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}
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. ]