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?
Maruki drank the potion. He is tied to this world. Akechi will leave him here when the time comes to pull away and the cost of this is made apparent.
No, he isn't satisfied at all.
He pushes himself up from the ground anyway because it's done. Maruki's an adult. A decision was made and those consequences are his to live with forever. Akechi isn't going to save him from choices made.]
Before we go, I want to make one thing clear. Listen closely.
[For once, Akechi feels like he's the one looking down from an ivory tower.]
I don't associate with weaklings. I don't spend my time among those who take easy outs and allow cheap tricks to fool them. You're a disappointment to me right now.
[Completely, utterly and-]
But I'll allow you the opportunity to redeem yourself in time. If you truly want to leave together-
[He's furious - it's still on the tip of his tongue, at the edge of his voice.]
Don't do this shit again. This isn't a second chance - it's your final one. Do you understand?
[ There is something cosmically hilarious about Akechi Goro, of all people – Akechi Goro, who just murdered him – telling him he has one final chance to be a good, solid ally and redeem himself.
Maruki hasn't been keeping track, so he has to wonder how many chances Akechi is on now. It doesn't matter when the caps is infinite, he supposes.
He bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep his expression neutral, and pushes himself up to stand too. He won't allow Akechi to look down on him like that for long. ]
I won't give you a reason to doubt my convictions again.
[ And he extends a hand, still stained red, to shake. ]
[Akechi reaches for Maruki's hand with his own glove soaked in the same blood, viscera and liquid that coats the ground.
In the end-
It won't matter how many potions he drinks or cults he joins. Akechi will beat the shit out of him and-
Won't hesitate to leave him behind.
Might, just a little, if a hand extends his way.
His hand drops to rest against his side, the other on his hip.]
For the record, that skill revives, but doesn't replace your stamina nor does it negate the fact your body was torn to shreds. I would advise against doing much else for the rest of the day. That includes transforming into vermin.
[ As ever, Akechi's brand of care is nearly inscrutable.
Nearly. ]
Then I suppose it's fortunate there's plenty of leftovers we can repurpose for dinner and I don't have to cook. Come on.
[ He won't brook any argument on it, and he won't let Akechi slip away. They'll wash up, eat a meal together, and life will go on as it always has in this reality, until the day that it doesn't. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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?
no subject
[He isn't satisfied.
Maruki drank the potion. He is tied to this world. Akechi will leave him here when the time comes to pull away and the cost of this is made apparent.
No, he isn't satisfied at all.
He pushes himself up from the ground anyway because it's done. Maruki's an adult. A decision was made and those consequences are his to live with forever. Akechi isn't going to save him from choices made.]
Before we go, I want to make one thing clear. Listen closely.
[For once, Akechi feels like he's the one looking down from an ivory tower.]
I don't associate with weaklings. I don't spend my time among those who take easy outs and allow cheap tricks to fool them. You're a disappointment to me right now.
[Completely, utterly and-]
But I'll allow you the opportunity to redeem yourself in time. If you truly want to leave together-
[He's furious - it's still on the tip of his tongue, at the edge of his voice.]
Don't do this shit again. This isn't a second chance - it's your final one. Do you understand?
no subject
Maruki hasn't been keeping track, so he has to wonder how many chances Akechi is on now. It doesn't matter when the caps is infinite, he supposes.
He bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep his expression neutral, and pushes himself up to stand too. He won't allow Akechi to look down on him like that for long. ]
I won't give you a reason to doubt my convictions again.
[ And he extends a hand, still stained red, to shake. ]
no subject
In the end-
It won't matter how many potions he drinks or cults he joins. Akechi will beat the shit out of him and-
Won't hesitate to leave him behind.
Might, just a little, if a hand extends his way.
His hand drops to rest against his side, the other on his hip.]
For the record, that skill revives, but doesn't replace your stamina nor does it negate the fact your body was torn to shreds. I would advise against doing much else for the rest of the day. That includes transforming into vermin.
god... wrapt... kill me
Nearly. ]
Then I suppose it's fortunate there's plenty of leftovers we can repurpose for dinner and I don't have to cook. Come on.
[ He won't brook any argument on it, and he won't let Akechi slip away. They'll wash up, eat a meal together, and life will go on as it always has in this reality, until the day that it doesn't. ]