About any of it. All of it. He isn't wrong, not at all. As much as they both feel they have nothing in this city, there is at least one person they'll both leave behind, and a handful more for Maruki. Even if one still wouldn't know him from any other face in the crowd.
If he leaves, there is danger for those left behind, but–
No one will know. He's certain of it. For all intents and purposes, Akechi Goro is dead. He died alone, unknown, in a cognitive world, where evidence gets erased and bodies turn to ash when a palace is destroyed. They'll be careful, and then they'll be gone, and Akechi Goro will be dead, and Maruki Takuto will be just another nobody in Tokyo who fell through the cracks, off the face of the planet.
Akira is the only one who might look for him. Would he manage to put two and two together?
It's doubtful, and that stings.
The idea of never seeing him again stings infinitely more.
He'll make it right. One day, when enough time has passed, when those in power no longer have eyes on people like them, he will find Akira, and he will make this all right.
Maruki draws a breath, fingers smoothing over the lines in the sheets. ]
It isn't a perfect solution, but a perfect solution doesn't exist. I can't think of any other option I'd entertain.
[ The risks have to be acceptable. The losses have to be acceptable.
A life without Akechi Goro would not have been acceptable.
Therein lies the difference. ]
There's no going back. I understand. I agree. [ His voice is quiet, firm. The decision has already been made.
He reaches back, rests one hand on the leg Akechi's nudged against him. Brief, fleeting contact, and then he pulls it away again. ]
There is no forward. There is no 'together' - Akechi knew that after crossing the doorframe of his fourth, fifth, sixth family that opened their world up to him.
They're better than a group home, so he turns grief into indifference and anger into something far more vile and every time he returns back to that group home to see the same old group of kids watch a clock, look out a window, stare at a CRT TV decades older than any of them who get older every time he returns and he ends up watching a clock, looking out a window, staring at a CRT TV decades older than any of them because his time is running around and he sees kids who reach of age begin and end their lives unwanted and unloved and shoved out of the only place they knew and-
His fingers twitch against soft, unfamiliar fabric. More comfortable than anything he's ever bothered to own. He knows it must be cheap - it's how worn in it is that's preferable. Nothing in Akechi's house ever felt his. This doesn't either, but-
It feels like Maruki was prepared to be together and that effortless comfort he always tries to exude has incorporated into every part of this room, down to the smallest thread.
They'll go together-
And a social worker holds his hand until he's too old to warrant it. We'll walk together they say until he's old enough to figure out directions and streets on his own.
And they'll go together from Maruki is an undeniable truth. He never held his hand on a streetcorner or welcomed him back to a home cramped with children after another temporary foster.
But he placed a palm between his shoulder blades. Left him a note on his birthday. Put extra mushrooms on his plate. Spoke quietly as they both wore Maruki's blood in thick splatters across their skin.
In a world Akechi was always meant to die in, Maruki found him him and they left together. Dragged him out without a Navigator and hid him a small room built for one, but fits two all the same.
Maruki could have saved his mother. It's a fleeting, passing realization that dies with a blink and buries itself into the depths of his heart as he pushes himself up. ]
To think such a rebellious spirit was just under the surface all this time.
[ Hoarse, harsh - he lets himself rest against the backboard. ]
We'll leave in three days. Say whatever goodbyes you need to and find a new place to live. I'll take care of some loose ends and secure funds.
[ Akechi sits up, and it takes every last ounce of self-control Maruki has to stop himself from leaning over to steady him. His hands do nothing more than twitch where they lay, desperate to raise and hover, to help– and he doesn't let himself.
Akechi can sit upright on his own.
He's alright.
He's not the bleeding, fading thing he was in hidden passage ways of a cognitive ocean liner. He's nothing like broken, barely conscious body that staggered against Maruki's side until they found an exit point.
He's alright.
An exhale, slow, and then Maruki smiles. ]
Three days, huh? Okay.
[ If he ever gave Akechi reason to doubt his conviction, his rebellious spirit, then what they do from here on out will put that to rest. Maruki has always been dedicated to his cause. Akechi just hasn't realized that the cause became him long ago.
He extends a hand. To shake. To help him up out of the bed so Maruki can feed him, show him how to work the bath, sit down with him at a laptop and begin to hunt. ]
[ Akechi always thought he would hold the world in the palm of his hand. That the last vicious beats of Shido's heart between his fingers would give him something back.
He let that dream die with his body against a cold, steel door.
It's incredible how it returns with the touch of another's hand. A world always just out of reach handed back to him without a second thought.
For once, it's easy to feel a future. For once, it's simple to see beyond a revenge that's rotted his body for years.
The World puts him at peace for only a single second.
