[ It's almost funny, that question – are you real?
If he'd had any of his wits about him at all when Akira appeared in the garden, he would have asked the same thing. It speaks volumes of how sharp Akira's mind is even lost in a haze of treacherous, numb grief.
Maruki's hand doesn't drop. It freezes and holds exactly where it is, outstretched, holding nothing. ]
Something I've never told you before? You really do love setting the bar high for me to clear...
[ Between the Akira he knew in Tokyo and the Akira here, what hasn't he told him?
Maruki observes him for a long moment, gaze softening even further as he takes in the details of the room. His messy hair, sleep-creased face; how dark it is in here, how untouched everything seems.
That's familiar, isn't it? In one of those mirrored shards, Maruki can see a part of himself in Akira, in those days and weeks after he walked away from Rumi's bedside.
And still, for as beaten down and worn thin as he is– still, a light cuts through the dim, and it comes only from Akira's gaze locked inexorably on his.
Tell me something I can't know.
They lived different lives, in different realities. There is something this Akira would have no way of knowing, because Maruki only knew how to put words to it when he returned home.
He steps forward, forward, forward– as if running toward the crumbling edge of a glass platform, leaning over the side to take hold. This must have been how Akira felt, acting on pure instinct to save him, to pull him from the hold that Maruki's own darkness had on his mind and heart.
He'll pay it forward now, sitting on the bed in front of Akira, resting a hand over the sheet covering a clenched fist. ]
Your eyes.
[ Even now, despairing as they are, hollow as they are, frightened as they are–
The light hasn't been extinguished. Not at all. A flame of hope flickers, however weak, and Maruki cleaves to it. ]
Your eyes have more light in them than anyone I've ever known. Since the day I met you, that's how I've seen them. And even now... they're as bright and honest as ever.
Maybe. Maybe it is. Maybe it's why the choked laugh slips from his laughs.]
It's funny... [His gaze drops. Akira stares at the knuckles covering his own. Same shape, same warmth, same pressure he's felt on his shoulder dozens of times.] I can't tell if it's you and my mind is only fighting it so it won't be hurt anymore. Or is there something like Oracle just plucking words from my head that would scare me, but make me so happy to hear.
[He has to keep his glasses on.
Scary. Frightening. The second-year transfer student was shaking down people for money in Shinjuku back alleys. Don't let him catch you between classes or you'll be next. Kurusu-san's son assaulted a visitor last month. Don't let his hand touch yours on the sale beef or he'll get angry at you, too.
Akira has to keep his glasses on.
Akira always keeps his glasses on - except when he's in his room.
Maruki has seen his face bare before, in the early hours of the day. There's no way he could know the full extent of what it means for him to say something like this, or how utterly it would touch Akira's heart.
And yet...]
I can't tell. [He's scared, but he can't comprehend that he is.] I want it to be you so badly.
[Messy. Vulnerable. It makes him nauseous to spill out so much of his heart even to what may be the real Maruki Takuto, but the hope of seeing him again, the hope of this warmth being real-
It's cracking apart every wall that he has, and that's a fear that he can recognize more easily.]
[ Akira can't comprehend that he's scared, and maybe someone who hasn't spent so much time observing him would miss the subtle cues–
But to Maruki, it telegraphs clearly, fear lit up like one of Tokyo's infinite neon billboards. It's as plain as it would be on Akira as a child, warm and secure in his arms as they made their way across the farm. He sees so much of that boy in the Akira across from him now, vulnerable to the point of near fragility, terrified of wanting something that isn't real.
Both hands cover Akira's now, clutching around the sheet to hold his hand securely as Maruki smiles at him, radiant as a new sunrise. ]
I'm right here. You can tell. You know what's real even better than I do.
[ Kurusu Akira, who saw through the minute cracks in his flawlessly crafted reality, must know. He must know, deep down into his heart, and Maruki will reach for it with both hands.
Akira asked for something they've never talked about. One didn't do the trick, but there are more, and now a dozen stories spill forward with that unrestrained joy to see his guiding light again. ]
I want to study aikido. Isn't that ridiculous? At my age! But I do... And I go out of my way to try to get cats down for trees, or help tourists with their luggage. I always end up paying for it, and I never learn. Ah, and I collected Phantom Wafers, as embarrassing as that is to admit now.
[ Maruki squeezes his hand tighter, grounds him as he promises breathlessly– ]
I'll keep telling you things until you know everything about me, if that's what it takes.
[The ghost wearing Maruki Takuto's shape speaks and speaks. He tells Akira things about him, things that they've never spoken of before, and each one somehow fits into the shape of the person that's been his ally and home for nearly a year's time. An impossible miracle holds onto him and speaks with warm words, holds him fast with warm hands.
He's here. Even as the fear twists in his chest, he's here.
He's here
and his words crack through the ice around his heart.
Akira can tell.
