[ 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. ]
[ The ghost offers a hand the memory offers a hand the vision has the audacity to walk up to him the same tap, tap, tap that he used to hear plod around a home that felt a touch too big in the early morning a touch too small in the late evening a touch too small in an apartment meant for only two he clings to her sleeve while she tries to love him and he clings to his sleeve as he tries to love him and that hand is front of his face like an offer a challenge he can't stand it he can't stand it he hates the ghost he hates the ghost the can't stand the ghost he'll rip the ghost apart until it's weeping until it's crying until it's forced to wipe memories away Akechi can see a hand, he can see a hand, he can see a hand-
as if he needs this
As if he ever needed him
As if he ever needed Maruki Takuto in any world.
Lines, dots, pinpricks of light cover the hand. Akechi's eyes straining from willing the apparition away.
It doesn't go away.
Of course he won't go away.
He never went away-even when Akechi wanted him to, he never went away.
He only left when Akechi stopped imagining a world without him.
And it's a curse. It's a curse. This is a curse. His fingers strain against the edge of the kotatsu, a final tether to reality, this is reality, this wood and table is reality and the ghost's hand is-
Attacked. It's attacked. Not with Loki, not with Robin Hood - Akechi lunges, knocking anything on the tether from knee and leg smacking against it.
And he moves - ignores the hand. He ignores the hand. He doesn't need another hand and when he pulls himself out of this place it will be his own hand, only his, only Akechi Goro. ]
Who the hell do you think you are?! You stupid piece of shit!
[ He's aims for face, body, torso - no target, no thought, it's a ghost. He can tear it apart. Reaches for throat, eyes, anything that has harmed him before. That has killed him before. He'll tear him piece by piece with his own two hands. ]
[ For as much as he thinks he's grown from his changed heart, perhaps there are still particular snarls and snags when it comes to this boy and this boy only.
Because why else would Maruki feel comfort in being attacked?
Akechi's nails dig into his cheek, clawing long streaks down it as another hand wraps around his throat, and the first feeling to flood Maruki's system isn't shock or fear but relief.
Akechi is the same as he ever was. They'll find their way to one another, again and again, in a thousand untold lifetimes, and they will always wind up right back here.
Azathoth appears with no fanfare, wraps long tendrils around Akechi's limbs, grappling him away from Maruki as best it can– ]
I missed you, too.
[ And dragging him toward the entryway, out the door, to the clearing. ]
[ Reality hits with a persona's summon. Reality hits with a tendril gripping and dragging and taking Akechi from his claimed spot.
His lips move until they ache.
I missed you too, I missed you too, I missed you too I missed you too, I missed you too, I missed you too, I missed you too-
A backdrop to the vile, vicious words that numb his mouth. 'As if he gives a shit about some piece of worthless garbage' with a slam against floorboard. 'As if he has any right to walk back in' with the slow creep to the entryway. 'As if there's any value in a goddamn worthless man like him' pulled across rock, dirt, towards a field. He struggles with more than his mouth now. Call of Chaos enacted with a violent, thrash as he tries to rip free and rip free and rip free and dig into every tendril until his fingers bleed and they aren't even fighting yet and they'll fight soon- ]
Who would ever miss a piece of shit like you?! Don't make me laugh! You're worth nothing! NOTHING!
[ Riot Gun targets Maruki, Akechi, and whatever else stands between them. ]
[ It's been some time since he saw Akechi use Call of Chaos on himself– now that he's witnessing it again, Maruki has to wonder why he never did when they were battling above that stairway to the heavens. Had Akechi been holding back?
That's one of the things they've said they'd never forgive one another for doing. It's alright. Maruki knows he's done worse by several magnitudes when it comes to that.
Riot Gun hits, bullets spraying in every direction – himself, Akechi, Azathoth, it's all caught in the crossfire. One of the tentacles crumples, and that's a familiar sight, something the Phantom Thieves had to learn to do with swift, brutal efficiency–
But here and now, it doesn't matter. Maruki doesn't need to be shielded.
No, he leans into it, blood smearing down his face from where Akechi clawed at him before, from shoulder and shin where the attack hit–
And he comes in close to Akechi again, hands wrapping over his shoulders, well aware that he's never won a fight in close quarters before.
