He's known since the moment he first arrived in Visium. His fate was sealed the moment he saw the sky turn blood red outside his old professor's window– no, it was sealed the moment he learned about the true power of the collective unconscious over coffee on a crisp autumn day– no, it was sealed the day he made his promise to Rumi, the last time he ever saw her.
I wish I could heal the world of all its pain.
That wish was never something this reality could grant him. It was something he could give back to the world he came from, something he could only do himself.
The day he jolts back into consciousness just outside that office–
He knows what's coming for him. Unfathomable power at his fingertips, Azathoth's presence throbbing at the base of his skull, conviction burning an inferno straight through all the gnarled distortion surrounding his heart. A palace of sorrow, a laboratory filled with grand golden monuments to his love, a promise, a plea, a threat–
A fight, an acceptance, a hand wrapped around his wrist–
Maruki knew all of that was coming for him.
What happens after a storybook closes, a dream dies, a heart changes?
Everything. Nothing. There's nothing left for him because everything has been spread out before him for the taking.
Not everyone is so lucky to get a second chance at life. Precious few people in this world are as phenomenally fortunate as him to have been handed a true clean slate, with his own face on. He tells himself that alone in the bath, letting the steam ease pains from phantom wounds that no longer show. He tells himself that the first time he leaves his apartment days later, fighting back a sense of shame in facing the city that will never know it was under his thrall. He tells himself that as he finds a new job, talks to new people, learns new stories, new joys, new pains–
He tells himself that as he drops Akira off at the train station, unable to stop smiling, more grateful than ever.
He's lucky. He's changed. He's–
Leaning his head back against the leather seat, letting his eyes drift shut for just a moment, letting the darkness take him.
Stars blink to life slowly, glowing incandescent all around him even when he tries to force his eyes open again. So many more than there were above them that frigid night in Odaiba. Innumerable. He feels himself falling into them, weightless as if in a dream, and in his heart–
In this new heart that hasn't yet learned to live again, it beats–
I wish I could make the most of my new life and find my own happiness.
And his eyes open in a garden, familiar for only half a breath before an entire lifetime of memories return to him, placing him exactly where he should be. ]
Maruki knows where he is. Knows precisely where he is, and he isn't about to linger and see what ridiculous affects the flowers in the garden might have on him this time. There's no phone in his pocket, and he has no idea how long it's been since he left, if the machiya still stands, if anyone he knew is here– there's no time to waste, and he's up and running through the garden as fast as he can, heart and mind both racing so fast that he doesn't even notice– ]
Mif– aah!
[ He can't stop himself in time, too much momentum and adrenaline pushing him forward. Even attempting to skid to a stop, he still barrels into Chihaya, arms reaching out to wrap around hers so he doesn't knock her over.
That's his first instinct, a pure reaction without any thought behind it.
But the moment his mind truly processes what's going on, he snaps upright, staring at her wildly. ]
Mifune! It's me, you– you remember me, don't you?
[ This reality was a dream come true in so many ways, but it was hell in just as many others, and he wouldn't put it past whatever powers may be to punish his wish with a world where all those he came to love no longer recognize his face. ]
[ Is there any question as to where he goes first?
The moment he separates from Chihaya, he's running again– and he makes it only a few yards before remembering what he can do, should be able to do in this world. It takes a moment to remember how, but in the end–
Who could ever forget how to fly?
There's no guarantee Eren will be at the windmill, but Maruki can't imagine he would be anywhere else. No matter how long it's been, Eren would wait for him there, wouldn't he? Loyalty is a pale word for what they have. Eren– the person who knows him better than anyone, his other self, his Other– he wouldn't have given up that bastard hope. He should be right there–
He should be right there as a mourning dove flies up to the window in the loft, landing on the ledge and cooing, louder than ever but just as mournful.
[ No matter how long it takes to extract himself from Eren, it must happen, because–
There's someone he needs to see, more than anyone else.
He knew. They both knew. More than a year ago, with their cognitions addled and memories manipulated, they stumbled through a rift in reality and remembered–
A puppet. A pawn. A bargaining chip.
Had he been trying to heal Akechi of all of his pains too? Was any of it real, or was he only ever an accessory to a dream he made into reality for Akira? Maruki still isn't sure.
Any amount of guilt he felt back in the true reality can't hold a candle to what he feels now. Miserable, bitter regret sinks its claws into him, rends his soul into paper thin shreds. To have resurrected Akechi Goro against his will, to have used him to try to shift the tides in his favor–
And to have left him in this reality, when the first deal they ever made was to find a way to leave together–
Maruki has to face it all, but his heart pounds and aches in his chest like he's staring down the barrel of a gun. He probably will be, shortly. He should summon Azathoth even before he reaches the machiya, be prepared for their worst fight yet by a large margin, but–
He doesn't.
Can't.
His hands are shoved into his pockets so Akechi won't see them trembling, but he wishes his arms were wide open. Akechi would only fold himself into them if it meant sinking a blade into his chest.
He knows this.
He wishes for it anyway.
Badb Catha screeches from the roof as he pushes the door open, eyes immediately gravitating to a familiar figure slumped at the kotatsu. ]
[ At the end of everything, whether it's the shattered remains of a reality too perfect to be allowed to stay or a battle to the near death in his own backyard–
At the end of everything, there is Kurusu Akira.
It's stranger than ever before to have two places in his heart firmly occupied by the same person. Kurusu Akira is his guiding light, his most deserving confidant, his first friend in long lonely years, his downfall and his savior all at once– and he is his ally, his housemate, his family, the person he held in both arms to make sure they were both happier than ever.
