[ It probably doesn't help at all that Maruki is just as stunned at his own admission as Akechi is. The two of them, trapped in a cognitive city overrun with monsters, staring at each other dumbly between snack aisles. It would be comical if it didn't feel so–
Maruki licks his lips uselessly, draws a deep breath to try to steady his pounding heart. All the adrenaline from running and fighting for their lives that was gradually beginning to fade in their temporary shelter has resurfaced, now from the anxiety of talking about something so–
Pivotal. Integral to his whole self. Mysterious. Confusing. Desperately, deeply necessary.
There's so much to it, and so little he knows how to explain.
He nods, refocuses on cleaning the wound, which can only be delicate for so long. He knows it must hurt as he moves past the edges, blood soaking into the wipe and scent of ethanol sharp in the air between them, even if Akechi doesn't react. ]
I'll tell you, but I'll apologize in advance, as well. You'll likely find the story lacking. It's all– new to me. Very new.
[ Breathe. Steady. Remember. Remember. ]
I had horrible headaches for years. They were bad enough that I went to doctors, but there was nothing physically wrong with me. It was chalked up to stress from grad school and trying to secure work as a researcher.
[ He wants to be honest with Akechi, as requested, but there are parts he can't share. Not even because of what he'd done. Because it's still barred off from him, a room his mind doesn't allow him into for his own ability to stay upright. And now, more than ever, he needs to remain functional. So he edges around it, keeps his tone as even as it can be. ]
I was going through a lot at the time, and I had a bit of a breakdown. I cried out for help. And– Akechi-kun, I know it sounds like madness, but I heard a voice.
[ It had terrified him. It had been such a comfort. He misses it so much. ]
I would hear it occasionally over the years. Only in my times of greatest need. It was barely understandable, but it was undoubtedly present.
[ The wound is as clean as it will get. He folds the bloodied wipe up, lays it on the top of the shelf, barely cognizant of potential biohazard waste. What does it matter, in a cognitive world? What does any of this matter? What would happen to them if they let a monster trample them?
Focus.
Maruki uncaps a bottle of ointment and daubs it on the wound as he goes on, his movements methodical, his voice straining. ]
Just hours before I arrived here, I heard the voice again. Clearer than ever before. And it– manifested, as you said.
[ He hesitates for a moment and meets Akechi's eyes, apologetic. ]
I haven't been entirely truthful with you, but it's only because I've truly believed that what happened to me was a product of my own mind. The– what we saw in my dream, that's part of it. I don't think I could begin to describe what the rest of it looks like. And when I told you I had just signed something before being brought to this reality...
[ Back to focusing on the wound. ]
It wasn't a signature with pen and ink. I– contracted, I guess, with that– thing.
[ Azathoth. ]
And that was it. I woke up here without it. I haven't been able to make sense of it since then, until– now.
[ He finally trails off with an exasperated laugh, wipes his hand off on the wet cloth over his shoulder, and begins searching the kit for gauze and bandages. ]
Again, I'm sorry. It's hardly descriptive. I know less than you do by a wide margin. I can't believe I've told you any of this. God.
[He listens. Intent on burning every word to memory, past conversations relaying in tandem with new information spewing from his mouth. Hesitant. Trusting.
He really told Akechi everything because of a shared ability. A simple request. That's all it took. It's why he would be dead, if not for Vaeros' power spiriting them away. If someone from Shido's shadow came by - whispered something about an ability, gave him comfort in a shared experience those words -
Would have died splattered against the wall of his shitty apartment. In black, murky liquid spewing from eyes and mouth with all will torn apart, piece by pathetic piece.
It stings. He doesn't care. It doesn't make sense - goes against the norms of the other persona users, the minor knowledge gleaned from Wakaba's research, the topics he overheard from Shido's private researchers.
Headaches. Extensive time. A voice. Manifested -
Later, much later. In the real world because Maruki didn't know about the cognitive world like he did and-
They talked about powers in a shared room - Maruki lied then. So did Akechi.
They conversed about the cognitive world over a shared meal - Akechi lied then. So did Maruki.
They spoke in vague, broad strokes on a dirt coated path to the castle - they both lied. Maruki is a liar. A good one. Akechi is a liar. A better one. Impossible to discern if he's being woven into another far fetched tale, but the hesitancy, the explanations, the it sounds like madness-
A churning sensation in his chest - Maruki's path is leading him to certain death. Anything Akechi relays propels him closer to that shadow. It's too much knowledge for someone in his position.
If he cared about the man in any capacity, he would rip this story to shreds. Make him question everything. Make him repress everything. Make him think he's insane for even uttering tales about this and-
He doesn't care - not one bit. Not for a second. It's easy to blink and breathe away static in his skull. He doesn't care about Maruki, so his mouth opens and-]
I see.
[His eyes stay strained against the bumpy, torn flesh on his arm, fixating on inflamed pink and red. Shifting of paper and tools. Loud slams in the ground. Groaning buildings. Distant shattering.
He doesn't care about Maruki, so he keeps talking.]
For the record, you aren't mad. While your awakening has some odd inconsistencies, certain aspects remain true to a known standard. Hearing a voice and agreeing to a contract, then-
[Robin Hood burns - bright and gentle throughout his chest. He hates it.]
It's always with you. There, when you need it most, even if you can't summon it. Vaeros may have dampened it for now, but your strength of will ensures it's never lost. Robin Hood is proof of that.
[A beat - he moves his arm a bit. Waves it to dry the alcohol and elicit more stings to ground him.]
Thank you for telling me. As usual, you are full of surprises. To think you had that kind of power - well, I'm certainly happy we're allied.
[ Maruki listens to him so, so intently. Every reassuring word another tether anchoring his panicked mind and beleaguered heart back to reality – or whatever poor excuse for a reality they're in now. The gratitude probably wears openly on his face. He doesn't know. He's not aware of anything he's doing for a moment.
Your strength of will ensures it's never lost.
What he won't admit, not to Akechi, not to anyone: Half of the time he's been in Somnius so far, he really has thought he's simply in the throes of another breakdown. It all aligned too perfectly. The voice made tangible in front of him, threading their souls together and aligning them perfectly with the collective unconscious, giving him the power he'd worked his whole life toward. And then nothing: A wish, a contract, in a strange new reality, when in his own his wish had already been fulfilled and his contract already signed.
He really had begun to convince himself that it couldn't have actually happened. That it was tied up in whatever manipulation done to his cognition to bring him here in the first place.
Akechi dispels those notions at once.
He doesn't know what to say. Doesn't say anything for a long while, only focuses on securing the gauze over the wound before wrapping Akechi's arm. The flickering barely-there light of the drink shelf. The chaos outside, far, but not far enough. His own heartbeat rattling through his ribs.
When he finishes, he takes a step back. Tries to form words. Fails. Pushes his glasses up into his hair and presses the heel of one palm to a closed eye. Laughs, not at himself, not at the ridiculousness of their situation, just at the way the universe works. ]
Sorry, I'm usually better with my words than this. Shit. Ah, I–
[ Deep inhale through the nose. Hold it. Exhale through the mouth, slow, deliberate. He drops his hand, straightens his glasses back onto his nose, and looks at Akechi in a whole new light. ]
Thank you. For understanding, and for showing me– that it's real. It can be real.
[ When they get out of this fucking labyrinth, he knows exactly where he's going. ]
I'm grateful to have you as an ally too. More grateful than ever.
[ He's already indebted to Akechi for protecting his life here, and now this. How Maruki will ever begin to repay him, he doesn't know.
No, he does. They just need to make it back to their reality intact.
His head is beginning to ache, right at the base of his skull, where it always used to. Too many thoughts. One thing at a time.
He grabs the kit and hands it to Akechi before lowering himself to the ground, leaning heavily against the opposite shelf. ]
Sit. Wrap your ankle. I can see you're favoring the good one. And– I'll have a thousand questions later, once my own abilities have been returned to me, but if I can ask one now... This power. These things. Why us?
[This is a mess. A baffling disaster in the making. It's akin to the Phantom Thieves traversing mindlessly through the Metaverse, not a goddamn care in the world. Stupid teenagers who didn't understand what they were messing with, on an supposed altruistic journey to fix distorted desires.
They ruined people. Akechi ruined people. Maruki will ruin people.
His arm feels better. That annoys him. The care taken to wrap the injury allowing some reprieve with the numbing ointment. His own self care is normally quick, intentional and rough. It always hurts after.
This doesn't hurt and -
Maruki steps back in a manner Akechi isn't accustomed to. Looks torn, utters a curse with a normally pleasant tongue that keeps those reactions in check and -
He smiles, because he's supposed to. Forgiving, gentle, kind Detective Prince who gives information, who comforts, who-
Sets people up to die by his own hand it's-
Funny, honestly. Maruki knew too much. Knows too much. Is interested in too much. He was likely always on someone's radar - his newfound power with expediate it and -
Maybe it won't matter if he can lay low until Shido's corpse lays at his feet. If Maruki can't, then Akechi's all too happy to walk over his rotting body first. It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter. That twisted expression of relief for a power he didn't understand doesn't matter.
He smiles because none of this goddamn shit matters.
All he needs to do is see what power he's dealing with and how annoying it might be battle, if it comes to that.]
Of course, Maruki-san. It must have been frightening to deal with that alone. To be honest, I felt the same - after it happened, I thought...
[Nothing. Because it was planned, expected, known. It's all bullshit, except-
For a second, he remembers standing in the depths of some unknown person's palace, shorter, smaller, weaker. A gun in hand. A task in mind. The first run in with shadows - grotesque monsters he couldn't figure out how to give form too. He remembers-
Not caring. He doesn't. Didn't. It didn't matter because everything is planned.
Like the way he slides to the ground, ever compliant. Ever the shining example of how a perfect teenager should act.]
Well, never mind. To that question - I don't know, as disappointing as that is to hear. It almost makes a person feel like they were chosen for something greater, doesn't it? A goal beyond simple matters in everyday life. Why else would such a power be awakened in so few?
[He reaches forward to roll up the edge of his pant leg - a less prominent mark burning red across his ankle.]
Or maybe this is our tree of knowledge and our contract was a temptation we should have ignored. A bite from an apple to be resisted - now we failed and we're doomed to live our lives in some madman's dream.
[He chuckles - quiet and calm. Leans back against the chips with an intent to crush every one along his spine.]