It doesn't matter. Megidolaon brews above them, and all that matters to Maruki is that he can look him in the eye when he says– ]
I'm sorry that I left you. I never intended to, but I take responsibility for it. I'm sorry.
Why would anyone give a shit whether he's sorry? Akechi doesn't care. He doesn't care. He doesn't care. Akechi doesn't need sorry. An apology is pointless. He doesn't care about anything this sentimental idiot who-
Maruki will regret it. Maruki will regret it. There are lines of regret soaking his face red that Akechi will shape into a mask.
But it's a surprise - he comes close. It's stupid to come close. A warning echoes in his skull - something's happening, something's happening. It's not an apology. Something above. Something around. Something all consuming and-
Akechi tries to rip those words free with fingers clawing at his face again. Reaching for his throat again. He won't let go this time. There's danger above and he won't let go. Maruki can rot here with them as Riot Gun drowns them both in a rain of bullets as almighty energy blooms.
The laughter ripples and bubbles through an agonizing stream of bullets. He claws, he rips, he slams his fist wherever he can - against throat, chest, body. He'll tear him apart. He'll rip him apart. ]
You're so goddamn stupid! You manage to leave this shithole, and yet here you are with nothing to show for it? An apology?
[ He doesn't want it. ]
You're so stupid! You're trash! You're WORTHLESS! You're NOTHING!
Akechi's nails digging into his flesh, fists beating against him, fingers grabbing, ripping, tearing whatever he can, circling around his throat. The bullet hail that surrounds them as that orb of almighty light does the same, burning straight through persona and user alike– it all hurts, but Maruki knows it's nothing compared to the pain that drives Akechi to lash out like this.
Is it any wonder he wanted to save him, back in the true reality? Akechi's heart has been mired in pain for practically his entire life. No one should have to go through that.
Maruki shouldn't have made it worse. Shouldn't have spent the better part of a year and a half patching over the worst of the wounds, shoddy as his work was, and then left.
With nothing to show for it...
Well, that's not true, but his torch eludes him, Adam Kadmon eludes him.
He can't breathe. There's a hand around his throat, blood pooling across his vision, he can't see, can't breathe–
And he wraps his arms around Akechi anyway, pulls him in to a tight hug as Megidolaon implodes around them. ]
A blade would pierce Akechi's back, ripping his body in two, three, four, a thousand little pieces because slicing him apart is the only way he'll let go of Maruki's throat. Darkness doesn't consume him. Shake him. There's no pain along his spine. It's warm where a knife should be.
In an ideal world, Azathoth's claws would grab, rip, tear, stab through his chest. He waits to be ripped away by force. Thinks how he might lose his arms in the process because he won't let go. It's warm where power should be.
In an ideal world, Maruki would let go. Akechi can't fathom reality. The opposite happens. They're closer than ever - Akechi can hear a beat, beat, beat that's-
It's warm. He can't take it. He doesn't want it. He doesn't want it.
But when has Akechi Goro ever had a say in any aspect of his life - it's a fact he's reconciled with. A man holds him in a cage shaped for revengein a world created for someone else.
He's engulfed by it. His arms stay attached. They're engulfed by it. Akechi can't hold on.
It's not mercy. It's not kindness. It's a full assault on the two of them. Maruki's insane. Maruki's insane. It's a mercy to free him from that and turn him into the ghost he's meant to be. Maruki's insane. Akechi's sane. He's an arbiter of justice. He's an arbiter of truth. His hands were born to execute, so he will. It's mercy. It might be mercy. Akechi will make sure Maruki knows it isn't.
But he isn't gripping Maruki anymore. He grasps for arm, fabric, anything. He can't see, and it's clearer than ever - he chokes on his own spit, words stuck in his throat.
It's baffling. He's baffling. The direct hit stuns, hurts, and doesn't kill. Maruki should have killed him. Akechi will kill him.
Akechi hacks against a ghost's shoulder. Maruki's shoulder. Loki uses Eigaon two feet to the left of them. His vision shakes with dark spots from the attack, the kicked up dirt, the ground around them. ]
[ Another one of the tentacles falls to that attack– it doesn't matter. He's in such tremendous pain, bearing the brunt of both of their attacks– it doesn't matter. Akechi claws and bites and tells him to finish it– it doesn't matter.
All that matters, in the end, is the way Maruki laughs, his own blood coating the back of his throat.