He can't miss the Akira he left behind, because he has the Akira who is here. Who has been here, waiting for him after Maruki promised to never leave his side until it was time for both of them to take back reality.
Maybe, having lived out his own end, that's now more possible than ever before.
That's for them to discuss and decide later. For now, Maruki only raps on the door of Akira's bedroom, a perfunctory gesture before he eases it open to slip inside anyway.
He can't help it. He beams at Akira exactly as he did the first time he saw him in the garden, so filled with relief and tender, pained love. ]
I feel like I just saw you.
[ He just did, only moments ago. A fistbump in the back of a taxi feels more woefully inadequate than ever.
Maruki reaches for him, a hand outstretched, finally ready to pay forward a change of heart that began long before he returned to the true reality. ]
[ Somewhere in the middle of the night, Maruki awakens.
It's not surprising, really. A problem he had in the true reality that persists now – he has trouble sleeping through the night, has to get up and walk around or else his mind will begin to wander down painful paths. It's no different here, so he extricates himself from bed, pads quietly down the stairs, and notices–
A dim lamp on in the living room. A shape at the kotatsu.
Maruki blinks, rubbing fingers beneath his glasses to try to clear groggy, bleary eyes.
No, he's still there, and the slope of his shoulders is as familiar as if Maruki never left.
Quietly, from across the room: ]
Adachi?
[ It feels strange to still use honorifics with him after what transpired in the labyrinth, then in their own home. ]
I was wondering where you were... I didn't see you when I returned. [ A beat, and then a rueful smile. ] I've returned, by the way.
[ Going by Haru's cafe in the morning was a ritual, and rituals aren't easily forgotten.
He misses his usual time by an hour or so, still acclimating himself back to this reality, still exhausted from his first day back– but all the same, right before a lunchtime rush, he walks through the door of Sip and Blossom as if he never took time away. ]
Haru.
[ She knew.
All this time, she knew.
And she chose to trust him, to befriend him anyway...
Maruki can't help the pain that ekes into the edges of the fond smile he gives her. ]
Obviously I never intended to leave, but... I'm sorry all the same. Especially after what we discussed.
[ By the time he makes it to Dolph's cabana, he's run the gamut of emotions with those he's reunited with–
But here and now, Maruki only feels pure, uncomplicated joy.
It's all he ever feels around Dolph, really. No matter how much the other man thinks himself an albatross around his neck, Maruki has only ever been buoyed up by him. How could someone feel any other way about their best friend? Returning to this reality and remembering him, it's like regaining missing vital organs – he breathes easier, his heart beats calmer, knowing Dolph is here.
Seeing him again.
He lets himself in, having fished his spare key out of the wreckage of his room, and calls out at once– ]
Dolph? Dolph!
[ Maruki can't help but laugh, relieved just to be able to say his name. ]
Come here, I need to see you! Ah, maybe he's gotten more muscular since I left...?
[ As much as Maruki wishes he could be everywhere at once, he can only visit one person at a time–
But he knows the next person he must see as soon as he hears about Dazai's departure from Dolph. Maruki flies to that little home by the beach, stumbling to his feet as he transforms back into himself and tripping up the front step to knock. ]
Odasaku. It's me. Maruki.
[ Should he let himself in? No, he ought to wait, but...
A palm presses against the door, heart aching in his chest. ]
I'm sorry. I'm here. It's not a trick, I'm really here.
Maruki finds himself outside a home he last visited as a small child. The memories of being picked up and held close by a king are a little hazy, but they're undeniably there.
He stops to crouch down next to Orthrus, offering both heads a firm pet as he calls out– ]
Kazuya! Kazuya, come out here, I think I might burst into tears over your dog again!
[ Maruki doesn't mean for it to take days to reach some people. There are so many in this reality who are dear to him, and if he could, he would have found them all right away, the moment he stumbled out of the garden–
But cause and effect have had their turn with him. The price he pays for spending nearly two years loving and caring for so many people is that each reunion is its own brand of intense, exhausting, even volatile. And in between, in those few moments to himself to rest, he's found himself even more worn down trying to process all that's happened to him.
So.
It takes days.
But finally, finally, when he can extricate himself from the tangled and half-destroyed web of the machiya– he pokes his head into Quartz, and he finds a familiar hunched over frame sitting at the bar.
Maruki can't help himself. He makes his way over at a casual amble until he can come to rest an arm on the bar next to Adam, eyes up on the specialty cocktails menu, biting the inside of one cheek to keep from grinning and ruining this immediately. ]
[ There's only one use for Maruki now that he's returned to this reality. He's a ticket out. He's barely an ally. That's all. Akechi had interrogated him the day after their battle with precise, clinical questions. Wanting evidence. Wanting anything that may have triggered the departure. Wanting nothing on the man's life, only the lead up to his vanishing act and the account surrounding it. Thoughts. People met prior. Dreams had. There's no banter indulged. Akechi asks. He only tolerates impersonal facts in return. Maruki remembers less than he likes, implies more than Akechi's comfortable with and he ends the day ignoring a man to study notes in his room, try to recreate what little he gleaned happened.
Maruki winning that battle only affords him a home back in a house that's irrevocably Akechi's now. A matter he stated with that same cold tone. It transferred to him. There's no proof of it outside of the home standing beyond Maruki's departure. It's all he needs in a shithole built on wishful thinking. The short lived satisfaction from relaying that information ends brutal and fast upon the realization this house doesn't even matter.