I'm kidding on that last one. It's our will and it's always been within us. Our right, even, to hold and wield such awakened abilities. The truth will always come out. One day, the answer will be made clear.
[ Like an icepick to the back of his neck, plunged in and twisted to drive straight up through the base of his skull, into his grey matter: It almost makes a person feel like they were chosen for something greater, doesn't it?
For a moment all he can see is brilliant, blinding light. White marble, expansive spiraling stairs, endless halls lined with flowers. Eden.
It's gone as quickly as it came. He blinks spots out of his vision, smiles at Akechi. Relieved, grateful. And something else. ]
No apologies necessary. As you've seen tonight, I clearly don't have any concrete answers to offer myself. And I like to hear your thoughts regardless.
[ He really does. Akechi has a way of taking in what he says and handing it back to him, reshaped and reconfigured to make him consider things in a new light. Just like Akira, seated across from him in that nurse's office, listening patiently to his theories and giving his honest, astute thoughts, guiding him by the hand down the twisting corridors of his own mind.
They're so alike. They're nothing alike at all. Maruki wouldn't know what to do without both of their influences on his life now.
He stretches his legs out in front of him, long enough that they touch the opposite shelf that Akechi rests against. Exhaustion and soreness are starting to seep into his body as adrenaline ekes out. ]
When it returns to me, we ought to...
[ He gestures vaguely between them, unsure of what to ask for. ]
I didn't know they could fight like that. I'll probably have to ask you to show me what to do. I apologize in advance.
[ A beat. He leans his head back against the stupid crunching chip bags, closes his eyes. ]
Azathoth, by the way. That's its name.
[ It's such a profound thing to finally say aloud. It only strengthens his conviction that he will be returned to him, wholly intact, and now with power that Maruki wasn't even aware of just ready to be ferreted out.
It can only help them in their shared goal here, and then whatever awaits both of them in their own reality. He doesn't ask. Save it for another time, a safer environment. Save it to ask alongside all of the other questions yet to come. ]
[Is he asking for tips? Unreal, but it's the natural progression of this conversation and truths laid bare. Akechi is the only other experienced persona user here. It's logical. It's beneficial. He learns about this goddamn annoyance and knows what to expect in the real world, when he inevitably figures out how to get to the Metaverse.
What a fucking day.
Azathoth is a familiar name - right on the tip of his tongue. Learning about Captain Kidd and the rest of the Phantom Thieves personas threw him into the depths of Google immediately after their first bout. He'll have to research the old fashioned way. There's a novelty in that.]
Then I look forward to it. We'll find out what Azathoth is capable of, though I have to warn you - my abilities were among the ones nerfed. Robin Hood doesn't have its usual repertoire and the ones that remain are weak in comparison to the power they had before.
[He stretches both arms - newly bandaged straining against the gauze, the tension in his muscles ebbing away.]
You may be surprised when we return to our world is all I mean by that. What we find out here may not be the full extent of what you can do. Don't be disappointed if it's not what you expect.
[ Easy to not be disappointed when he has no expectations to begin with.
They fall into idle chatter that quickly peters off into exhausted silence, trade off a couple hours of sleep each while the other stays alert. He wishes he could let Akechi sleep longer, watching him curled in on himself on the floor using his good arm as a pillow. It's incredible, how much pain was able to take – and deeply troubling in a way Maruki hasn't yet had time to grapple with. The last time he saw someone so injured–
There's no need to think about any of it. There's no need to think at all. He lets Akechi sleep, listens to the quiet metronome of his breath and the distant sounds of destruction. Stares into space, lets his eyes unfocus and mind go hazy.
When he does sleep, sprawled out on his back with an arm slung over his eyes and Akechi sitting watch, it's dead and dreamless. Thank god. Small blessings. If he had to counsel anyone in his cognitive Shujin office right now, he might actually snap.
Morning dawns, a weak and dingy light filtering into their temporary safe haven – and it is temporary, the rumbling having grown closer all throughout the night. They don't discuss much. It's implicitly understood that they will not wait here to see if it passes or if they're crushed and killed. Moving out is the more dangerous option, but it is at least an active one.
Maruki pours bottled water into Akechi's cupped hands for him to splash over his face, his fringe plastering against his forehead, and he marvels all over again at this strange companionship.
Their trek through the ruined city takes on a different tone on the second day. Akechi is no more subdued despite his injuries, still clearly tempering his delight at cleaving through the monsters, still commanding Robin Hood with a vicious efficiency. And Maruki–
Watches. Wants to watch.
He's still doing what he needs to do, taking cover until it's clear, seeking out paths of least resistance that they can follow. But his focus has shifted, and his new interest in the battles is sharpened, keen.
If this is power nerfed, he can't imagine what Akechi is capable of in the cognitive world.
If this is how Robin Hood does his work, he can't wait to see what the blind idiot god will be able to do, even in a weakened state.
Unfortunately, it doesn't keep him quite so far out of the fray as he was on the first day. There are a few close calls, bitten-off shouts from Akechi to please remain hidden where you belong, nothing too dicey until–
Robin Hood brings down a monster that's only mid-size compared to the others, that same fucking flash of light that Maruki knew he saw from Akechi's room – and it's down, certainly, crushing an abandoned drugstore beneath it as it goes, but it's not out.
He sees Akechi abandoning all pretenses with Robin Hood and going for it with his knife and ducks out from behind a mangled husk of a bus to– to do what, he doesn't know, shout at him to be careful, remind him they need to keep moving– it doesn't matter. Too close, too sudden, and he just barely dodges out of the way of the thing's flailing, writhing claws. ]
No–!!
[ It isn't an artful dodge at all. He hits the ground hard enough to rattle his head for a moment, eyes wide and wild on Akechi above him. Ears ringing. Dagger clutched uselessly in one hand. And the monster staggering closer to them with a grim grip on its remaining life. ]
The one goddamn thing he required of Maruki brushed aside. A petulant child that can't keep his hand out of a cookie jar.
They had a routine, a system, a plan. Akechi kills, he hides. It's so fucking simple and yet-
Much like the Phantom Thieves, it's never an easy venture. Ignored maps, chests, swarms of enemies they can't handle provoked by an idiot stepping out of line-
Maruki hits the ground just as Akechi resigned to dig his blade into the side of the flailing creature instead of wasting Robin Hood's limited stamina - a plan ruined the second he hears 'No'.
It's his own fault and the consequences are immediate. Good. It's a fucking lesson.
Coiled and taut, his voice does nothing to hide his irritation. He doesn't lean down to pick up Maruki or assist. Doesn't check if there's an injury. No -
Get up or die. ]
I would ask what you were thinking, but there's clearly nothing happening in your head right now.
[Robin Hood is at its limit - summoned anyway as a last resort to a beast Akechi could kill with a dagger, if he wasn't standing guard near some limp limbed idiot who felt like his power of giving a cognitive lesson could defeat a monster.
He pushes Maruki's leg with his foot - half tempted to kick him out of the battle, right into the damp, desolate alleyway he should have been holing up in.
Except-
No. It's time to learn and while Maruki may be fond of coddling, Akechi isn't. Even with his act a thin veneer in the midst of this nightmare, it's still there. His voice is light. Doesn't match his words and there's a clear displeasure under the airy, strained tone.]
Now since you're so eager, let's start your first lesson - get the hell up.
[ Oh, he deserves every bit of Akechi's thinly veiled ire that he gets and he's fully aware of that.
Watching a fight from a safe distance is one thing – lets him take mental notes on things to ask about later, lets him theorize and strategize in between cowering for safety. But being in the fight itself–
Akechi's right. There's nothing at all going on in his head. His mind is a perfect blank slate.
Terrifying.
Ideal for learning.
He gapes up at Akechi for a moment longer before his body acts on instinct, following instructions, fighting to keep him alive even if and when his mind won't. He rises unsteadily to his feet, glasses askew, clothes damp with the standing water that gathers in parts of the city as infrastructure breaks down and blood and viscera, breath coming almost rapid enough to be hysterical– but he's standing all the same.
The handle of the dagger stings against his palm, the skin torn to shreds from where they had to skid and stumble through obliterated structures. He grips it tighter anyway.
He's not a fighter. He never has been.
He has to be now.
Yours would only need to be used in the event of my incapacitation or if we're separated.
Hilarious. Here they are, side by side, and Akechi's going to make him use it anyway.
Maruki's voice is rough, strained. Hoarse from shouting over death and destruction for nearly two days straight. ]
Akechi.
[ It's asking so much of this young man, to teach him to fight with weapons physical and cognitive alike, and Maruki has never been in the habit of asking much of anyone at all – but there is some strange bond forged here between them, the only two from their reality, the only two with the powers they have, the only two alive in this whole godforsaken false city.
Maruki trusts him. Implicitly. And he knows he will find a way to pay back everything he's asked of Akechi and more. ]
A resolve appearing in this unexperienced man - a reminder that a persona awakened in his spirit, however tempered he acts. There's rebellion. There's drive. There's power.
It reminds him -
Of cards floating against his skull in the middle of a warped casino - the specific sort of elation that came with standing beside someone with the same fiery temperament, no matter how twisted their paths were from one another. Nothing stopped Joker until the bitter, painful end.
And nothing will stop Akechi. Nothing will stop Maruki.
The honorific dropped - a new sensation forged in that sudden respect, in affection, in trust, in a friend.
He wants to throw up. Says nothing about it. Steels himself to face a cornered, injured creature. Listens to his companion's tone.
There's an authority in Akechi's voice that hasn't existed in months - firm and wound. Coiled with ire. Unraveling slowly into a tempered calm. ]
It's weakened, but don't let your guard down. You've been watching the fights - you know their attack and defense patterns. Don't psych yourself out.
[A bloodied dagger points towards a mark on the creature's neck - battered by Robin Hood and Akechi alike. Skin ripped, flayed open to pinky flesh and blue veins. A final blow is needed.]
Hit the weak point and end this. I'll make sure the creature is distracted, but if you don't commit -
[His stance doesn't change - only his gaze shifts to the side to watch. Maruki has proven himself in some ways. Disproven in others. Killing is a whole new level - shadow, monster or person. No persona to blame. The blood will be on his hands.]
We both die. Robin Hood is out of stamina. This is up to you now.
[In truth, Akechi will be able to eviscerate the creature before either one of them is ruined. Robin Hood still has a bit of SP left to use.
It's a matter of seeing how far Maruki is willing to go.]