He hasn't laughed all day.
He hasn't laughed in–
Days, weeks. Perhaps more than a month. It's not that the world became a joyless place after his change of heart, only that he's had to find joy in what small pockets he can, and in the most mundane things, and all the sweetness of what joy he's found has been tinged bitter at the edges. An elderly couple thanking him profusely for a long drive out to the countryside made him smile, warmed his heart, brought him such fulfillment – but on the ride back to Tokyo, he found his vision blurring, didn't he? It's happened more and more, every day, over the stupidest things. There's so much beauty in the world, and so much pain he'd been running from that's finally caught up to him.
He hasn't laughed like this. Loud, musical, echoing through the sky around them that still crackles with Almighty energy.
He releases Akechi. Steps back. Swipes at his mouth, his eyes, lets the Tentacle of Healing wash over him as wounds are repaired in an instant. ]
Do you need me to finish it to prove to you that I'm real, or did that do the trick?
[ Just in case, just in case–
Azathoth grows in size behind and above him, tentacles doubling, tripling in number; Tyrant Stance feels so comfortable in its familiarity. ]
[ Akechi didn't seek out pieces of Maruki. Not once. He didn't look for echoes of the man throughout the home or check blood-soaked fields for reminders of someone that no longer existed.
He didn't flip a card with a promise in his fingers. Didn't fold, unfold, fold, unfold, fold until paper became soft and pliant.
He didn't clean a gun that didn't require it. Didn't check every piece of it until his vision blurred against the ornate steel.
He didn't try to recall the sound of his voice, bright in the midst of violence, strong in the middle of gore. He didn't look for a reflection of Akechi Goro in the air.
But what comes out of Maruki's mouth is a reminder how little a memory matters. That voice holds resounding power Akechi's mind could never mimic. It's him. It's Maruki. He's back.
Akechi couldn't be furious at the realization. To be so offensively bad at even escaping this world that he would allow it to force him back. Their laughter mixes. It's vile. Akechi didn't miss it.
Didn't miss any of this. Didn't miss standing in front of a king with an endless, blooming light behind him. He can fight it. He will fight it. Loki powers up with a Riot Gun to unleash in tandem ]
Shut the hell up and do it. Don't tell me your pathetic little vanishing act made you that goddamn soft!
[ Summoning Azathoth again is a relief. Knowing that power is still at his fingertips, even if he never uses it for its intended purpose to help and heal again – it's enough to know that he's able to defend others, to fight for himself. And he missed his persona, in the days following the collapse of his palace, his reality. He missed that presence in his mind, warm and heavy, molten gold.
But for a moment– for just a moment, he wishes more than anything that he could scrape down to the depths of his soul for that last gasp of conviction in his distorted beliefs. He wishes he could hold that torch aloft and summon Adam Kadmon to crush Akechi Goro beneath its fist and show him that nothing, nothing about what happened to him has softened him a bit.
He can't. Adam Kadmon is as far from his grasp now as Azathoth was back in his empty apartment.
All he can do is look at Akechi Goro with wide, wild eyes, blood still flecked against his lashes even with his vision returned to him. ]
You know me better than that.
[ And just as Tyrant Chaos forms above them in its dome of brilliant light, he dives forward, shoulder slamming into Akechi's toro to bring them both to the ground. Maruki doesn't shield him with his body, he has no interest in saving Akechi from feeling the full force of this attack – no, when the hit the dirt and grass, he rolls off to lay next to him so that light can come crashing down on them both. ]
[ It's rare that someone acts in a way he can't predict. It's what made Akira so intriguing from day one. Why that interaction stuck out so brilliantly in his mind.
It didn't happen with Maruki the same way. Akechi had all but written him off initially. The weeks after proved how foolish that was. The months after a constant a reminder of it. It made him-
Want to peel back the curtain, rip the seams, tear away any barrier that keeps him from seeing the few surprises left in the world, held inside rare few. It's a gift. It's new. It's exciting. It fuels a fire he has to constantly stoke with a goal so far out of reach.
Maruki is going to attack. He's ready. He knows. That blinding power makes his skin crawl.
He missed it.
He missed this.
He missed almighty energy hammering him until every thought was driven out of his mind. He missed-
him.
