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. ]
[There has been a lot more personal suffering in this period than she had anticipated. More painful conversations (both literally and figuratively) in between balancing the other tasks she has taken on- it makes her grateful and hollow in equal measure to imagine that this is even a glimpse into how much Maruki does for others. She really can never be as kind or understanding as him. But she's done some good while he has been gone, or so she hopes.
By day three she starts visiting the garden. At first only in the morning but then it occurs to her that there isn't a set time of day for people to appear there, so she pops in whenever she is nearby or has a moment or nothing else to do. After her confrontation with Akechi she sits in the garden for a long, long time.
Nine days. Going on ten. Habit is what keeps her feet moving here, even as she is coming to accept that this might be a marathon rather than a sprint. It's as she is considering leaving that she starts to hear something.
She turns in the direction of the sound, brow furrowed, and realizes that it's the sound of someone running. Whoever it is, is bolting in her direction and it doesn't take long for her to recognize him.]
Maru-!
[The man she has been waiting for collides into her and she yelps as he does. She would have absolutely gone down if he hadn't grabbed her and instinctively she grabs onto him too. She clutches at his shirt, eyes wide as she takes him in.]
Maruki.
[That probably answers his question immediately but just in case she speaks again.]
Yes! Yes, of course I remember you!
[The shock on her face changes to brilliant happiness as she throws her arms around him.]
[ Chihaya's arms wrap around him with so much more force than her slight body betrays, fueled by such uncomplicated, incandescent joy–
And Maruki goes stock still for a moment.
It's the first time anyone has so much as touched him in– months. Akira's hand wrapped tight around his wrist and a fist bump from the back of a taxi the sum total of any affection he's received, and now–
Now, back in this world where he's loved freely, the first thing to happen to him is an embrace from someone who remembers him.
That changed heart cracks open at once, so much fresher and more fragile than before. Light spills out, fills up his whole chest, and he hears himself laughing as time unfreezes and his arms wrap around her back in kind, hugging her tight. ]
I am! I am. I'm back...
[ He's back.
They're still here.
He's home. ]
Hah, well... if you knew I was leaving, you must have known I'd return. Right?
[ 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.
[There are other mourning doves in Visium. Perhaps Eren hadn't quite realized how attuned he'd become to their sorrowful coos. He's heard them in the trees at dusk and hated them. None of them came into the windmill. None of them mourned the right way.
[There's no hesitation. Eren knows the real thing when he sees it. He recognizes Maruki as if the man were standing right in front of him, hands already outstretched, fingers grasping. A terrible sob rips through Eren before they can even make contact. There aren't words enough to describe this emotion. Eren was already on his knees to begin with, and still, he can't keep himself upright.]
[ Those sobbed words are bullets that ricochet through Maruki's entire being, shredding everything along the way. He can't fly down fast enough, landing on Eren's hand as he's done countless times before–
And then, all at once in a burst of soft gray feathers, he transforms back. He tumbles right down into Eren's lap, throwing his arms around him in the tighest embrace of his life, of any life he's sure he'll ever live. ]
I'm sorry. [ It's all he can say, over and over with his forehead grinding against Eren's, entire body pressed close. ] I'm sorry. I'm here. Eren. I'm so sorry...
[ 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. ]
[ This is the natural outcome of having such an interwoven life ripped away. A ghost always haunts. Comes and goes. Returns when a heart calms to aggravate and remind the source that decay exists. Akechi's sure a thief's shadow would have lingered in his eye for the rest of his life too.
The crow continues to wail above for the threat that walked into the house. That's all this ghost is. That's all anyone in the home is. No one belongs here outside of Akechi Goro, so the noise will persist until everyone leaves.
The shadow speaks.
It's hilarious this thing thinks it has the right to. The least it could do is remain silent. The original would poke and prod too, but it knew when to pull back. This worthless speck of nothing hasn't learned. It doesn't know. The ghost always said he was a decent teacher - maybe it's time for Akechi to take up the mantle.
