[He expects one of two statements to follow - both of which will confirm that Maruki is like every other person who hears a story they want to get away from.
A delusion with 'I'm sure she loved you' as if it mattered when a maternal bond was ripped apart by the same crushing, brutal world trying to offer condolences. Like what she felt was a priority, when he became a parasite for that adoration and sucked every bit of life from her.
A lie with some variation of 'She's in a better place' said by those who made this world hell for the same woman they were wishing a better life for. Uttered by those who ignored an unmarked grave, an empty shrine, no incense, no fanfare.
Maruki doesn't say either. Doesn't imply it. Doesn't dance around it and states she did the best she could and-
She did the best she could and-
It was the best she could do and-]
She did the best she could.
[Repeated - soft and cautious. No tension or ire. Tone neutral, but not forced. She did the best she could do is the truth. She did the best she could are words that make him recognize the small amount of trust wasn't misplaced. It isn't the sobering, humble silence of a dead friend, but-
He didn't want it to be. Doesn't want it to be. Maruki isn't Joker. Maruki is something else entirely and it's why Akechi-
Hates him and why he-
Continues on. Head dropping back down from the sturdy rafters, shifting his body to move into the water. Not out of discomfort - simply to stretch. The dizzying water a blanket for a conversation he cares little about. I won't speak of it again a given regardless after the leaving this quiet, calming piece of home.
A small smile stretches across his face - fake, and not, with a hand raising up from the water to gesture to nothing and nowhere.]
Oh, I was passed around foster homes after that. I don't recall how many - none ever stuck for long, so it's somewhat irrelevant, especially since my emancipation occurred while I was 14 or 15, I believe.
[A pause and he lowers his hand.]
That may sound odd, since it's so uncommon, but it was through good luck and fortune. Sometimes I wonder if my father had a hand behind the scenes - wouldn't that be funny? To have been saved from a life in a group home by a lowlife who wanted nothing to do us while she was alive.
[A small chuckle - real. Quiet. As if the situation would be hilarious. As if it wasn't the truth. As if Shido didn't pluck him out of that shitty hole the second Akechi proved his value.]
Of course, I'm kidding. Life isn't a movie and I do quite well for myself, as you know from the media. There isn't much I could ask for these days.
[ Yeah, Maruki could have guessed. And he knows enough to be able to fill in some blanks that Akechi glosses over with practiced ease. That much uprooting, that little attachment to stable adult figures, that level of uncertainty about something as basic as the security of a roof over your head and food on your plate– all have effects on a growing mind, and are hardly ever irrelevant.
Emancipation that young–
Makes sense, with regards to what he knows of Akechi's more recent home life, with the observations he's made about a loneliness he recognizes well in himself.
Makes no sense at all, with regards to everything he knows about the bureaucracy of their reality.
I do quite well for myself, as you know from the media – as if Maruki hasn't told him, recently at that, that he is more than that image. There is life outside of celebrity. What has he learned about that life? Akechi has been alone for three or four years, after an incredibly unstable childhood wrought by a traumatic event. He has never mentioned friends. He has never mentioned anyone. There is an image of doing well, and there is what lies under the surface. Maruki isn't a celebrity, not by a long shot, but he is someone who has to project the sense of having it together. He understands. He wishes he didn't – not for his sake, for Akechi's.
But none of it is anything he'll put pressure on or question. He's just grateful that Akechi felt comfortable enough to tell him anything, even if it's a sanitized version of the truth.
Maruki listens to him, watches him. Doesn't have any platitudes on the tip of his tongue as he normally would. Doesn't have anything except one simple statement: ]
I'm glad you're here, Akechi.
[ Here, in Somnius. Here, in the world at all, not a given by any means after a young life like that.
He doesn't let it linger. It isn't meant to start a sentimental, emotional conversation. It's just a fact. Akechi is here, and he's glad for it.
Maruki sits up enough to stretch his arms along the back of the tub, steam wafting off his skin. He rolls his neck to one side in a stretch, then the other. Laughs, just a huff of a breath, and a humorless one at that. ]
Anger against an unjust world, huh.
[ Nothing more to it than that. If their conversation about why their personas manifested wasn't as significant to Akechi as it was to him, then it can drop easily and they can move onto other topics. ]
[I'm glad you're here, Akechi under the dazzling fluorescent lights, indistinct faces fixing his hair, checking his face, straightening clothes - guiding him to perfection, so the world could see him. I'm glad you're here, x practiced to the next nameless nobody meant to recite lines that aren't their own, over and over again and-
I'm glad you're here, Akechi between whispers of smoke in a tobacco coated room, frantic, hurried newscast playing in the background - 'another psychotic break - several wounded, several dead in-' twisting into static that makes him wonder about the future prime minister's internet connection. A noise only he can hear and I'm glad you're here, x stated to the next person who walked into the room with debts to be repaid and 'I'm glad you're here, Akechi' from another formless face because Akechi is valuable and I'm glad you're here, Akechi synonymous with the state of his value and names buzzing to life in his phone to showcase his value to hear I'm glad you're here, Akechi from a man who's throat he wants to crush under his heel so all the red tinted spittle from choking out I'm glad you're here, Akechi is all his vision sees and-
I'm glad you're here Akechi to the one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten-
A number he can't recollect with any degree of confidence because I'm glad you're here, Akechi lasted until the first stripped stipend came in the mail, the first request for school, the first request for a meal, the first request for anything that deviated from the subservient silence he was meant to stew in because hearing 'I'm glad you're here, Akechi' was temporary placation.
Maruki says I'm glad you're here, Akechi and his eyes don't move away from his eyes, his glasses, any microscopic clue from a liar that shows I'm glad you're here, Akechi wasn't real. I'm glad you're here, Akechi stated without a state check in hand, a list to collect debts, a perfect script to recite from.
His eyes burn. Maruki's face twists into some dizzying amalgamation of colors and thin, bright lines. His arms move. Akechi follows it. He doesn't blink. Maruki laughs. Akechi doesn't catch what he says. I'm happy you're here, Akechi a noose tightening around his neck over and over and over until his body feels like a bruised, blued corpse hanging from the rafters.
Maruki doesn't need him - Akechi effectively acting in the same parasitic way that killed his mother. Wanting attention, food, time, shared baths, walks and-
It's not the same, because Akechi doesn't want any of it. Doesn't need it. He's grown up and exploitation is to choose being a parasite. Maruki's stupid to provide. Exploitation is fine when the man follows suit with every unspoken and spoken request. It's mutual and-
Maruki doesn't need him for personas, either. A power brewing under a staunchly held together mask - wired and sewn down to his face. Akechi sees Maruki's hand move and imagines it ripping at the seams of his own flesh, pulling it apart with ease.
For a second, he sees it - blood dripping down the man's forehead, dropping into the crystalline water and-
He blinks. It's better. His brain catches up and he leans back into the water until is shoulders are consumed, his eyelashes are coated with steam.]
You remember? I suppose I'm not surprised. You might think it's related to what I said, but I imagine it relates closer to my detective work. I've seen a fair share of injustice.
[A beat, and-]
Mindless attacks on victims. Murders for no reason. There's injustice far beyond the walls housing forgotten children and my justice involves seeing it come to light.
[ He doesn't buy that for a second, but he lets it slide. The intent in Akechi's statements is clear. He's not prodding at the inflamed edges of his own anger.
His aim is true, and steady, and directly at Maruki. Just like every hateful word and explosive attack levied against him in the forest. Just like his gun.
Maruki looks at him. Just looks. Mild, evaluating. His glasses have mostly cleared, now that he's not sunken so far down into the water.
A breath drawn. Held for a moment, a brief hesitation where every anxious impulse in his mind rebels, asks him if he's really about to do this. Fight or flight. It's not too late to drop this conversation. To shut it down. To give a half-truth or less. To not say anything at all. To feign dizziness from the heat. To tell Akechi they'll talk about it later, some day. Anything. Do anything. Run. ]
It's a long story. I'll understand if you don't want to be subjected to that right now, or simply don't care about the details of my life. If you'd like a condensed version, or to not hear it at all, tell me and I won't be offended.
[ An exhale, sharp along with his words, and then he's breathing normally again. ]
[It hits, direct and brutal. Revenge against I'm glad you're here, Akechi a bullet piercing through skull, ripping a memory from the other side.
He waits - steady and resolute in the water, opting to shift his gaze, focus on Maruki out of the corner of his eye, instead of the direct piercing contact that distorted reality. There's no blood in the water, but-
Every word will be coated with it if Maruki speaks and-
He speaks now in attempts to escape with appeals to Akechi's apathy. A sensation that doesn't exist right now.]
I wouldn't have implied otherwise if I didn't want to hear it. After all-
[Back to the rafters, an empty noose. Against the wall, a speckle of residual viscera in some shitty rural home. On a table full of dry towels, red drips and drips and drips from the corner and-]
I'm happy you're here too, Maruki. I would like to learn about you, for as long as you're willing to speak.
[ Maruki blinks a few times, rapidly. Unexpected. Akechi's glad he's here too. There's a measure of care in that statement when it comes from Maruki that is not insignificant – and now the same comes from Akechi. Does he believe it?
He thinks he does.
He'd like to, so he will. If it isn't real now, if he believes in it enough, it will become real eventually. ]
Right. Thank you.
