[ Oh, Maruki hears that slight twinge of excitement, alright.
It's more genuine positive anticipation than he's ever heard from Akechi– save for moments of bloodshed in the heat of a shared battle, anyway. He can't stop himself from doing a rapid double take, then looks away just as quickly, tucking his chin to hide his smile in his scarf. ]
There are. I figured we would have lunch and tea here too, once we've had our fill of the view.
[ Which is a rather large ask, as it turns out– because Christ, what a view.
With their day passes paid for and their things stowed away in the visitors' lockers, there's nothing to do but sink down into the boiling water outside. Maruki goes all the way down to his shoulders at once, a shock to the system as snow falls steadily on the dead trees and craggy mountains they overlook. His breath puffs out in front of him, mingles with the steam, and–
It's quiet.
With their bodies finally at rest and nothing to occupy their minds, it's finally the escape it was meant to be.
Maruki doesn't say a word. He'll let Akechi take in the silence for as long as he wants. ]
Not in the way normal baths are - it's polite to remain quiet in them, or keep conversations low. There's still noise. Water streaming from the faucet, overhead lights humming, voices and traffic from Tokyo's busy streets pouring in every time the door opens or a flap is pushed aside.
Out here-
That doesn't exist and remains a reminder of how far they are from it. How close this peace is from a city lacking it.
Akechi remains quiet for an hour. Barely moves during that time. The water is the hottest he's ever been in and his heart races within 30 minutes. Sweat beading against his forehead soon after.
It's nice. He doesn't hate it. There's a bird flying overhead and reminds him of a crow. The humor would be lost on Maruki, but Akechi finds it funny all the same. An exhale turns into a quiet, winded laugh. It breaks the silence, so he decides to keep filling it.]
It's going to be difficult to not think of this place should I go to another bath in Tokyo. This really is in a league of its own.
[ It's a protracted silence that falls between them. Ten minutes, half an hour, more. At some point, Maruki stops keeping track in his head and just relaxes, draping his arms over stones at the side of the pool to rest his chin on them and stare out over the wooded mountains, mind going pleasantly blank and fuzzy.
That exhale of a laugh catches his attention, and he turns over his shoulder to watch Akechi through his fogged glasses. ]
It's unreal, isn't it?
[ One glance back at the white-dappled treetops and then he turns to face Akechi fully, relaxing back against the side of the pool and sliding down to his shoulders again. ]
In the immediate aftermath of fighting a grotesque mound of flesh disguised as human, on a ship built to sink the two of them alone. Akechi wants Shido to suffer and he does. It's drawn out - both of them on brink of collapse, but Akechi wins. Doesn't shoot, because he won and this isn't where he claims his victory.
Doesn't shoot, so he returns to the true world, in the diet building, in an office where a man's heart never changed.
Akechi shoots and blood splatters a pristine window pane. The red ocean from his cognition almost visible through the transparent stains that leak against the glass.
And it's quiet. It's quiet. It's quiet. In those final moments, it's so quiet and in those final moments, he sees his own life flash in the darkened eyes of the one who brought him into this world.
He doesn't see his mother. Doesn't think about a childhood he barely recalls. Remembers Kurusu, for the briefest second.
Thinks about how he wants bath. Thinks about the onsen. Thinks about Maruki dragging him up that mountain for the only vacation Akechi would ever experience. And it's quiet, so he lets his body drop onto a couch he's sat on more times than he can count. And it's quiet, even as fragments of bone and flesh drop with solid, loud, too loud, it's too loud plops from a corpse in an office chair.
And it's quiet.
Not even New Years.
A day away. A day after. They had plans - he can't remember what.
He thinks to text, and doesn't. Another plop. He looks to their messages -'I'm proud of you' on the screen. Plop, and he should leave. Plop, and he deletes the texts. Reformats his phone. Watches the logo circle over and over and over and-
He wants to leave. Plop and he can't leave. Plop and any elation felt is dissipating faster and faster and faster-
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It's more genuine positive anticipation than he's ever heard from Akechi– save for moments of bloodshed in the heat of a shared battle, anyway. He can't stop himself from doing a rapid double take, then looks away just as quickly, tucking his chin to hide his smile in his scarf. ]
There are. I figured we would have lunch and tea here too, once we've had our fill of the view.
[ Which is a rather large ask, as it turns out– because Christ, what a view.
With their day passes paid for and their things stowed away in the visitors' lockers, there's nothing to do but sink down into the boiling water outside. Maruki goes all the way down to his shoulders at once, a shock to the system as snow falls steadily on the dead trees and craggy mountains they overlook. His breath puffs out in front of him, mingles with the steam, and–
It's quiet.
With their bodies finally at rest and nothing to occupy their minds, it's finally the escape it was meant to be.
Maruki doesn't say a word. He'll let Akechi take in the silence for as long as he wants. ]
no subject
It's silent.
Not in the way normal baths are - it's polite to remain quiet in them, or keep conversations low. There's still noise. Water streaming from the faucet, overhead lights humming, voices and traffic from Tokyo's busy streets pouring in every time the door opens or a flap is pushed aside.
Out here-
That doesn't exist and remains a reminder of how far they are from it. How close this peace is from a city lacking it.
Akechi remains quiet for an hour. Barely moves during that time. The water is the hottest he's ever been in and his heart races within 30 minutes. Sweat beading against his forehead soon after.
It's nice. He doesn't hate it. There's a bird flying overhead and reminds him of a crow. The humor would be lost on Maruki, but Akechi finds it funny all the same. An exhale turns into a quiet, winded laugh. It breaks the silence, so he decides to keep filling it.]
It's going to be difficult to not think of this place should I go to another bath in Tokyo. This really is in a league of its own.
no subject
That exhale of a laugh catches his attention, and he turns over his shoulder to watch Akechi through his fogged glasses. ]
It's unreal, isn't it?
[ One glance back at the white-dappled treetops and then he turns to face Akechi fully, relaxing back against the side of the pool and sliding down to his shoulders again. ]
I hope you remember it for a long time.
[ However long that ends up being. ]
no subject
And he does.
Doesn't shoot, so he returns to the true world, in the diet building, in an office where a man's heart never changed.
Akechi shoots and blood splatters a pristine window pane. The red ocean from his cognition almost visible through the transparent stains that leak against the glass.
And it's quiet. It's quiet. It's quiet. In those final moments, it's so quiet and in those final moments, he sees his own life flash in the darkened eyes of the one who brought him into this world.
He doesn't see his mother. Doesn't think about a childhood he barely recalls. Remembers Kurusu, for the briefest second.
Thinks about how he wants bath. Thinks about the onsen. Thinks about Maruki dragging him up that mountain for the only vacation Akechi would ever experience. And it's quiet, so he lets his body drop onto a couch he's sat on more times than he can count. And it's quiet, even as fragments of bone and flesh drop with solid, loud, too loud, it's too loud plops from a corpse in an office chair.
And it's quiet.
Not even New Years.
A day away. A day after. They had plans - he can't remember what.He thinks to text, and doesn't. Another plop. He looks to their messages -'I'm proud of you' on the screen. Plop, and he should leave. Plop, and he deletes the texts. Reformats his phone. Watches the logo circle over and over and over and-
He wants to leave. Plop and he can't leave. Plop and any elation felt is dissipating faster and faster and faster-
Plop, and he hears
someone
Pop and-]