He can show it. He can show it. He can show it. Akechi is calm, in control, his mind his own to wield and warp and beat into submission.
It speaks and Akechi stares at the worthless thought manifest only feet away like it's a gnat to be swat. Like it's only alive because it's not worth the effort to chase down. It's not. It's not worth the effort. It's not worth it but Akechi will teach a gnat what it means to fly in the den of a monster and-
It doesn't vanish when he blinks. It spoke. We're not doing this in here. It doesn't tell Akechi what to do. They can do whatever this is in here. Akechi doesn't care if they do this in here. Who cares if they do this in here.
It speaks.
It doesn't vanish. Its body remains upright while shreds of skin and muscle and gaping dark holes where he can no longer look because Akechi carved it out with his teeth and discolored splinters of bone fall like a miracle, like confetti, like a celebration and-
Its body remains upright even when he shoots and shoots and shoots until the room mimics an otherworldly battleground, becomes a grave of rot under his feet and-
Its body remains upright, standing, speaking, staring, looking at Akechi like it has any right to look at Akechi even as Akechi places a gun in its hand, its hand, wraps fingers around a trigger-
That's not him. That was special. That was a gift. That was a mercy. It's not him - that's delusional. Akechi knows that doesn't belong here.
It stands. It commands. Akechi stares and-
Laughs, bright and bitter. Smiles, as if it's the funniest shit he's ever seen. Hides it all in the palm that's held up his face for days as he glances outside to wait for the vision to vanish on its own because it's so like that ghost to want attention, it just wants attention, Akechi won't give it attention.
He sighs, exasperated and fond all at once, a blend of emotion reserved solely for Akechi. The way he sees it, he has two options.
What he could do–
What he should do is summon Azathoth without another word. Revel in having that power returned to him as clawed tentacles wrap around Akechi to drag him outside. It's nothing he hasn't done before. It would feel good.
Instead, though– ]
Gladly.
[ Maruki steps forward, forward, forward, hand outstretched, until he stands right before Akechi.
He's reaching down as if to help pull him to his feet after a battle. Akechi has never once needed that from him, and he doesn't need it now.
He flexes his fingers, as if to say come on, take it.
Akechi won't. He knows that.
But being close quarters will spur Akechi to action. ]
[ 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. ]
[Days of despair, days of anguish, days of defeat. There are sparks of hope that break through the clouds, but it isn't enough to pull him out. They are blips of peace, but they cannot pull him out of this sinking feeling.
Whether he lives, whether he falls - it isn't enough to change things. It can't pull him out of the pit that he sinks into with a reluctant drag.
It feels so dark. It feels so gray. Only the cries of a cat can stir his heart and make him remember to move, to feel, to live for just a little while before he's encased in that misery again.
He wants to sleep.
He wants to sleep.
He just wants to sleep.
And so, he does.
Kurusu Akira gets more and more numb. Korokke, Chihaya, the voices of the familiar faces he loves - they pull him out. Give him peace. He's lived a life wearing too many masks to not be able to pull out one that hides the depths of what's happening to him, even if it can't hide his weariness or the light that's vanished in his eyes. And then, he sinks back in again, to sleep and sleep and sleep.
It's been a few days, weeks, months, years. He doesn't know what day it is. He dreams of Maruki-sensei. He dreams of Maruki-san. He dreams of Takuto-kun. He's numb, and his brain tricks him into feeling an empty space filled, so maybe it's a good day. He's numb, but he thinks he hears Akechi. He's fighting with someone, but it's not near Maruki's room, so he doesn't care. It's fine. As long as he keeps it away from Maruki's room, Akira doesn't care. There's no need for red; it's still gray.
Knock on his door. Maybe it's Chihaya. He'll get up for her. He'll get up for Akechi too, even if it makes something sharp lash in his chest still. He isn't completely worn away.
An impossible voice speaks, and Akira's eyes open.
His fingers are hidden claws in the sheets as he pushes himself up. His face must be disbelieving, but he can't tell. He's still dreaming. He's hallucinating. A ghost is walking through his room, reaching for him. If Akira takes that hand, he'll shatter into thousands of pieces that will never reflect anything again.