But it's not almighty energy that hits him. His focus on the tyrant in the sky - he didn't see the true enemy looming towards him. Every possibility had gone through his mind and yet-
Here Maruki is, surprising him.
Slamming into the ground feels as normal as falling into bed at night. Rocks dig into his skin.
It's so funny. Light expands and coats the sky and it's so funny. Maruki rolls off somewhere between Akechi's own laughter sputtering into violent promises and it's funny.
He missed
This. He missed this. He missed this. He missed-
Nothing.
He missed nothing. He missed feeling nothing. He missed only seeing the inside of his eyes, with a mind full of nothing.
And then-
There's something. It's agonizing. Every bone in his body aches, his throat raw as if he's ripped it from every sharp word. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts and-
He might be happy. He may be happy. He rolls onto his stomach to spit out blood pooling in his mouth. Try to get on all fours to get back up and finish it, but- ]
[ It's not the same as the fight for his ideal reality. Not at all.
The stakes may be lower, without the fate of the world hanging in balance, but the danger is much closer at hand, clear and present. If he doesn't take Akechi out, he will be brought to the brink of death, perhaps even pushed over it–
And it's fun.
It's fun, throwing both of them bodily to the ground, rolling onto his back and shielding his eyes as he watches that dome of light expand, explode.
It hadn't been fun before, had it? Desperately pleading with Akira, Akechi, the rest of the Phantom Thieves– no, the whole experience had been miserable, even when he thought he was winning. Especially when he thought he was winning. He never wanted to fight, only did so to back up his convictions. Hurting them brought him no joy; it sunk Azathoth's claws deep into his heart to rend it in two, every time they were wounded by his own power.
Had he forgotten what it was like to enjoy the fight?
Had he forgotten this reality? This Akechi?
No– no, Maruki knows he never forgot. He was deep in the throes of his own distorted cognition, and then thrown into a second chance at life he never thought he'd deserve. His mind was protecting him from the memories that were always there, burying them down deep so he could focus on what mattered.
And now that he's back–
What matters is crouching next to him, spitting blood onto the dirt.
Maruki sits up, entire body aching, Azathoth already long gone. ]
I had unfinished business here.
[ And then he reaches out to lightly smack Akechi's arm, unimpressed expression leveled straight at him. ]
There's a weight to those words, that smack - it acts as kindle to a dwindling flame. His chest warm - hot, hotter than ever. He can't stand it.
Coming back for Akechi. As if he made a distinct choice to throw away an opportunity to exist in their true world to come back for a man lost in a false one. As if he needs the goddamn help, the pity.
The mercy.
As if Akechi has ever needed him to succeed. Mind, chest, body burning-
It takes a second for him to shake the stupor and comprehend the full meaning of what he said. It takes less than one for him to push his aching body towards Maruki, lunging to get on top of him and pin him there with his own body acting as dead weight. Exhausted. Furious. Blinding rage consuming him from the inside out. He'll make sure Maruki burns with him. ]
[ Akechi's fingers curl into the damp fabric under him. Sweat. Blood. He hopes it's more of the latter.
I don't expect anything from you an irritating truth that makes this Maruki more real than ever. He presses a hand against his throat anyway - as if trying to shove those words back down his throat. Make him choke on them.
Staying upright is an issue. The hand on Maruki's throat lacks the force needed to break his neck - it ends up resting there, but he shifts, moves, tries to throw his weight there. It's annoying he can still feel the man breathe despite it. ]
I didn't believe it a week ago and I don't believe it now. [ It bothers him in the wake of an unacknowledged loss. He can't stand hearing it. It makes his stomach lurch. ] If you want to stay in my house, I suggest you keep that shit to yourself from now on. I don't want to hear you speak another word.
[ The attempt at a choke lacks any real force to make it so, though the conviction is there. Maruki grips his wrist to drag his hand away, glaring up at him, expression turning sour once more. ]
[ Maruki can drag away his hand, but he can't drag away homeownership.
Akechi smacks it back against his neck every time it's moved away. ]
It was transferred to me after your departure. You should be grateful, unless you were eager to see us cast to the streets. You're welcome to sleep on the road, if you plan to continue questioning my offer.
[ For a few long seconds, that fury persists, wordless and stormy–
And then Maruki laughs, reaching up with both hands to shove Akechi. Not hard enough to dislodge him, not violent – more playful than anything, and a bit exasperated. ]
Fine. You know what, Akechi? Fine. It's your house.