He's here
and Akira is in a garden, he doesn't know who this is but he must stop that pain in his face in his voice because he knows Kurusu Akira and the blood in the sky, Akira is wrong and he doesn't fully understand yet why he should be hated and take responsibility but somehow he's the one that accepts him anyway, and it's Akira's birthday being celebrated even though he's never told a soul and can't recognize yet what precious gifts are being given to him, Akira is slicing open a skeksis like a thief in the night and he isn't stared at like someone to be feared or loathed and they speak and he knows so much and understands so much and recognizes that Akechi Goro is important important so vitally important
and he's here
and Akira must navigate with him the powers that are at play, and Akira is in a crystal alcove where he can see how plainly he is the wrong one but yet he is wanted and seen and accepted and he is strengthened by a string of fate knotting around his heart in the shape of the nature of reality is cyclical, and concentric, and no life that we live is wholly unconnected from the rest
and he's here
and Akira takes joy in making him laugh and in sharing his burden, and Akira learns he can tease ever so gently, and Akira comes to understand how precious the people from these other realities are to him and soon to Akira too
and he's here
and Akira experiences what it's like to feel blood and flowers and vines choking the truth that will bind him into the oath he will swear for the rest of his days here
and Akira begs him to keep a secret even as he's seen for being lonely, and Akira will learn about Rumi even if he doesn't know the picture isn't filled in, and Akira will find out even a mirror can have another mirror that understand its pain, and Akira can't be grumpy about a birthday that was hidden when the night wraps around his heart like a weighted blanket and a promise is made to fight
and even when Akira learns a terrible truth he can never absolve him of it, the same way he won't condemn him for it
and Akira makes a home with him and Akechi Goro day by day, and Akira knows he will search for him in every life, and Akira will share with him more than just his sorrows because he will share his joys
and Akira will thrill in the fight that's been promised even as he pushes his body to its limits only to end up laughing together in the sunset, and Akira is wrong wrong wrong wrong and he finally understands even as he is so terribly treasured in spite of it all, and promises to make sure that he will see the right Kurusu Akira again one day
and Akira can still laugh with him, and laugh, and laugh
And Akira will know what it's like to be held by the adult that finally believed in him.
And Akira will hold him, and together with Akechi Goro, make sure that he only ever feels safe and wanted under that roof.
And Akira will be right again, and try to piece it all together with the words he will never tell another living soul.
and Akira will stop
feeling anything
at all
until there's a knock on his door.
and slowly color seeps back into the world.
Because-]
You're here.
[A person that looks like his ally is in his room.]
And you found your way back.
[Maruki found his way back.
Because Akira tried to protect his own heart. But he's known, hasn't he, from the moment he walked through the door?
Deep down, he's known. Because he'll always know, even if his mind can't remember anymore.]
So I'll tell you "welcome home".
[His hands clench against Maruki's.
And Kurusu Akira, who cannot cry in front of anyone, feels a tear roll down his cheek.
[ Even if Maruki had a perfect, ironclad grasp on his self-control – and he certainly doesn't today, not after waking up back in a reality he never thought he'd see again, full of people who missed him, no matter how they've shown it as he's reunited with them – even then, he wouldn't be able to keep the surprise off his face when that single tear slips down Akira's cheek.
His eyes go wide, mouth forming into a silent oh, and those hands that were cupped over Akira's clenched ones pull away–
But only so that he can lay them over his shoulders instead.
It's nothing he hasn't done before. In that brilliant crystal alcove, in the tatami room as flowers choked them both, in the office of Eyn Sof after he spoke the most miserable truth of all – Maruki has held Akira by the shoulders, looked him in the eye, tried his very best to make him understand with words and actions alike how very much he means to him in every reality.
And yet, it's new all the same.
He couldn't do this for his Akira. He should have. As that brilliant light overtook them both, as he was pulled up to safety, he should have held him like this, steady and upright–
And he should have brought him into his arms, safe and secure.
He can make up for it now. He can do so much more than he was able to back home. A handshake over a final lunch, a solemn nod of his head before exiting Leblanc, a fist bump in the back of a taxi– how did he ever settle for any of that?
Maruki scoots forward on the bed, until their knees touch, and all at once, he draws Akira forward. ]
Thank you.
[ The words are inadequate for how much sentiment is behind them. Maruki speaks them like a plea and a promise all at once, his own eyes shining telltale bright as a warm, watery smile overtakes his expression.
Kurusu feels inadequate, too. It has for so long. After seeing his tears, how could he put that distance between them again?
Even as a small child, Akira never cried, in his arms or anywhere else. ]
Akira... you're right. I'm home.
[ Maruki hugs him tight against his chest, clutching at his shoulder and around his back.
He might be shaking, head dropping down onto Akira's shoulder, still feeling for all the world like he's dangling over that shattered crystalline edge.
They'll save each other. They'll hold each other's broken pieces together. He's more certain than ever that the lives of the two Kurusu Akiras he's known are irrevocably intertwined, that what they do for each other in one reality will echo through the next. It's his greatest hope that the Akira he just watched disappear into the crowd at the train station will feel this warmth, this gratitude, as he steps into a new phase of his young life.
It's his greatest hope that this Akira will never have reason to shed a tear around him again, and never regret doing so now.
[He can feel that weight across his shoulders like an anchor, a gentle tug back to a time when-
"You're not too big at all, and nothing would make me happier." "I'm certain of it. "More certain than ever. "I'm the happiest I could possibly be right now."