But it's that single second that gets him out bed, into a bath, put food in his stomach and water down his throat. It's what holds him up to hover over Maruki's shoulder as he looks through rural shithole after rural shithole for a rental in a rundown home that costs as much as a pair of sneakers.
A passing world in the corner of his vision, separated only by the glass his face is pressed against, ignites it again. Three days later, in a worn down car, a radio that's static more than music, but he doesn't care enough to turn it off. A cityscape long behind them, a car packed to brim with boxes 'they don't need', 'yes they do!' Akechi's loose threads would've funded a new kitchen at a minimum. Shido had everyone on a leash, but there were those who owed Akechi Goro alone - those debts fill his pocket. He didn't tell Maruki how much.
It's hard to restart.
Difficult in ways beyond a hanko that stamps down on every new piece of paperwork. A shocking amount of it exists in a town whose name Akechi has to remind himself of.
Neither of them know what to do with lives stuck in limbo. Not on the run enough to hide in full, not free enough to do whatever they wish. Akechi's paranoia takes a full year to wane - for danger to fade from every little noise outside of their home. Maruki once stumbled on him waiting in the dark, curtain parted with the slightest motion of his hand, a gun he said he got rid of in the other. Maruki flipped on the porch light and a fox darted out of their trash. Neither said a word, but Akechi never forgot the exasperated look tossed his way. They stayed up awhile longer to watch late night reruns of a show they've seen five times over until his finger fell from the trigger.
Maruki is better at settling down. Better at acting like this life is one he always wanted, even though Akechi knows it must be a far cry of a world meant for a woman still in Tokyo's depths. He doesn't care about it. Maruki made his foolish choice, but he watches -
Often. Listens more. Reacts less. Finds new routines and settles into a schedule that doesn't wear him thin at the end of every day. He isn't sure how Maruki feels. Doesn't bother asking. It's his choice. It was his choice.
Akechi can't stand he made this choice and-
Wonders about the disparity of The World in their eyes. It's large - so large, for Akechi without Tokyo's boundary and Shido's hold and-
Sometimes he wonders if it feels smaller than ever for a man who could have made reality his and-
He doesn't ask. Never asks. It doesn't matter if he asks.
It won't ever matter if he asks because someone who will ask-
Eventually finds his way to this grotesquely small town, in the middle of nowhere, on some meaningless day in a week that felt colder than normal. Ironic, really, that Akechi was stocking a deck of cards from just delivered box, a Joker plastered on a bright red cover. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
surprise bitch bet you thought you'd seen the last of pain
About any of it. All of it. He isn't wrong, not at all. As much as they both feel they have nothing in this city, there is at least one person they'll both leave behind, and a handful more for Maruki. Even if one still wouldn't know him from any other face in the crowd.
If he leaves, there is danger for those left behind, but–
No one will know. He's certain of it. For all intents and purposes, Akechi Goro is dead. He died alone, unknown, in a cognitive world, where evidence gets erased and bodies turn to ash when a palace is destroyed. They'll be careful, and then they'll be gone, and Akechi Goro will be dead, and Maruki Takuto will be just another nobody in Tokyo who fell through the cracks, off the face of the planet.
Akira is the only one who might look for him. Would he manage to put two and two together?
It's doubtful, and that stings.
The idea of never seeing him again stings infinitely more.
He'll make it right. One day, when enough time has passed, when those in power no longer have eyes on people like them, he will find Akira, and he will make this all right.
Maruki draws a breath, fingers smoothing over the lines in the sheets. ]
It isn't a perfect solution, but a perfect solution doesn't exist. I can't think of any other option I'd entertain.
[ The risks have to be acceptable. The losses have to be acceptable.
A life without Akechi Goro would not have been acceptable.
Therein lies the difference. ]
There's no going back. I understand. I agree. [ His voice is quiet, firm. The decision has already been made.
He reaches back, rests one hand on the leg Akechi's nudged against him. Brief, fleeting contact, and then he pulls it away again. ]
So we'll go forward instead. Together. Deal?
oh die ill kill you
There is no forward. There is no 'together' - Akechi knew that after crossing the doorframe of his fourth, fifth, sixth family that opened their world up to him.
His fingers twitch against soft, unfamiliar fabric. More comfortable than anything he's ever bothered to own. He knows it must be cheap - it's how worn in it is that's preferable. Nothing in Akechi's house ever felt his. This doesn't either, but-They're better than a group home, so he turns grief into indifference and anger into something far more vile and every time he returns back to that group home to see the same old group of kids watch a clock, look out a window, stare at a CRT TV decades older than any of them who get older every time he returns and he ends up watching a clock, looking out a window, staring at a CRT TV decades older than any of them because his time is running around and he sees kids who reach of age begin and end their lives unwanted and unloved and shoved out of the only place they knew and-
It feels like Maruki was prepared to be together and that effortless comfort he always tries to exude has incorporated into every part of this room, down to the smallest thread.