[ Where to begin?
At the beginning. ]
The woman that you saw in the field was my fiancée, Rumi.
[ For as many times as he was able to give a short explanation of who she was to any dreamer who happened to stop by (or get thrown into) the lake with him, this is only the third time he's said her name. Venat, in a grove of trees on a path up a cliffside – Lioriley, tears in her eyes at her own lost love – and now Akechi, across from him in this bathhouse. ]
We met during the very first week of our first year at university and started dating almost as quickly. I hadn't ever had a girlfriend before – in fact, I didn't even really have friends in high school. My family didn't have much money, and I was entirely focused on my studies. Cram school. Working part time jobs to help us get by. It didn't leave a lot of time for anything else. Maybe now you see why I'm a little socially stunted.
[ Is he? In some ways, yes. Cheerful extroversion and genuine interest in others' lives is enough of a mask to get him through most interactions unscathed. ]
She was nothing like me. Playful, hot-headed, unwilling to tolerate anyone's foolishness, including my own... and so charming throughout all of it. She was the kind of person everyone couldn't help but love. Why she ever looked twice at me, let alone chose me, I'll never know. It was the greatest luck of my life.
[ Even when he told this story to Akira back in their reality – to Venat in this one – he hadn't said so much about Rumi herself. Only the events. But Akechi isn't just hearing about it from him. He saw her himself. She deserves to be known. ]
While I went straight into my graduate studies after university, Rumi got a good job at a bank. I couldn't have asked for a more supportive partner while I worked through my degrees. She supported both of us so that I didn't have to try to live on my student stipend. We lived on the ninth floor of an older high-rise – it wasn't fancy by any means, but she loved it. Her family lived out in the country, and she told me she'd always been determined to escape to Tokyo and never go back. I can't imagine someone as fiery as her living in such a sleepy, small town, so it made sense.
[ Just as the memories in the water shifted from their happy afternoon amongst the flowers, the story shifts now with that implication. Maruki pauses for a moment, slides his arms back down into the water, then his shoulders, all the way up to his chin. Briefly re-warming his body. His glasses fog at once and he pushes them up into his hair irritably.
He wishes he could end there. He wishes the memory had never changed. He surely witnessed his own memory more than anyone else in Somnius, touching that water over and over again both for his own study and in the pursuit of helping others. Akechi was the only one who caused it to mutate.
So he has to. He must. And besides– he wasn't kidding when he said he'd like to tell Akechi. He does want to. It's just–
Difficult. He breathes. Even, steady, purposeful. Counting the beats in his head. ]
When I was close to completing my doctorate degree, I proposed to her. It wasn't going to be a very large wedding – we had a small core group of friends from university, I had no family and she only had her parents. We started planning it right away, to happen as soon as I was at last done with school so that we could move into the next phase of our lives. The problem was...
[ Despite what's coming, he laughs, a shake of his head at his former self. ]
I still can't believe it, but I'd never actually met her parents. I can count the number of times Rumi visited home in all the years we were together on one hand, so there simply weren't opportunities. But I wanted to. It was important to me to be able to ask them for their daughter's hand in marriage. And I'd never been more nervous for anything in my life. You have to imagine, Akechi – I had been in school for my entire adult life. I had no job experience and very little money. Some of my degrees were in psychology, but I was pursuing the most niche field possible for my doctorate and too obsessed with my research to consider how unviable my career prospects were about to be. I had nothing to offer, and I was so sure they would tell me no. That the happy life Rumi and I had planned for our future would end.
[ Any fondness in his expression built up through recounting her, all the wonderfully brilliant facets of her, has faded. Beneath the water, Maruki twists his hands together. He glances down at it, not sure what he expects to see. It's only water. ]
So, we made the trip out to the countryside for her birthday. February third. It was so cold that winter. I'd never seen so much snow.
[ For some reason, that's what draws him into a lull of quiet. For a few long moments, Maruki only keeps his eyes down, his breath still coming out telltale even.
When it eventually passes, he clears his throat and sits up straighter, shoulders out of the water again, a hand coming to rest against the center of his sternum. He presses the heel of his palm into it, rubbing minutely back and forth. ]
It was an attempted robbery. I'm sure you could tell from the state of the house. We had been playing cards and paused to take a break. Her mother was making lunch. Rumi and I were in the back of the house, trying to figure out what was wrong with their internet. Stupid, huh?
[ His palm digs in harder. ]
Nothing about it made sense. Why them? They were quiet, humble people. Why their house? It was in the middle of nowhere. Why that day, of all days?
[ His worst paranoia is on the tip of his tongue. He bites it back, focuses. ]
We just don't know any reasoning behind it. Perhaps they didn't expect anyone to be home and panicked. We ran back into the main part of the house when we heard the commotion. And– you saw.
[ The phone off the hook in an aborted call for help. Her mother, trying to reach her husband. Her father, legs still tucked under the kotatsu. ]
When they were fleeing the house, Rumi got in their way. They attacked her– and I couldn't do anything.
[ Frozen, useless. He's never forgotten the way Rumi screamed when she saw her parents, the way it seemed to reverberate forever through the empty countryside, through his head and his heart. The air thick with the copper tang of blood. Everything destroyed in an instant.
Maruki looks at Akechi then, and it's likely the worst Akechi has seen him – openly sorrowful and so, so very tired. ]
The men got away. I couldn't drag her from her parents until help arrived. We were lucky that her physical injuries weren't worse, but she–
[ The story hasn't exactly come easily until now, but this is the point where it finally catches his throat. He fights to keep his voice even, recount this as factually as he can. ]
Rumi never recovered mentally. She went into a catatonic state. I visited her in the hospital every day, sat by her bed for hours, and she never saw me.
[ No, not never. ]
Sometimes– she would come out of it. But that was worse. She would relive that day until she was knocked out again. I learned from her doctors that it only happened if I was there. If she recognized my presence, or if I tried to talk about her family– and it got worse every time. It was dangerous for me to be near her.
[ And here's where the story becomes relevant to Akechi. Maruki brings his now cleared glasses back down onto his nose and looks over to him, expression gone unreadable. ]
In the middle of the worst of those breakdowns was when I heard Azathoth for the first time. I had never felt so powerless and so hateful toward our torturous reality for ruining the life of someone who did nothing wrong.
[ There is a part that he skips over, unwilling to derail this with talk of what Azathoth can truly do, still terrified to even admit it when he now knows it's completely out of the ordinary. What follows isn't a lie, but it's– ]
She was never the same again. It was as if the woman I loved had died, and there was no hope of her ever coming back. We eventually had to go our separate ways– no, that isn't accurate. I had to let her go, for her own good, so she could begin to heal without me.
[ –the truth, just with a piece missing. ]
I've heard that she's doing much better now, and that's all that I can ask for.
[ All five fingers digging into his chest now. He hardly notices it. ]
I vowed to pursue my work in cognitive psience to find a way to heal traumatic emotional wounds like Rumi's, no matter what. Everything I've done– everything I do even now is for her. Everything.
[ He has to stop then. There's nothing more to say that wouldn't be useless sentiment – he loved her, he loves her, he won't ever stop loving her, and she doesn't even know who he is.
That hand drops into the water and he settles back against the edge of the tub again, blinking, as if only now realizing just how much he said. His voice is small. ]
Plain. Typical. A mild mannered man falls for a hot headed woman - it follows conventional tropes. A meaningless backdrop for the sentimental and given where this story ends up-
What a load of good that 'greatest luck of my life' did for him, as he recounts a story meant to end in bloodshed.
But he listens with rapt attention - because he asked, because he's curious, because he can feign interest and retain information on the mundane before the real focus comes to life. Rumi isn't like his mother - Rumi was loved, adored and surrounded by people who hold her memory close. She doesn't need one more with Akechi.
It's easy to feign care, at first. People crying at his feet while they collect crime scene information of a case Akechi knows the solution for, listening to the woes of those in the throes of interrogation - he can fake it for as long as necessary.
There are hitches in Maruki's breath. Uncomfortable shifting. Akechi keeps himself steady in the background, as a statue meant to observe and nothing more. The love story didn't matter, but-
Then it breaks.
A scene explained and confirmed - questions anyone would ask when faced with the brutality of a random attack, a sudden loss with no explanation. A vision of that home reignited with Akechi's own closed eyes. One categorized and sorted through with efficiency. Two corpses - one disjointed across the floor, a man turned to organ and blood. The death of two people done with a practiced precision that makes him second guess a random robbery - a cold day, a cognitive researcher, a warning.
But Shido isn't sloppy. His people aren't idiots - too smart, almost. They would never mistake an elderly couple for the young cognitive researcher and his fiance. The connection between his niche field and their deaths not clear enough to be a morbid warning.
Shido doesn't warn. Akechi would have been sent to finish any job left undone. The cleaners don't mess up.
Then Maruki's tone shifts - the memory clear in the water when he opens his eyes, when he looks at Maruki at They attacked her and -
Anguish. A raw, primal force that would call forth a god itself.
It makes sense, suddenly, why his persona is strong, why 'it was dangerous for me to be near her' feels like a calling card. 'It was dangerous for me to be near her' and now-
He's dangerous to be around. The ironclad control on his soul the only reason why Azathoth didn't become Azathoth and-
Whatever his version of Loki would be.
