[ 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-
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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-]