It could be a trick of this world.
His entire body is tense, like it's been numb for so long that it's rejecting the feeling trying to seep back into it. It's too much to have hope. He isn't like Eren, or Chihaya, or Kazuya. Akira is only strong through the people that stand by his side, and his days have been full of loneliness through both his own making and not.
The sheet is clenched into a fist, and that is visible.]
Are you real?
[A shattered whisper, somehow separate from and intertwined with pain. In a life Akira has never lived, there is only one night that his voice has ever sounded like this, and Maruki Takuto was never there to hear it.]
If you're real... [Impossible. Impossible. But maybe it's just as impossible not to feel hope in front of the specter of the man that helped him feel more than ever.] If you're him, tell me something we've never spoken of. Tell me something I can't know.
[He has to know, that it isn't an illusion this world is pulling from his own mind.]
[ 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.
[ There's surprise clear as day on his face, but perhaps not...appropriate surprise. The sort of ephemeral boost of energy you get from spotting a deer outside the window at dusk.
Still, he sets his drink down on top of the kotatsu table. He's a hog, but there's plenty of space if one master of the house decided they'd like to claim some of it. ]
You sure have.
[ The deer is nice to see. But you may not see that deer again. ]
Where'd you run off to? They all thought you died or something.
[ 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.
The timing of their last discussion could not have been any more ironic.
And like the others she waited a little bit, but after a couple of days she had to accept Maruki not returning to this reality. She doesn't know if she feels relief for him, in that he can now find his path back home, even if it means facing the harsh truth of their reality.
But in that painful recognition of the truth, comes acceptance. And that is freedom, she thinks, so she hopes Maruki feels unburdened, wherever he is in Tokyo.
She feels hurt, maybe a bit angry that another friend is taken from her so soon, but she feels powerless to do much other than continue on with her days.
So when the bell rings at the door's entrance and a familiar voice carries over the ambience of the cafe, Haru is caught off guard completely. So wide-eyed, so startled like she's seen a ghost, that she drops the fresh mug she's about to serve to a customer, who immediately throws their hands in the air, yelling, "Hey! My coffee!" ]
I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll have that redone for you—
[ She practically spins in her spot behind the counter, her thoughts going a mile a minute. Clean the coffee? Maruki? Get a rag? What is she supposed to do? ]
[ 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...?
[ dolph hadn't been high-strung since maruki left. perhaps a part of him wanted to be, give into the grief and the fear of it all. it was tempting, but it also felt like a disservice to him. to them. hadn't maruki always said they were connected in every reality? just because maruki wasn't in his one didn't mean the connection was severed.
and. he meant what he said before. every word.
so the voice calling out was a surprise, a pleasant one, and yet, not a surprise at all. dolph knew. and still, his long legs strode across the cabana, a touch breathless. ]
[ 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.
[There's always some catastrophe happening inside of him. Dazai wouldn't knock, so it isn't that. It's me. Maruki. Something erupts, crashes, otherwise devastates, and Oda is so very small beneath the heights of the terrible universe. It's not a trick. That's something he supposes he has to worry about.
[I'm really here. No. His friend is really here.
[When he opens the door, he looks much like he always looks, with perhaps a bit more stubble, some deeper lines beneath his eyes, but...really, he looks alright...]
Maruki.
[His voice is hoarse. He's fine. He puts a hand on either one of the man's shoulders, and it's awkward, there in place of a warmer hug, but Oda's not the type. His grip is odd and anxious. He squeezes.]
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!
[Orthrus is barely able to lean into Maruki's hand and slobber over it before Kazuya is bursting out of the door, wincing only briefly at how hard to door hits the wall before he's rushing to the older mans side.]
I knew you'd be back! Did you get lost like I thought?
[His words come fast, excited, because maybe part of him had accepted that the other man might not be coming back after a few days went by, especially after how crazy some people had gotten at his disappearance.]
Jeeze... Disappearing like that. Do you know how many people you had worried?