A voice turned neutral, a feigned sort of protection against the unpleasant. Akechi allows it with only a glance back to the water.
He thinks about their conversation under the newly flickering starlight, pressed back against grass and a force unlike anything he's ever seen hovering over him. Loss is a powerful driving force shared in the quiet moments after battle feels more appropriate than ever.
I've heard that she's doing much better now, and that's all that I can ask for. It's all he can ask for. She's doing the best she can. A connection severed for the good of another. He did the right thing and -
I vowed to pursue my work in cognitive psience to find a way to heal traumatic emotional wounds like Rumi's, no matter what. It's a bomb. A ticking clock. Nothing about this field will cure another. It will kill. He opens his mouth to say-
Something.
To warn, in a way Shido would never allow, to provide a kindness not afforded to anyone in this world and-
Shuts it, just as fast. Loss is a powerful driving enough to spurn the life of a entity beyond all reason. Logic. Enough to press a gun to someone's head again and again and again.
A warning wouldn't stop Maruki and-
That strength of will is the reason respect formed between them, in the warped, twisted little ball it has. He wouldn't insult him by implying a teenager's vague words would be enough to end his love for Rumi. Rumi, with a murdered family. Rumi, who will be easy to find in police databases. Rumi, who-
Everything I've done– everything I do even now is for her. Everything. gave life to a man lost, even in her absence.
Akechi doesn't care about Maruki. Rumi. The intensity of the story enough to spur his own paranoia and adrenhiline with knowledge of a darker world behind scenes, but-
When he sees that hand drop, his body slump, his voice quieter than he's ever heard-
It feels like settling into a cozy cafe chair, too cheap to be comfortable, with the scent of too spicy curry coupled with a fresh cup of coffee he never has to ask for and-
It's Akechi's turn, for once, to press that piping hot cup into a lost hand.
He shouldn't care. Doesn't. A part of him staunch in its refusal to let his heart waver beyond taking in information with a clinical, cold sort of accuracy required for reports and paperwork. Man reports death of a couple, a woman injured with pinpoint precision of the scene over people.
Akechi slinks into the water himself, then slides back up.
Slides over. Close, but not quite. It's what a detective prince would do, but-
He isn't a detective prince with Maruki. Isn't Crow. Isn't even Akechi Goro in full, but he's-
Akechi.
And Akechi doesn't care about serving empty platitudes or feigned condolences. How many times has he heard 'I'm sorry for your loss' 'I'm sorry about her' 'I'm sorry about-']
You did the best you could.
[Quiet. The frayed edges of his words grasping at what little sincerity remains in his heart. His back settling against he same wall as Maruki is against, even as he remains an arm's length away.]
To turn your life into one meant to serve others, to cure them of their own wounds -
[Thoughtful and soft-he doesn't want her back. Wants others to avoid the same brutality of a life ripped apart. An impossible task, when the world is so unrelenting.]
She would be proud of you and what you've accomplished, but not for the reasons you think. Of course, I'm simply posturing, as I don't know her at all. This is only from what I've gleaned.
[A fiery, hot headed woman and a distorted love torn.]
Your fight against an unjust reality and for the broken lives in it is an uphill, unwinnable battle, but-
[His hands raise from the water, palms up, mock surrender and compliance.]
I find myself wanting to put my faith in you regardless. Isn't that funny? Perhaps it's the strength of your will that's won me over a little bit. Rumi must have seen that in you before anyone else. Some people are simply like that - they can tear down a mask before you're even aware one is on your face.
[A beat. Hands lower. Maruki's dream is so goddamn stupid. His goal impossible, but just like Joker-
There's a flicker of life he can't deny, a will impossible to ignore.]
It's fortunate you were able to meet someone who gave you freedom.
[ Telling Venat as much of the story as he could had been a profound relief, a tremendous weight off his soul. Maruki is certain it's the only reason he was able to stand seeing his memory once, let alone dozens of times. Her acknowledgement of his own pain and grief, her tender but unyielding support. All of it meant more to Maruki than he'll ever be able to quantify or thank her for, no matter how long they're in this reality together.
Telling Akechi, on the other hand–
You did the best you could.
Maruki turns his head. Looks at him, watches him lean back against the same wall. Listens to him, hears a note of gentle integrity in his voice that he doesn't think he ever has before. Maybe a shade of it, knelt together on that department store floor, there's no shame in feeling pain, but even then – nothing like this.
That earlier hesitant doubt swept away. Akechi does care about him. Perhaps more than anyone has in a while.
You did the best you could, and he did. It's true. He tried to reach Rumi, for months. He helped her in the only way he could, to his own detriment, and–
And it was the best he could do. And it's on the tip of his tongue. Why Azathoth's voice came to him that day, what he wished for, how she looked at him with her old bright eyes, her old smile, none of her old recognition.
Maruki swallows it back.
Swallows hard.
She would be proud. He hopes she would. A plan that had just barely begun to spin out from his own mind before he arrived here and now feels so far from his grasp that it might as well have belonged to another man entirely – even if he hasn't accomplished that, even if he doesn't. Even if every reality remains as unrelentingly, meaninglessly cruel. Would she still be proud?
Not changing one heart, changing billions. He'd promised her so much.
Maybe–
Akechi wants to put his faith in him.
Akechi has never had any interest in counseling and only a surface level respect for what he does. He's made his feelings about the sadsack whiners who take up Maruki's time plain to him. But this– faith in his larger mission, standing up against the world that has hurt them both so badly–
Maybe he wouldn't feel that way if he knew the original methods and means of that fight. But Maruki has learned new ways to bolster it in Somnius. He's learned them from Akechi. His mission has changed, invariably. And it's one Akechi can have faith in.
Even Akira didn't extend him this same grace.
He won't stop talking, soft enough that it doesn't bounce off the stone walls, firm enough that Maruki doesn't hesitate in his belief this time. Every new statement washes over him, wave after wave, until–
Rumi must have seen that in you–
No one else has said her name.
Neither Venat nor Lioriley here, and not Akira back in their reality – no one speaks of her when he tells this tale. Akechi does. Clarifies it by saying that he doesn't know her, is only speculating, and yet he makes the most astute observation of all. He says her name, and it feels held safe when he does. Maruki trusts him.
It still punches all the air out of him, though. All at once, as if swept out by great bellows. You did the best you could and she would be proud of you and I find myself wanting to put my faith in you and Rumi must have seen that and his throat has closed up, his vision wavers at the edges as he looks back down, maybe it's just the ripple of the water but they're both so still, maybe–
Maruki laughs. Just once, breathless, humorless, like it's the only sound that can be ripped from him at the moment.
Stinging heat built up behind his eyes that has nothing to do with the steam rising off the water.
He draws a hand out of the water, nudges his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. ]
Shit. Sorry.
[ He can pull it together. He's had it together for a very long time now. Another laugh, some actual life behind it this time. ]
I'm sorry. I'm fine. If you can believe it, I've never told anyone the full story before. And even the ones I've told bits and pieces– ah. No one's ever responded like that.
[ It's pathetic to admit, really, but– in some ways, Maruki isn't a liar at all. This is one of them. Emotional honesty is probably Akechi's least favorite brand of it, but at times he knows no other way.
His voice has evened out again, his vision has cleared. He pushes his glasses up into his hair abruptly and presses both hands against his cheeks, boiling warm from being in the water, bracing. A vigorous rub and a final laugh, genuine this time, as he looks over at Akechi with nothing but gratitude. ]
Thanks. For listening and for saying that. I want to put my faith in you too.
Edited (the only murder to cw for was emotional murder) 2024-06-26 00:19 (UTC)
[The tension of a hard spoken tale breaks with that forced out laugh, the way he touches his face to stop-
Akechi looks away, as a courtesy. The waterworks are unnecessary, but allowed with the brief respite of shared secrets from a man far more emotional than he lets on.
He can believe that's a story hard wrangled - if not for the lake spilling memories neither wanted aired, Akechi never would have asked. Maruki never would have spoken. Their goals align - hobbies, interests, and even humor, on occasion. In the rare moments where collective ire pools in the wall between their rooms, a series of knocks answered by looking at the most inane shit that's ever posted on this shithole's internet.
But it's a stretch to call them friends and this -
Evokes a sensation in chest, akin to Robin Hood's ever persistent, ever annoying, presence. It bursts through his chest like blood from a broken vein, an internal wound, a fading sort of warmth that burns and hurts, more than it comforts.
Comfort, still there, all the same.
He tries to quiet it down, but it wasn't Robin Hood at all.
The thought disturbs him. Unsettles. He's dizzy from the bath and that's what's making him lose focus.]
Of course. Listening was the least I could do and I hope I said nothing offensive. Despite how many scripts I read from, I've never been the type to follow one.
[It's-
I want to put my faith in you too and-
Joker must have said that to him, once. Implied it, maybe, right before the inevitable. A muzzle pressed to his skull and regret instant in those widened eyes.
He wonders if Maruki will cry. If he'll even recognize the cold steel against his forehead, a couple centimeters above where his glasses sit. Akechi can pinpoint the exact angle, how he'll have to account for the glare of his eyewear, so he can see recognition in those final moments. Maruki's life is ever shortening countdown, just like Akechi's, but-
If Akechi can speed up his own shortened life, kill Shido before this man's godlike power is ever found out-
It won't matter anyway. It's not like he enjoys sullying his hands with mistakes and unfinished work. The Metaverse shadows are easy to wash off, even if he can always smell the decay.
