[ While Akira handles the door, Maruki toes off his shoes– there are droplets of blood already sunken into the fabric.

His hands are beginning to shake again without anything to hang onto and be stalwart for. It's stupid, really. Pure adrenaline. He needs to focus on the present. Practice that mindfulness that they spent so much time on, all those months ago.

Hands safely tucked into his pockets, he meets Akira's gaze and question with a quick shake of his head and a firm resolve. ]

I wasn't. He let me go. Candidly, ah... How should I put this...

[ It's the strangest thing. In his own reality, he has never had to call Azathoth forth to do physical harm. He never planned to need to. This was the first time, here in the dingy alleyway of a futuristic city he still doesn't understand. But in Akira's reality, he surely knows better than anyone just how mighty Azathoth's rage can be.

Maruki grimaces. There's no joy taken in this explanation, only regret for having done harm. ]

He wasn't in good enough condition to chase anything. After I was healed, I did warn him to leave, but he struck Azathoth first. So...

[ A sigh, a helpless shrug. Akira can likely fill in the rest better than he can tell it. ]