And Akira isn't a small child anymore, longing for the hugs he can't have, but-
And still, none of it felt as right as it did to hold you in my arms and see you smile.
His hands come up to clutch at the back before him. They do not shake.
It feels right. Back home. Back where he belongs.
There's so many things that pile up in his throat. Thank you. Welcome home, again. Relief, gratitude, comfort, an entire collage-
And yet, that isn't what comes out.]
I couldn't find you. [Akira isn't a child anymore. But his voice is so small that he almost feels like one. He hates that it does. His voice should never sound that way. But he can't stop it.] I searched- I searched everywhere. Everywhere I could think. But I still couldn't...
[His hands don't shake. But they tighten, like Maruki could be taken away at any moment.]
[ Akira isn't a child, no– but he's as vulnerable as one, warm in Maruki's arms as he stumbles through an explanation he shouldn't have to give. How terrifying it must have been to wake up without a constant presence around. Maruki wracks his overtired brain: Has it happened to Akira in this reality before? Has anyone he was truly close to disappeared, temporarily or permanently?
If this was the first time he experienced it, that's even more unforgivable. Maruki hushes him softly, rubs a hand over his back. He isn't a child, but he can still be treated as tenderly as one would deserve to be. Akira, running around in his confusion, searching him out anywhere he might be only to return empty handed – Maruki's heart is already fit to crack open in his chest picturing it...
And then, that question.
Did it hurt you?
A war rages inside Maruki, rising up hot and fast. First, foremost, always– he has to be strong for the person he's with, especially when they're in such pain, especially when it was caused by him, especially when it is Kurusu Akira. He ought to be stalwart, hold both of them up through sheer force of will.
But then, in contrast–
How can he ever wear a mask around Kurusu Akira again? In this world, they had already cast them aside, fought as equals just as they were opponents in the true reality. This Akira steadied him with compassionate words and firm resolve in his empty office, and that Akira gripped his wrist to drag him into his second chance at life, sparing and saving him – how could he ever lie, even if it was to protect both their hearts, and say it didn't hurt?
Maruki can't burden him with this. Not now. But neither can he shoulder it alone.
What, then, is he to do? ]
I...
[ It's as if what happened to him has been settling in slowly, drip by drip, since the moment he reappeared. With Chihaya, he was too panicked about finding everyone again. With Eren, he was too consumed by his Other's grief. With Akechi, there was too much blood in his mouth. But here and now, wrapped in Akira's arms, in the quiet of a darkened room–
Maruki tips his chin down, rests his forehead against Akira's shoulder. Draws an unsteady breath and shakes his head. ]
I'm sorry. I'm here. You won't have to search for me again.
[ A beat, as heavy and thudding as his changed heart in his chest. ]
I'm not hurt right now.
[ It's true. He's not. Every bruise from that final fight faded. Every deep line Akechi gouged into his face was healed before he came up here. The phantom pains linger, but here and now, Maruki is whole.
He lifts his head, doesn't break the hug, but pulls back enough to be able to look at Akira. In the end, faced with those bright eyes, he can only be honest. ]
I returned to the true reality for a bit. It was difficult, but... I'm alright. [ A weak smile, exhaustion creeping into his own expression fast. ] Perhaps it's a story for another time, eh? You've been so worried. I don't want to pile on.
[Maruki is leaning back, looking at him. He's looking at Akira, so he'll see the exact moment that the shift occurs in him.
The life seeps and sparks into his eyes, not quite a fire, but embers that flicker to a steady, heated glow. He'll see the way his back straightens, weakened but reinforced, new life springing up with the words. His expression shifts in the most minute way, perhaps unnoticeable to another eye, but for one who's just returned... Maruki will surely be able to see the echo of Joker.
The life stirs in him, because Maruki needs him.
The spark is trying to light and catch, because something has happened - and Akira can't afford to stay weak and numb right now.]
No.
[So he'll force himself to feel, even if it burns.]
You're not hurt now- but you were... weren't you?
[Something has happened. It pings in his chest, rapid as a hummingbird wing. Akira can tell, because these are familiar lines to read between.
He's good at doing it himself, after all.]
You don't... [His voice is still weak. Even when he continues it's still weak, and so he will keep trying until it comes out strong.] You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But please... Tell me one thing, if you can't say anything else.
[One hand drifts from his back, grips at his sleeve. Desperate, pleading. He is one part Joker, and one part the child that clings to serenity.]
Of course he sees it. A spark, a flame, or a raging inferno – it matters not. Any existence of that light in Akira's eyes is one that will reach him, pierce right through every mask he wears, and wrap around his heart.
It's Joker, yes–
But more than that, it's Akira. He saw that conviction long before he ever saw a Phantom Thief leveling a gun directly at his soul.
I want to tell you. He tries to shape the words and finds his mouth tight, twisted in pain. I want to tell you, his heart cries out, but I don't know how. Not yet.