Blood was harder. His gloves had to be thrown out. A new school uniform. Pinpricks of black visible with hours of close inspection. Always visible. Tiny dots the color of Joker's mask and-
If he has to kill Maruki, he'll wear different clothes. Older gloves.
Shido's election is imminent. Soon. Whatever happens, he needs to be prepared for.
His eyes hurt. Lines. Colors. A series of rapid blinks.]
However, if I may - you placing your faith in someone you hardly know, whose overall intentions are unclear outside of our obvious shared goal - those are the types of actions that could create walls for your own dreams. You should be more cautious. I've never stated my overall plan and my true intentions could be nefarious - vile, even. That goes for anyone, even the duck.
[He laughs, as if trying to break up the air itself - a hand resting under his chin in an age old habit he can't break. Bright smile returning, the truth in his words coated with an artificial sheen.]
Oh, I guess that sounds quite ominous. It's a simple word of warning. Given my profession, I've seen more than my fair share of betrayal. Often from those you think you know best - friends, partners, roommates, coworkers, family. It's rarely a stranger that hurts you the most.
[Another laugh, his hand drops into the crystal clear water.]
But you're welcome to place your faith in me. I'll try not to let you down.
Does he profess to know Akechi perfectly well? Not at all. He never would. They have lived whole lives without one another, and there is still so much that they obfuscate from one another. There likely always will be.
But you don't spend months around someone, day in and day out, establishing the quiet routines of living and working together, revealing parts of yourselves to one another, training and fighting together and against one another in kind without learning how to handle a person well.
Maruki listens to his warnings, bites the inside of his cheek to force himself not to smile. The almost-tears are forgotten; they'll be back later, when he's alone in his room, still bath-warm and thinking back on Akechi's words to commit them to memory. Now he's only–
Endeared, really.
Akechi is a liar, but not always. There are kernels of truth in these statements, Maruki knows that. And he would love nothing more than to know Akechi's larger plan – Xie Lian's meddling still fresh in his mind, the mania in Akechi's eyes as he stormed out of the castle – but what good would it be to ask now? Akechi wouldn't reveal it.
They're liars. But that doesn't mean the trust isn't there, and the faith.
He looks at Akechi like he's just rattled off a particularly long grocery list to a person who's already done half of the shopping. Of course these are things Maruki knows. Has experienced in his own life. Expression mild, brows raised, but words sincere as ever. ]
I appreciate the warning, but it only seems fair if you're doing the same to me. I know you won't let me down.
[ A stretch, his arms over his head, the shifting blood flow a little dizzying for how long they've been in here. ]
By the way...
[ And then Maruki finally lets that smile loose, all the genuine affection he feels for Akechi and all the exasperated mischief along with it. ]
Enthralled?
[ A hand against the top of Akechi's head, quick as a whip.
And then he's shoved over and facedown into the hot water.
[The shift in tone so rapid that he barely registers the word Enthralled. An answer stated fast and automatic, like the pressure against his head is a secret button for the word No. A habit woven so deep into his psyche from only a few weeks of consistent back and forth, he isn't sure how long it will take to shake off.
And then-
He's fucking-
Dunked.
And by god if Robin Hood doesn't flicker to life behind him - static from a radio after a short bump in the road. There, and gone. It's harder to make that persona linger out of spite alone.
And he's up in record goddamn time - sopping wet face and fringe, rapidly blinking eyes to remove water from his vision. No time to wipe them, his hands have another use and it's to lunge forward, arms out, to push Maruki's whole body into the steaming hot pool. Maybe, potentially, holding him under for a very hot second.
And then he lets go! Whoops, never meant to do that. Gosh!]
[ Foolish mistake: When Akechi rears up out of the water, Maruki's laughing, loud enough to bounce off the walls of the room–
So when he gets shoved over and held down, he gets a mouthful of water.
He's spluttering as he comes back up, hot hot hot hot hot! and desperately swiping at his eyes.
His eyes? ]
My glasses!
[ Yeah, they're still underwater. Somewhere. He feels around desperately, still laughing at Akechi even as he coughs and tries to get his bearings. ]
Well, I think I was owed that after how many times I got you into that lake, so I'll take it.
[ Glasses secured, thank god, but they're useless now. Maruki pushes his wet hair back off his forehead and then slides them up as well. Akechi is blurred again, but there's surely a faux innocent look over his face, as if he's never done a single thing wrong in his life.
He settles back in the same spot as before, sunken down to his shoulders again, blissful despite the interruptions of shared traumas and playfighting. ]
How much longer can you stand to stay here? I'm not in any rush.
[He IS the picture perfect replica of innocence incarnate, actually.
The kind-hearted Detective Prince even makes a half assed effort to look for the glasses, albeit by trying to kick it out of range with his foot. Accidentally, of course. The mysterious bath water current is beyond his control.
Maruki finds his glasses, Akechi settles down and back into his spot. Ever the vision of compliance and calm.]
Oh, I could stay here for hours, if given the opportunity. Even when I get dizzy, it's still enjoyable and I find it difficult to leave. I'm able to outlast anyone in a bath. That's not me bragging, of course. Just a statement.
[That touch of heat stroke - he loves it.
And he's on the verge of it now with that ever familiar world churning sensation, heart pounding rapidly against in his ribs - it's the best. He sinks back down until his shoulders are submerged, mimicking Maruki's own posture. ]
You're welcome to leave when you're finished. I'll likely stay a bit longer.
He's also the closest friend Maruki has had in long, long years.
He laughs, shakes his head, relaxes even further into the water until it laps at his nape, the hair there gently curling as it tries to dry. ]
No, I'll stay until you're ready. It's a welcome break after that nightmare.
[ The Forest of Dreams and two weeks spent in and out of that goddamn lake, or the recounting they just went through? Both, maybe. Not even Maruki is sure. He only knows what he feels more relaxed than he has since arriving in Somnius – since long before then, probably – and won't see it end too soon. The dizzy heat is satisfying when he closes his eyes and tips his head back against the ledge of the pool, resting it there, face upturned toward the rafters. ]
Akechi.
[ Quieter, more serious than the way they just sniped at one another. Not so much so as to drop them back into the depths they just pulled one another out of, but close. ]
In the future, if you eventually feel like telling me your overall plan, I'd like to hear it.
[ He can't imagine what it might be, yet he can't imagine that he'll disagree with it. ]
[It's impossible. The delineation between what can and can't be said as clear as the line between water and person.
But the words sit on his lips, for a moment. In the way they used to when Joker would perch next to him, the silence a string of tension tugging him back together and relief ripping him apart.
In the wake of shared secrets, the request only ignites a small flare in him. One he can't fully associate with anger. The goal is his - only his. A spark of light in a dark room, forgotten by another temporary family. An idea that filled his empty bag, when he was inevitably left alone outside, waiting for a social worker to pick him up. It's what he fought for. Killed for. A piece of his heart no one can rip away from him because it was, and will only ever, belong to him.
His hands move aimlessly under the water, making small currents with wiggling fingers.
It's not like Xie Lian's meddling. A man who claims to know him, it's-
Someone that knows him now, to the basest extent another human being is allowed.]
If you're not busy during the first of the year, will you come to the shrine with me? I haven't gone since I was a child.
[A final moment, a small chance - a part of his brain floundering at the request. Baffling to his own spirit, as it must be to hear.
Because Maruki will find out.
A missing Detective Prince, whether reported through media or Maruki's own missed texts, combined with the sudden death of a prime minister, after that scum's sins are revealed to the world-
After the connection of both to the murders, mental shutdowns, psychotic breaks, a phantom thief disposed under mysterious circumstances, and cognitive world are clear-
Maruki will know what his plan was, if he's still alive. If Akechi can time the slot of the final puzzle piece just right, to ensure his success and the life of someone he could give two shits about.
But he owes him for the food, the time spent together, enthrallment wrangling and their eventual escape. He owes him a singular attempt to stop the inevitable and nothing more. ]
[ There are no non-sequitors in conversations with Akechi. There is always a thread of logic connecting his shifts in topics – only sometimes it's fishing wire, invisible to the naked eye, pulled taut by some unseen hand.
Maruki considers the implication between his prompt and Akechi's response. What it might mean as an oblique answer. He'll be considering it for a very long time.
But the invitation itself, he doesn't need to think twice about. ]
Oh? Sure, I'd be happy to have someone to go with again.
[ Simple, sincere. He really does mean it.
Their overall goals might be shrouded from one another, but at the moment there is one shared: To leave this place, to rip through the layers of cognitive plane after cognitive plane until they can return to their own reality. Everything they do here is in service of that, and is shared with one another in a mutual interest to see their plan succeed.
Maruki has thought several times over the past months that it's probably a stupid, vanishing hope that this strange friendship might continue once they achieve their goal. Akechi has his celebrity image to maintain. A job as a detective. Surely a path laid out for university. Their paths would never have crossed without the manipulative intervention of Somnius. They've both vowed not to forget a single moment of this place, yet there would be no reason for them to carry on a bond forged because of it.