It takes a week for him to acknowledge Maruki in the hall. Then two before he wanders back to the counter to indulge in a meal. Three before he falls back into a routine perfected in the years before, offering up crossword clues, questions. It's easier to work with Maruki than against him. Akechi can pretend to give a shit awhile longer - one of them left. It's only a matter of time before it happens again.
It takes four weeks for him to invite Maruki to the bathhouse.
They sit in silence for-
Awhile. Akechi wanting to say little, eyes shut in a steamy room like he's being lulled to sleep. He's more aware than ever of the man sitting a foot away.
But inevitably, he speaks. Unable to stay silent for long. ]
I didn't inquire about your actual experience back in our world. To be frank, it means little to me, but since I've hit a dead end with the information you previously provided, I'm going to ask you to relay everything. [ One eye opens to make sure his companion hasn't died in water Akechi made sure was far hotter than normal. ] Try not to vanish before you're done.
[ It all unfolds better than Maruki expects, honestly. He can handle a cold shoulder, pointed barbs, short conversations when they used to aimlessly talk for hours throughout the day. He knows none of it will last. He'll gladly take all of that over more attempts on his life–
And when he closes his eyes at night, Akechi only a wall away, he sees comingling images of two different versions of the boy aiming a gun at him. One his ally, furious with him for leaving, and another his opponent, opposed with every fiber of his being to the deft hand Maruki used to shape his reality.
It's almost impossible to reconcile the two, to accept that there was indeed a reality in which he did not truly have Akechi's best interests at heart. Guilt compounds, bitter in the back of his throat throughout every terse interaction that slowly gives way to a routine they both remember well.
Even with that, though– the invitation is a shock. He wasn't sure they'd ever get to that level of comfort around one another again, and he was willing to accept that, take his lumps for betraying Akechi's rarely-shown trust.
Maruki accepts it too quickly, too eagerly. Sits in contented silence, stunned that it's happening at all–
And then try not to vanish before you're done hits his ears.
He opens his eyes, looks over at Akechi through the steam.
If he thought he could withstand more than a few seconds underwater, or if he trusted that Akechi would save him if he did pass out, he'd dunk himself down in the name of a stupid joke.
But he can't, and he doesn't, so he won't. Only rolls his eyes and lets them fall closed again, head knocking back onto the stone wall behind them. ]
We both knew what was coming for me. [ And every day, he resents that he couldn't change his fate. ] Do you really want me to detail the entire ordeal, Akechi?
[ Haru has never had a more fun birthday in years.
Maybe others who get to celebrate yearly with their loved ones might find it odd or jarring, but Haru finds comfort in sharing with a friend on how to properly conduct sado.
And though it's art preferred and performed by women, Maruki doesn't seem all too bothered by such gender nonsense and has been an excellent observer thus far.
In the comfort of the tatami room, no other machiya residents to bother them, Haru has the chawan preheated after she's so elegantly poured water into it. She's quiet, focused as she does so, not a drop spilled onto the floor as she soaks the chasen.
When it's time to wipe the chasan with a cloth, her movements are diligent and graceful, taking care to ensure the chasan is dutifully cleaned before she can place it down and reach for the container of matcha powder.
One scoop. It's added in quietly, no dusting of it left behind. Second scoop. She turns the chasaku over and brings it down against the rim, tapping with careful precision so any excess powder drops into the bottom of the chasan. ]
returns from approving my own award so they can be STYLIN
[ It had been Haru's suggestion for her birthday, and Maruki's gift to her had it in mind – a semi-formal kimono adorned in elaborate florals, bursting with as much life as Haru herself. His own is more sedate, a rich dark blue, but it's nicer than anything he's worn in far too long.
He kneels across from Haru, watching respectfully, quietly. He doesn't kid himself in thinking he'll be able to remember every intentional, intricate step, but he's taking mental notes all the same. Next time, he'll try to recreate it with her at his side to gently correct his inevitable mistakes.
He shifts a little where he's kneeling, forces his posture straighter. The first question comes out barely above a whisper, careful not to disturb her process too much. ]
Can you adjust how much tea you use based on your taste preference, or does it need to remain consistent?
[ The box Maruki finds just outside the sliding glass door of the balcony connecting his office and Akira's apartment has some...heft to it. Strange since it's so small, and perhaps even stranger once it's finally opened.
Inside is a chicken. A plush chicken, nice and soft, and if lifted, yup. That's where all the heft is coming from. Thankfully the note written in fine academic script explains,
I know you don't take care of you own neck and shoulders, but perhaps you'd let a friend help. The clay balls inside can be safely heated and will stay so for hours at a time, so when the need strikes, please feel free to have a warm cuddle.
Merry Christmas and best wishes to your health, Akira Takahashi ]
[ In a very simple package of brown and red ribbon is a gift for Maruki, found at the machiya on Christmas.
A note from Haru reads:
Merry Christmas, Maruki-san! I tried my hand at sewing this, so I apologize if it's not up to the standards of the merchandise the vendors sold at Dreamercon. Your kitty can play with it as well, if you'd like. I look forward to the New Year with you, too!
Inside the package? A little mouse plush she's carefully crafted. He looks a little mischievous, that damn smirk of his. ]
[At some point, he slips out into the garden and plants his gift. It's a wooden birdhouse, modeled after the White Windmill in Somnius. Eren sometimes forgets that others know about the place. It didn't seem right to leave it behind where someone else might pick it up. It's a perfect miniature replica.]
[A plain and unassuming red box with a silver ribbon arrives wherever Maruki gets any personal deliveries at on Christmas day. Inside is a handheld massager and a note:
Figured you wouldn't be around your office today, but wasn't sure where else to send this so I left it with the mice. Hopefully it gets to you.