Akira didn't judge him for what he did to Rumi– neither of them did, neither here nor back home. But when that same power was leveled at his friends, at reality at large, at him, at Akechi–
He can't fathom saying it, risking seeing betrayal in those bright eyes all over again. One day, he will – he must – he wants to, so badly that it's tearing through him from the inside out–
But not yet. Not yet.
He finally manages to wrench his mouth open, fully intending to say so, to make sure Akira knows that he won't be kept in the dark forever–
And he tastes salt.
Maruki blinks. Close as they are, even if he wasn't wearing his glasses, Akira still wouldn't be blurry. He is now, though, and Maruki blinks again, eyelids heavy, wet warmth spilling over and trailing down his cheeks. He's never been a loud crier. Not until the night he shattered to pieces above his perfect reality, right in front of this very person.
He doesn't cry out now, doesn't scream, doesn't rage at the heavens. Maruki only nods, one hand unwinding from around Akira to come up and press the heel of his palm to his cheek, scrubbing those few tears away. ]
I did. I saw him, I–
[ His voice sounds wretched, small and strained, and he can't fall apart like this. Not now, not when he hasn't yet explained himself, not when Akira is still hurting even as that fire inside him is trying to catch and light again.
When his head drops down, gravity carries the next tears to splash against his lenses. He tugs his glasses off, presses the back of his hand to his eyes, shakes his head. A shaky, watery laugh escapes; he isn't even trying to save face with it. Maruki's genuinely stunned at his own response, like his hands have been left empty as the skein of his self-control has utterly unspooled in seconds flat. ]
I'm sorry. Hah... I don't know what's come over me...
[And isn't it something, that Akira's hands curl forward like it's the most natural thing in the world?]
It's alright.
[Quiet and feather-soft, he tugs at Maruki until his head can rest on his shoulder. New, fresh, yet old and practiced. He's soothed this soul before, even if the body that held it was so much smaller at the time. Akira wants to believe he always had this capacity to care for him, but maybe in this specific way... maybe this world has branded it onto his brain, a permanent fixture that will never leave even if it forgets for a time.
He's willing to accept that.]
Overwhelmed. Missing him, after finally seeing him again. Processing things, that happened here or happened back home. There's so many reasons... and you still don't need any reason for it at all. [His hand rubs in circles that his mind remembers how to make.] You need to, and that's enough.
[What is it about soothing Maruki that makes all the scattered pieces click back into place in his chest?
none of it felt as right as it did to hold you in my arms and see you smile.
...Maybe it's just as simple as that.]
It's alright. [He says it again, somehow even quieter than the time before.] It's okay if you can't keep it inside. We don't need to be strong right now.
[We don't need to be strong, even as Maruki makes him feel stronger than he has in an entire week's time.]
[ Just like that, in mere seconds and through nothing more than a shoulder to rest his heavy head on and a hand rubbing soothing circles into his back–
Just like that, he's a child again. Curious about and terrified by the world around him in equal measure, always feeling too small and too in the way– maybe more of Maruki's issues began there than he realized. That helplessness, that feeling of never being able to do enough, was ingrained deep in his soul long before he stood uselessly while the person he loved most and her family were torn apart by an unjust reality.
For just a moment, he lets himself feel that. The full weight of his sorrow, the great aching chasm that yawned open in his heart the day he woke up alone in his apartment, the complex blend of grief and joy that returning to this reality brings – it all brews and swirls in Maruki's mind as Akira's words wash over him, warm as bathwater.
It's all of what he said and more. Of course he's overwhelmed – he would never tell Akira exactly what he's been through in the hours since arriving back in this reality, but anyone would be overwhelmed by that. Of course he misses that other Akira, no matter how grateful he is to be back with this one. Of course he's processing, of course he doesn't need a reason, of course–
Of course he doesn't need to be strong.
He's never been weaker than in front of Kurusu Akira. He's shattered to pieces before him without any hope that the shards would be picked up and molded back together, but they were– they are again now as he's held safe and still, whispered to in the darkness.
I needed this, Maruki finds himself thinking as fresh tears gather in his eyes. I needed you with me after everything, even though it was impossible, even though I know I had no right to ask for it.
It matters not. He got through it. He's here. He has Akira now, and he'll never stop thanking every star in this unfamiliar sky for him. ]
I'll tell you about it one day... soon, I hope. I promise. I will.
[ Maruki doesn't pick his head up. One arm comes to clutch around Akira's back, as tightly as a lifeline.
With this new heart, he has to learn to hurt, has to learn to grieve, has to learn to chase his own happiness, has to learn to live for no one but himself–
And he has to learn to ask for what he needs. ]
For right now... can I stay with you like this for a while?
[It's a promise murmured quietly at the side of his head, new and old and constant. Always. There will always be a place for Maruki with him.]
Stay right here, for as long as you need. [His hand comes up to pause at the top of his back, right below his neck. Keeping him close as he purges whatever it is that's overwhelmed his heart.] There's no hurry. Not for any of it.
[Not for his tears, and not for whatever it is he has yet to tell Akira.]
You're home now... [Relief mixes in with the comfort he still needs to give. In a moment of weakness, he lets his own head rest against Maruki, too.] ...so just take your time.