Are you ready, Maruki?
CW VIOLENCE CW GRAPHIC INJURY CW MEMORIES OF MURDER BABY LET'S GO
[ There is no part of him that wants to kill, or even to hurt. Person, monster, shadow that he hasn't witnessed yet. None of them deserve pain, especially not at his hand.
Prior to the events in the labyrinth, he would have said – in total honesty, with every ounce of conviction burning in his heart – that he would rather die than ever harm another creature.
Things change. Maybe he wasn't committed quite so completely to those words.
If you don't commit, we both die.
It's easy to think you'll lay down and accept defeat until the possibility is presented to you for the first time. You can't possibly know what other reserves of strength and viciousness you can draw from until they're revealed to you by force. ]
Yes. I'm ready.
[ Maruki hesitates only for half a moment more, just long enough to send a thought of forgiveness into the primordial chaos of the universe in the hopes that it will one day be returned to him, and then he closes in to slash at the creature's gouged neck.
Two problems with this immediately become apparent:
The dagger is short. He has to move in close. Very close.
And for all the rebellion coursing through his body from its origin point in that cavernous space at the back of his mind, he lacks the finesse of actual skill.
The blade makes contact. Painful contact, by the way the creature shrieks and convulses, the fresh blood that spurts out – but it's not deadly contact at all. And it pisses the thing off.
He jerks away from its snapping jaw as it flails in blind pain, practically trips over his own feet as he does, and so puts himself right in the path of the danger he doesn't see.
Its arm suffered the brunt of one of Robin Hood's attacks, then took the weight of its collapse. It's burnt, skin and muscle tattered, a massive bone piercing through sickly scaled flesh, but the creature has involuntary survival instincts too. It tries to bring the arm down with its usual force, enough for claws to shred through steel with ease. It can't. It's dying. It's weak.
But weak doesn't mean harmless. A claw catches Maruki's right shoulder on the downswing, gouges into it and partway down his back, rips an inhuman sound from somewhere deep in his soul, the likes of which he's only ever heard once, and it wasn't from his own mouth–
He's never felt such pain in his life, never thought it possible. Beyond all senses. It burns so bright-hot that it goes dark and dead almost instantly, like his body wasn't meant to process that much pain at once and simply shuts that part of his mind down. He must be bleeding. His shirt must be shredded. He can't feel any of it. He can't move that arm. He can't move at all, stunlocked by his own shock.
And he's furious.
To be so useless in a fight that he couldn't even follow the patterns he'd been observing for days– to have powers that he didn't even know he could use ripped from him before he could ever learn to defend himself or anyone else– to have been out of the house when the robbers came– to have been too late returning to be any help at all– to know that even if he had been present, he would have been overpowered, maimed alongside Rumi or killed alongside her parents like the pathetic nobody that he was– to be here, now, in this bullshit reality within a reality, so far from everything he knows, every scrap of control he managed to learn and seize with his own two hands–
His left hand grabs the dagger from his useless right and plunges it, inelegant and unskilled and backed by nothing but outrage to live, directly into the creature's exposed veins.
It all happens quickly. Nearly instantaneously. The original hit, the injury, the kill. A suspended moment in time he'll never forget, and over before he's even realized that it's happened to him at all.
Maruki rips the dagger out, drops it, staggers back. Grabs his shoulder. Feels blood beneath his palm, between his fingers. Stares wild and silent at Akechi, changed. ]
[There's a minimal expectation of success and Maruki is set up to fail without knowing. These monsters are difficult even with Akechi's experience and it's a blood pounding, erratic, manic sensation that drives him into the flesh of every creature they can't navigate around.
He expects nothing - braces himself and the gnawing pressure of Robin Hood to act. Subdues it. Holds back. Does his part in distracting the beast and-
Maruki goes for it. Doesn't withhold any power or fall to hesitation. It's a beginners mistake that enrages the creature and Akechi doesn't warn on purpose. All of them are the same - a desire to live overriding reason, cornered and trapped in twisting streets. The man needs to learn - this is a make or break moment.
A curdling screech and a blow to his shoulder that blooms red against exposed skin. A desire to yell 'Heal yourself genius' tempered by their reality - no items, no healing skills and only a basic first aid kit picked up from some shitty rural marketplace.
An injury would stop a weaker person - one of that magnitude would paralyze a normal person. Earlier lies forced aside as he moves to finish the monster himself - the only expected outcome from this and-
Maruki isn't normal.
Not one bit.
A bitter realization that he had underestimated yet another person in his life as the writhing suffering creature takes its final breath. Maruki did it and-
That wild look is met with something manic in Akechi's own vision. A blood drenched altruist - a pacifist, the traditional hero who wants to heal, to save, to create new life in healed minds-
Ripping life from something else. Falling down, down, down into the trenches with him. Willingly.
Akechi laughs - frayed and free. A hand weaving through his own disgusting hair to tug, reframe, redirect, get back and-
He smiles - a semblance of genuine on the edges as his hand drops.]
Nice one. I'm impressed - you did well, despite your inability to dodge.
[A soul dissipates into dust to settle deep in his chest and-
It's his turn to assess the damage. A creature dead - distant rumbles the sound of reprieve. A man alive, ripped free from the last stand of another.
The damage is rough - he can't see how deep the wound is and knows it's a miracle it didn't rip through his body. If he died, Akechi wouldn't have batted an eye.
He tries to ignore the way his head pounds when he thinks about it two seconds longer. Grips Maruki's forearm to steady him because he knows adrenaline overrides only for a short time and then-]
There's a department store to the right - let's go. We're taking a break.
Delirious. Exhausted. Pained beyond comprehension. Barely conscious of his own actions. Proud, somehow, and shy under the sincere sounding praise.
He takes the stability of Akechi holding his arm gratefully and nods, breathless, chest heaving.
One battle under his belt and he needs a break. That's not ideal. But it's definitely necessary, more than necessary, he can't manage to form words around the sheer burning down his back.
The dagger. Eren told him to bring it back in good condition. He stoops to grab it before they stagger off, then his abandoned satchel dropped in the fight, then nothing. Only gritting his teeth and trying to temper his breath and following alongside Akechi into safety, again.
A department store is a pretty ideal safe haven, far better than that shit convenience store. There's probably a lot here they could use. There's certainly better cover. He doesn't know. All he can do is put one foot in front of the other until Akechi stops them, then drops down to kneel wherever that is.
He thinks, unbidden, of Venat. That healing magic in the garden.
Who knows if the same logic applies to their manifestations? Not Maruki. He has no idea. But he looks up at Akechi anyway, squinting through the pain, and grins unsteadily. ]
[Light and airy, like they're settled across a counter enjoying dinner and talking about something mundane - people, places or a shared nostalgia.
With Maruki settled on a disgusting floor - clothes, cosmetics and everything else strewn in places it shouldn't, Akechi goes behind a checkout counter to scavenge. Their first aid kit is limited and every passing day is a reminder to ration.
An old water bottle freckled with plastic residue. Sealed, iffy, but useable. A single band aid with floral print. No kit. He takes both and a hideous lime green scarf.]
No, my persona has no capability to heal and even if it did, I wasn't lying about being out of stamina. Robin Hood might have one more attack left, if we're fortunate.
[Grim reminders of reality. Akechi's at his limit - nearly two days with near constant battles enough to run him ragged.
It's not comfort that settles in the pit of his stomach as he takes stock of Maruki's injury. It's nothing. It's-
A blood soaked back serving as a permanent, persistent reminder that he isn't battling alone. That he isn't the only one willing to fight, to kill, to survive. That there's no argument over sanctity of fake realities and lives when they're both in the trenches.
He wants to be alone and-
Akechi's never been gentle. Isn't a doctor. All his skills come from youtube videos after agonizing palace escapes and makeshift cures with salvaged supplies.
Maruki knew what to do.
And so, Akechi remembers and relives that lesson like the videos he used to watch in the middle of night to wind down.
Water on lime green cloth, press it against the injury - rinse, repeat, wipe until it's only speckles of flesh shining through clotting veins. He isn't gentle by nature, but he makes an attempt to not do to Maruki what he would do to himself. Unpracticed, rough, but not uncompassionate.]
We'll need to reassess our plan later.
[Lime green speckled and stained - the design looks better. Wearable, in a hilarious way.
He holds a hand out - a silent request for the satchel while the mental video is paused in his mind.]
After we eat, drink and rest. You'll be sleeping first.
[ Quiet, mostly to himself. So that's what they're called.
He likes it. He'd like to read up on theory behind it, if it existed. Maybe it does. Maybe he hasn't been looking in the right places.
He can't think hard enough right now to distract himself from the pain.
Despite everything, he still startles when Akechi crouches next to him and begins to work on his back. An involuntary hiss of pain at the first touch, but that's all he'll allow himself, determined to take this on the nose. There is a bitter, spiteful corner of his mind churning through the list of people who have implied his weakness during his short time in Somnius. Undoubtedly his reality is softer than almost all of theirs, but that has never meant that he's weak. He won't let their assessment of him win.
When Akechi gestures for the kit, he hands it over. When Akechi tells him he'll be sleeping first, he nods. No argument, no desire to do so. Maruki is a good patient. And Akechi isn't as terrible at this as he might think.
Maruki didn't have to ask for the help, and Akechi didn't offer. They simply fell into a strange sort of partnership. Forced by their circumstances, sure, but. That isn't lost on him. Not at all.
He breathes evenly, eyes closed, counting out his breaths to try to slow his heart and relax even a bit. Doesn't mention anything about the plan yet. Neither of their minds are in the right place. Food, water, rest. Survive. How much longer will they be here? It doesn't matter. They'll survive.
He shifts to sit on the floor properly while Akechi is rooting through the kit, pulls one knee up, drapes his good arm and rests his chin on it. Speaks slowly as Akechi works to patch him up, his usual chatty nature subdued. ]
I wonder if mine will have the ability. I feel like it would make sense, considering the manifestation of will, but...
[ But Azathoth already shares a larger goal with him. Their persecuted ideology.
He shrugs his good shoulder, shakes his head. All the adrenaline this time went to keeping him upright and fighting after injury, and he's openly exhausted, unable to feign otherwise.
Which is strange in his own right. So long spent playing at being the perfect counselor, staid and upright, with energy to spare for everyone and no woes of his own – and so little significant contact with others outside of the job – has left him used to the role. He can't remember who he last felt comfortable enough around to let it drop.