Of course he's awake. It's not enough to fight and fight and fight to return where he belongs. Maybe that's his penance for a life spent in the shadows to be blinded by the sun the moment he's able to rest.
It's a curse. Of course it is. The blissful bleak end he walked towards with his own two feet, by his own choice, his own destiny embraced-
Doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter.
He's blinded by the the sun . His eyes are open. Another false world moves around him and it's a nauseating experience to recall all he had-
Forgotten. Of course he forgot. Years spent adamant that his will was stronger than the world-
What an idiot he was. With Shido, with this place - it's not beyond them to fight the manipulation intrinsic to this world, but it was, is, will forever be foolish to think they're above it.
He's awake, blinded, furious. A field of flowers, a bright sky, a sun in the palm of his hand.
If you're going through what I went through, I don't want you to hold back. Finish the job you set out to do.
He hadn't.
If you come back, I'll take responsibility.
He hates Maruki.
I want to see you again, Akechi.
He hates Maruki.
I won't apologize for that.
He hates Maruki.
There's bile in his throat and he lets it rise. Maybe it'll choke him as he lays against a sea of petals. It was only minutes, hours, seconds ago that glass shattered under them, a perfect world fell apart, and Akira had clung to a god's hand to raise him up again and-
A sour taste sticks to his teeth, the back of his throat. He swallows it down.
Of course he's here.
Of course Maruki brought him here.
He understands it couldn't be Maruki that brought him here. The infallible god dead set on controlling the world-
Isn't in control here and it's almost comical, frankly. Akechi is 'alive' again, in a false world, and it's not even Maruki Takuto behind it.
It's penance. He can't stand Maruki and-
The sun continues to shine in his hand, his fingers forcing the screen to stay up for as long as his stare can hold it. Until thin bright streaks cross his vision and he thinks his eyes will fall from their sockets if he doesn't blink.
It's the first of the year. That's what he gleans as he wanders through town like an unwanted ghost. He doesn't answer anyone, doesn't care to make pleasantries with the locals.
Of course it is.
And it's funny, really, that he ends up a shrine to a goddess he can't stand.
But who gives a shit anyway and-
The sun blinds but he's never been one to shy away from it.
[ He's barely been sleeping. Only in fits and starts, an hour here or there– but every night, he lies awake and watches 2 AM come and go, the gouged out hollow in his chest only growing deeper.
He's barely been sleeping, but when he has– when he has, more often than not, it comes on as he stands in Akechi's room, looking over his belongings, silently counting them to make sure none have disappeared. Any sort of tangible tether keeping a fragment of his soul to this reality. Anything to cling to.
He doesn't touch anything, even when dust begins to settle over the books piled at the edge of the bed. Not a thing will be out of place if– when– if Akechi returns.
But he does curl up on the bed, close his eyes, try to remember how to breathe, try to feel a hand between his shoulders that only a child ever felt.
In a dream, his phone buzzes where it lays on the pillow next to his head. In a dream, he picks it up, opens dry, bleary eyes to see Akechi's name lighting up the screen. In a dream–
He sits up too fast, the room reeling around him, stomach flipping and heart rocketing up into his throat.
The phone in his hands is heavy, warm. Real. Too real to be a dream.
He has to be sure. He has to dig nails into his own arm, feel a bloom of pain that will be only a fraction of what Akechi doles out of him if he's real. He has to– ]
[It's all candlelight, just like Eren remembers in his earliest, quietest memories. Maruki and he are tangled again, ever tangled, limbs and breath and souls. Eren has whispered that promise again a hundred times. He takes Maruki's lips in his, kisses sweetly, slowly.]
I love you. I've missed you. [Here, in their empty world.]
[ It feels like it's been too long since they were last here, even if it's only been a few weeks. Maruki's sure that would be the case even if the world hadn't been plunged into darkness; he's been reluctant to leave the machiya or the farm for fear of being too far from Akechi and losing sight of him once again. That anxiety persists on a low simmer in the windmill, so far from being able to keep an eye on him, but it's something he'll have to get used to. He can't hover, can't smother, as much as he might wish he could.
But those nervous thoughts are finally pushed far from his mind when Eren pulls him in close, kisses him like there's nothing else in their empty world that matters. Maruki traces his fingers lightly up and down his spine, shivers at those beautiful, honest words. ]
I've missed you, too. Even though I'm with you every day.
[If things had been different - if he had lived a different life, if he had woken up right in this world, he would know what the day is. He would know to handle Maruki like glass, to never call him out to the common area for a conversation, would simply sit in the quiet if that was all he needed.
But this Kurusu Akira has no way to know that. He's never lived that life, and no one has ever told him.
To Akira, it's only the anniversary of the day that Maruki found both him and Akechi covered in blood and half-alive. Not the best moment for either of them, but it isn't the focus of his thoughts. Maybe the competition nudged him along a little, but mostly by pure chance, he's thinking of something else entirely.
His arms are folded on the kotatsu , head resting atop it. He doesn't quite look up at Maruki as he starts to speak.]
If I were to ask you about someone you were close to... [slow, steady, like the heat is sapping away part of his worries] ...would you feel comfortable answering?
Not better than the last, but no worse, either. It's only different. Painfully, beautifully different; the day holds more weight for him than ever before, phantom bruises blooming across his jaw every time he looks at a Kurusu Akira who has no knowledge of his changed heart. Early in the morning, when he gratefully accepts a cup of coffee, he does consider if he should bring it up today of all days, but it still feels too fresh, too strangely intimate. One day, surely...