Objectively, he knows all of this. But when it's held up against the notion of returning home and letting their friendship be lost to the vagaries of life in Tokyo, it hurts. Plainly, and deeply. A blade slid between his ribs. It would hurt to let this sort of understanding, respect and trust drop away, nothing to replace it. It would hurt to lose Akechi.
The invitation has more meaning to it than he can discern at the moment. But if nothing else, it is at the very least confirmation that no, even after they slip between realities, their bond will not be lost.
Maruki smiles at him, nothing less than genuine in its warmth. ]
[Spoken with a confidence not meant for this request, it's-
Unfortunate he can't discern if the woozy sensation that follows comes from the heat or the impossible task before him.
Whether he succeeds or fails - there's only one goal that's overarching and necessary. If Maruki dies, when Akechi dies - none of it matters as long as Shido's throat is slit in some revolting office.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cw suicide talk
A delusion with 'I'm sure she loved you' as if it mattered when a maternal bond was ripped apart by the same crushing, brutal world trying to offer condolences. Like what she felt was a priority, when he became a parasite for that adoration and sucked every bit of life from her.
A lie with some variation of 'She's in a better place' said by those who made this world hell for the same woman they were wishing a better life for. Uttered by those who ignored an unmarked grave, an empty shrine, no incense, no fanfare.
Maruki doesn't say either. Doesn't imply it. Doesn't dance around it and states she did the best she could and-
She did the best she could and-
It was the best she could do and-]
She did the best she could.
[Repeated - soft and cautious. No tension or ire. Tone neutral, but not forced. She did the best she could do is the truth. She did the best she could are words that make him recognize the small amount of trust wasn't misplaced. It isn't the sobering, humble silence of a dead friend, but-
He didn't want it to be. Doesn't want it to be. Maruki isn't Joker. Maruki is something else entirely and it's why Akechi-
Hates him and why he-
Continues on. Head dropping back down from the sturdy rafters, shifting his body to move into the water. Not out of discomfort - simply to stretch. The dizzying water a blanket for a conversation he cares little about. I won't speak of it again a given regardless after the leaving this quiet, calming piece of home.
A small smile stretches across his face - fake, and not, with a hand raising up from the water to gesture to nothing and nowhere.]
Oh, I was passed around foster homes after that. I don't recall how many - none ever stuck for long, so it's somewhat irrelevant, especially since my emancipation occurred while I was 14 or 15, I believe.
[A pause and he lowers his hand.]
That may sound odd, since it's so uncommon, but it was through good luck and fortune. Sometimes I wonder if my father had a hand behind the scenes - wouldn't that be funny? To have been saved from a life in a group home by a lowlife who wanted nothing to do us while she was alive.
[A small chuckle - real. Quiet. As if the situation would be hilarious. As if it wasn't the truth. As if Shido didn't pluck him out of that shitty hole the second Akechi proved his value.]
Of course, I'm kidding. Life isn't a movie and I do quite well for myself, as you know from the media. There isn't much I could ask for these days.
no subject
Emancipation that young–
Makes sense, with regards to what he knows of Akechi's more recent home life, with the observations he's made about a loneliness he recognizes well in himself.
Makes no sense at all, with regards to everything he knows about the bureaucracy of their reality.
I do quite well for myself, as you know from the media – as if Maruki hasn't told him, recently at that, that he is more than that image. There is life outside of celebrity. What has he learned about that life? Akechi has been alone for three or four years, after an incredibly unstable childhood wrought by a traumatic event. He has never mentioned friends. He has never mentioned anyone. There is an image of doing well, and there is what lies under the surface. Maruki isn't a celebrity, not by a long shot, but he is someone who has to project the sense of having it together. He understands. He wishes he didn't – not for his sake, for Akechi's.
But none of it is anything he'll put pressure on or question. He's just grateful that Akechi felt comfortable enough to tell him anything, even if it's a sanitized version of the truth.
Maruki listens to him, watches him. Doesn't have any platitudes on the tip of his tongue as he normally would. Doesn't have anything except one simple statement: ]
I'm glad you're here, Akechi.
[ Here, in Somnius. Here, in the world at all, not a given by any means after a young life like that.
He doesn't let it linger. It isn't meant to start a sentimental, emotional conversation. It's just a fact. Akechi is here, and he's glad for it.
Maruki sits up enough to stretch his arms along the back of the tub, steam wafting off his skin. He rolls his neck to one side in a stretch, then the other. Laughs, just a huff of a breath, and a humorless one at that. ]
Anger against an unjust world, huh.
[ Nothing more to it than that. If their conversation about why their personas manifested wasn't as significant to Akechi as it was to him, then it can drop easily and they can move onto other topics. ]
cw: well, murder & suicide & just some wackiness
I'm glad you're here, Akechi between whispers of smoke in a tobacco coated room, frantic, hurried newscast playing in the background - 'another psychotic break - several wounded, several dead in-' twisting into static that makes him wonder about the future prime minister's internet connection. A noise only he can hear and I'm glad you're here, x stated to the next person who walked into the room with debts to be repaid and 'I'm glad you're here, Akechi' from another formless face because Akechi is valuable and I'm glad you're here, Akechi synonymous with the state of his value and names buzzing to life in his phone to showcase his value to hear I'm glad you're here, Akechi from a man who's throat he wants to crush under his heel so all the red tinted spittle from choking out I'm glad you're here, Akechi is all his vision sees and-
I'm glad you're here Akechi to the one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten-A number he can't recollect with any degree of confidence because I'm glad you're here, Akechi lasted until the first stripped stipend came in the mail, the first request for school, the first request for a meal, the first request for anything that deviated from the subservient silence he was meant to stew in because hearing 'I'm glad you're here, Akechi' was temporary placation.
Maruki says I'm glad you're here, Akechi and his eyes don't move away from his eyes, his glasses, any microscopic clue from a liar that shows I'm glad you're here, Akechi wasn't real. I'm glad you're here, Akechi stated without a state check in hand, a list to collect debts, a perfect script to recite from.
His eyes burn. Maruki's face twists into some dizzying amalgamation of colors and thin, bright lines. His arms move. Akechi follows it. He doesn't blink. Maruki laughs. Akechi doesn't catch what he says. I'm happy you're here, Akechi a noose tightening around his neck over and over and over until his body feels like a bruised, blued corpse hanging from the rafters.
Maruki doesn't need him - Akechi effectively acting in the same parasitic way that killed his mother. Wanting attention, food, time, shared baths, walks and-
It's not the same, because Akechi doesn't want any of it. Doesn't need it. He's grown up and exploitation is to choose being a parasite. Maruki's stupid to provide. Exploitation is fine when the man follows suit with every unspoken and spoken request. It's mutual and-
Maruki doesn't need him for personas, either. A power brewing under a staunchly held together mask - wired and sewn down to his face. Akechi sees Maruki's hand move and imagines it ripping at the seams of his own flesh, pulling it apart with ease.
For a second, he sees it - blood dripping down the man's forehead, dropping into the crystalline water and-
He blinks. It's better. His brain catches up and he leans back into the water until is shoulders are consumed, his eyelashes are coated with steam.]
You remember? I suppose I'm not surprised. You might think it's related to what I said, but I imagine it relates closer to my detective work. I've seen a fair share of injustice.
[A beat, and-]
Mindless attacks on victims. Murders for no reason. There's injustice far beyond the walls housing forgotten children and my justice involves seeing it come to light.
no subject
His aim is true, and steady, and directly at Maruki. Just like every hateful word and explosive attack levied against him in the forest. Just like his gun.
Maruki looks at him. Just looks. Mild, evaluating. His glasses have mostly cleared, now that he's not sunken so far down into the water.
A breath drawn. Held for a moment, a brief hesitation where every anxious impulse in his mind rebels, asks him if he's really about to do this. Fight or flight. It's not too late to drop this conversation. To shut it down. To give a half-truth or less. To not say anything at all. To feign dizziness from the heat. To tell Akechi they'll talk about it later, some day. Anything. Do anything. Run. ]
It's a long story. I'll understand if you don't want to be subjected to that right now, or simply don't care about the details of my life. If you'd like a condensed version, or to not hear it at all, tell me and I won't be offended.
[ An exhale, sharp along with his words, and then he's breathing normally again. ]
But if not... I'd like to tell you what happened.
no subject
He waits - steady and resolute in the water, opting to shift his gaze, focus on Maruki out of the corner of his eye, instead of the direct piercing contact that distorted reality. There's no blood in the water, but-
Every word will be coated with it if Maruki speaks and-
He speaks now in attempts to escape with appeals to Akechi's apathy. A sensation that doesn't exist right now.]
I wouldn't have implied otherwise if I didn't want to hear it. After all-
[Back to the rafters, an empty noose. Against the wall, a speckle of residual viscera in some shitty rural home. On a table full of dry towels, red drips and drips and drips from the corner and-]
I'm happy you're here too, Maruki. I would like to learn about you, for as long as you're willing to speak.
cw murder
He thinks he does.
He'd like to, so he will. If it isn't real now, if he believes in it enough, it will become real eventually. ]
Right. Thank you.
[ Where to begin?
At the beginning. ]
The woman that you saw in the field was my fiancée, Rumi.