He tries to glance back at what Akechi's doing but can only see the top of his own gouged shoulder, not the bulk of the damage that he can now feel all too keenly. ]
How bad is it?
[ He doesn't sound frightened, or panicked, or anxious. Merely curious. ]
Edited (jesus that one sentence really got mangled huh) 2024-05-30 00:49 (UTC)
[Akechi doesn't want to ruin the imagery Maruki has in his mind - behind the healer is a fighter. A killer. A man soaked in blood that isn't his. The persona may have a healing skill or it may-
Rip itself through body and spirt, claw through his chest and tear apart a perceived ego to reveal the truth in dark flames.
The video rewinds. Starts again - Maruki had done alcohol wipes next and the small squares seem like a pathetic mockery to an exposed gash - raw and deep. He might need stiches - Akechi could try. He did them on himself, watched a video, but-
He mulls the thought around until the alcohol stings his nose. He's not a fucking doctor - this is all to upkeep an image anyway. A prince should care and assist when needed. There's no chance Maruki could do this on his own and thus, he has to step in.
Nothing more.]
It's awful. [Pause, and-] This will hurt, but you can handle it. Bear it and bite down on this - [A shitty polka dot blouse is tossed over the good shoulder, right into his lap. A way to cut his teeth.] - if it's too much.
[Still airy and neutral, he waits until there's some kind of acknowledgement of what's about to happen before-
Maruki's hunched form twists. Shifts. Reminds of him of being pressed against the wall of a safe room - back when injuries made tears prick at the edge of his vision. When he pressed salves and alcohol into wounds that needed immediate attention because the trek to lower levels was treacherous. When he would press his palms deep in his eyes until blooms of color appeared in dark lids because it hurt and -
Even if it did, everything healed the second he left the Metaverse. Maruki won't have that luxury.
Akechi pauses - silent, tired and-]
There's no shame in feeling pain. You'll get used to it, in time.
[He unwraps another wipe, intent on using both hands to work fast.]
Are you ready?
"learning to microdose insanity and care between two antagonists" - lexy pancakes, 2024
[ No one has cared for him so selflessly in years.
Maruki takes the hideous blouse, balls it up in his fist. It's so incredibly surreal – his first fight, first major injury, first ally. Even if they weren't in an absurd B-movie knockoff warped cognition and even if he hadn't learned about the existence of their personas, it would still be surreal for those firsts alone.
And then those words, more befitting and ironic than Akechi will ever know.
I shan't describe pain and suffering as good things. I shall, however, describe them as necessary things.
There's no shame in feeling pain. You'll get used to it, in time.
The two sentiments lodge neatly next to one another in his mind. Venat, and now Akechi, flying in the face of everything he knows, fears, believes, is. Balancing some cosmic scale of his soul, even if he isn't fully aware of it yet. All he knows is that it's some strange sort of comfort that nestles itself deep in his sternum, despite how vehemently the very fabric of his soul disagrees. Maruki doesn't understand it. He doesn't need to.
He exhales, sets his jaw, nods.
He doesn't ever want to get used to pain, but he'll at least have to get through this. ]
Yeah. Thank you for doing this, seriously.
[ For real, one could even say.
Of course it hurts. It hurts like a bitch, worse than he could have anticipated, the full extent of the wound he can't see making itself suddenly known in blinding clarity. Panic starts to set in at the edges of his overtaxed mind: He doesn't even know if a rural shithole like Somnius has a proper medical facility where he can get this looked at and stitched up. He wants Tokyo, not this nameless decimated cityscape; clean and efficient and modern Tokyo, with its clinics and hospitals and drugstores.
He bites into the fabric bunched in his hand – it isn't enough, he winds it around his hand and bites down on that instead. Akechi was right, it acts as a solid anchor point, lets him steady himself as mortifying tears prick the corners of his eyes. He doesn't make a sound, just breathes harsh and feels his teeth pressing through the fabric, into his knuckles.
How much has Akechi been through in the cognitive world to not have reacted at all when Maruki did this for him?
Unfathomable. He doesn't want to know. He wants to know everything.
The burn and sting of the alcohol doesn't lessen so much as become predictable, the first swipes infinitely worse than what's followed, and as Akechi's finishing up he drops the blouse onto the dusty ground and pinches the corners of his eyes, beneath his glasses instead. Calm, soothing dark. A shuddering exhale and a sarcastic, uneven lilt to his voice when he speaks, trying desperately for any levity to distract. ]
Oh, I'm sure we both wish that either of us were stupid enough to take my potion now.
gross laughing crying throwing up summoning a void consuming the earth turns my spirit to ash
[There's a brief concern Maruki might pass out. An annoying problem because he doesn't have the excess energy to roll a grown around the floor like a fucked up katamari to wrap bandages.
The thought doesn't make him relent. He continues to peel red tinted wipes from his gloved hands and open new ones until the wound is coated. They're down to a single digit amount of them now. An unpleasant thought. Maruki's next battle will have to be as a last resort. Dodging will be their first lesson outside of this shithole.
Back to the video - ointment. Gauze. Bandages. The little packets of treatment low in number - while Maruki recovers and talks, he squeezes the limited supply against small slips of gauze. Tries to rub the sides together for better coverage, even if it's thin. It needs to be on the wound, not bare skin. It's during this goddamn craft session he really hears that comment a few seconds after he originally said it and-
Akechi lets out a snort of a response. If he can fuck around like this, he's holding up better than he thought.]
I still have mine for bartering if you're so desperate. I'm thinking a plate of ebi nigiri and fatty tuna will suffice. [A beat.] Jagarico too.
[He continues to unravel, disperse, press little pieces of gauze against his shoulder and back - focusing on the worst parts. There won't be enough for the entire line.
Once Maruki's situated, he'll scavenge the room. A city likely has laws and standards for the working environment. An employee area somewhere should have more than a old, floral band-aid.
A rumble. A shake. It's far away - almost sounds like a looming storm rolling into the city. The final stand of upright cosmetics toppling to the ground with a sudden crash.]
Even as a joke, I can barely stomach the thought of taking it.
[The issue is-
Maruki may need it. The dungeon had done a number on his hands and while Akechi held out for the extent he could, it did require healing at the clinic. He didn't ask where the abilities originated. The additional concern of coming back to reality with marred skin that will ruin his status compelled him to do it. He can't risk it.]
You'll need to take off your shirt for me to wrap this effectively. I'll find another one for you afterwards - this one is a lost cause anyway.
[ The comment about the sushi genuinely makes him laugh, strained as it is. The thought turns his stomach too. Especially knowing what their own powers could potentially do – ones so inherent to their very senses of self, always with them, just as Akechi said – he can't fathom ever accepting a "power" granted by this place.
That said, though... ]
Ah, you know Venat, right?
[ He does as Akechi says, begins unbuttoning his shirt and immediately regrets it. Sitting still and quiet is fine, not comfortable but fine, but the moment he starts to move, it's misery. His shoulder aches horribly with even that slight motion.
He pushes through it, undoes the shirt as he speaks, fingers shaking on the buttons. ]
She has inherent healing powers. And... Quite a lot more than that, if I'm understanding her tales correctly, but it's the healing that I have experience with. I might ask her to assist again.
[ Might. If he can work up the nerve. And if they make it out of this place.
No, they will. Maruki knows they will. Won't accept any reality but one in which they succeed in their goal. But it's going to be significantly more difficult now, with even this movement painful for him and Akechi's persona running on fumes. They don't know where they're going, have only been able to guess and mostly spent their days chasing their way to safety instead.
Maruki slips the shirt off, breathes. He bundles it in his hands, stares down at it. The back is in tatters, covered in blood. His own. He's never seen so much of it. Such a visceral, humbling, human thing.
He tosses it aside. A lost cause indeed.
The bandages will help. He'll sleep on his stomach. They'll rest as long as they can, rework their strategy, carry on. They must. ]
I'm certain she would. Venat is a kind individual - I doubt she would deny much without reason.
[Venat. A bizarre footnote in his own social circle. Feelings oscillate towards dislike and neutrality with every piece of information she provides. Her brand of logic, reasoning and calm-
Detestable. He can't stand it and-
The wound on his arm a pulsing, persistent annoyance he wants to keep with him awhile longer. A reminder of weakness and wrath towards a world that ripped his strength away.
The final piece of the mental video ends and Akechi plays musical body parts to finagle their remaining roll of bandages around him. He moves quickly, but doesn't seem to care that much about jostling him around. It's necessary. This isn't fun for him either.
And just like that -
Their roll of bandages is down to a pathetic nub. Maruki's injured. Robin Hood's on fumes and Akechi with it.
It doesn't look great, but there's something to thriving in adversity and this is a path he's traveled enough that his metaphorical shoes are worn to shreds. It's so fucking typical. Simple. All you do is keep going.
He slaps the dulled floral band aid to the edge of Maruki's injury - the smallest piece not covered by a true bandage out of spite, maybe, and-
Time to move again. He pushes himself up from the ground - presses his hands against his thighs to force his upper body up when his muscles ache. Shirt. Food. Drink. Supplies.]
You'll have to be on your own for a moment. I'm going to look around and don't plan to be gone long.
[A shuffle to the crumpled up, bloody shirt to get the size on a crimson tinted tag. An exact size will be impossible, but he needs to know how far to deviate. Akechi doesn't want to fuck around with it too much and-
It's tossed again - further and into a pile of forgotten jeans.]
If I may suggest, please take the time to get some sleep. There's nothing around us and should be safe for the foreseeable future.
[ Maruki doesn't mind the jostling – it's a lot of wrapping that needs to be done, he had a much easier time with Akechi's arm.
How incredibly strange, each of them with wounds tended by the other. Before this, they'd joked about an okonomiyaki room. Somehow they're still coming through it alive, mostly intact, and together.
He draws a deep breath, tests the way his wound aches as his chest expansion puts pressure on the bandages. It isn't bad. It hurts like he can't even describe, but the numbing ointment on the gauze helps, and the stability of the wrap does too. He'll make it. They both will.
Maruki nods along with his advice, can't even bring himself to offer to take a look around too. He can do that when they trade off in a couple hours. For now, his whole body is bruised and battered and desperate for even the temporary reprieve of sleep.