Still, he hasn't felt the same need to shut out the world that he did last year. The grief is still there, stinging keener than ever, but running and hiding is no longer an option. Maruki has gone about his day as normal, only a little quieter, a little slower to smile.
The smiles do come, though.
One dawns gently across his expression now, eyes tired but curious as he watches Akira not watching him. ]
I guess that depends on the question, but I can't imagine something I wouldn't tell you.
[ A little dread does gnaw at his gut; Chihaya managed to put a few pieces together about Eren and him. Has Akira done the same? ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
> canon update (10/10)
He's known since the moment he first arrived in Visium. His fate was sealed the moment he saw the sky turn blood red outside his old professor's window– no, it was sealed the moment he learned about the true power of the collective unconscious over coffee on a crisp autumn day– no, it was sealed the day he made his promise to Rumi, the last time he ever saw her.
That wish was never something this reality could grant him. It was something he could give back to the world he came from, something he could only do himself.
The day he jolts back into consciousness just outside that office–
He knows what's coming for him. Unfathomable power at his fingertips, Azathoth's presence throbbing at the base of his skull, conviction burning an inferno straight through all the gnarled distortion surrounding his heart. A palace of sorrow, a laboratory filled with grand golden monuments to his love, a promise, a plea, a threat–
A fight, an acceptance, a hand wrapped around his wrist–
Maruki knew all of that was coming for him.
What happens after a storybook closes, a dream dies, a heart changes?
Everything. Nothing. There's nothing left for him because everything has been spread out before him for the taking.
Not everyone is so lucky to get a second chance at life. Precious few people in this world are as phenomenally fortunate as him to have been handed a true clean slate, with his own face on. He tells himself that alone in the bath, letting the steam ease pains from phantom wounds that no longer show. He tells himself that the first time he leaves his apartment days later, fighting back a sense of shame in facing the city that will never know it was under his thrall. He tells himself that as he finds a new job, talks to new people, learns new stories, new joys, new pains–
He tells himself that as he drops Akira off at the train station, unable to stop smiling, more grateful than ever.
He's lucky. He's changed. He's–
Leaning his head back against the leather seat, letting his eyes drift shut for just a moment, letting the darkness take him.
Stars blink to life slowly, glowing incandescent all around him even when he tries to force his eyes open again. So many more than there were above them that frigid night in Odaiba. Innumerable. He feels himself falling into them, weightless as if in a dream, and in his heart–
In this new heart that hasn't yet learned to live again, it beats–
And his eyes open in a garden, familiar for only half a breath before an entire lifetime of memories return to him, placing him exactly where he should be. ]
> chihaya
Maruki knows where he is. Knows precisely where he is, and he isn't about to linger and see what ridiculous affects the flowers in the garden might have on him this time. There's no phone in his pocket, and he has no idea how long it's been since he left, if the machiya still stands, if anyone he knew is here– there's no time to waste, and he's up and running through the garden as fast as he can, heart and mind both racing so fast that he doesn't even notice– ]
Mif– aah!
[ He can't stop himself in time, too much momentum and adrenaline pushing him forward. Even attempting to skid to a stop, he still barrels into Chihaya, arms reaching out to wrap around hers so he doesn't knock her over.
That's his first instinct, a pure reaction without any thought behind it.
But the moment his mind truly processes what's going on, he snaps upright, staring at her wildly. ]
Mifune! It's me, you– you remember me, don't you?
[ This reality was a dream come true in so many ways, but it was hell in just as many others, and he wouldn't put it past whatever powers may be to punish his wish with a world where all those he came to love no longer recognize his face. ]
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> eren
The moment he separates from Chihaya, he's running again– and he makes it only a few yards before remembering what he can do, should be able to do in this world. It takes a moment to remember how, but in the end–
Who could ever forget how to fly?
There's no guarantee Eren will be at the windmill, but Maruki can't imagine he would be anywhere else. No matter how long it's been, Eren would wait for him there, wouldn't he? Loyalty is a pale word for what they have. Eren– the person who knows him better than anyone, his other self, his Other– he wouldn't have given up that bastard hope. He should be right there–
He should be right there as a mourning dove flies up to the window in the loft, landing on the ledge and cooing, louder than ever but just as mournful.
Eren. ]
clenches my fist...that bastard hope...
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OHHHHHHH CRACKS MY FUCKENING KNUCKENLES
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> akechi
There's someone he needs to see, more than anyone else.
He knew. They both knew. More than a year ago, with their cognitions addled and memories manipulated, they stumbled through a rift in reality and remembered–
A puppet. A pawn. A bargaining chip.
Had he been trying to heal Akechi of all of his pains too? Was any of it real, or was he only ever an accessory to a dream he made into reality for Akira? Maruki still isn't sure.
Any amount of guilt he felt back in the true reality can't hold a candle to what he feels now. Miserable, bitter regret sinks its claws into him, rends his soul into paper thin shreds. To have resurrected Akechi Goro against his will, to have used him to try to shift the tides in his favor–
And to have left him in this reality, when the first deal they ever made was to find a way to leave together–
Maruki has to face it all, but his heart pounds and aches in his chest like he's staring down the barrel of a gun. He probably will be, shortly. He should summon Azathoth even before he reaches the machiya, be prepared for their worst fight yet by a large margin, but–
He doesn't.
Can't.
His hands are shoved into his pockets so Akechi won't see them trembling, but he wishes his arms were wide open. Akechi would only fold himself into them if it meant sinking a blade into his chest.
