[ The words settle over his mind, heavy as a blanket of snow on the coldest day of the year.
It's not what he wants anymore. To rid the whole world of their pain, their suffering, by any means necessary– it's a dream this reality has crushed between its palms and rubbed in his face for how unattainable it was. Maruki may not know everything, but he knows now that even with the power of the collective unconscious at his fingertips, it wouldn't have been enough. Pain has value, and a world completely devoid of it is not a sustainable one.
Still, though–
There's a pang deep in his chest, a great yawning ache.
Akira never would have wanted the same thing he did, no matter what. They were opposed from the very start. That may not hurt the Maruki Takuto who has had nearly a year in this reality under his belt, but somewhere inside him still lives the Maruki Takuto who looked at the boy across from him in a warmly lit cafe on an autumn evening and thought, I will do this because of you. I will do this for you. I will do this to thank you.
That Maruki Takuto feels the pain now.
He lets the silence drag on for a few long moments before finally breaking it with a breath drawn that shakes more than it doesn't. Focus. ]
It's not strange. You're... [ On the exhale, he laughs– thin, almost pained, but he laughs as he inclines his head to look over at Akira. ] You're right. Good and bad, beautiful and painful, everything that happens to us shapes us into who we are. I just–
[ His clasped hands wind together, the motion anxious. It never gets easier, no matter how many times he tells this story. And it's never been more difficult than it is now, telling it to the person who intimately understands the responsibility one has when shaping a cognition, changing a heart. ]
I've seen what happens when a pain is too unbearable to live with. May I tell you about it?
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It's not what he wants anymore. To rid the whole world of their pain, their suffering, by any means necessary– it's a dream this reality has crushed between its palms and rubbed in his face for how unattainable it was. Maruki may not know everything, but he knows now that even with the power of the collective unconscious at his fingertips, it wouldn't have been enough. Pain has value, and a world completely devoid of it is not a sustainable one.
Still, though–
There's a pang deep in his chest, a great yawning ache.
Akira never would have wanted the same thing he did, no matter what. They were opposed from the very start. That may not hurt the Maruki Takuto who has had nearly a year in this reality under his belt, but somewhere inside him still lives the Maruki Takuto who looked at the boy across from him in a warmly lit cafe on an autumn evening and thought, I will do this because of you. I will do this for you. I will do this to thank you.
That Maruki Takuto feels the pain now.
He lets the silence drag on for a few long moments before finally breaking it with a breath drawn that shakes more than it doesn't. Focus. ]
It's not strange. You're... [ On the exhale, he laughs– thin, almost pained, but he laughs as he inclines his head to look over at Akira. ] You're right. Good and bad, beautiful and painful, everything that happens to us shapes us into who we are. I just–
[ His clasped hands wind together, the motion anxious. It never gets easier, no matter how many times he tells this story. And it's never been more difficult than it is now, telling it to the person who intimately understands the responsibility one has when shaping a cognition, changing a heart. ]
I've seen what happens when a pain is too unbearable to live with. May I tell you about it?