They'll go together-
And a social worker holds his hand until he's too old to warrant it. We'll walk together they say until he's old enough to figure out directions and streets on his own.
And they'll go together from Maruki is an undeniable truth. He never held his hand on a streetcorner or welcomed him back to a home cramped with children after another temporary foster.But he placed a palm between his shoulder blades. Left him a note on his birthday. Put extra mushrooms on his plate. Spoke quietly as they both wore Maruki's blood in thick splatters across their skin.
In a world Akechi was always meant to die in, Maruki found him him and they left together. Dragged him out without a Navigator and hid him a small room built for one, but fits two all the same.
Maruki could have saved his mother. It's a fleeting, passing realization that dies with a blink and buries itself into the depths of his heart as he pushes himself up. ]
To think such a rebellious spirit was just under the surface all this time.
[ Hoarse, harsh - he lets himself rest against the backboard. ]
We'll leave in three days. Say whatever goodbyes you need to and find a new place to live. I'll take care of some loose ends and secure funds.
if you put an evil wrap on this i'll kill you
Akechi can sit upright on his own.
He's alright.
He's not the bleeding, fading thing he was in hidden passage ways of a cognitive ocean liner. He's nothing like broken, barely conscious body that staggered against Maruki's side until they found an exit point.
He's alright.
An exhale, slow, and then Maruki smiles. ]
Three days, huh? Okay.
[ If he ever gave Akechi reason to doubt his conviction, his rebellious spirit, then what they do from here on out will put that to rest. Maruki has always been dedicated to his cause. Akechi just hasn't realized that the cause became him long ago.
He extends a hand. To shake. To help him up out of the bed so Maruki can feed him, show him how to work the bath, sit down with him at a laptop and begin to hunt. ]
We have a deal.
? then wow i would never (heheh kitten)
He let that dream die with his body against a cold, steel door.
It's incredible how it returns with the touch of another's hand. A world always just out of reach handed back to him without a second thought.
For once, it's easy to feel a future. For once, it's simple to see beyond a revenge that's rotted his body for years.
The World puts him at peace for only a single second.
But it's that single second that gets him out bed, into a bath, put food in his stomach and water down his throat. It's what holds him up to hover over Maruki's shoulder as he looks through rural shithole after rural shithole for a rental in a rundown home that costs as much as a pair of sneakers.
A passing world in the corner of his vision, separated only by the glass his face is pressed against, ignites it again. Three days later, in a worn down car, a radio that's static more than music, but he doesn't care enough to turn it off. A cityscape long behind them, a car packed to brim with boxes 'they don't need', 'yes they do!' Akechi's loose threads would've funded a new kitchen at a minimum. Shido had everyone on a leash, but there were those who owed Akechi Goro alone - those debts fill his pocket. He didn't tell Maruki how much.
It's hard to restart.
Difficult in ways beyond a hanko that stamps down on every new piece of paperwork. A shocking amount of it exists in a town whose name Akechi has to remind himself of.
Neither of them know what to do with lives stuck in limbo. Not on the run enough to hide in full, not free enough to do whatever they wish. Akechi's paranoia takes a full year to wane - for danger to fade from every little noise outside of their home. Maruki once stumbled on him waiting in the dark, curtain parted with the slightest motion of his hand, a gun he said he got rid of in the other. Maruki flipped on the porch light and a fox darted out of their trash. Neither said a word, but Akechi never forgot the exasperated look tossed his way. They stayed up awhile longer to watch late night reruns of a show they've seen five times over until his finger fell from the trigger.
Maruki is better at settling down. Better at acting like this life is one he always wanted, even though Akechi knows it must be a far cry of a world meant for a woman still in Tokyo's depths. He doesn't care about it. Maruki made his foolish choice, but he watches -
Often. Listens more. Reacts less. Finds new routines and settles into a schedule that doesn't wear him thin at the end of every day. He isn't sure how Maruki feels. Doesn't bother asking. It's his choice. It was his choice.
Akechi can't stand he made this choice and-
Wonders about the disparity of The World in their eyes. It's large - so large, for Akechi without Tokyo's boundary and Shido's hold and-
Sometimes he wonders if it feels smaller than ever for a man who could have made reality his and-
He doesn't ask. Never asks. It doesn't matter if he asks.
It won't ever matter if he asks because someone who will ask-
Eventually finds his way to this grotesquely small town, in the middle of nowhere, on some meaningless day in a week that felt colder than normal. Ironic, really, that Akechi was stocking a deck of cards from just delivered box, a Joker plastered on a bright red cover. ]