[ Pathetic and pitiful as it is, Maruki gratefully acquiesces the task to Akira. He dries his hands off on a towel but otherwise keeps still as Akira makes quick work of his torso. It really does look like nothing at all happened.
And that wasn't necessarily a guarantee. Maruki was putting a tremendous amount of faith into Azathoth at the moment of summoning it. No matter how powerful they both are, the simple fact of the matter is that they had not directly engaged in battle until tonight. Short lived as it was, it was still more combat experience than Maruki has had outside of commanding the Shadows within his own Palace. He knew Azathoth could heal. He didn't know the extent. It was lucky. He's lucky.
He's phenomenally lucky to be here at all.
A feeling that's already seeping deep down into his bones even before Akira speaks, but then– ]
Between the two of us...?
[ Maruki repeats it quietly, almost blankly, as if he doesn't realize he's saying it. His eyes are wide and guileless on Akira's.
That Gratitude mark on his hand seemingly never ceases its mild, pulsating glow when they're together. It certainly isn't stopping now. ]
Kurusu. You would let me fight by your side?
[ No, they haven't taken up arms against one another yet. Maruki's timeline ends neatly before that foregone conclusion. He's accepted that it will happen, though. As much as he would like for there to exist a reality in which Akira takes his deal, it's a vanishing hope.
But short of actual battle, he has caused pain to Akira in as many ways as a person can. Used him to further his own motives. Betrayed his trust. Changed the people he loves most into versions that don't need him in the visceral ways they used to. Taken Yoshizawa, returned Akechi – at a price. Forced him into the corner of an impossible decision. For a man so wholly, intently focused on healing – for as deeply as Maruki cares about him, down to the very bottom of his soul – he has struck out again and again to hurt the most important person still left in his life.
And yet, Akira draws from a seemingly endless reserve of compassion and forgives him.
And yet, Akira extends this offer to him, almost carelessly, as if he doesn't realize how thoroughly it tips Maruki's world onto its head.
He can't help himself: His tone and expression mirror one another in their open, honest hope. ]
i'm about to take a chainsaw to these goddamn trees i can't take this anymore
And that wasn't necessarily a guarantee. Maruki was putting a tremendous amount of faith into Azathoth at the moment of summoning it. No matter how powerful they both are, the simple fact of the matter is that they had not directly engaged in battle until tonight. Short lived as it was, it was still more combat experience than Maruki has had outside of commanding the Shadows within his own Palace. He knew Azathoth could heal. He didn't know the extent. It was lucky. He's lucky.
He's phenomenally lucky to be here at all.
A feeling that's already seeping deep down into his bones even before Akira speaks, but then– ]
Between the two of us...?
[ Maruki repeats it quietly, almost blankly, as if he doesn't realize he's saying it. His eyes are wide and guileless on Akira's.
That Gratitude mark on his hand seemingly never ceases its mild, pulsating glow when they're together. It certainly isn't stopping now. ]
Kurusu. You would let me fight by your side?
[ No, they haven't taken up arms against one another yet. Maruki's timeline ends neatly before that foregone conclusion. He's accepted that it will happen, though. As much as he would like for there to exist a reality in which Akira takes his deal, it's a vanishing hope.
But short of actual battle, he has caused pain to Akira in as many ways as a person can. Used him to further his own motives. Betrayed his trust. Changed the people he loves most into versions that don't need him in the visceral ways they used to. Taken Yoshizawa, returned Akechi – at a price. Forced him into the corner of an impossible decision. For a man so wholly, intently focused on healing – for as deeply as Maruki cares about him, down to the very bottom of his soul – he has struck out again and again to hurt the most important person still left in his life.
And yet, Akira draws from a seemingly endless reserve of compassion and forgives him.
And yet, Akira extends this offer to him, almost carelessly, as if he doesn't realize how thoroughly it tips Maruki's world onto its head.
He can't help himself: His tone and expression mirror one another in their open, honest hope. ]
Do you really mean that?