[ For as many times as he was able to give a short explanation of who she was to any dreamer who happened to stop by (or get thrown into) the lake with him, this is only the third time he's said her name. Venat, in a grove of trees on a path up a cliffside – Lioriley, tears in her eyes at her own lost love – and now Akechi, across from him in this bathhouse. ]
We met during the very first week of our first year at university and started dating almost as quickly. I hadn't ever had a girlfriend before – in fact, I didn't even really have friends in high school. My family didn't have much money, and I was entirely focused on my studies. Cram school. Working part time jobs to help us get by. It didn't leave a lot of time for anything else. Maybe now you see why I'm a little socially stunted.
[ Is he? In some ways, yes. Cheerful extroversion and genuine interest in others' lives is enough of a mask to get him through most interactions unscathed. ]
She was nothing like me. Playful, hot-headed, unwilling to tolerate anyone's foolishness, including my own... and so charming throughout all of it. She was the kind of person everyone couldn't help but love. Why she ever looked twice at me, let alone chose me, I'll never know. It was the greatest luck of my life.
[ Even when he told this story to Akira back in their reality – to Venat in this one – he hadn't said so much about Rumi herself. Only the events. But Akechi isn't just hearing about it from him. He saw her himself. She deserves to be known. ]
While I went straight into my graduate studies after university, Rumi got a good job at a bank. I couldn't have asked for a more supportive partner while I worked through my degrees. She supported both of us so that I didn't have to try to live on my student stipend. We lived on the ninth floor of an older high-rise – it wasn't fancy by any means, but she loved it. Her family lived out in the country, and she told me she'd always been determined to escape to Tokyo and never go back. I can't imagine someone as fiery as her living in such a sleepy, small town, so it made sense.
[ Just as the memories in the water shifted from their happy afternoon amongst the flowers, the story shifts now with that implication. Maruki pauses for a moment, slides his arms back down into the water, then his shoulders, all the way up to his chin. Briefly re-warming his body. His glasses fog at once and he pushes them up into his hair irritably.
He wishes he could end there. He wishes the memory had never changed. He surely witnessed his own memory more than anyone else in Somnius, touching that water over and over again both for his own study and in the pursuit of helping others. Akechi was the only one who caused it to mutate.
So he has to. He must. And besides– he wasn't kidding when he said he'd like to tell Akechi. He does want to. It's just–
Difficult. He breathes. Even, steady, purposeful. Counting the beats in his head. ]
When I was close to completing my doctorate degree, I proposed to her. It wasn't going to be a very large wedding – we had a small core group of friends from university, I had no family and she only had her parents. We started planning it right away, to happen as soon as I was at last done with school so that we could move into the next phase of our lives. The problem was...
[ Despite what's coming, he laughs, a shake of his head at his former self. ]
I still can't believe it, but I'd never actually met her parents. I can count the number of times Rumi visited home in all the years we were together on one hand, so there simply weren't opportunities. But I wanted to. It was important to me to be able to ask them for their daughter's hand in marriage. And I'd never been more nervous for anything in my life. You have to imagine, Akechi – I had been in school for my entire adult life. I had no job experience and very little money. Some of my degrees were in psychology, but I was pursuing the most niche field possible for my doctorate and too obsessed with my research to consider how unviable my career prospects were about to be. I had nothing to offer, and I was so sure they would tell me no. That the happy life Rumi and I had planned for our future would end.
[ Any fondness in his expression built up through recounting her, all the wonderfully brilliant facets of her, has faded. Beneath the water, Maruki twists his hands together. He glances down at it, not sure what he expects to see. It's only water. ]
So, we made the trip out to the countryside for her birthday. February third. It was so cold that winter. I'd never seen so much snow.
[ For some reason, that's what draws him into a lull of quiet. For a few long moments, Maruki only keeps his eyes down, his breath still coming out telltale even.
When it eventually passes, he clears his throat and sits up straighter, shoulders out of the water again, a hand coming to rest against the center of his sternum. He presses the heel of his palm into it, rubbing minutely back and forth. ]
It was an attempted robbery. I'm sure you could tell from the state of the house. We had been playing cards and paused to take a break. Her mother was making lunch. Rumi and I were in the back of the house, trying to figure out what was wrong with their internet. Stupid, huh?
[ His palm digs in harder. ]
Nothing about it made sense. Why them? They were quiet, humble people. Why their house? It was in the middle of nowhere. Why that day, of all days?
[ His worst paranoia is on the tip of his tongue. He bites it back, focuses. ]
We just don't know any reasoning behind it. Perhaps they didn't expect anyone to be home and panicked. We ran back into the main part of the house when we heard the commotion. And– you saw.
[ The phone off the hook in an aborted call for help. Her mother, trying to reach her husband. Her father, legs still tucked under the kotatsu. ]
When they were fleeing the house, Rumi got in their way. They attacked her– and I couldn't do anything.
[ Frozen, useless. He's never forgotten the way Rumi screamed when she saw her parents, the way it seemed to reverberate forever through the empty countryside, through his head and his heart. The air thick with the copper tang of blood. Everything destroyed in an instant.
Maruki looks at Akechi then, and it's likely the worst Akechi has seen him – openly sorrowful and so, so very tired. ]
The men got away. I couldn't drag her from her parents until help arrived. We were lucky that her physical injuries weren't worse, but she–
[ The story hasn't exactly come easily until now, but this is the point where it finally catches his throat. He fights to keep his voice even, recount this as factually as he can. ]
Rumi never recovered mentally. She went into a catatonic state. I visited her in the hospital every day, sat by her bed for hours, and she never saw me.
[ No, not never. ]
Sometimes– she would come out of it. But that was worse. She would relive that day until she was knocked out again. I learned from her doctors that it only happened if I was there. If she recognized my presence, or if I tried to talk about her family– and it got worse every time. It was dangerous for me to be near her.
[ And here's where the story becomes relevant to Akechi. Maruki brings his now cleared glasses back down onto his nose and looks over to him, expression gone unreadable. ]
In the middle of the worst of those breakdowns was when I heard Azathoth for the first time. I had never felt so powerless and so hateful toward our torturous reality for ruining the life of someone who did nothing wrong.
[ There is a part that he skips over, unwilling to derail this with talk of what Azathoth can truly do, still terrified to even admit it when he now knows it's completely out of the ordinary. What follows isn't a lie, but it's– ]
She was never the same again. It was as if the woman I loved had died, and there was no hope of her ever coming back. We eventually had to go our separate ways– no, that isn't accurate. I had to let her go, for her own good, so she could begin to heal without me.
[ –the truth, just with a piece missing. ]
I've heard that she's doing much better now, and that's all that I can ask for.
[ All five fingers digging into his chest now. He hardly notices it. ]
I vowed to pursue my work in cognitive psience to find a way to heal traumatic emotional wounds like Rumi's, no matter what. Everything I've done– everything I do even now is for her. Everything.
[ He has to stop then. There's nothing more to say that wouldn't be useless sentiment – he loved her, he loves her, he won't ever stop loving her, and she doesn't even know who he is.
That hand drops into the water and he settles back against the edge of the tub again, blinking, as if only now realizing just how much he said. His voice is small. ]
I'm sorry. That was a lot.
cw: MURDER cont
Plain. Typical. A mild mannered man falls for a hot headed woman - it follows conventional tropes. A meaningless backdrop for the sentimental and given where this story ends up-
What a load of good that 'greatest luck of my life' did for him, as he recounts a story meant to end in bloodshed.
But he listens with rapt attention - because he asked, because he's curious, because he can feign interest and retain information on the mundane before the real focus comes to life. Rumi isn't like his mother - Rumi was loved, adored and surrounded by people who hold her memory close. She doesn't need one more with Akechi.
It's easy to feign care, at first. People crying at his feet while they collect crime scene information of a case Akechi knows the solution for, listening to the woes of those in the throes of interrogation - he can fake it for as long as necessary.
There are hitches in Maruki's breath. Uncomfortable shifting. Akechi keeps himself steady in the background, as a statue meant to observe and nothing more. The love story didn't matter, but-
Then it breaks.
A scene explained and confirmed - questions anyone would ask when faced with the brutality of a random attack, a sudden loss with no explanation. A vision of that home reignited with Akechi's own closed eyes. One categorized and sorted through with efficiency. Two corpses - one disjointed across the floor, a man turned to organ and blood. The death of two people done with a practiced precision that makes him second guess a random robbery - a cold day, a cognitive researcher, a warning.
But Shido isn't sloppy. His people aren't idiots - too smart, almost. They would never mistake an elderly couple for the young cognitive researcher and his fiance. The connection between his niche field and their deaths not clear enough to be a morbid warning.
Shido doesn't warn. Akechi would have been sent to finish any job left undone. The cleaners don't mess up.
Then Maruki's tone shifts - the memory clear in the water when he opens his eyes, when he looks at Maruki at They attacked her and -
Anguish. A raw, primal force that would call forth a god itself.
It makes sense, suddenly, why his persona is strong, why 'it was dangerous for me to be near her' feels like a calling card. 'It was dangerous for me to be near her' and now-
He's dangerous to be around. The ironclad control on his soul the only reason why Azathoth didn't become Azathoth and-
Whatever his version of Loki would be.
A voice turned neutral, a feigned sort of protection against the unpleasant. Akechi allows it with only a glance back to the water.
