['You won't' this and 'you wouldn't' that - full of conviction that didn't exist when he threatened Okumura on a whim.
He hates Maruki and-
He hates Akira more.
An exploit in his own impervious armor laid bare in those statements and the non-existent retort that refuses to raise through his throat. It lingers in his chest, brimming and ready to be unleashed, but-
He doesn't and it feels like a betrayal from his own mind and body. He won't try to kill Akira again - not willingly, for anything. An urge that never existed to begin with, but was vital. It's no longer vital. Akira won't waver - not for a moment. If he does, he'll beat the shit out of him until he gets back to normal because only a subterfuge of the mind from an enemy would make him relent. Belief in another is unnatural in his chest. He ignores it.]
The ninth.
[The syrupy feigned pleasantry melting back into a normal tone, a voice more natural on his lips these days. They'll be there, bright, early and with an assortment of goddamn bells on. Yoshizawa will be returned, Maruki defeated in full and reality will warp back to what it should be and for him-
This will be nothing more than a vision lost to a darkened void. Nothing to acknowledge, nothing to deal with. A finality he was prepared for.
And it's only when Maruki finally leaves his place that his shoulders unclench, tension soaking from body to chair in the way he leans back - the resounding vocals overriding any other thought in his head.
The drink is good too, actually - carbonation settling his stomach. A little too sweet, but tempered back enough to be enjoyable. A gift from Muhen, an attentive waitress, and not a twisted world created for convenience. ]
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He hates Maruki and-
He hates Akira more.
An exploit in his own impervious armor laid bare in those statements and the non-existent retort that refuses to raise through his throat. It lingers in his chest, brimming and ready to be unleashed, but-
He doesn't and it feels like a betrayal from his own mind and body. He won't try to kill Akira again - not willingly, for anything. An urge that never existed to begin with, but was vital. It's no longer vital. Akira won't waver - not for a moment. If he does, he'll beat the shit out of him until he gets back to normal because only a subterfuge of the mind from an enemy would make him relent. Belief in another is unnatural in his chest. He ignores it.]
The ninth.
[The syrupy feigned pleasantry melting back into a normal tone, a voice more natural on his lips these days. They'll be there, bright, early and with an assortment of goddamn bells on. Yoshizawa will be returned, Maruki defeated in full and reality will warp back to what it should be and for him-
This will be nothing more than a vision lost to a darkened void. Nothing to acknowledge, nothing to deal with. A finality he was prepared for.
And it's only when Maruki finally leaves his place that his shoulders unclench, tension soaking from body to chair in the way he leans back - the resounding vocals overriding any other thought in his head.
The drink is good too, actually - carbonation settling his stomach. A little too sweet, but tempered back enough to be enjoyable. A gift from Muhen, an attentive waitress, and not a twisted world created for convenience. ]