He gets to his feet for only a moment, just long enough to cross over to a disheveled pile of clearance clothes. He kicks it to spread it out more, unwilling to bend or move his arms much unless he absolutely must, until the pile has been dispersed enough to still provide a semi-soft cushion from the floor but more resemble a shape a grown man of their height could comfortably lay on. It'll do.
It's an awkward, inelegant movement that makes him laugh at himself, dropping down to his knees and then slowly lowering himself down face first. After a moment of attempting to adjust, he rolls onto his left side, cradles the other arm across his chest to try to give his injured shoulder some support. That's as good as it will get.
He doesn't know where Akechi is in the store, lost sight of him during his pathetic shuffle. But he can hear him rustling about, so he hasn't gone far.
Maruki raises his voice to ensure he hears it. With how exhausted he is, the sincerity normally present in his tone isn't quite so earnestly cloying. He still clearly means what he says, but it's plainly stated, factual rather than sentimental. ]
Akechi. Thank you. I won't ever forget your kindness tonight.
[ A kindness that involved goading him into killing a monstrous creature the likes of which they'll hopefully never see again, but kindness all the same.
A vibration through the floor from the distant rumblings, buildings collapsing, monsters stalking. Not close enough to fear. They'll be fine. Or they won't, and they'll fight their way through. Simple.
Maruki closes his eyes, and he's out before Akechi returns. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Maruki licks his lips uselessly, draws a deep breath to try to steady his pounding heart. All the adrenaline from running and fighting for their lives that was gradually beginning to fade in their temporary shelter has resurfaced, now from the anxiety of talking about something so–
Pivotal. Integral to his whole self. Mysterious. Confusing. Desperately, deeply necessary.
There's so much to it, and so little he knows how to explain.
He nods, refocuses on cleaning the wound, which can only be delicate for so long. He knows it must hurt as he moves past the edges, blood soaking into the wipe and scent of ethanol sharp in the air between them, even if Akechi doesn't react. ]
I'll tell you, but I'll apologize in advance, as well. You'll likely find the story lacking. It's all– new to me. Very new.
[ Breathe. Steady. Remember. Remember. ]
I had horrible headaches for years. They were bad enough that I went to doctors, but there was nothing physically wrong with me. It was chalked up to stress from grad school and trying to secure work as a researcher.
[ He wants to be honest with Akechi, as requested, but there are parts he can't share. Not even because of what he'd done. Because it's still barred off from him, a room his mind doesn't allow him into for his own ability to stay upright. And now, more than ever, he needs to remain functional. So he edges around it, keeps his tone as even as it can be. ]
I was going through a lot at the time, and I had a bit of a breakdown. I cried out for help. And– Akechi-kun, I know it sounds like madness, but I heard a voice.
[ It had terrified him. It had been such a comfort. He misses it so much. ]
I would hear it occasionally over the years. Only in my times of greatest need. It was barely understandable, but it was undoubtedly present.
[ The wound is as clean as it will get. He folds the bloodied wipe up, lays it on the top of the shelf, barely cognizant of potential biohazard waste. What does it matter, in a cognitive world? What does any of this matter? What would happen to them if they let a monster trample them?
Focus.
Maruki uncaps a bottle of ointment and daubs it on the wound as he goes on, his movements methodical, his voice straining. ]
Just hours before I arrived here, I heard the voice again. Clearer than ever before. And it– manifested, as you said.
[ He hesitates for a moment and meets Akechi's eyes, apologetic. ]
I haven't been entirely truthful with you, but it's only because I've truly believed that what happened to me was a product of my own mind. The– what we saw in my dream, that's part of it. I don't think I could begin to describe what the rest of it looks like. And when I told you I had just signed something before being brought to this reality...
[ Back to focusing on the wound. ]
It wasn't a signature with pen and ink. I– contracted, I guess, with that– thing.
[ Azathoth. ]
And that was it. I woke up here without it. I haven't been able to make sense of it since then, until– now.
[ He finally trails off with an exasperated laugh, wipes his hand off on the wet cloth over his shoulder, and begins searching the kit for gauze and bandages. ]
Again, I'm sorry. It's hardly descriptive. I know less than you do by a wide margin. I can't believe I've told you any of this. God.
no subject
He really told Akechi everything because of a shared ability. A simple request. That's all it took. It's why he would be dead, if not for Vaeros' power spiriting them away. If someone from Shido's shadow came by - whispered something about an ability, gave him comfort in a shared experience those words -
Would have died splattered against the wall of his shitty apartment. In black, murky liquid spewing from eyes and mouth with all will torn apart, piece by pathetic piece.
It stings. He doesn't care. It doesn't make sense - goes against the norms of the other persona users, the minor knowledge gleaned from Wakaba's research, the topics he overheard from Shido's private researchers.
Headaches. Extensive time. A voice. Manifested -
Later, much later. In the real world because Maruki didn't know about the cognitive world like he did and-
They talked about powers in a shared room - Maruki lied then. So did Akechi.
They conversed about the cognitive world over a shared meal - Akechi lied then. So did Maruki.
They spoke in vague, broad strokes on a dirt coated path to the castle - they both lied. Maruki is a liar. A good one. Akechi is a liar. A better one. Impossible to discern if he's being woven into another far fetched tale, but the hesitancy, the explanations, the it sounds like madness-
A churning sensation in his chest - Maruki's path is leading him to certain death. Anything Akechi relays propels him closer to that shadow. It's too much knowledge for someone in his position.
If he cared about the man in any capacity, he would rip this story to shreds. Make him question everything. Make him repress everything. Make him think he's insane for even uttering tales about this and-
He doesn't care - not one bit. Not for a second. It's easy to blink and breathe away static in his skull. He doesn't care about Maruki, so his mouth opens and-]
I see.
[His eyes stay strained against the bumpy, torn flesh on his arm, fixating on inflamed pink and red. Shifting of paper and tools. Loud slams in the ground. Groaning buildings. Distant shattering.
He doesn't care about Maruki, so he keeps talking.]
For the record, you aren't mad. While your awakening has some odd inconsistencies, certain aspects remain true to a known standard. Hearing a voice and agreeing to a contract, then-
[Robin Hood burns - bright and gentle throughout his chest. He hates it.]
It's always with you. There, when you need it most, even if you can't summon it. Vaeros may have dampened it for now, but your strength of will ensures it's never lost. Robin Hood is proof of that.
[A beat - he moves his arm a bit. Waves it to dry the alcohol and elicit more stings to ground him.]
Thank you for telling me. As usual, you are full of surprises. To think you had that kind of power - well, I'm certainly happy we're allied.
no subject
Your strength of will ensures it's never lost.
What he won't admit, not to Akechi, not to anyone: Half of the time he's been in Somnius so far, he really has thought he's simply in the throes of another breakdown. It all aligned too perfectly. The voice made tangible in front of him, threading their souls together and aligning them perfectly with the collective unconscious, giving him the power he'd worked his whole life toward. And then nothing: A wish, a contract, in a strange new reality, when in his own his wish had already been fulfilled and his contract already signed.
He really had begun to convince himself that it couldn't have actually happened. That it was tied up in whatever manipulation done to his cognition to bring him here in the first place.
Akechi dispels those notions at once.
He doesn't know what to say. Doesn't say anything for a long while, only focuses on securing the gauze over the wound before wrapping Akechi's arm. The flickering barely-there light of the drink shelf. The chaos outside, far, but not far enough. His own heartbeat rattling through his ribs.
When he finishes, he takes a step back. Tries to form words. Fails. Pushes his glasses up into his hair and presses the heel of one palm to a closed eye. Laughs, not at himself, not at the ridiculousness of their situation, just at the way the universe works. ]
Sorry, I'm usually better with my words than this. Shit. Ah, I–
[ Deep inhale through the nose. Hold it. Exhale through the mouth, slow, deliberate. He drops his hand, straightens his glasses back onto his nose, and looks at Akechi in a whole new light. ]
Thank you. For understanding, and for showing me– that it's real. It can be real.
[ When they get out of this fucking labyrinth, he knows exactly where he's going. ]
I'm grateful to have you as an ally too. More grateful than ever.
[ He's already indebted to Akechi for protecting his life here, and now this. How Maruki will ever begin to repay him, he doesn't know.
No, he does. They just need to make it back to their reality intact.
His head is beginning to ache, right at the base of his skull, where it always used to. Too many thoughts. One thing at a time.
He grabs the kit and hands it to Akechi before lowering himself to the ground, leaning heavily against the opposite shelf. ]
Sit. Wrap your ankle. I can see you're favoring the good one. And– I'll have a thousand questions later, once my own abilities have been returned to me, but if I can ask one now... This power. These things. Why us?
[ Maruki knows full well why him.
He wants to know why Akechi. Why them. ]
no subject
They ruined people. Akechi ruined people. Maruki will ruin people.
His arm feels better. That annoys him. The care taken to wrap the injury allowing some reprieve with the numbing ointment. His own self care is normally quick, intentional and rough. It always hurts after.
This doesn't hurt and -
Maruki steps back in a manner Akechi isn't accustomed to. Looks torn, utters a curse with a normally pleasant tongue that keeps those reactions in check and -
He smiles, because he's supposed to. Forgiving, gentle, kind Detective Prince who gives information, who comforts, who-
Sets people up to die by his own hand it's-
Funny, honestly. Maruki knew too much. Knows too much. Is interested in too much. He was likely always on someone's radar - his newfound power with expediate it and -
Maybe it won't matter if he can lay low until Shido's corpse lays at his feet. If Maruki can't, then Akechi's all too happy to walk over his rotting body first. It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter. That twisted expression of relief for a power he didn't understand doesn't matter.
He smiles because none of this goddamn shit matters.
All he needs to do is see what power he's dealing with and how annoying it might be battle, if it comes to that.]
Of course, Maruki-san. It must have been frightening to deal with that alone. To be honest, I felt the same - after it happened, I thought...
[Nothing. Because it was planned, expected, known. It's all bullshit, except-
For a second, he remembers standing in the depths of some unknown person's palace, shorter, smaller, weaker. A gun in hand. A task in mind. The first run in with shadows - grotesque monsters he couldn't figure out how to give form too. He remembers-
Not caring. He doesn't. Didn't. It didn't matter because everything is planned.
Like the way he slides to the ground, ever compliant. Ever the shining example of how a perfect teenager should act.]
Well, never mind. To that question - I don't know, as disappointing as that is to hear. It almost makes a person feel like they were chosen for something greater, doesn't it? A goal beyond simple matters in everyday life. Why else would such a power be awakened in so few?
