared. That's not unusual; any time Maruki has saved himself from the brink of death, that's spelled the end of his persona's abilities for a little while. Nothing works to summon it again until he rests, his own energy too spent.
That's not the case now. Maruki feels Azathoth's presence radiating from the back of his skull pressed into bloody ground, down his spine, up into his ribs, beating hard against his heart. Energized. Ready to fight. Alive.
No, this is nothing like when he's saved himself. Which means–
A blood-soaked hand clutches into Akechi's shirt. ]
What did you do?
cw: well, murder
[It doesn't matter. The bunched up fabric against his back, held tight by a warm - too warm, incredibly warm hand doesn't matter. The means of his revival doesn't matter. Robin Hood is long gone, samarecarm's ethereal light disappearing into blooming sunlight around them.
Akechi hasn't moved. Does now. His hand slides off a now phantom wound against his stomach, head raising to meet Maruki's open eyes - bright, as if he wasn't only gasping for his last breath seconds ago. Tired, as if this was a tussle gone too far.]
This is a good opportunity for you. If you want revenge, take it now. It's not a skill I can use on myself.
no subject
It could, but it won't. He doesn't truly fear that as a possibility.
When he looks at Akechi, exhausted as he is right now, he doesn't fear anything at all.
He isn't aiming for revenge, and Akechi knows it, so there's no point in even addressing that absurd statement. Maruki's arm falls away from him, lands back in the blood-stained grass. His expression is more curious than anything else. ]
Was that the first time you've used it?
no subject
It's only with the innocuous question that he starts to move off of Maruki and slide to a bloody patch of grass to sit next to him. As if they were going to chat about the weather and world. As if Akechi's hands weren't knuckle deep in his guts seconds ago.]
I told you I operated with the Thieves for a short period. The skill appeared then and I used it a handful of times because they were incapable of going through a simple palace without getting knocked out. [They had their own healers, navigators - he can't recall how extensive its use was.] I assume it was born from their need at the moment. It was nothing Robin Hood had prior to that excursion.
no subject
You didn't have it before, did you? I distinctly remember you telling me Robin Hood had no healing capabilities.
no subject
He doesn't meet Maruki's eyes because he can already visualize the expression that will follow. Instead, he plucks at some bloody grass. Not the bloodbath he wanted in full. A shame.]
This is revival, not healing. I never said it couldn't bring you back from death.
[Also? He never wanted this shit back. ]
It's a completely useless and worthless skill. It wasn't worth mentioning.
no subject
I would say it has at least a little worth. I appreciate you using it on me, whether it was intentional or not.
[ He turns his head to look over, eyebrows raised. ]
Well? Should we go back inside and clean up, or are you not satisfied?
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god... wrapt... kill me