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}
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
Your house?
no subject
[ 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. ]