[ He's exhausted, and he still hasn't seen Akira, Adachi... ]
I hope you'll be gracious enough to let me back in tonight.
THIS ENDED UP DUMBER THAN EXPECTED. INCREDIBLE HONESTLY.
[ There's no response to that age old question - Maruki may or may not be allowed. Akechi isn't certain yet. Only knows he doesn't want to hear his goddamn voice. The benefit of having him there is worth more than a moral victory.
He's shoved - Akechi doesn't move. Maruki's going to have to deal with him laying there awhile longer. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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.
no subject
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
as if he needs this
As if he ever needed Maruki Takuto in any world.
Lines, dots, pinpricks of light cover the hand. Akechi's eyes straining from willing the apparition away.It doesn't go away.
Of course he won't go away.
He never went away-even when Akechi wanted him to, he never went away.And it's a curse. It's a curse. This is a curse. His fingers strain against the edge of the kotatsu, a final tether to reality, this is reality, this wood and table is reality and the ghost's hand is-
Attacked. It's attacked. Not with Loki, not with Robin Hood - Akechi lunges, knocking anything on the tether from knee and leg smacking against it.
And he moves - ignores the hand. He ignores the hand. He doesn't need another hand and when he pulls himself out of this place it will be his own hand, only his, only Akechi Goro. ]
Who the hell do you think you are?! You stupid piece of shit!
[ He's aims for face, body, torso - no target, no thought, it's a ghost. He can tear it apart. Reaches for throat, eyes, anything that has harmed him before. That has killed him before. He'll tear him piece by piece with his own two hands. ]
no subject
Because why else would Maruki feel comfort in being attacked?
Akechi's nails dig into his cheek, clawing long streaks down it as another hand wraps around his throat, and the first feeling to flood Maruki's system isn't shock or fear but relief.
Akechi is the same as he ever was. They'll find their way to one another, again and again, in a thousand untold lifetimes, and they will always wind up right back here.
Azathoth appears with no fanfare, wraps long tendrils around Akechi's limbs, grappling him away from Maruki as best it can– ]
I missed you, too.
[ And dragging him toward the entryway, out the door, to the clearing. ]
Let's begin.
no subject
His lips move until they ache.
I missed you too, I missed you too, I missed you too I missed you too, I missed you too, I missed you too, I missed you too-
A backdrop to the vile, vicious words that numb his mouth. 'As if he gives a shit about some piece of worthless garbage' with a slam against floorboard. 'As if he has any right to walk back in' with the slow creep to the entryway. 'As if there's any value in a goddamn worthless man like him' pulled across rock, dirt, towards a field. He struggles with more than his mouth now. Call of Chaos enacted with a violent, thrash as he tries to rip free and rip free and rip free and dig into every tendril until his fingers bleed and they aren't even fighting yet and they'll fight soon- ]Who would ever miss a piece of shit like you?! Don't make me laugh! You're worth nothing! NOTHING!
[ Riot Gun targets Maruki, Akechi, and whatever else stands between them. ]
no subject
That's one of the things they've said they'd never forgive one another for doing. It's alright. Maruki knows he's done worse by several magnitudes when it comes to that.
Riot Gun hits, bullets spraying in every direction – himself, Akechi, Azathoth, it's all caught in the crossfire. One of the tentacles crumples, and that's a familiar sight, something the Phantom Thieves had to learn to do with swift, brutal efficiency–
But here and now, it doesn't matter. Maruki doesn't need to be shielded.
No, he leans into it, blood smearing down his face from where Akechi clawed at him before, from shoulder and shin where the attack hit–
And he comes in close to Akechi again, hands wrapping over his shoulders, well aware that he's never won a fight in close quarters before.
It doesn't matter. Megidolaon brews above them, and all that matters to Maruki is that he can look him in the eye when he says– ]
I'm sorry that I left you. I never intended to, but I take responsibility for it. I'm sorry.
no subject
sorry?
He's sorry.Why would anyone give a shit whether he's sorry? Akechi doesn't care. He doesn't care. He doesn't care. Akechi doesn't need sorry. An apology is pointless. He doesn't care about anything this sentimental idiot who-
grabshimgrabshimgrabshimgrabshimgrabshimgrabshimgrabshimgrabshimgrabshimgrabshimgrabshimgrabshimgrabshimgrabshimgrabshim.