[He's chastising him, but only because he'd been worried too.]
[ 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. ]
[Whilst nursing his drink, Adam's mind is still on the thought of Eren's parting words, of what he can do for Maruki. The more he drinks, the further away it all gets, the less responsibility he has to shoulder.
He was always very good at running away.
It's when he's dwelling on these thoughts that he hears his voice, and Adam starts like he's summoned the devil.
Not only that, but-]
Maruki?
[What is he saying? Adam's blood flows cold in his veins. He can't have forgotten, not after everything. Terrified of the answer, he asks:]
![[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. ]
no subject
By day three she starts visiting the garden. At first only in the morning but then it occurs to her that there isn't a set time of day for people to appear there, so she pops in whenever she is nearby or has a moment or nothing else to do. After her confrontation with Akechi she sits in the garden for a long, long time.
Nine days. Going on ten. Habit is what keeps her feet moving here, even as she is coming to accept that this might be a marathon rather than a sprint. It's as she is considering leaving that she starts to hear something.
She turns in the direction of the sound, brow furrowed, and realizes that it's the sound of someone running. Whoever it is, is bolting in her direction and it doesn't take long for her to recognize him.]
Maru-!
[The man she has been waiting for collides into her and she yelps as he does. She would have absolutely gone down if he hadn't grabbed her and instinctively she grabs onto him too. She clutches at his shirt, eyes wide as she takes him in.]
Maruki.
[That probably answers his question immediately but just in case she speaks again.]
Yes! Yes, of course I remember you!
[The shock on her face changes to brilliant happiness as she throws her arms around him.]
You're [home.] back!
no subject
And Maruki goes stock still for a moment.
It's the first time anyone has so much as touched him in– months. Akira's hand wrapped tight around his wrist and a fist bump from the back of a taxi the sum total of any affection he's received, and now–
Now, back in this world where he's loved freely, the first thing to happen to him is an embrace from someone who remembers him.
That changed heart cracks open at once, so much fresher and more fragile than before. Light spills out, fills up his whole chest, and he hears himself laughing as time unfreezes and his arms wrap around her back in kind, hugging her tight. ]
I am! I am. I'm back...
[ He's back.
They're still here.
He's home. ]
Hah, well... if you knew I was leaving, you must have known I'd return. Right?
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hehe wrapt for mee
> 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...
[There's no hesitation. Eren knows the real thing when he sees it. He recognizes Maruki as if the man were standing right in front of him, hands already outstretched, fingers grasping. A terrible sob rips through Eren before they can even make contact. There aren't words enough to describe this emotion. Eren was already on his knees to begin with, and still, he can't keep himself upright.]
You. You.
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And then, all at once in a burst of soft gray feathers, he transforms back. He tumbles right down into Eren's lap, throwing his arms around him in the tighest embrace of his life, of any life he's sure he'll ever live. ]
I'm sorry. [ It's all he can say, over and over with his forehead grinding against Eren's, entire body pressed close. ] I'm sorry. I'm here. Eren. I'm so sorry...
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 (?)
The crow continues to wail above for the threat that walked into the house. That's all this ghost is. That's all anyone in the home is. No one belongs here outside of Akechi Goro, so the noise will persist until everyone leaves.
The shadow speaks.
It's hilarious this thing thinks it has the right to. The least it could do is remain silent. The original would poke and prod too, but it knew when to pull back. This worthless speck of nothing hasn't learned. It doesn't know. The ghost always said he was a decent teacher - maybe it's time for Akechi to take up the mantle.
He can show it. He can show it. He can show it. Akechi is calm, in control, his mind his own to wield and warp and beat into submission.
It speaks and Akechi stares at the worthless thought manifest only feet away like it's a gnat to be swat. Like it's only alive because it's not worth the effort to chase down. It's not. It's not worth the effort. It's not worth it but Akechi will teach a gnat what it means to fly in the den of a monster and-
It doesn't vanish when he blinks. It spoke. We're not doing this in here. It doesn't tell Akechi what to do. They can do whatever this is in here. Akechi doesn't care if they do this in here. Who cares if they do this in here.