[It would be wrong to say there's no fear in his heart. The world took him once, and it could so easily do it again. Time is fleeting, ticking away no matter how desperately Akira tries to grip it in two human hands. There's no telling if it could happen all over, nor when.
So he'll wish for it now, just in his heart. He'll wish for it now, even if his contract has already been whispered to him in a dream. He'll wish for it now, even if it coats his heart in the blood of this world.
I wish for Maruki Takuto to stay here, right here, and have all of the time he needs.
If a price comes for his head... if it is righteous, then he will pay it.
And if it's something his morals can't accept, he'll simply have to slip out of its trappings like a thief in the night.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
our light.mp3
If he'd had any of his wits about him at all when Akira appeared in the garden, he would have asked the same thing. It speaks volumes of how sharp Akira's mind is even lost in a haze of treacherous, numb grief.
Maruki's hand doesn't drop. It freezes and holds exactly where it is, outstretched, holding nothing. ]
Something I've never told you before? You really do love setting the bar high for me to clear...
[ Between the Akira he knew in Tokyo and the Akira here, what hasn't he told him?
Maruki observes him for a long moment, gaze softening even further as he takes in the details of the room. His messy hair, sleep-creased face; how dark it is in here, how untouched everything seems.
That's familiar, isn't it? In one of those mirrored shards, Maruki can see a part of himself in Akira, in those days and weeks after he walked away from Rumi's bedside.
And still, for as beaten down and worn thin as he is– still, a light cuts through the dim, and it comes only from Akira's gaze locked inexorably on his.
Tell me something I can't know.
They lived different lives, in different realities. There is something this Akira would have no way of knowing, because Maruki only knew how to put words to it when he returned home.
He steps forward, forward, forward– as if running toward the crumbling edge of a glass platform, leaning over the side to take hold. This must have been how Akira felt, acting on pure instinct to save him, to pull him from the hold that Maruki's own darkness had on his mind and heart.
He'll pay it forward now, sitting on the bed in front of Akira, resting a hand over the sheet covering a clenched fist. ]
Your eyes.
[ Even now, despairing as they are, hollow as they are, frightened as they are–
The light hasn't been extinguished. Not at all. A flame of hope flickers, however weak, and Maruki cleaves to it. ]
Your eyes have more light in them than anyone I've ever known. Since the day I met you, that's how I've seen them. And even now... they're as bright and honest as ever.
raises u ideal and the real.mp3
Is this what it feels like, to break apart?
Maybe. Maybe it is. Maybe it's why the choked laugh slips from his laughs.]
It's funny... [His gaze drops. Akira stares at the knuckles covering his own. Same shape, same warmth, same pressure he's felt on his shoulder dozens of times.] I can't tell if it's you and my mind is only fighting it so it won't be hurt anymore. Or is there something like Oracle just plucking words from my head that would scare me, but make me so happy to hear.
[He has to keep his glasses on.
Scary. Frightening. The second-year transfer student was shaking down people for money in Shinjuku back alleys. Don't let him catch you between classes or you'll be next. Kurusu-san's son assaulted a visitor last month. Don't let his hand touch yours on the sale beef or he'll get angry at you, too.
Akira has to keep his glasses on.
Akira always keeps his glasses on - except when he's in his room.
Maruki has seen his face bare before, in the early hours of the day. There's no way he could know the full extent of what it means for him to say something like this, or how utterly it would touch Akira's heart.
And yet...]
I can't tell. [He's scared, but he can't comprehend that he is.] I want it to be you so badly.
[Messy. Vulnerable. It makes him nauseous to spill out so much of his heart even to what may be the real Maruki Takuto, but the hope of seeing him again, the hope of this warmth being real-
It's cracking apart every wall that he has, and that's a fear that he can recognize more easily.]
I miss you so much.
no subject
But to Maruki, it telegraphs clearly, fear lit up like one of Tokyo's infinite neon billboards. It's as plain as it would be on Akira as a child, warm and secure in his arms as they made their way across the farm. He sees so much of that boy in the Akira across from him now, vulnerable to the point of near fragility, terrified of wanting something that isn't real.
Both hands cover Akira's now, clutching around the sheet to hold his hand securely as Maruki smiles at him, radiant as a new sunrise. ]
I'm right here. You can tell. You know what's real even better than I do.
[ Kurusu Akira, who saw through the minute cracks in his flawlessly crafted reality, must know. He must know, deep down into his heart, and Maruki will reach for it with both hands.
Akira asked for something they've never talked about. One didn't do the trick, but there are more, and now a dozen stories spill forward with that unrestrained joy to see his guiding light again. ]
I want to study aikido. Isn't that ridiculous? At my age! But I do... And I go out of my way to try to get cats down for trees, or help tourists with their luggage. I always end up paying for it, and I never learn. Ah, and I collected Phantom Wafers, as embarrassing as that is to admit now.
[ Maruki squeezes his hand tighter, grounds him as he promises breathlessly– ]
I'll keep telling you things until you know everything about me, if that's what it takes.
no subject
He's here. Even as the fear twists in his chest, he's here.
He's here
Akira can tell.