[He reaches forward to roll up the edge of his pant leg - a less prominent mark burning red across his ankle.]
Or maybe this is our tree of knowledge and our contract was a temptation we should have ignored. A bite from an apple to be resisted - now we failed and we're doomed to live our lives in some madman's dream.
[He chuckles - quiet and calm. Leans back against the chips with an intent to crush every one along his spine.]
I'm kidding on that last one. It's our will and it's always been within us. Our right, even, to hold and wield such awakened abilities. The truth will always come out. One day, the answer will be made clear.
no subject
For a moment all he can see is brilliant, blinding light. White marble, expansive spiraling stairs, endless halls lined with flowers. Eden.
It's gone as quickly as it came. He blinks spots out of his vision, smiles at Akechi. Relieved, grateful. And something else. ]
No apologies necessary. As you've seen tonight, I clearly don't have any concrete answers to offer myself. And I like to hear your thoughts regardless.
[ He really does. Akechi has a way of taking in what he says and handing it back to him, reshaped and reconfigured to make him consider things in a new light. Just like Akira, seated across from him in that nurse's office, listening patiently to his theories and giving his honest, astute thoughts, guiding him by the hand down the twisting corridors of his own mind.
They're so alike. They're nothing alike at all. Maruki wouldn't know what to do without both of their influences on his life now.
He stretches his legs out in front of him, long enough that they touch the opposite shelf that Akechi rests against. Exhaustion and soreness are starting to seep into his body as adrenaline ekes out. ]
When it returns to me, we ought to...
[ He gestures vaguely between them, unsure of what to ask for. ]
I didn't know they could fight like that. I'll probably have to ask you to show me what to do. I apologize in advance.
[ A beat. He leans his head back against the stupid crunching chip bags, closes his eyes. ]
Azathoth, by the way. That's its name.
[ It's such a profound thing to finally say aloud. It only strengthens his conviction that he will be returned to him, wholly intact, and now with power that Maruki wasn't even aware of just ready to be ferreted out.
It can only help them in their shared goal here, and then whatever awaits both of them in their own reality. He doesn't ask. Save it for another time, a safer environment. Save it to ask alongside all of the other questions yet to come. ]
no subject
What a fucking day.
Azathoth is a familiar name - right on the tip of his tongue. Learning about Captain Kidd and the rest of the Phantom Thieves personas threw him into the depths of Google immediately after their first bout. He'll have to research the old fashioned way. There's a novelty in that.]
Then I look forward to it. We'll find out what Azathoth is capable of, though I have to warn you - my abilities were among the ones nerfed. Robin Hood doesn't have its usual repertoire and the ones that remain are weak in comparison to the power they had before.
[He stretches both arms - newly bandaged straining against the gauze, the tension in his muscles ebbing away.]
You may be surprised when we return to our world is all I mean by that. What we find out here may not be the full extent of what you can do. Don't be disappointed if it's not what you expect.
no subject
They fall into idle chatter that quickly peters off into exhausted silence, trade off a couple hours of sleep each while the other stays alert. He wishes he could let Akechi sleep longer, watching him curled in on himself on the floor using his good arm as a pillow. It's incredible, how much pain was able to take – and deeply troubling in a way Maruki hasn't yet had time to grapple with. The last time he saw someone so injured–
There's no need to think about any of it. There's no need to think at all. He lets Akechi sleep, listens to the quiet metronome of his breath and the distant sounds of destruction. Stares into space, lets his eyes unfocus and mind go hazy.
When he does sleep, sprawled out on his back with an arm slung over his eyes and Akechi sitting watch, it's dead and dreamless. Thank god. Small blessings. If he had to counsel anyone in his cognitive Shujin office right now, he might actually snap.
Morning dawns, a weak and dingy light filtering into their temporary safe haven – and it is temporary, the rumbling having grown closer all throughout the night. They don't discuss much. It's implicitly understood that they will not wait here to see if it passes or if they're crushed and killed. Moving out is the more dangerous option, but it is at least an active one.
Maruki pours bottled water into Akechi's cupped hands for him to splash over his face, his fringe plastering against his forehead, and he marvels all over again at this strange companionship.
Their trek through the ruined city takes on a different tone on the second day. Akechi is no more subdued despite his injuries, still clearly tempering his delight at cleaving through the monsters, still commanding Robin Hood with a vicious efficiency. And Maruki–
Watches. Wants to watch.
He's still doing what he needs to do, taking cover until it's clear, seeking out paths of least resistance that they can follow. But his focus has shifted, and his new interest in the battles is sharpened, keen.
If this is power nerfed, he can't imagine what Akechi is capable of in the cognitive world.
If this is how Robin Hood does his work, he can't wait to see what the blind idiot god will be able to do, even in a weakened state.
Unfortunately, it doesn't keep him quite so far out of the fray as he was on the first day. There are a few close calls, bitten-off shouts from Akechi to please remain hidden where you belong, nothing too dicey until–
Robin Hood brings down a monster that's only mid-size compared to the others, that same fucking flash of light that Maruki knew he saw from Akechi's room – and it's down, certainly, crushing an abandoned drugstore beneath it as it goes, but it's not out.
He sees Akechi abandoning all pretenses with Robin Hood and going for it with his knife and ducks out from behind a mangled husk of a bus to– to do what, he doesn't know, shout at him to be careful, remind him they need to keep moving– it doesn't matter. Too close, too sudden, and he just barely dodges out of the way of the thing's flailing, writhing claws. ]
No–!!
[ It isn't an artful dodge at all. He hits the ground hard enough to rattle his head for a moment, eyes wide and wild on Akechi above him. Ears ringing. Dagger clutched uselessly in one hand. And the monster staggering closer to them with a grim grip on its remaining life. ]
no subject
The one goddamn thing he required of Maruki brushed aside. A petulant child that can't keep his hand out of a cookie jar.
They had a routine, a system, a plan. Akechi kills, he hides. It's so fucking simple and yet-
Much like the Phantom Thieves, it's never an easy venture. Ignored maps, chests, swarms of enemies they can't handle provoked by an idiot stepping out of line-
Maruki hits the ground just as Akechi resigned to dig his blade into the side of the flailing creature instead of wasting Robin Hood's limited stamina - a plan ruined the second he hears 'No'.
It's his own fault and the consequences are immediate. Good. It's a fucking lesson.
Coiled and taut, his voice does nothing to hide his irritation. He doesn't lean down to pick up Maruki or assist. Doesn't check if there's an injury. No -
Get up or die. ]
I would ask what you were thinking, but there's clearly nothing happening in your head right now.
[Robin Hood is at its limit - summoned anyway as a last resort to a beast Akechi could kill with a dagger, if he wasn't standing guard near some limp limbed idiot who felt like his power of giving a cognitive lesson could defeat a monster.
He pushes Maruki's leg with his foot - half tempted to kick him out of the battle, right into the damp, desolate alleyway he should have been holing up in.
Except-
No. It's time to learn and while Maruki may be fond of coddling, Akechi isn't. Even with his act a thin veneer in the midst of this nightmare, it's still there. His voice is light. Doesn't match his words and there's a clear displeasure under the airy, strained tone.]
Now since you're so eager, let's start your first lesson - get the hell up.
no subject
Watching a fight from a safe distance is one thing – lets him take mental notes on things to ask about later, lets him theorize and strategize in between cowering for safety. But being in the fight itself–
Akechi's right. There's nothing at all going on in his head. His mind is a perfect blank slate.
Terrifying.
Ideal for learning.
He gapes up at Akechi for a moment longer before his body acts on instinct, following instructions, fighting to keep him alive even if and when his mind won't. He rises unsteadily to his feet, glasses askew, clothes damp with the standing water that gathers in parts of the city as infrastructure breaks down and blood and viscera, breath coming almost rapid enough to be hysterical– but he's standing all the same.
The handle of the dagger stings against his palm, the skin torn to shreds from where they had to skid and stumble through obliterated structures. He grips it tighter anyway.
He's not a fighter. He never has been.
He has to be now.
Yours would only need to be used in the event of my incapacitation or if we're separated.
Hilarious. Here they are, side by side, and Akechi's going to make him use it anyway.
Maruki's voice is rough, strained. Hoarse from shouting over death and destruction for nearly two days straight. ]
Akechi.
[ It's asking so much of this young man, to teach him to fight with weapons physical and cognitive alike, and Maruki has never been in the habit of asking much of anyone at all – but there is some strange bond forged here between them, the only two from their reality, the only two with the powers they have, the only two alive in this whole godforsaken false city.
Maruki trusts him. Implicitly. And he knows he will find a way to pay back everything he's asked of Akechi and more. ]
Show me what to do.
cw: violence, graphic injury
A resolve appearing in this unexperienced man - a reminder that a persona awakened in his spirit, however tempered he acts. There's rebellion. There's drive. There's power.
It reminds him -
Of cards floating against his skull in the middle of a warped casino - the specific sort of elation that came with standing beside someone with the same fiery temperament, no matter how twisted their paths were from one another. Nothing stopped Joker until the bitter, painful end.
And nothing will stop Akechi. Nothing will stop Maruki.
The honorific dropped - a new sensation forged in that sudden respect, in affection, in trust, in a friend.
He wants to throw up. Says nothing about it. Steels himself to face a cornered, injured creature. Listens to his companion's tone.
There's an authority in Akechi's voice that hasn't existed in months - firm and wound. Coiled with ire. Unraveling slowly into a tempered calm. ]
It's weakened, but don't let your guard down. You've been watching the fights - you know their attack and defense patterns. Don't psych yourself out.
[A bloodied dagger points towards a mark on the creature's neck - battered by Robin Hood and Akechi alike. Skin ripped, flayed open to pinky flesh and blue veins. A final blow is needed.]
Hit the weak point and end this. I'll make sure the creature is distracted, but if you don't commit -
[His stance doesn't change - only his gaze shifts to the side to watch. Maruki has proven himself in some ways. Disproven in others. Killing is a whole new level - shadow, monster or person. No persona to blame. The blood will be on his hands.]
We both die. Robin Hood is out of stamina. This is up to you now.
[In truth, Akechi will be able to eviscerate the creature before either one of them is ruined. Robin Hood still has a bit of SP left to use.
It's a matter of seeing how far Maruki is willing to go.]
Are you ready, Maruki?