He thinks about their conversation under the newly flickering starlight, pressed back against grass and a force unlike anything he's ever seen hovering over him. Loss is a powerful driving force shared in the quiet moments after battle feels more appropriate than ever.
I've heard that she's doing much better now, and that's all that I can ask for. It's all he can ask for. She's doing the best she can. A connection severed for the good of another. He did the right thing and -
I vowed to pursue my work in cognitive psience to find a way to heal traumatic emotional wounds like Rumi's, no matter what. It's a bomb. A ticking clock. Nothing about this field will cure another. It will kill. He opens his mouth to say-
Something.
To warn, in a way Shido would never allow, to provide a kindness not afforded to anyone in this world and-
Shuts it, just as fast. Loss is a powerful driving enough to spurn the life of a entity beyond all reason. Logic. Enough to press a gun to someone's head again and again and again.
A warning wouldn't stop Maruki and-
That strength of will is the reason respect formed between them, in the warped, twisted little ball it has. He wouldn't insult him by implying a teenager's vague words would be enough to end his love for Rumi. Rumi, with a murdered family. Rumi, who will be easy to find in police databases. Rumi, who-
Everything I've done– everything I do even now is for her. Everything. gave life to a man lost, even in her absence.
Akechi doesn't care about Maruki. Rumi. The intensity of the story enough to spur his own paranoia and adrenhiline with knowledge of a darker world behind scenes, but-
When he sees that hand drop, his body slump, his voice quieter than he's ever heard-
It feels like settling into a cozy cafe chair, too cheap to be comfortable, with the scent of too spicy curry coupled with a fresh cup of coffee he never has to ask for and-
It's Akechi's turn, for once, to press that piping hot cup into a lost hand.
He shouldn't care. Doesn't. A part of him staunch in its refusal to let his heart waver beyond taking in information with a clinical, cold sort of accuracy required for reports and paperwork. Man reports death of a couple, a woman injured with pinpoint precision of the scene over people.
Akechi slinks into the water himself, then slides back up.
Slides over. Close, but not quite. It's what a detective prince would do, but-
He isn't a detective prince with Maruki. Isn't Crow. Isn't even Akechi Goro in full, but he's-
Akechi.
And Akechi doesn't care about serving empty platitudes or feigned condolences. How many times has he heard 'I'm sorry for your loss' 'I'm sorry about her' 'I'm sorry about-']
You did the best you could.
[Quiet. The frayed edges of his words grasping at what little sincerity remains in his heart. His back settling against he same wall as Maruki is against, even as he remains an arm's length away.]
To turn your life into one meant to serve others, to cure them of their own wounds -
[Thoughtful and soft-he doesn't want her back. Wants others to avoid the same brutality of a life ripped apart. An impossible task, when the world is so unrelenting.]
She would be proud of you and what you've accomplished, but not for the reasons you think. Of course, I'm simply posturing, as I don't know her at all. This is only from what I've gleaned.
[A fiery, hot headed woman and a distorted love torn.]
Your fight against an unjust reality and for the broken lives in it is an uphill, unwinnable battle, but-
[His hands raise from the water, palms up, mock surrender and compliance.]
I find myself wanting to put my faith in you regardless. Isn't that funny? Perhaps it's the strength of your will that's won me over a little bit. Rumi must have seen that in you before anyone else. Some people are simply like that - they can tear down a mask before you're even aware one is on your face.
[A beat. Hands lower. Maruki's dream is so goddamn stupid. His goal impossible, but just like Joker-
There's a flicker of life he can't deny, a will impossible to ignore.]
It's fortunate you were able to meet someone who gave you freedom.
no subject
Telling Akechi, on the other hand–
You did the best you could.
Maruki turns his head. Looks at him, watches him lean back against the same wall. Listens to him, hears a note of gentle integrity in his voice that he doesn't think he ever has before. Maybe a shade of it, knelt together on that department store floor, there's no shame in feeling pain, but even then – nothing like this.
That earlier hesitant doubt swept away. Akechi does care about him. Perhaps more than anyone has in a while.
You did the best you could, and he did. It's true. He tried to reach Rumi, for months. He helped her in the only way he could, to his own detriment, and–
And it was the best he could do. And it's on the tip of his tongue. Why Azathoth's voice came to him that day, what he wished for, how she looked at him with her old bright eyes, her old smile, none of her old recognition.
Maruki swallows it back.
Swallows hard.
She would be proud. He hopes she would. A plan that had just barely begun to spin out from his own mind before he arrived here and now feels so far from his grasp that it might as well have belonged to another man entirely – even if he hasn't accomplished that, even if he doesn't. Even if every reality remains as unrelentingly, meaninglessly cruel. Would she still be proud?
Not changing one heart, changing billions. He'd promised her so much.
Maybe–
Akechi wants to put his faith in him.
Akechi has never had any interest in counseling and only a surface level respect for what he does. He's made his feelings about the sadsack whiners who take up Maruki's time plain to him. But this– faith in his larger mission, standing up against the world that has hurt them both so badly–
Maybe he wouldn't feel that way if he knew the original methods and means of that fight. But Maruki has learned new ways to bolster it in Somnius. He's learned them from Akechi. His mission has changed, invariably. And it's one Akechi can have faith in.
Even Akira didn't extend him this same grace.
He won't stop talking, soft enough that it doesn't bounce off the stone walls, firm enough that Maruki doesn't hesitate in his belief this time. Every new statement washes over him, wave after wave, until–
Rumi must have seen that in you–
No one else has said her name.
Neither Venat nor Lioriley here, and not Akira back in their reality – no one speaks of her when he tells this tale. Akechi does. Clarifies it by saying that he doesn't know her, is only speculating, and yet he makes the most astute observation of all. He says her name, and it feels held safe when he does. Maruki trusts him.
It still punches all the air out of him, though. All at once, as if swept out by great bellows. You did the best you could and she would be proud of you and I find myself wanting to put my faith in you and Rumi must have seen that and his throat has closed up, his vision wavers at the edges as he looks back down, maybe it's just the ripple of the water but they're both so still, maybe–
Maruki laughs. Just once, breathless, humorless, like it's the only sound that can be ripped from him at the moment.
Stinging heat built up behind his eyes that has nothing to do with the steam rising off the water.
He draws a hand out of the water, nudges his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. ]
Shit. Sorry.
[ He can pull it together. He's had it together for a very long time now. Another laugh, some actual life behind it this time. ]
I'm sorry. I'm fine. If you can believe it, I've never told anyone the full story before. And even the ones I've told bits and pieces– ah. No one's ever responded like that.
[ It's pathetic to admit, really, but– in some ways, Maruki isn't a liar at all. This is one of them. Emotional honesty is probably Akechi's least favorite brand of it, but at times he knows no other way.
His voice has evened out again, his vision has cleared. He pushes his glasses up into his hair abruptly and presses both hands against his cheeks, boiling warm from being in the water, bracing. A vigorous rub and a final laugh, genuine this time, as he looks over at Akechi with nothing but gratitude. ]
Thanks. For listening and for saying that. I want to put my faith in you too.
cw: MURDER THOUGHTS
Akechi looks away, as a courtesy. The waterworks are unnecessary, but allowed with the brief respite of shared secrets from a man far more emotional than he lets on.
He can believe that's a story hard wrangled - if not for the lake spilling memories neither wanted aired, Akechi never would have asked. Maruki never would have spoken. Their goals align - hobbies, interests, and even humor, on occasion. In the rare moments where collective ire pools in the wall between their rooms, a series of knocks answered by looking at the most inane shit that's ever posted on this shithole's internet.
But it's a stretch to call them friends and this -
Evokes a sensation in chest, akin to Robin Hood's ever persistent, ever annoying, presence. It bursts through his chest like blood from a broken vein, an internal wound, a fading sort of warmth that burns and hurts, more than it comforts.
Comfort, still there, all the same.
He tries to quiet it down, but it wasn't Robin Hood at all.
The thought disturbs him. Unsettles. He's dizzy from the bath and that's what's making him lose focus.]
Of course. Listening was the least I could do and I hope I said nothing offensive. Despite how many scripts I read from, I've never been the type to follow one.
[It's-
I want to put my faith in you too and-
Joker must have said that to him, once. Implied it, maybe, right before the inevitable. A muzzle pressed to his skull and regret instant in those widened eyes.
He wonders if Maruki will cry. If he'll even recognize the cold steel against his forehead, a couple centimeters above where his glasses sit. Akechi can pinpoint the exact angle, how he'll have to account for the glare of his eyewear, so he can see recognition in those final moments. Maruki's life is ever shortening countdown, just like Akechi's, but-
If Akechi can speed up his own shortened life, kill Shido before this man's godlike power is ever found out-
It won't matter anyway. It's not like he enjoys sullying his hands with mistakes and unfinished work. The Metaverse shadows are easy to wash off, even if he can always smell the decay.
Blood was harder. His gloves had to be thrown out. A new school uniform. Pinpricks of black visible with hours of close inspection. Always visible. Tiny dots the color of Joker's mask and-
If he has to kill Maruki, he'll wear different clothes. Older gloves.
Shido's election is imminent. Soon. Whatever happens, he needs to be prepared for.
His eyes hurt. Lines. Colors. A series of rapid blinks.]