He's here
and Akira is in a garden, he doesn't know who this is but he must stop that pain in his face in his voice because he knows Kurusu Akira and the blood in the sky, Akira is wrong and he doesn't fully understand yet why he should be hated and take responsibility but somehow he's the one that accepts him anyway, and it's Akira's birthday being celebrated even though he's never told a soul and can't recognize yet what precious gifts are being given to him, Akira is slicing open a skeksis like a thief in the night and he isn't stared at like someone to be feared or loathed and they speak and he knows so much and understands so much and recognizes that Akechi Goro is important important so vitally important
and he's here
and Akira must navigate with him the powers that are at play, and Akira is in a crystal alcove where he can see how plainly he is the wrong one but yet he is wanted and seen and accepted and he is strengthened by a string of fate knotting around his heart in the shape of the nature of reality is cyclical, and concentric, and no life that we live is wholly unconnected from the rest
and he's here
and Akira takes joy in making him laugh and in sharing his burden, and Akira learns he can tease ever so gently, and Akira comes to understand how precious the people from these other realities are to him and soon to Akira too
and he's here
and Akira experiences what it's like to feel blood and flowers and vines choking the truth that will bind him into the oath he will swear for the rest of his days here
and Akira begs him to keep a secret even as he's seen for being lonely, and Akira will learn about Rumi even if he doesn't know the picture isn't filled in, and Akira will find out even a mirror can have another mirror that understand its pain, and Akira can't be grumpy about a birthday that was hidden when the night wraps around his heart like a weighted blanket and a promise is made to fight
and even when Akira learns a terrible truth he can never absolve him of it, the same way he won't condemn him for it
and Akira makes a home with him and Akechi Goro day by day, and Akira knows he will search for him in every life, and Akira will share with him more than just his sorrows because he will share his joys
and Akira will thrill in the fight that's been promised even as he pushes his body to its limits only to end up laughing together in the sunset, and Akira is wrong wrong wrong wrong and he finally understands even as he is so terribly treasured in spite of it all, and promises to make sure that he will see the right Kurusu Akira again one day
and Akira can still laugh with him, and laugh, and laugh
And Akira will know what it's like to be held by the adult that finally believed in him.
And Akira will hold him, and together with Akechi Goro, make sure that he only ever feels safe and wanted under that roof.
And Akira will be right again, and try to piece it all together with the words he will never tell another living soul.
and Akira will stop
feeling anything
at all
until there's a knock on his door.
and slowly color seeps back into the world.
Because-]
You're here.
[A person that looks like his ally is in his room.]
And you found your way back.
[Maruki found his way back.
Because Akira tried to protect his own heart. But he's known, hasn't he, from the moment he walked through the door?
Deep down, he's known. Because he'll always know, even if his mind can't remember anymore.]
So I'll tell you "welcome home".
[His hands clench against Maruki's.
And Kurusu Akira, who cannot cry in front of anyone, feels a tear roll down his cheek.
His soul can always find him.]
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His eyes go wide, mouth forming into a silent oh, and those hands that were cupped over Akira's clenched ones pull away–
But only so that he can lay them over his shoulders instead.
It's nothing he hasn't done before. In that brilliant crystal alcove, in the tatami room as flowers choked them both, in the office of Eyn Sof after he spoke the most miserable truth of all – Maruki has held Akira by the shoulders, looked him in the eye, tried his very best to make him understand with words and actions alike how very much he means to him in every reality.
And yet, it's new all the same.
He couldn't do this for his Akira. He should have. As that brilliant light overtook them both, as he was pulled up to safety, he should have held him like this, steady and upright–
And he should have brought him into his arms, safe and secure.
He can make up for it now. He can do so much more than he was able to back home. A handshake over a final lunch, a solemn nod of his head before exiting Leblanc, a fist bump in the back of a taxi– how did he ever settle for any of that?
Maruki scoots forward on the bed, until their knees touch, and all at once, he draws Akira forward. ]
Thank you.
[ The words are inadequate for how much sentiment is behind them. Maruki speaks them like a plea and a promise all at once, his own eyes shining telltale bright as a warm, watery smile overtakes his expression.
Kurusu feels inadequate, too. It has for so long. After seeing his tears, how could he put that distance between them again?
Even as a small child, Akira never cried, in his arms or anywhere else. ]
Akira... you're right. I'm home.
[ Maruki hugs him tight against his chest, clutching at his shoulder and around his back.
He might be shaking, head dropping down onto Akira's shoulder, still feeling for all the world like he's dangling over that shattered crystalline edge.
They'll save each other. They'll hold each other's broken pieces together. He's more certain than ever that the lives of the two Kurusu Akiras he's known are irrevocably intertwined, that what they do for each other in one reality will echo through the next. It's his greatest hope that the Akira he just watched disappear into the crowd at the train station will feel this warmth, this gratitude, as he steps into a new phase of his young life.
It's his greatest hope that this Akira will never have reason to shed a tear around him again, and never regret doing so now.
You saved my life.
Both of you did. ]
Thank you.
no subject
"I'm certain of it.
"More certain than ever.