CW VIOLENCE CW GRAPHIC INJURY CW MEMORIES OF MURDER BABY LET'S GO
Prior to the events in the labyrinth, he would have said – in total honesty, with every ounce of conviction burning in his heart – that he would rather die than ever harm another creature.
Things change. Maybe he wasn't committed quite so completely to those words.
If you don't commit, we both die.
It's easy to think you'll lay down and accept defeat until the possibility is presented to you for the first time. You can't possibly know what other reserves of strength and viciousness you can draw from until they're revealed to you by force. ]
Yes. I'm ready.
[ Maruki hesitates only for half a moment more, just long enough to send a thought of forgiveness into the primordial chaos of the universe in the hopes that it will one day be returned to him, and then he closes in to slash at the creature's gouged neck.
Two problems with this immediately become apparent:
The dagger is short. He has to move in close. Very close.
And for all the rebellion coursing through his body from its origin point in that cavernous space at the back of his mind, he lacks the finesse of actual skill.
The blade makes contact. Painful contact, by the way the creature shrieks and convulses, the fresh blood that spurts out – but it's not deadly contact at all. And it pisses the thing off.
He jerks away from its snapping jaw as it flails in blind pain, practically trips over his own feet as he does, and so puts himself right in the path of the danger he doesn't see.
Its arm suffered the brunt of one of Robin Hood's attacks, then took the weight of its collapse. It's burnt, skin and muscle tattered, a massive bone piercing through sickly scaled flesh, but the creature has involuntary survival instincts too. It tries to bring the arm down with its usual force, enough for claws to shred through steel with ease. It can't. It's dying. It's weak.
But weak doesn't mean harmless. A claw catches Maruki's right shoulder on the downswing, gouges into it and partway down his back, rips an inhuman sound from somewhere deep in his soul, the likes of which he's only ever heard once, and it wasn't from his own mouth–
He's never felt such pain in his life, never thought it possible. Beyond all senses. It burns so bright-hot that it goes dark and dead almost instantly, like his body wasn't meant to process that much pain at once and simply shuts that part of his mind down. He must be bleeding. His shirt must be shredded. He can't feel any of it. He can't move that arm. He can't move at all, stunlocked by his own shock.
And he's furious.
To be so useless in a fight that he couldn't even follow the patterns he'd been observing for days– to have powers that he didn't even know he could use ripped from him before he could ever learn to defend himself or anyone else– to have been out of the house when the robbers came– to have been too late returning to be any help at all– to know that even if he had been present, he would have been overpowered, maimed alongside Rumi or killed alongside her parents like the pathetic nobody that he was– to be here, now, in this bullshit reality within a reality, so far from everything he knows, every scrap of control he managed to learn and seize with his own two hands–
His left hand grabs the dagger from his useless right and plunges it, inelegant and unskilled and backed by nothing but outrage to live, directly into the creature's exposed veins.
It all happens quickly. Nearly instantaneously. The original hit, the injury, the kill. A suspended moment in time he'll never forget, and over before he's even realized that it's happened to him at all.
Maruki rips the dagger out, drops it, staggers back. Grabs his shoulder. Feels blood beneath his palm, between his fingers. Stares wild and silent at Akechi, changed. ]
no subject
He expects nothing - braces himself and the gnawing pressure of Robin Hood to act. Subdues it. Holds back. Does his part in distracting the beast and-
Maruki goes for it. Doesn't withhold any power or fall to hesitation. It's a beginners mistake that enrages the creature and Akechi doesn't warn on purpose. All of them are the same - a desire to live overriding reason, cornered and trapped in twisting streets. The man needs to learn - this is a make or break moment.
A curdling screech and a blow to his shoulder that blooms red against exposed skin. A desire to yell 'Heal yourself genius' tempered by their reality - no items, no healing skills and only a basic first aid kit picked up from some shitty rural marketplace.
An injury would stop a weaker person - one of that magnitude would paralyze a normal person. Earlier lies forced aside as he moves to finish the monster himself - the only expected outcome from this and-
Maruki isn't normal.
Not one bit.
A bitter realization that he had underestimated yet another person in his life as the writhing suffering creature takes its final breath. Maruki did it and-
That wild look is met with something manic in Akechi's own vision. A blood drenched altruist - a pacifist, the traditional hero who wants to heal, to save, to create new life in healed minds-
Ripping life from something else. Falling down, down, down into the trenches with him. Willingly.
Akechi laughs - frayed and free. A hand weaving through his own disgusting hair to tug, reframe, redirect, get back and-
He smiles - a semblance of genuine on the edges as his hand drops.]
Nice one. I'm impressed - you did well, despite your inability to dodge.
[A soul dissipates into dust to settle deep in his chest and-
It's his turn to assess the damage. A creature dead - distant rumbles the sound of reprieve. A man alive, ripped free from the last stand of another.
The damage is rough - he can't see how deep the wound is and knows it's a miracle it didn't rip through his body. If he died, Akechi wouldn't have batted an eye.
He tries to ignore the way his head pounds when he thinks about it two seconds longer. Grips Maruki's forearm to steady him because he knows adrenaline overrides only for a short time and then-]
There's a department store to the right - let's go. We're taking a break.
no subject
Delirious. Exhausted. Pained beyond comprehension. Barely conscious of his own actions. Proud, somehow, and shy under the sincere sounding praise.
He takes the stability of Akechi holding his arm gratefully and nods, breathless, chest heaving.
One battle under his belt and he needs a break. That's not ideal. But it's definitely necessary, more than necessary, he can't manage to form words around the sheer burning down his back.
The dagger. Eren told him to bring it back in good condition. He stoops to grab it before they stagger off, then his abandoned satchel dropped in the fight, then nothing. Only gritting his teeth and trying to temper his breath and following alongside Akechi into safety, again.
A department store is a pretty ideal safe haven, far better than that shit convenience store. There's probably a lot here they could use. There's certainly better cover. He doesn't know. All he can do is put one foot in front of the other until Akechi stops them, then drops down to kneel wherever that is.
He thinks, unbidden, of Venat. That healing magic in the garden.
Who knows if the same logic applies to their manifestations? Not Maruki. He has no idea. But he looks up at Akechi anyway, squinting through the pain, and grins unsteadily. ]
I don't suppose Robin Hood has a support mode?
no subject
[Light and airy, like they're settled across a counter enjoying dinner and talking about something mundane - people, places or a shared nostalgia.
With Maruki settled on a disgusting floor - clothes, cosmetics and everything else strewn in places it shouldn't, Akechi goes behind a checkout counter to scavenge. Their first aid kit is limited and every passing day is a reminder to ration.
An old water bottle freckled with plastic residue. Sealed, iffy, but useable. A single band aid with floral print. No kit. He takes both and a hideous lime green scarf.]
No, my persona has no capability to heal and even if it did, I wasn't lying about being out of stamina. Robin Hood might have one more attack left, if we're fortunate.
[Grim reminders of reality. Akechi's at his limit - nearly two days with near constant battles enough to run him ragged.
It's not comfort that settles in the pit of his stomach as he takes stock of Maruki's injury. It's nothing. It's-
A blood soaked back serving as a permanent, persistent reminder that he isn't battling alone. That he isn't the only one willing to fight, to kill, to survive. That there's no argument over sanctity of fake realities and lives when they're both in the trenches.
He wants to be alone and-
Akechi's never been gentle. Isn't a doctor. All his skills come from youtube videos after agonizing palace escapes and makeshift cures with salvaged supplies.
Maruki knew what to do.
And so, Akechi remembers and relives that lesson like the videos he used to watch in the middle of night to wind down.
Water on lime green cloth, press it against the injury - rinse, repeat, wipe until it's only speckles of flesh shining through clotting veins. He isn't gentle by nature, but he makes an attempt to not do to Maruki what he would do to himself. Unpracticed, rough, but not uncompassionate.]
We'll need to reassess our plan later.
[Lime green speckled and stained - the design looks better. Wearable, in a hilarious way.
He holds a hand out - a silent request for the satchel while the mental video is paused in his mind.]
After we eat, drink and rest. You'll be sleeping first.
no subject
[ Quiet, mostly to himself. So that's what they're called.
He likes it. He'd like to read up on theory behind it, if it existed. Maybe it does. Maybe he hasn't been looking in the right places.
He can't think hard enough right now to distract himself from the pain.
Despite everything, he still startles when Akechi crouches next to him and begins to work on his back. An involuntary hiss of pain at the first touch, but that's all he'll allow himself, determined to take this on the nose. There is a bitter, spiteful corner of his mind churning through the list of people who have implied his weakness during his short time in Somnius. Undoubtedly his reality is softer than almost all of theirs, but that has never meant that he's weak. He won't let their assessment of him win.
When Akechi gestures for the kit, he hands it over. When Akechi tells him he'll be sleeping first, he nods. No argument, no desire to do so. Maruki is a good patient. And Akechi isn't as terrible at this as he might think.
Maruki didn't have to ask for the help, and Akechi didn't offer. They simply fell into a strange sort of partnership. Forced by their circumstances, sure, but. That isn't lost on him. Not at all.
He breathes evenly, eyes closed, counting out his breaths to try to slow his heart and relax even a bit. Doesn't mention anything about the plan yet. Neither of their minds are in the right place. Food, water, rest. Survive. How much longer will they be here? It doesn't matter. They'll survive.
He shifts to sit on the floor properly while Akechi is rooting through the kit, pulls one knee up, drapes his good arm and rests his chin on it. Speaks slowly as Akechi works to patch him up, his usual chatty nature subdued. ]
I wonder if mine will have the ability. I feel like it would make sense, considering the manifestation of will, but...
[ But Azathoth already shares a larger goal with him. Their persecuted ideology.
He shrugs his good shoulder, shakes his head. All the adrenaline this time went to keeping him upright and fighting after injury, and he's openly exhausted, unable to feign otherwise.
Which is strange in his own right. So long spent playing at being the perfect counselor, staid and upright, with energy to spare for everyone and no woes of his own – and so little significant contact with others outside of the job – has left him used to the role. He can't remember who he last felt comfortable enough around to let it drop.
He tries to glance back at what Akechi's doing but can only see the top of his own gouged shoulder, not the bulk of the damage that he can now feel all too keenly. ]
How bad is it?
[ He doesn't sound frightened, or panicked, or anxious. Merely curious. ]
no subject
Rip itself through body and spirt, claw through his chest and tear apart a perceived ego to reveal the truth in dark flames.
