[ A manifestation of will that appears in the cognitive world.
Maruki's just torn open the alcohol wipe packet when he says that, and it gives him actual, physical pause.
The blood red sky only he could see. The white hot streak of furious conviction burning straight through his heart. The air around Rumi and Yoshizawa shimmering, aurora-like. The years of migraines, the voice made manifest. The creature he couldn't begin to comprehend or describe, and the way it suddenly all made perfect sense anyway.
I am the other you, dwelling in the realm of mankind's hearts.
He stares at Akechi, hand still wrapped around his arm to stabilize it, the apology on the tip of his tongue for the incoming sting dead on arrival. ]
That's–
[ It sounds crazy in his own mind, every time he so much as thinks about explaining it to someone. He never planned to need to. He never planned to say anything at all. Learn by doing, learn by trial and error, trust in the voice that guided him for years to tell him what he needs to know. That's the only way.
But somehow – unpredictably, unbelievably, somehow, he now knows it won't sound crazy to Akechi. ]
Me too.
[ It forces its way out of his mouth before he can think to word it any better than that. He can barely hear himself over the ringing in his own ears. ]
It happened to me too. Not– not like what you just described, exactly, but– a manifestation of will, yes, it–
[ He looks down at Akechi's arm, the wound deep and angry. Gently, so gently, he begins to swipe the alcohol wipe along the edges of the gash, if only for something to do with his hands while his mind flies away from him. ]
Sorry. I'm hardly making sense. I haven't told anyone. I didn't even have the words until just now.
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Maruki's just torn open the alcohol wipe packet when he says that, and it gives him actual, physical pause.
The blood red sky only he could see. The white hot streak of furious conviction burning straight through his heart. The air around Rumi and Yoshizawa shimmering, aurora-like. The years of migraines, the voice made manifest. The creature he couldn't begin to comprehend or describe, and the way it suddenly all made perfect sense anyway.
I am the other you, dwelling in the realm of mankind's hearts.
He stares at Akechi, hand still wrapped around his arm to stabilize it, the apology on the tip of his tongue for the incoming sting dead on arrival. ]
That's–
[ It sounds crazy in his own mind, every time he so much as thinks about explaining it to someone. He never planned to need to. He never planned to say anything at all. Learn by doing, learn by trial and error, trust in the voice that guided him for years to tell him what he needs to know. That's the only way.
But somehow – unpredictably, unbelievably, somehow, he now knows it won't sound crazy to Akechi. ]
Me too.
[ It forces its way out of his mouth before he can think to word it any better than that. He can barely hear himself over the ringing in his own ears. ]
It happened to me too. Not– not like what you just described, exactly, but– a manifestation of will, yes, it–
[ He looks down at Akechi's arm, the wound deep and angry. Gently, so gently, he begins to swipe the alcohol wipe along the edges of the gash, if only for something to do with his hands while his mind flies away from him. ]
Sorry. I'm hardly making sense. I haven't told anyone. I didn't even have the words until just now.