However, if I may - you placing your faith in someone you hardly know, whose overall intentions are unclear outside of our obvious shared goal - those are the types of actions that could create walls for your own dreams. You should be more cautious. I've never stated my overall plan and my true intentions could be nefarious - vile, even. That goes for anyone, even the duck.
[He laughs, as if trying to break up the air itself - a hand resting under his chin in an age old habit he can't break. Bright smile returning, the truth in his words coated with an artificial sheen.]
Oh, I guess that sounds quite ominous. It's a simple word of warning. Given my profession, I've seen more than my fair share of betrayal. Often from those you think you know best - friends, partners, roommates, coworkers, family. It's rarely a stranger that hurts you the most.
[Another laugh, his hand drops into the crystal clear water.]
But you're welcome to place your faith in me. I'll try not to let you down.
cw affection
Funny.
This is so funny.
Does he profess to know Akechi perfectly well? Not at all. He never would. They have lived whole lives without one another, and there is still so much that they obfuscate from one another. There likely always will be.
But you don't spend months around someone, day in and day out, establishing the quiet routines of living and working together, revealing parts of yourselves to one another, training and fighting together and against one another in kind without learning how to handle a person well.
Maruki listens to his warnings, bites the inside of his cheek to force himself not to smile. The almost-tears are forgotten; they'll be back later, when he's alone in his room, still bath-warm and thinking back on Akechi's words to commit them to memory. Now he's only–
Endeared, really.
Akechi is a liar, but not always. There are kernels of truth in these statements, Maruki knows that. And he would love nothing more than to know Akechi's larger plan – Xie Lian's meddling still fresh in his mind, the mania in Akechi's eyes as he stormed out of the castle – but what good would it be to ask now? Akechi wouldn't reveal it.
Maruki didn't reveal his, either. Despite appearances.
They're liars. But that doesn't mean the trust isn't there, and the faith.
He looks at Akechi like he's just rattled off a particularly long grocery list to a person who's already done half of the shopping. Of course these are things Maruki knows. Has experienced in his own life. Expression mild, brows raised, but words sincere as ever. ]
I appreciate the warning, but it only seems fair if you're doing the same to me. I know you won't let me down.
[ A stretch, his arms over his head, the shifting blood flow a little dizzying for how long they've been in here. ]
By the way...
[ And then Maruki finally lets that smile loose, all the genuine affection he feels for Akechi and all the exasperated mischief along with it. ]
Enthralled?
[ A hand against the top of Akechi's head, quick as a whip.
And then he's shoved over and facedown into the hot water.
Say odd shit, get dunked. ]
no subject
[The shift in tone so rapid that he barely registers the word Enthralled. An answer stated fast and automatic, like the pressure against his head is a secret button for the word No. A habit woven so deep into his psyche from only a few weeks of consistent back and forth, he isn't sure how long it will take to shake off.
And then-
He's fucking-
Dunked.
And by god if Robin Hood doesn't flicker to life behind him - static from a radio after a short bump in the road. There, and gone. It's harder to make that persona linger out of spite alone.
And he's up in record goddamn time - sopping wet face and fringe, rapidly blinking eyes to remove water from his vision. No time to wipe them, his hands have another use and it's to lunge forward, arms out, to push Maruki's whole body into the steaming hot pool. Maybe, potentially, holding him under for a very hot second.
And then he lets go! Whoops, never meant to do that. Gosh!]
Oh, my apologies - I slipped.
no subject
So when he gets shoved over and held down, he gets a mouthful of water.
He's spluttering as he comes back up, hot hot hot hot hot! and desperately swiping at his eyes.
His eyes? ]
My glasses!
[ Yeah, they're still underwater. Somewhere. He feels around desperately, still laughing at Akechi even as he coughs and tries to get his bearings. ]
Well, I think I was owed that after how many times I got you into that lake, so I'll take it.
[ Glasses secured, thank god, but they're useless now. Maruki pushes his wet hair back off his forehead and then slides them up as well. Akechi is blurred again, but there's surely a faux innocent look over his face, as if he's never done a single thing wrong in his life.
He settles back in the same spot as before, sunken down to his shoulders again, blissful despite the interruptions of shared traumas and playfighting. ]
How much longer can you stand to stay here? I'm not in any rush.
no subject
The kind-hearted Detective Prince even makes a half assed effort to look for the glasses, albeit by trying to kick it out of range with his foot. Accidentally, of course. The mysterious bath water current is beyond his control.
Maruki finds his glasses, Akechi settles down and back into his spot. Ever the vision of compliance and calm.]
Oh, I could stay here for hours, if given the opportunity. Even when I get dizzy, it's still enjoyable and I find it difficult to leave. I'm able to outlast anyone in a bath. That's not me bragging, of course. Just a statement.
[That touch of heat stroke - he loves it.
And he's on the verge of it now with that ever familiar world churning sensation, heart pounding rapidly against in his ribs - it's the best. He sinks back down until his shoulders are submerged, mimicking Maruki's own posture. ]
You're welcome to leave when you're finished. I'll likely stay a bit longer.
no subject
He's also the closest friend Maruki has had in long, long years.
He laughs, shakes his head, relaxes even further into the water until it laps at his nape, the hair there gently curling as it tries to dry. ]
No, I'll stay until you're ready. It's a welcome break after that nightmare.
[ The Forest of Dreams and two weeks spent in and out of that goddamn lake, or the recounting they just went through? Both, maybe. Not even Maruki is sure. He only knows what he feels more relaxed than he has since arriving in Somnius – since long before then, probably – and won't see it end too soon. The dizzy heat is satisfying when he closes his eyes and tips his head back against the ledge of the pool, resting it there, face upturned toward the rafters. ]
Akechi.
[ Quieter, more serious than the way they just sniped at one another. Not so much so as to drop them back into the depths they just pulled one another out of, but close. ]
In the future, if you eventually feel like telling me your overall plan, I'd like to hear it.
[ He can't imagine what it might be, yet he can't imagine that he'll disagree with it. ]
:)
But the words sit on his lips, for a moment. In the way they used to when Joker would perch next to him, the silence a string of tension tugging him back together and relief ripping him apart.
In the wake of shared secrets, the request only ignites a small flare in him. One he can't fully associate with anger. The goal is his - only his. A spark of light in a dark room, forgotten by another temporary family. An idea that filled his empty bag, when he was inevitably left alone outside, waiting for a social worker to pick him up. It's what he fought for. Killed for. A piece of his heart no one can rip away from him because it was, and will only ever, belong to him.
His hands move aimlessly under the water, making small currents with wiggling fingers.
It's not like Xie Lian's meddling. A man who claims to know him, it's-
Someone that knows him now, to the basest extent another human being is allowed.]
If you're not busy during the first of the year, will you come to the shrine with me? I haven't gone since I was a child.
[A final moment, a small chance - a part of his brain floundering at the request. Baffling to his own spirit, as it must be to hear.
Because Maruki will find out.
A missing Detective Prince, whether reported through media or Maruki's own missed texts, combined with the sudden death of a prime minister, after that scum's sins are revealed to the world-
After the connection of both to the murders, mental shutdowns, psychotic breaks, a phantom thief disposed under mysterious circumstances, and cognitive world are clear-
Maruki will know what his plan was, if he's still alive. If Akechi can time the slot of the final puzzle piece just right, to ensure his success and the life of someone he could give two shits about.
But he owes him for the food, the time spent together, enthrallment wrangling and their eventual escape. He owes him a singular attempt to stop the inevitable and nothing more. ]
I'll be swarmed by fans if I go alone.
killing you with hammers
Maruki considers the implication between his prompt and Akechi's response. What it might mean as an oblique answer. He'll be considering it for a very long time.
But the invitation itself, he doesn't need to think twice about. ]
Oh? Sure, I'd be happy to have someone to go with again.
[ Simple, sincere. He really does mean it.
Their overall goals might be shrouded from one another, but at the moment there is one shared: To leave this place, to rip through the layers of cognitive plane after cognitive plane until they can return to their own reality. Everything they do here is in service of that, and is shared with one another in a mutual interest to see their plan succeed.
Maruki has thought several times over the past months that it's probably a stupid, vanishing hope that this strange friendship might continue once they achieve their goal. Akechi has his celebrity image to maintain. A job as a detective. Surely a path laid out for university. Their paths would never have crossed without the manipulative intervention of Somnius. They've both vowed not to forget a single moment of this place, yet there would be no reason for them to carry on a bond forged because of it.
Objectively, he knows all of this. But when it's held up against the notion of returning home and letting their friendship be lost to the vagaries of life in Tokyo, it hurts. Plainly, and deeply. A blade slid between his ribs. It would hurt to let this sort of understanding, respect and trust drop away, nothing to replace it. It would hurt to lose Akechi.
The invitation has more meaning to it than he can discern at the moment. But if nothing else, it is at the very least confirmation that no, even after they slip between realities, their bond will not be lost.
Maruki smiles at him, nothing less than genuine in its warmth. ]
Thanks. It's a plan.
EVIL CAITLIN cw: murder & wrap prolly
[Spoken with a confidence not meant for this request, it's-
Unfortunate he can't discern if the woozy sensation that follows comes from the heat or the impossible task before him.
Whether he succeeds or fails - there's only one goal that's overarching and necessary. If Maruki dies, when Akechi dies - none of it matters as long as Shido's throat is slit in some revolting office.]