He knows this.
He wishes for it anyway.
Badb Catha screeches from the roof as he pushes the door open, eyes immediately gravitating to a familiar figure slumped at the kotatsu. ]
Akechi.
[ Without missing a beat– ]
Outside. We're not doing this in here.
shuts eyes cw: violent thoughts, eye trauma, gore (?), murder, suicide (?)
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cw: violence cont for awhile
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closes eyes and turns away from this
LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID
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> akira
At the end of everything, there is Kurusu Akira.
It's stranger than ever before to have two places in his heart firmly occupied by the same person. Kurusu Akira is his guiding light, his most deserving confidant, his first friend in long lonely years, his downfall and his savior all at once– and he is his ally, his housemate, his family, the person he held in both arms to make sure they were both happier than ever.
He can't miss the Akira he left behind, because he has the Akira who is here. Who has been here, waiting for him after Maruki promised to never leave his side until it was time for both of them to take back reality.
Maybe, having lived out his own end, that's now more possible than ever before.
That's for them to discuss and decide later. For now, Maruki only raps on the door of Akira's bedroom, a perfunctory gesture before he eases it open to slip inside anyway.
He can't help it. He beams at Akira exactly as he did the first time he saw him in the garden, so filled with relief and tender, pained love. ]
I feel like I just saw you.
[ He just did, only moments ago. A fistbump in the back of a taxi feels more woefully inadequate than ever.
Maruki reaches for him, a hand outstretched, finally ready to pay forward a change of heart that began long before he returned to the true reality. ]
Kurusu. I missed you so much.
[ You.
Not the other Akira.
You. ]
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our light.mp3
raises u ideal and the real.mp3
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> adachi
It's not surprising, really. A problem he had in the true reality that persists now – he has trouble sleeping through the night, has to get up and walk around or else his mind will begin to wander down painful paths. It's no different here, so he extricates himself from bed, pads quietly down the stairs, and notices–
A dim lamp on in the living room. A shape at the kotatsu.
Maruki blinks, rubbing fingers beneath his glasses to try to clear groggy, bleary eyes.
No, he's still there, and the slope of his shoulders is as familiar as if Maruki never left.
Quietly, from across the room: ]
Adachi?
[ It feels strange to still use honorifics with him after what transpired in the labyrinth, then in their own home. ]
I was wondering where you were... I didn't see you when I returned. [ A beat, and then a rueful smile. ] I've returned, by the way.
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i just think it's funny magatsu izanagi and azathoth both have evil smile
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> haru
He misses his usual time by an hour or so, still acclimating himself back to this reality, still exhausted from his first day back– but all the same, right before a lunchtime rush, he walks through the door of Sip and Blossom as if he never took time away. ]
Haru.
[ She knew.
All this time, she knew.
And she chose to trust him, to befriend him anyway...
Maruki can't help the pain that ekes into the edges of the fond smile he gives her. ]
Obviously I never intended to leave, but... I'm sorry all the same. Especially after what we discussed.
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> dolph
But here and now, Maruki only feels pure, uncomplicated joy.
It's all he ever feels around Dolph, really. No matter how much the other man thinks himself an albatross around his neck, Maruki has only ever been buoyed up by him. How could someone feel any other way about their best friend? Returning to this reality and remembering him, it's like regaining missing vital organs – he breathes easier, his heart beats calmer, knowing Dolph is here.
Seeing him again.
He lets himself in, having fished his spare key out of the wreckage of his room, and calls out at once– ]
Dolph? Dolph!
[ Maruki can't help but laugh, relieved just to be able to say his name. ]
Come here, I need to see you! Ah, maybe he's gotten more muscular since I left...?
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> odasaku
But he knows the next person he must see as soon as he hears about Dazai's departure from Dolph. Maruki flies to that little home by the beach, stumbling to his feet as he transforms back into himself and tripping up the front step to knock. ]
Odasaku. It's me. Maruki.
[ Should he let himself in? No, he ought to wait, but...
A palm presses against the door, heart aching in his chest. ]
I'm sorry. I'm here. It's not a trick, I'm really here.
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POOR ODA :WHYYYYYYYYYY:
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> kazuya
Maruki finds himself outside a home he last visited as a small child. The memories of being picked up and held close by a king are a little hazy, but they're undeniably there.
He stops to crouch down next to Orthrus, offering both heads a firm pet as he calls out– ]
Kazuya! Kazuya, come out here, I think I might burst into tears over your dog again!
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> adam
But cause and effect have had their turn with him. The price he pays for spending nearly two years loving and caring for so many people is that each reunion is its own brand of intense, exhausting, even volatile. And in between, in those few moments to himself to rest, he's found himself even more worn down trying to process all that's happened to him.
So.
It takes days.
But finally, finally, when he can extricate himself from the tangled and half-destroyed web of the machiya– he pokes his head into Quartz, and he finds a familiar hunched over frame sitting at the bar.
Maruki can't help himself. He makes his way over at a casual amble until he can come to rest an arm on the bar next to Adam, eyes up on the specialty cocktails menu, biting the inside of one cheek to keep from grinning and ruining this immediately. ]
What's good here, do you know?
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late oct - bathhouse
Maruki winning that battle only affords him a home back in a house that's irrevocably Akechi's now. A matter he stated with that same cold tone. It transferred to him. There's no proof of it outside of the home standing beyond Maruki's departure. It's all he needs in a shithole built on wishful thinking. The short lived satisfaction from relaying that information ends brutal and fast upon the realization this house doesn't even matter.