"I'm the happiest I could possibly be right now."
And Akira isn't a small child anymore, longing for the hugs he can't have, but-
His hands come up to clutch at the back before him. They do not shake.
It feels right. Back home. Back where he belongs.
There's so many things that pile up in his throat. Thank you. Welcome home, again. Relief, gratitude, comfort, an entire collage-
And yet, that isn't what comes out.]
I couldn't find you. [Akira isn't a child anymore. But his voice is so small that he almost feels like one. He hates that it does. His voice should never sound that way. But he can't stop it.] I searched- I searched everywhere. Everywhere I could think. But I still couldn't...
[His hands don't shake. But they tighten, like Maruki could be taken away at any moment.]
Are you alright? Did... did it hurt you?
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If this was the first time he experienced it, that's even more unforgivable. Maruki hushes him softly, rubs a hand over his back. He isn't a child, but he can still be treated as tenderly as one would deserve to be. Akira, running around in his confusion, searching him out anywhere he might be only to return empty handed – Maruki's heart is already fit to crack open in his chest picturing it...
And then, that question.
Did it hurt you?
A war rages inside Maruki, rising up hot and fast. First, foremost, always– he has to be strong for the person he's with, especially when they're in such pain, especially when it was caused by him, especially when it is Kurusu Akira. He ought to be stalwart, hold both of them up through sheer force of will.
But then, in contrast–
How can he ever wear a mask around Kurusu Akira again? In this world, they had already cast them aside, fought as equals just as they were opponents in the true reality. This Akira steadied him with compassionate words and firm resolve in his empty office, and that Akira gripped his wrist to drag him into his second chance at life, sparing and saving him – how could he ever lie, even if it was to protect both their hearts, and say it didn't hurt?
Maruki can't burden him with this. Not now. But neither can he shoulder it alone.
What, then, is he to do? ]
I...
[ It's as if what happened to him has been settling in slowly, drip by drip, since the moment he reappeared. With Chihaya, he was too panicked about finding everyone again. With Eren, he was too consumed by his Other's grief. With Akechi, there was too much blood in his mouth. But here and now, wrapped in Akira's arms, in the quiet of a darkened room–
Maruki tips his chin down, rests his forehead against Akira's shoulder. Draws an unsteady breath and shakes his head. ]
I'm sorry. I'm here. You won't have to search for me again.
[ A beat, as heavy and thudding as his changed heart in his chest. ]
I'm not hurt right now.
[ It's true. He's not. Every bruise from that final fight faded. Every deep line Akechi gouged into his face was healed before he came up here. The phantom pains linger, but here and now, Maruki is whole.
He lifts his head, doesn't break the hug, but pulls back enough to be able to look at Akira. In the end, faced with those bright eyes, he can only be honest. ]
I returned to the true reality for a bit. It was difficult, but... I'm alright. [ A weak smile, exhaustion creeping into his own expression fast. ] Perhaps it's a story for another time, eh? You've been so worried. I don't want to pile on.
no subject
The life seeps and sparks into his eyes, not quite a fire, but embers that flicker to a steady, heated glow. He'll see the way his back straightens, weakened but reinforced, new life springing up with the words. His expression shifts in the most minute way, perhaps unnoticeable to another eye, but for one who's just returned... Maruki will surely be able to see the echo of Joker.
The life stirs in him, because Maruki needs him.
The spark is trying to light and catch, because something has happened - and Akira can't afford to stay weak and numb right now.]
No.
[So he'll force himself to feel, even if it burns.]
You're not hurt now- but you were... weren't you?
[Something has happened. It pings in his chest, rapid as a hummingbird wing. Akira can tell, because these are familiar lines to read between.
He's good at doing it himself, after all.]
You don't... [His voice is still weak. Even when he continues it's still weak, and so he will keep trying until it comes out strong.] You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But please... Tell me one thing, if you can't say anything else.
[One hand drifts from his back, grips at his sleeve. Desperate, pleading. He is one part Joker, and one part the child that clings to serenity.]
Did you see him again?
[Maruki will know. He'll know who Akira means.]
no subject
Of course he sees it. A spark, a flame, or a raging inferno – it matters not. Any existence of that light in Akira's eyes is one that will reach him, pierce right through every mask he wears, and wrap around his heart.
It's Joker, yes–
But more than that, it's Akira. He saw that conviction long before he ever saw a Phantom Thief leveling a gun directly at his soul.
I want to tell you. He tries to shape the words and finds his mouth tight, twisted in pain. I want to tell you, his heart cries out, but I don't know how. Not yet.
Akira didn't judge him for what he did to Rumi– neither of them did, neither here nor back home. But when that same power was leveled at his friends, at reality at large, at him, at Akechi–
He can't fathom saying it, risking seeing betrayal in those bright eyes all over again. One day, he will – he must – he wants to, so badly that it's tearing through him from the inside out–
But not yet. Not yet.
He finally manages to wrench his mouth open, fully intending to say so, to make sure Akira knows that he won't be kept in the dark forever–
And he tastes salt.