Maruki will regret it. Maruki will regret it. There are lines of regret soaking his face red that Akechi will shape into a mask.
But it's a surprise - he comes close. It's stupid to come close. A warning echoes in his skull - something's happening, something's happening. It's not an apology. Something above. Something around. Something all consuming and-
Akechi tries to rip those words free with fingers clawing at his face again. Reaching for his throat again. He won't let go this time. There's danger above and he won't let go. Maruki can rot here with them as Riot Gun drowns them both in a rain of bullets as almighty energy blooms.
The laughter ripples and bubbles through an agonizing stream of bullets. He claws, he rips, he slams his fist wherever he can - against throat, chest, body. He'll tear him apart. He'll rip him apart. ]
You're so goddamn stupid! You manage to leave this shithole, and yet here you are with nothing to show for it? An apology?
[ He doesn't want it. ]
You're so stupid! You're trash! You're WORTHLESS! You're NOTHING!
closes eyes and turns away from this
Akechi's nails digging into his flesh, fists beating against him, fingers grabbing, ripping, tearing whatever he can, circling around his throat. The bullet hail that surrounds them as that orb of almighty light does the same, burning straight through persona and user alike– it all hurts, but Maruki knows it's nothing compared to the pain that drives Akechi to lash out like this.
Is it any wonder he wanted to save him, back in the true reality? Akechi's heart has been mired in pain for practically his entire life. No one should have to go through that.
Maruki shouldn't have made it worse. Shouldn't have spent the better part of a year and a half patching over the worst of the wounds, shoddy as his work was, and then left.
With nothing to show for it...
Well, that's not true, but his torch eludes him, Adam Kadmon eludes him.
He can't breathe. There's a hand around his throat, blood pooling across his vision, he can't see, can't breathe–
And he wraps his arms around Akechi anyway, pulls him in to a tight hug as Megidolaon implodes around them. ]
LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID
A blade would pierce Akechi's back, ripping his body in two, three, four, a thousand little pieces because slicing him apart is the only way he'll let go of Maruki's throat. Darkness doesn't consume him. Shake him. There's no pain along his spine. It's warm where a knife should be.
In an ideal world, Azathoth's claws would grab, rip, tear, stab through his chest. He waits to be ripped away by force. Thinks how he might lose his arms in the process because he won't let go. It's warm where power should be.
In an ideal world, Maruki would let go. Akechi can't fathom reality. The opposite happens. They're closer than ever - Akechi can hear a beat, beat, beat that's-
It's warm. He can't take it. He doesn't want it. He doesn't want it.
But when has Akechi Goro ever had a say in any aspect of his life - it's a fact he's reconciled with. A man holds him in a cage shaped for revenge in a world created for someone else.
He's engulfed by it. His arms stay attached. They're engulfed by it. Akechi can't hold on.
It's not mercy. It's not kindness. It's a full assault on the two of them. Maruki's insane. Maruki's insane. It's a mercy to free him from that and turn him into the ghost he's meant to be. Maruki's insane. Akechi's sane. He's an arbiter of justice. He's an arbiter of truth. His hands were born to execute, so he will. It's mercy. It might be mercy. Akechi will make sure Maruki knows it isn't.
But he isn't gripping Maruki anymore. He grasps for arm, fabric, anything. He can't see, and it's clearer than ever - he chokes on his own spit, words stuck in his throat.
It's baffling. He's baffling. The direct hit stuns, hurts, and doesn't kill. Maruki should have killed him. Akechi will kill him.
Akechi hacks against a ghost's shoulder. Maruki's shoulder. Loki uses Eigaon two feet to the left of them. His vision shakes with dark spots from the attack, the kicked up dirt, the ground around them. ]
Finish it or I will - take your chance, idiot.
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All that matters, in the end, is the way Maruki laughs, his own blood coating the back of his throat.
He hasn't laughed all day.
He hasn't laughed in–
Days, weeks. Perhaps more than a month. It's not that the world became a joyless place after his change of heart, only that he's had to find joy in what small pockets he can, and in the most mundane things, and all the sweetness of what joy he's found has been tinged bitter at the edges. An elderly couple thanking him profusely for a long drive out to the countryside made him smile, warmed his heart, brought him such fulfillment – but on the ride back to Tokyo, he found his vision blurring, didn't he? It's happened more and more, every day, over the stupidest things. There's so much beauty in the world, and so much pain he'd been running from that's finally caught up to him.