It takes a week for him to acknowledge Maruki in the hall. Then two before he wanders back to the counter to indulge in a meal. Three before he falls back into a routine perfected in the years before, offering up crossword clues, questions. It's easier to work with Maruki than against him. Akechi can pretend to give a shit awhile longer - one of them left. It's only a matter of time before it happens again.
It takes four weeks for him to invite Maruki to the bathhouse.
They sit in silence for-
Awhile. Akechi wanting to say little, eyes shut in a steamy room like he's being lulled to sleep. He's more aware than ever of the man sitting a foot away.
But inevitably, he speaks. Unable to stay silent for long. ]
I didn't inquire about your actual experience back in our world. To be frank, it means little to me, but since I've hit a dead end with the information you previously provided, I'm going to ask you to relay everything. [ One eye opens to make sure his companion hasn't died in water Akechi made sure was far hotter than normal. ] Try not to vanish before you're done.
LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOO
And when he closes his eyes at night, Akechi only a wall away, he sees comingling images of two different versions of the boy aiming a gun at him. One his ally, furious with him for leaving, and another his opponent, opposed with every fiber of his being to the deft hand Maruki used to shape his reality.
It's almost impossible to reconcile the two, to accept that there was indeed a reality in which he did not truly have Akechi's best interests at heart. Guilt compounds, bitter in the back of his throat throughout every terse interaction that slowly gives way to a routine they both remember well.
Even with that, though– the invitation is a shock. He wasn't sure they'd ever get to that level of comfort around one another again, and he was willing to accept that, take his lumps for betraying Akechi's rarely-shown trust.
Maruki accepts it too quickly, too eagerly. Sits in contented silence, stunned that it's happening at all–
And then try not to vanish before you're done hits his ears.
He opens his eyes, looks over at Akechi through the steam.
If he thought he could withstand more than a few seconds underwater, or if he trusted that Akechi would save him if he did pass out, he'd dunk himself down in the name of a stupid joke.
But he can't, and he doesn't, so he won't. Only rolls his eyes and lets them fall closed again, head knocking back onto the stone wall behind them. ]
We both knew what was coming for me. [ And every day, he resents that he couldn't change his fate. ] Do you really want me to detail the entire ordeal, Akechi?
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digging up this link and reveling at how batshit insane they are
they really are the freak of freaks
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text; un: eren (10/31)
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1/2
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text - un: akechi
Weird how it's the third one this week. Insane how a string of bad luck has followed him for two months now. ]
Something odd is happening in this home.
GOD I FORGOT ABOUT HIS CURSE
Does it have anything to do with you bumbling around in the middle of the night?
HIS MARUKI-CAUSED CURSE!!!!!!!!!!
well. that can't be proven
? MARUKI CURSE
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da way of tea - cake day (12/5)
Maybe others who get to celebrate yearly with their loved ones might find it odd or jarring, but Haru finds comfort in sharing with a friend on how to properly conduct sado.
And though it's art preferred and performed by women, Maruki doesn't seem all too bothered by such gender nonsense and has been an excellent observer thus far.
In the comfort of the tatami room, no other machiya residents to bother them, Haru has the chawan preheated after she's so elegantly poured water into it. She's quiet, focused as she does so, not a drop spilled onto the floor as she soaks the chasen.
When it's time to wipe the chasan with a cloth, her movements are diligent and graceful, taking care to ensure the chasan is dutifully cleaned before she can place it down and reach for the container of matcha powder.
One scoop. It's added in quietly, no dusting of it left behind. Second scoop. She turns the chasaku over and brings it down against the rim, tapping with careful precision so any excess powder drops into the bottom of the chasan. ]
returns from approving my own award so they can be STYLIN
He kneels across from Haru, watching respectfully, quietly. He doesn't kid himself in thinking he'll be able to remember every intentional, intricate step, but he's taking mental notes all the same. Next time, he'll try to recreate it with her at his side to gently correct his inevitable mistakes.
He shifts a little where he's kneeling, forces his posture straighter. The first question comes out barely above a whisper, careful not to disturb her process too much. ]
Can you adjust how much tea you use based on your taste preference, or does it need to remain consistent?
(◕‿◕)♡
god i want matcha now
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un: stampede
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What did you do this time?
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12/25 🎁
Inside is a chicken. A plush chicken, nice and soft, and if lifted, yup. That's where all the heft is coming from. Thankfully the note written in fine academic script explains,
I know you don't take care of you own neck and shoulders, but perhaps you'd let a friend help. The clay balls inside can be safely heated and will stay so for hours at a time, so when the need strikes, please feel free to have a warm cuddle.
Merry Christmas and best wishes to your health,
Akira Takahashi ]
( 12/25 delivery )
A note from Haru reads:
Merry Christmas, Maruki-san!
I tried my hand at sewing this, so I apologize if it's not up to the standards of the merchandise the vendors sold at Dreamercon. Your kitty can play with it as well, if you'd like.
I look forward to the New Year with you, too!
Inside the package? A little mouse plush she's carefully crafted. He looks a little mischievous, that damn smirk of his. ]
12/24; secret santa :3c
12/25 via mailmice
Figured you wouldn't be around your office today, but wasn't sure where else to send this so I left it with the mice. Hopefully it gets to you.
Merry Christmas, Doc.
-Aragaki
da return.....
Of course he's awake. It's not enough to fight and fight and fight to return where he belongs. Maybe that's his penance for a life spent in the shadows to be blinded by the sun the moment he's able to rest.