Maruki blinks. Close as they are, even if he wasn't wearing his glasses, Akira still wouldn't be blurry. He is now, though, and Maruki blinks again, eyelids heavy, wet warmth spilling over and trailing down his cheeks. He's never been a loud crier. Not until the night he shattered to pieces above his perfect reality, right in front of this very person.
He doesn't cry out now, doesn't scream, doesn't rage at the heavens. Maruki only nods, one hand unwinding from around Akira to come up and press the heel of his palm to his cheek, scrubbing those few tears away. ]
I did. I saw him, I–
[ His voice sounds wretched, small and strained, and he can't fall apart like this. Not now, not when he hasn't yet explained himself, not when Akira is still hurting even as that fire inside him is trying to catch and light again.
When his head drops down, gravity carries the next tears to splash against his lenses. He tugs his glasses off, presses the back of his hand to his eyes, shakes his head. A shaky, watery laugh escapes; he isn't even trying to save face with it. Maruki's genuinely stunned at his own response, like his hands have been left empty as the skein of his self-control has utterly unspooled in seconds flat. ]
I'm sorry. Hah... I don't know what's come over me...
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It's alright.
[Quiet and feather-soft, he tugs at Maruki until his head can rest on his shoulder. New, fresh, yet old and practiced. He's soothed this soul before, even if the body that held it was so much smaller at the time. Akira wants to believe he always had this capacity to care for him, but maybe in this specific way... maybe this world has branded it onto his brain, a permanent fixture that will never leave even if it forgets for a time.
He's willing to accept that.]
Overwhelmed. Missing him, after finally seeing him again. Processing things, that happened here or happened back home. There's so many reasons... and you still don't need any reason for it at all. [His hand rubs in circles that his mind remembers how to make.] You need to, and that's enough.
[What is it about soothing Maruki that makes all the scattered pieces click back into place in his chest?
none of it felt as right as it did to hold you in my arms and see you smile.
...Maybe it's just as simple as that.]
It's alright. [He says it again, somehow even quieter than the time before.] It's okay if you can't keep it inside. We don't need to be strong right now.
[We don't need to be strong, even as Maruki makes him feel stronger than he has in an entire week's time.]
no subject
Just like that, he's a child again. Curious about and terrified by the world around him in equal measure, always feeling too small and too in the way– maybe more of Maruki's issues began there than he realized. That helplessness, that feeling of never being able to do enough, was ingrained deep in his soul long before he stood uselessly while the person he loved most and her family were torn apart by an unjust reality.
For just a moment, he lets himself feel that. The full weight of his sorrow, the great aching chasm that yawned open in his heart the day he woke up alone in his apartment, the complex blend of grief and joy that returning to this reality brings – it all brews and swirls in Maruki's mind as Akira's words wash over him, warm as bathwater.
It's all of what he said and more. Of course he's overwhelmed – he would never tell Akira exactly what he's been through in the hours since arriving back in this reality, but anyone would be overwhelmed by that. Of course he misses that other Akira, no matter how grateful he is to be back with this one. Of course he's processing, of course he doesn't need a reason, of course–
Of course he doesn't need to be strong.
He's never been weaker than in front of Kurusu Akira. He's shattered to pieces before him without any hope that the shards would be picked up and molded back together, but they were– they are again now as he's held safe and still, whispered to in the darkness.
I needed this, Maruki finds himself thinking as fresh tears gather in his eyes. I needed you with me after everything, even though it was impossible, even though I know I had no right to ask for it.
It matters not. He got through it. He's here. He has Akira now, and he'll never stop thanking every star in this unfamiliar sky for him. ]
I'll tell you about it one day... soon, I hope. I promise. I will.
[ Maruki doesn't pick his head up. One arm comes to clutch around Akira's back, as tightly as a lifeline.
With this new heart, he has to learn to hurt, has to learn to grieve, has to learn to chase his own happiness, has to learn to live for no one but himself–
And he has to learn to ask for what he needs. ]
For right now... can I stay with you like this for a while?
stares at my bullets like sadgedog
[It's a promise murmured quietly at the side of his head, new and old and constant. Always. There will always be a place for Maruki with him.]
Stay right here, for as long as you need. [His hand comes up to pause at the top of his back, right below his neck. Keeping him close as he purges whatever it is that's overwhelmed his heart.] There's no hurry. Not for any of it.
[Not for his tears, and not for whatever it is he has yet to tell Akira.]
You're home now... [Relief mixes in with the comfort he still needs to give. In a moment of weakness, he lets his own head rest against Maruki, too.] ...so just take your time.
[It would be wrong to say there's no fear in his heart. The world took him once, and it could so easily do it again. Time is fleeting, ticking away no matter how desperately Akira tries to grip it in two human hands. There's no telling if it could happen all over, nor when.
So he'll wish for it now, just in his heart. He'll wish for it now, even if his contract has already been whispered to him in a dream. He'll wish for it now, even if it coats his heart in the blood of this world.
I wish for Maruki Takuto to stay here, right here, and have all of the time he needs.
If a price comes for his head... if it is righteous, then he will pay it.
And if it's something his morals can't accept, he'll simply have to slip out of its trappings like a thief in the night.]