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: 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.]