The video rewinds. Starts again - Maruki had done alcohol wipes next and the small squares seem like a pathetic mockery to an exposed gash - raw and deep. He might need stiches - Akechi could try. He did them on himself, watched a video, but-
He mulls the thought around until the alcohol stings his nose. He's not a fucking doctor - this is all to upkeep an image anyway. A prince should care and assist when needed. There's no chance Maruki could do this on his own and thus, he has to step in.
Nothing more.]
It's awful. [Pause, and-] This will hurt, but you can handle it. Bear it and bite down on this - [A shitty polka dot blouse is tossed over the good shoulder, right into his lap. A way to cut his teeth.] - if it's too much.
[Still airy and neutral, he waits until there's some kind of acknowledgement of what's about to happen before-
Maruki's hunched form twists. Shifts. Reminds of him of being pressed against the wall of a safe room - back when injuries made tears prick at the edge of his vision. When he pressed salves and alcohol into wounds that needed immediate attention because the trek to lower levels was treacherous. When he would press his palms deep in his eyes until blooms of color appeared in dark lids because it hurt and -
Even if it did, everything healed the second he left the Metaverse. Maruki won't have that luxury.
Akechi pauses - silent, tired and-]
There's no shame in feeling pain. You'll get used to it, in time.
[He unwraps another wipe, intent on using both hands to work fast.]
Are you ready?
"learning to microdose insanity and care between two antagonists" - lexy pancakes, 2024
Maruki takes the hideous blouse, balls it up in his fist. It's so incredibly surreal – his first fight, first major injury, first ally. Even if they weren't in an absurd B-movie knockoff warped cognition and even if he hadn't learned about the existence of their personas, it would still be surreal for those firsts alone.
And then those words, more befitting and ironic than Akechi will ever know.
I shan't describe pain and suffering as good things. I shall, however, describe them as necessary things.
There's no shame in feeling pain. You'll get used to it, in time.
The two sentiments lodge neatly next to one another in his mind. Venat, and now Akechi, flying in the face of everything he knows, fears, believes, is. Balancing some cosmic scale of his soul, even if he isn't fully aware of it yet. All he knows is that it's some strange sort of comfort that nestles itself deep in his sternum, despite how vehemently the very fabric of his soul disagrees. Maruki doesn't understand it. He doesn't need to.
He exhales, sets his jaw, nods.
He doesn't ever want to get used to pain, but he'll at least have to get through this. ]
Yeah. Thank you for doing this, seriously.
[ For real, one could even say.
Of course it hurts. It hurts like a bitch, worse than he could have anticipated, the full extent of the wound he can't see making itself suddenly known in blinding clarity. Panic starts to set in at the edges of his overtaxed mind: He doesn't even know if a rural shithole like Somnius has a proper medical facility where he can get this looked at and stitched up. He wants Tokyo, not this nameless decimated cityscape; clean and efficient and modern Tokyo, with its clinics and hospitals and drugstores.
He bites into the fabric bunched in his hand – it isn't enough, he winds it around his hand and bites down on that instead. Akechi was right, it acts as a solid anchor point, lets him steady himself as mortifying tears prick the corners of his eyes. He doesn't make a sound, just breathes harsh and feels his teeth pressing through the fabric, into his knuckles.
How much has Akechi been through in the cognitive world to not have reacted at all when Maruki did this for him?
Unfathomable. He doesn't want to know. He wants to know everything.
The burn and sting of the alcohol doesn't lessen so much as become predictable, the first swipes infinitely worse than what's followed, and as Akechi's finishing up he drops the blouse onto the dusty ground and pinches the corners of his eyes, beneath his glasses instead. Calm, soothing dark. A shuddering exhale and a sarcastic, uneven lilt to his voice when he speaks, trying desperately for any levity to distract. ]
Oh, I'm sure we both wish that either of us were stupid enough to take my potion now.
gross laughing crying throwing up summoning a void consuming the earth turns my spirit to ash
The thought doesn't make him relent. He continues to peel red tinted wipes from his gloved hands and open new ones until the wound is coated. They're down to a single digit amount of them now. An unpleasant thought. Maruki's next battle will have to be as a last resort. Dodging will be their first lesson outside of this shithole.
Back to the video - ointment. Gauze. Bandages. The little packets of treatment low in number - while Maruki recovers and talks, he squeezes the limited supply against small slips of gauze. Tries to rub the sides together for better coverage, even if it's thin. It needs to be on the wound, not bare skin. It's during this goddamn craft session he really hears that comment a few seconds after he originally said it and-
Akechi lets out a snort of a response. If he can fuck around like this, he's holding up better than he thought.]
I still have mine for bartering if you're so desperate. I'm thinking a plate of ebi nigiri and fatty tuna will suffice. [A beat.] Jagarico too.
[He continues to unravel, disperse, press little pieces of gauze against his shoulder and back - focusing on the worst parts. There won't be enough for the entire line.
Once Maruki's situated, he'll scavenge the room. A city likely has laws and standards for the working environment. An employee area somewhere should have more than a old, floral band-aid.
A rumble. A shake. It's far away - almost sounds like a looming storm rolling into the city. The final stand of upright cosmetics toppling to the ground with a sudden crash.]
Even as a joke, I can barely stomach the thought of taking it.
[The issue is-
Maruki may need it. The dungeon had done a number on his hands and while Akechi held out for the extent he could, it did require healing at the clinic. He didn't ask where the abilities originated. The additional concern of coming back to reality with marred skin that will ruin his status compelled him to do it. He can't risk it.]
You'll need to take off your shirt for me to wrap this effectively. I'll find another one for you afterwards - this one is a lost cause anyway.
no subject
That said, though... ]
Ah, you know Venat, right?
[ He does as Akechi says, begins unbuttoning his shirt and immediately regrets it. Sitting still and quiet is fine, not comfortable but fine, but the moment he starts to move, it's misery. His shoulder aches horribly with even that slight motion.
He pushes through it, undoes the shirt as he speaks, fingers shaking on the buttons. ]
She has inherent healing powers. And... Quite a lot more than that, if I'm understanding her tales correctly, but it's the healing that I have experience with. I might ask her to assist again.
[ Might. If he can work up the nerve. And if they make it out of this place.
No, they will. Maruki knows they will. Won't accept any reality but one in which they succeed in their goal. But it's going to be significantly more difficult now, with even this movement painful for him and Akechi's persona running on fumes. They don't know where they're going, have only been able to guess and mostly spent their days chasing their way to safety instead.
Maruki slips the shirt off, breathes. He bundles it in his hands, stares down at it. The back is in tatters, covered in blood. His own. He's never seen so much of it. Such a visceral, humbling, human thing.
He tosses it aside. A lost cause indeed.
The bandages will help. He'll sleep on his stomach. They'll rest as long as they can, rework their strategy, carry on. They must. ]
no subject
[Venat. A bizarre footnote in his own social circle. Feelings oscillate towards dislike and neutrality with every piece of information she provides. Her brand of logic, reasoning and calm-
Detestable. He can't stand it and-
The wound on his arm a pulsing, persistent annoyance he wants to keep with him awhile longer. A reminder of weakness and wrath towards a world that ripped his strength away.
The final piece of the mental video ends and Akechi plays musical body parts to finagle their remaining roll of bandages around him. He moves quickly, but doesn't seem to care that much about jostling him around. It's necessary. This isn't fun for him either.
And just like that -
Their roll of bandages is down to a pathetic nub. Maruki's injured. Robin Hood's on fumes and Akechi with it.
It doesn't look great, but there's something to thriving in adversity and this is a path he's traveled enough that his metaphorical shoes are worn to shreds. It's so fucking typical. Simple. All you do is keep going.
He slaps the dulled floral band aid to the edge of Maruki's injury - the smallest piece not covered by a true bandage out of spite, maybe, and-
Time to move again. He pushes himself up from the ground - presses his hands against his thighs to force his upper body up when his muscles ache. Shirt. Food. Drink. Supplies.]
You'll have to be on your own for a moment. I'm going to look around and don't plan to be gone long.
[A shuffle to the crumpled up, bloody shirt to get the size on a crimson tinted tag. An exact size will be impossible, but he needs to know how far to deviate. Akechi doesn't want to fuck around with it too much and-
It's tossed again - further and into a pile of forgotten jeans.]
If I may suggest, please take the time to get some sleep. There's nothing around us and should be safe for the foreseeable future.
i. well. thread of all time perhaps
How incredibly strange, each of them with wounds tended by the other. Before this, they'd joked about an okonomiyaki room. Somehow they're still coming through it alive, mostly intact, and together.
He draws a deep breath, tests the way his wound aches as his chest expansion puts pressure on the bandages. It isn't bad. It hurts like he can't even describe, but the numbing ointment on the gauze helps, and the stability of the wrap does too. He'll make it. They both will.
Maruki nods along with his advice, can't even bring himself to offer to take a look around too. He can do that when they trade off in a couple hours. For now, his whole body is bruised and battered and desperate for even the temporary reprieve of sleep.
He gets to his feet for only a moment, just long enough to cross over to a disheveled pile of clearance clothes. He kicks it to spread it out more, unwilling to bend or move his arms much unless he absolutely must, until the pile has been dispersed enough to still provide a semi-soft cushion from the floor but more resemble a shape a grown man of their height could comfortably lay on. It'll do.
It's an awkward, inelegant movement that makes him laugh at himself, dropping down to his knees and then slowly lowering himself down face first. After a moment of attempting to adjust, he rolls onto his left side, cradles the other arm across his chest to try to give his injured shoulder some support. That's as good as it will get.
He doesn't know where Akechi is in the store, lost sight of him during his pathetic shuffle. But he can hear him rustling about, so he hasn't gone far.
Maruki raises his voice to ensure he hears it. With how exhausted he is, the sincerity normally present in his tone isn't quite so earnestly cloying. He still clearly means what he says, but it's plainly stated, factual rather than sentimental. ]
Akechi. Thank you. I won't ever forget your kindness tonight.
[ A kindness that involved goading him into killing a monstrous creature the likes of which they'll hopefully never see again, but kindness all the same.
A vibration through the floor from the distant rumblings, buildings collapsing, monsters stalking. Not close enough to fear. They'll be fine. Or they won't, and they'll fight their way through. Simple.
Maruki closes his eyes, and he's out before Akechi returns. ]