It speaks.
It doesn't vanish. Its body remains upright while shreds of skin and muscle and gaping dark holes where he can no longer look because Akechi carved it out with his teeth and discolored splinters of bone fall like a miracle, like confetti, like a celebration and-
It stands. It commands. Akechi stares and-Its body remains upright even when he shoots and shoots and shoots until the room mimics an otherworldly battleground, becomes a grave of rot under his feet and-
Its body remains upright, standing, speaking, staring, looking at Akechi like it has any right to look at Akechi even as Akechi places a gun in its hand, its hand, wraps fingers around a trigger-
That's not him. That was special. That was a gift. That was a mercy. It's not him - that's delusional. Akechi knows that doesn't belong here.
Laughs, bright and bitter. Smiles, as if it's the funniest shit he's ever seen. Hides it all in the palm that's held up his face for days as he glances outside to wait for the vision to vanish on its own because it's so like that ghost to want attention, it just wants attention, Akechi won't give it attention.
It's still there.
He can see it.
The crow's loud.
He can't stand this.
He turns back to the ghost and- ]
Make me.
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What did Maruki really expect?
He sighs, exasperated and fond all at once, a blend of emotion reserved solely for Akechi. The way he sees it, he has two options.
What he could do–
What he should do is summon Azathoth without another word. Revel in having that power returned to him as clawed tentacles wrap around Akechi to drag him outside. It's nothing he hasn't done before. It would feel good.
Instead, though– ]
Gladly.
[ Maruki steps forward, forward, forward, hand outstretched, until he stands right before Akechi.
He's reaching down as if to help pull him to his feet after a battle. Akechi has never once needed that from him, and he doesn't need it now.
He flexes his fingers, as if to say come on, take it.
Akechi won't. He knows that.
But being close quarters will spur Akechi to action. ]
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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deep sigh..... out of kindness.mp3...........
DEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP SIGH
looks away from this so hard my neck cracks
GOD I CANT BELIEVE U WROTE THIS
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SDGRHLKJ WE CAN WRAP UP... I HATE THIS
THIS ENDED UP DUMBER THAN EXPECTED. INCREDIBLE HONESTLY.
> 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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Whether he lives, whether he falls - it isn't enough to change things. It can't pull him out of the pit that he sinks into with a reluctant drag.
It feels so dark. It feels so gray. Only the cries of a cat can stir his heart and make him remember to move, to feel, to live for just a little while before he's encased in that misery again.
He wants to sleep.
He wants to sleep.
He just wants to sleep.
And so, he does.
Kurusu Akira gets more and more numb. Korokke, Chihaya, the voices of the familiar faces he loves - they pull him out. Give him peace. He's lived a life wearing too many masks to not be able to pull out one that hides the depths of what's happening to him, even if it can't hide his weariness or the light that's vanished in his eyes. And then, he sinks back in again, to sleep and sleep and sleep.
It's been a few days, weeks, months, years. He doesn't know what day it is. He dreams of Maruki-sensei. He dreams of Maruki-san. He dreams of Takuto-kun. He's numb, and his brain tricks him into feeling an empty space filled, so maybe it's a good day. He's numb, but he thinks he hears Akechi. He's fighting with someone, but it's not near Maruki's room, so he doesn't care. It's fine. As long as he keeps it away from Maruki's room, Akira doesn't care. There's no need for red; it's still gray.
Knock on his door. Maybe it's Chihaya. He'll get up for her. He'll get up for Akechi too, even if it makes something sharp lash in his chest still. He isn't completely worn away.
An impossible voice speaks, and Akira's eyes open.
His fingers are hidden claws in the sheets as he pushes himself up. His face must be disbelieving, but he can't tell. He's still dreaming. He's hallucinating. A ghost is walking through his room, reaching for him. If Akira takes that hand, he'll shatter into thousands of pieces that will never reflect anything again.
It could be a trick of this world.