He hasn't laughed like this. Loud, musical, echoing through the sky around them that still crackles with Almighty energy.
He releases Akechi. Steps back. Swipes at his mouth, his eyes, lets the Tentacle of Healing wash over him as wounds are repaired in an instant. ]
Do you need me to finish it to prove to you that I'm real, or did that do the trick?
[ Just in case, just in case–
Azathoth grows in size behind and above him, tentacles doubling, tripling in number; Tyrant Stance feels so comfortable in its familiarity. ]
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He didn't flip a card with a promise in his fingers. Didn't fold, unfold, fold, unfold, fold until paper became soft and pliant.
He didn't clean a gun that didn't require it. Didn't check every piece of it until his vision blurred against the ornate steel.
He didn't try to recall the sound of his voice, bright in the midst of violence, strong in the middle of gore. He didn't look for a reflection of Akechi Goro in the air.
But what comes out of Maruki's mouth is a reminder how little a memory matters. That voice holds resounding power Akechi's mind could never mimic. It's him. It's Maruki. He's back.
Akechi couldn't be furious at the realization. To be so offensively bad at even escaping this world that he would allow it to force him back. Their laughter mixes. It's vile. Akechi didn't miss it.
Didn't miss any of this. Didn't miss standing in front of a king with an endless, blooming light behind him. He can fight it. He will fight it. Loki powers up with a Riot Gun to unleash in tandem ]
Shut the hell up and do it. Don't tell me your pathetic little vanishing act made you that goddamn soft!
deep sigh..... out of kindness.mp3...........
[ Summoning Azathoth again is a relief. Knowing that power is still at his fingertips, even if he never uses it for its intended purpose to help and heal again – it's enough to know that he's able to defend others, to fight for himself. And he missed his persona, in the days following the collapse of his palace, his reality. He missed that presence in his mind, warm and heavy, molten gold.
But for a moment– for just a moment, he wishes more than anything that he could scrape down to the depths of his soul for that last gasp of conviction in his distorted beliefs. He wishes he could hold that torch aloft and summon Adam Kadmon to crush Akechi Goro beneath its fist and show him that nothing, nothing about what happened to him has softened him a bit.
He can't. Adam Kadmon is as far from his grasp now as Azathoth was back in his empty apartment.
All he can do is look at Akechi Goro with wide, wild eyes, blood still flecked against his lashes even with his vision returned to him. ]
You know me better than that.
[ And just as Tyrant Chaos forms above them in its dome of brilliant light, he dives forward, shoulder slamming into Akechi's toro to bring them both to the ground. Maruki doesn't shield him with his body, he has no interest in saving Akechi from feeling the full force of this attack – no, when the hit the dirt and grass, he rolls off to lay next to him so that light can come crashing down on them both. ]
DEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP SIGH
It didn't happen with Maruki the same way. Akechi had all but written him off initially. The weeks after proved how foolish that was. The months after a constant a reminder of it. It made him-
Want to peel back the curtain, rip the seams, tear away any barrier that keeps him from seeing the few surprises left in the world, held inside rare few. It's a gift. It's new. It's exciting. It fuels a fire he has to constantly stoke with a goal so far out of reach.
Maruki is going to attack. He's ready. He knows. That blinding power makes his skin crawl.
He missed it.
He missed this.
He missed almighty energy hammering him until every thought was driven out of his mind. He missed-
him.
But it's not almighty energy that hits him. His focus on the tyrant in the sky - he didn't see the true enemy looming towards him. Every possibility had gone through his mind and yet-
Here Maruki is, surprising him.
Slamming into the ground feels as normal as falling into bed at night. Rocks dig into his skin.
It's so funny. Light expands and coats the sky and it's so funny. Maruki rolls off somewhere between Akechi's own laughter sputtering into violent promises and it's funny.
He missed
This. He missed this. He missed this. He missed-
Nothing.He missed nothing. He missed feeling nothing. He missed only seeing the inside of his eyes, with a mind full of nothing.