It's a curse. Of course it is. The blissful bleak end he walked towards with his own two feet, by his own choice, his own destiny embraced-
Doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter.
He's blinded by the the sun . His eyes are open. Another false world moves around him and it's a nauseating experience to recall all he had-
Forgotten. Of course he forgot. Years spent adamant that his will was stronger than the world-
What an idiot he was. With Shido, with this place - it's not beyond them to fight the manipulation intrinsic to this world, but it was, is, will forever be foolish to think they're above it.
He's awake, blinded, furious. A field of flowers, a bright sky, a sun in the palm of his hand.
If you're going through what I went through, I don't want you to hold back. Finish the job you set out to do.
He hadn't.If you come back, I'll take responsibility.
He hates Maruki.I want to see you again, Akechi.
He hates Maruki.I won't apologize for that.
He hates Maruki.There's bile in his throat and he lets it rise. Maybe it'll choke him as he lays against a sea of petals. It was only minutes, hours, seconds ago that glass shattered under them, a perfect world fell apart, and Akira had clung to a god's hand to raise him up again and-
A sour taste sticks to his teeth, the back of his throat. He swallows it down.
Of course he's here.
Of course Maruki brought him here.
He understands it couldn't be Maruki that brought him here. The infallible god dead set on controlling the world-
Isn't in control here and it's almost comical, frankly. Akechi is 'alive' again, in a false world, and it's not even Maruki Takuto behind it.
It's penance. He can't stand Maruki and-
The sun continues to shine in his hand, his fingers forcing the screen to stay up for as long as his stare can hold it. Until thin bright streaks cross his vision and he thinks his eyes will fall from their sockets if he doesn't blink.
It's the first of the year. That's what he gleans as he wanders through town like an unwanted ghost. He doesn't answer anyone, doesn't care to make pleasantries with the locals.
Of course it is.
And it's funny, really, that he ends up a shrine to a goddess he can't stand.
But who gives a shit anyway and-
The sun blinds but he's never been one to shy away from it.
He opens the series of text messages and says-]
Here I thought we made plans for the New Year.
How long are you going to keep me waiting?
ohhHHHHHHH I HATE YOU
He's barely been sleeping, but when he has– when he has, more often than not, it comes on as he stands in Akechi's room, looking over his belongings, silently counting them to make sure none have disappeared. Any sort of tangible tether keeping a fragment of his soul to this reality. Anything to cling to.
He doesn't touch anything, even when dust begins to settle over the books piled at the edge of the bed. Not a thing will be out of place if– when– if Akechi returns.
But he does curl up on the bed, close his eyes, try to remember how to breathe, try to feel a hand between his shoulders that only a child ever felt.
In a dream, his phone buzzes where it lays on the pillow next to his head. In a dream, he picks it up, opens dry, bleary eyes to see Akechi's name lighting up the screen. In a dream–
He sits up too fast, the room reeling around him, stomach flipping and heart rocketing up into his throat.
The phone in his hands is heavy, warm. Real. Too real to be a dream.
He has to be sure. He has to dig nails into his own arm, feel a bloom of pain that will be only a fraction of what Akechi doles out of him if he's real. He has to– ]
Akechi?
[ The message goes through.
It can't be a dream, can it? ]
Where are you?
? DONT BE HATEFUL ITS 2026
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jan misfire/text fuckery event
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Did you get a better tolerance for spice while you were gone, too?
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afhdslfksdgHLFDSKFJSD STOP
? glitching <3
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post-sleepr @ the windmill
I love you. I've missed you. [Here, in their empty world.]
HEHEHEHE LET'S GOOOOO
But those nervous thoughts are finally pushed far from his mind when Eren pulls him in close, kisses him like there's nothing else in their empty world that matters. Maruki traces his fingers lightly up and down his spine, shivers at those beautiful, honest words. ]
I've missed you, too. Even though I'm with you every day.
[ It's different, being here. ]
Thank you for taking a night off.
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text - un: akechi
The Moon may be the mastermind behind this.
thank god
Behind what?
The blackouts?
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action; 2/3, machiya
But this Kurusu Akira has no way to know that. He's never lived that life, and no one has ever told him.
To Akira, it's only the anniversary of the day that Maruki found both him and Akechi covered in blood and half-alive. Not the best moment for either of them, but it isn't the focus of his thoughts. Maybe the competition nudged him along a little, but mostly by pure chance, he's thinking of something else entirely.
His arms are folded on the kotatsu , head resting atop it. He doesn't quite look up at Maruki as he starts to speak.]
If I were to ask you about someone you were close to... [slow, steady, like the heat is sapping away part of his worries] ...would you feel comfortable answering?
ha ha yay <3
Not better than the last, but no worse, either. It's only different. Painfully, beautifully different; the day holds more weight for him than ever before, phantom bruises blooming across his jaw every time he looks at a Kurusu Akira who has no knowledge of his changed heart. Early in the morning, when he gratefully accepts a cup of coffee, he does consider if he should bring it up today of all days, but it still feels too fresh, too strangely intimate. One day, surely...
Still, he hasn't felt the same need to shut out the world that he did last year. The grief is still there, stinging keener than ever, but running and hiding is no longer an option. Maruki has gone about his day as normal, only a little quieter, a little slower to smile.
The smiles do come, though.
One dawns gently across his expression now, eyes tired but curious as he watches Akira not watching him. ]
I guess that depends on the question, but I can't imagine something I wouldn't tell you.
[ A little dread does gnaw at his gut; Chihaya managed to put a few pieces together about Eren and him. Has Akira done the same? ]
What's on your mind, Akira?
yay......
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