His entire body is tense, like it's been numb for so long that it's rejecting the feeling trying to seep back into it. It's too much to have hope. He isn't like Eren, or Chihaya, or Kazuya. Akira is only strong through the people that stand by his side, and his days have been full of loneliness through both his own making and not.
The sheet is clenched into a fist, and that is visible.]
Are you real?
[A shattered whisper, somehow separate from and intertwined with pain. In a life Akira has never lived, there is only one night that his voice has ever sounded like this, and Maruki Takuto was never there to hear it.]
If you're real... [Impossible. Impossible. But maybe it's just as impossible not to feel hope in front of the specter of the man that helped him feel more than ever.] If you're him, tell me something we've never spoken of. Tell me something I can't know.
[He has to know, that it isn't an illusion this world is pulling from his own mind.]
our light.mp3
raises u ideal and the real.mp3
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stares at my bullets like sadgedog
> 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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Still, he sets his drink down on top of the kotatsu table. He's a hog, but there's plenty of space if one master of the house decided they'd like to claim some of it. ]
You sure have.
[ The deer is nice to see. But you may not see that deer again. ]
Where'd you run off to? They all thought you died or something.
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i just think it's funny magatsu izanagi and azathoth both have evil smile
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oh is this not a safe space suddenly.jpg
me after i'm used however they want and i start seeing the azathoth
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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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Then Maruki.
The timing of their last discussion could not have been any more ironic.
And like the others she waited a little bit, but after a couple of days she had to accept Maruki not returning to this reality. She doesn't know if she feels relief for him, in that he can now find his path back home, even if it means facing the harsh truth of their reality.
But in that painful recognition of the truth, comes acceptance. And that is freedom, she thinks, so she hopes Maruki feels unburdened, wherever he is in Tokyo.
She feels hurt, maybe a bit angry that another friend is taken from her so soon, but she feels powerless to do much other than continue on with her days.
So when the bell rings at the door's entrance and a familiar voice carries over the ambience of the cafe, Haru is caught off guard completely. So wide-eyed, so startled like she's seen a ghost, that she drops the fresh mug she's about to serve to a customer, who immediately throws their hands in the air, yelling, "Hey! My coffee!" ]
I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll have that redone for you—
[ She practically spins in her spot behind the counter, her thoughts going a mile a minute. Clean the coffee? Maruki? Get a rag? What is she supposed to do? ]
Maruki-san?!
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closes eyes
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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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and. he meant what he said before. every word.
so the voice calling out was a surprise, a pleasant one, and yet, not a surprise at all. dolph knew. and still, his long legs strode across the cabana, a touch breathless. ]
Oh, thank fuck.
[ and he moves to wrap his arms around maruki. ]
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NOT LIKE AN APPLE.... WEH
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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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[I'm really here. No. His friend is really here.
[When he opens the door, he looks much like he always looks, with perhaps a bit more stubble, some deeper lines beneath his eyes, but...really, he looks alright...]
Maruki.
[His voice is hoarse. He's fine. He puts a hand on either one of the man's shoulders, and it's awkward, there in place of a warmer hug, but Oda's not the type. His grip is odd and anxious. He squeezes.]
Welcome back. Where have you been?
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POOR ODA :WHYYYYYYYYYY:
I am begging someone to hug this man
WELL GOOD NEWS
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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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I knew you'd be back! Did you get lost like I thought?
[His words come fast, excited, because maybe part of him had accepted that the other man might not be coming back after a few days went by, especially after how crazy some people had gotten at his disappearance.]
Jeeze... Disappearing like that. Do you know how many people you had worried?
[He's chastising him, but only because he'd been worried too.]
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1/2
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not kazuya being the first one to learn this
I CANT BELIEVE THIS
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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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He was always very good at running away.
It's when he's dwelling on these thoughts that he hears his voice, and Adam starts like he's summoned the devil.
Not only that, but-]
Maruki?
[What is he saying? Adam's blood flows cold in his veins. He can't have forgotten, not after everything. Terrified of the answer, he asks:]
You've never been here before?
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hehe we can wrap..... :3c