And then-
There's something. It's agonizing. Every bone in his body aches, his throat raw as if he's ripped it from every sharp word. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts and-
He might be happy. He may be happy. He rolls onto his stomach to spit out blood pooling in his mouth. Try to get on all fours to get back up and finish it, but- ]
It was stupid to return.
looks away from this so hard my neck cracks
The stakes may be lower, without the fate of the world hanging in balance, but the danger is much closer at hand, clear and present. If he doesn't take Akechi out, he will be brought to the brink of death, perhaps even pushed over it–
And it's fun.
It's fun, throwing both of them bodily to the ground, rolling onto his back and shielding his eyes as he watches that dome of light expand, explode.
It hadn't been fun before, had it? Desperately pleading with Akira, Akechi, the rest of the Phantom Thieves– no, the whole experience had been miserable, even when he thought he was winning. Especially when he thought he was winning. He never wanted to fight, only did so to back up his convictions. Hurting them brought him no joy; it sunk Azathoth's claws deep into his heart to rend it in two, every time they were wounded by his own power.
Had he forgotten what it was like to enjoy the fight?
Had he forgotten this reality? This Akechi?
No– no, Maruki knows he never forgot. He was deep in the throes of his own distorted cognition, and then thrown into a second chance at life he never thought he'd deserve. His mind was protecting him from the memories that were always there, burying them down deep so he could focus on what mattered.
And now that he's back–
What matters is crouching next to him, spitting blood onto the dirt.
Maruki sits up, entire body aching, Azathoth already long gone. ]
I had unfinished business here.
[ And then he reaches out to lightly smack Akechi's arm, unimpressed expression leveled straight at him. ]
That's your new nickname. Unfinished Business.
GOD I CANT BELIEVE U WROTE THIS
There's a weight to those words, that smack - it acts as kindle to a dwindling flame. His chest warm - hot, hotter than ever. He can't stand it.
Coming back for Akechi. As if he made a distinct choice to throw away an opportunity to exist in their true world to come back for a man lost in a false one. As if he needs the goddamn help, the pity.
The mercy.
As if Akechi has ever needed him to succeed. Mind, chest, body burning-
It takes a second for him to shake the stupor and comprehend the full meaning of what he said. It takes less than one for him to push his aching body towards Maruki, lunging to get on top of him and pin him there with his own body acting as dead weight. Exhausted. Furious. Blinding rage consuming him from the inside out. He'll make sure Maruki burns with him. ]
Do you expect me to be grateful? I'm not.
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He should feel frightened, pinned down and stared at by a madman who wants him dead, shouldn't he?
Instead, Maruki only looks up at him with curiosity, and warmth– and exhaustion. ]
I don't expect anything from you. Don't tell me you forgot that after a little more than a week.
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I don't expect anything from you an irritating truth that makes this Maruki more real than ever. He presses a hand against his throat anyway - as if trying to shove those words back down his throat. Make him choke on them.
Staying upright is an issue. The hand on Maruki's throat lacks the force needed to break his neck - it ends up resting there, but he shifts, moves, tries to throw his weight there. It's annoying he can still feel the man breathe despite it. ]
I didn't believe it a week ago and I don't believe it now. [ It bothers him in the wake of an unacknowledged loss. He can't stand hearing it. It makes his stomach lurch. ] If you want to stay in my house, I suggest you keep that shit to yourself from now on. I don't want to hear you speak another word.
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Your house?
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[ Maruki can drag away his hand, but he can't drag away homeownership.
Akechi smacks it back against his neck every time it's moved away. ]
It was transferred to me after your departure. You should be grateful, unless you were eager to see us cast to the streets. You're welcome to sleep on the road, if you plan to continue questioning my offer.
SDGRHLKJ WE CAN WRAP UP... I HATE THIS
And then Maruki laughs, reaching up with both hands to shove Akechi. Not hard enough to dislodge him, not violent – more playful than anything, and a bit exasperated. ]
Fine. You know what, Akechi? Fine. It's your house.
[ He's exhausted, and he still hasn't seen Akira, Adachi... ]
I hope you'll be gracious enough to let me back in tonight.
THIS ENDED UP DUMBER THAN EXPECTED. INCREDIBLE HONESTLY.
He's shoved - Akechi doesn't move. Maruki's going to have to deal with him laying there awhile longer. ]