The guilt. The certainty about destroying Rumi's copy. The way he could only speak of this to Akira.
It should be a terrible thing to find out. Maybe it is. Maybe that's why his gut twists so terribly as he stares at Maruki's face, but if he were to really weigh it in his hands...
The sorrow on Maruki's face is deep and unending, no matter how much he's smiled through every terrible word he said. It's harder for Akira to look at than for him to hear the things that would horrify his friends.
"If I agree to this, the ruined city will return to normal."
But there's one thing that's never really changed about Akira, no matter who he's around or who he's spoken to.
"However, the people will remain trapped, abandoning their ability to think for themselves..."
Humans are capable of terrible, terrible things. The most wretched acts and most irredeemable crimes. That has never influenced who he spends time with, who he will make himself useful to so he may utilize them in turn. Nor has it ever changed the types of people who genuinely worked their way into his heart and all of the things they've done.
Akira knows that every inch of Akechi's hands are drenched in blood and he knows he will never try to wash it off, just as much as he knows that he'll tear himself apart if that's what it takes to save his life.
"Is that really how the world should be?"
Because Akira has always known that he isn't a good person. He's only met people that made him want to be a better one, and who he's made better choices for the sake of.]
...So that's what it was. Why you were sure about her. And why your pain was so vast.
[It's not a far distance from Maruki at all, only a few steps. Akira crosses it.]
I can't be the one to tell you if her happiness is the only thing that matters. If what you did was right or wrong. I won't absolve you of it, the same way I won't condemn you for it. But...
[Akira stops beside where he sits, and looks down.
Before him is Maruki Takuto, suffocating under the weight of his own sins.
Before him is Maruki Takuto, who leaves snacks out on the table for when he gets home from his late shift at Club Quartz, somehow always his favorite. Before him is Maruki Takuto, the only one Akira will allow in the kitchen beside him, flowing from one spot to another without either of them ever disrupting their work. Before him is Maruki Takuto, who lights up with the enthusiasm of a child when he speaks of the difference between physics in the natural world and the Metaverse.
The person who Akira cares about, who he's willing to die to save, has killed more than Akira has dared to ask.
The person who Akira cares about, who fate denied him the chance to meet, wiped clean the mind of the woman he loves.
A person who Akira cares about is in incalculable pain.
His hand reaches out
and gently rests on the shoulder before him.]
When I was first placed under arrest, I felt cornered in an impossible situation. I felt trapped. I felt betrayed. People I've known since I was a small child looked at me with fear and disdain. If I'd had to stay there, in that place that used to be my home... my will itself would've been crushed. It would've eroded away me. No matter how else any of it made me feel... going to Tokyo was an escape from all of that.
[He's never told anyone this. Maybe will never tell anyone this again.]
I think that, in some situations... an escape is your only way out of it. There's a difference between running away and finding escape from the situation that's entrapped you. I can't say whether or not it was the same for Rumi-san. But I think she was also being crushed under an impossible weight. Maybe what you did was right, and maybe what you did was wrong - but it doesn't change that you freed her from it.
[Maybe, even if Akira can't free him from that pain... maybe something in his words can ease it.]
Since she's forgotten you, have you spoken to her?
[ While Akira speaks, all Maruki can do is stare up at him, completely arrested.
The hand on his shoulder is the anchoring weight that tells him this this hasn't all been some sort of dream. Because what else could it be, when he's finally admitted the worst truth of all to Akira and received not only acceptance and understanding, but a peek into the depths of his own heart as well?
It would've eroded away me, and all at once, Maruki has so many questions that may never be answered. Akira speaks so little about himself, and somehow even less about the circumstances that he came from. He's always thought that the beginning of his time in Tokyo must have been so painful, so isolating, and maybe it was, but–
It was an escape. A necessary one, to keep from slipping away from this world, to become the person he was meant to be.
Had Akira not escaped, they never would have met. That goes for the Akira in his own reality, and the one who stands before him now.
And–
for the first time in his life–
Maruki wonders if he hasn't been crushed under an impossible weight for all these years too.
Just like that, with nothing more than his own story relayed and a comforting grip on one shoulder, Akira shifts something that's been stubbornly stuck inside his heart. Some twist of the knotted, gnarled distortion that still lives in there begins to unwind. If his own pain is real, if it goes beyond the all-consuming grief of losing Rumi, if he's been drowning himself in this guilt and loneliness–
Who will set him free?
No one can do that but Maruki and the person standing before him.
Somewhere above them, stretching so high into the sky that it reaches another time in another reality entirely, there is– was– will be a staircase, and a battle, and a hand wrapped around his wrist.
Here and now, Akira's palm is warm over the tense, tired muscle of his shoulder, and Maruki finds himself reaching up to cover it with his own hand. ]
No.
[ There's so much more he needs to say, to all of that, but first– ]
No, I haven't. I can't. I haven't even seen her. Today was the first day I've ever– but it wasn't her, of course.
[Akira nods, agreeing, as if Maruki needs to hear it, or maybe he simply needs to say it for himself.]
If it was me... If it was your Akira, too- I think in any reality, I would tell you it's better not to do what I'm about to say. But right or wrong, forgiven or condemned... There's only one person in any world who can give you the answer you're looking for, and it isn't me. [His voice is even gentler now. Maybe gentler than it's ever been, around Maruki.] Maybe you know that. Maybe you don't. But only Rumi-san can tell you if her happiness is what matters.
[Underneath Maruki's hand, Akira's squeezes at his shoulder.]
But I'm not saying that's an answer you have to seek out, now or ever. [He smiles then, and it's a crooked thing.] Someone would probably condemn me, for saying that to you.
[Maruki didn't do a good thing, regardless of whether or not it was necessary. It's simply that something like that has never gotten in the way of Akira caring for someone.]
I can't tell you to go to her or stay away for the rest of your life. I can't tell you how to choose to move on, either. [His other hand comes up, resting upon where Maruki holds his own.] All I can do is stand by your side, as your friend and your ally. All we can do is fight alongside each other, in this world and our own, and protect each other so neither of us ever feels desperate enough to make a choice like that ever again.
[He can't change what Maruki's done. Akira can't change what he's done himself, either.
But they can still do everything thing they can, to guard against doing anything they'd regret.]
[ It's the same story told through a different lens–
All we can do is fight alongside each other, in this world and our own, and protect each other so neither of us ever feels desperate enough to make a choice like that ever again.
I know how dangerous this is. How dangerous I am. I can't change what I've done, and I never would. I can only change what I do going forward.
–and for the first time, Maruki dares to believe that the story will go on.
It's so easy for him to develop tunnel vision. Too easy, really. It happened with his studies, with cognitive psience, with his research, with the prospect of healing all pains – and lately, it's been happening with what awaits him after his time in this reality is finally through.
But for all the possibilities he's conjured up, all the contingencies he's planned for–
Maruki's never considered what his future holds.
Whether they're able to change Akechi's fate or not, whether he's able to change his own fate or not– life still goes on after, and not once has he spared a single second for what he might want to do with his life. He pictures it now, as Akira talks about moving on, and it's so foreign, so jarring – a great, vast expanse of blank white space and the daunting task of holding the pen to begin filling it.
Where would he begin?
How would he even start to move on?
Akira can't tell him how, but he doesn't have to. The first day they met, he told him the only thing Maruki has ever needed to know:
If I won in a world without you in it, I'll never lose in one that has you.
No matter how he chooses to do it, he will move on. No matter how impossible it seems with his heart still so mired in that tangled, distorted sorrow, he will move on. He will, because he has Akira at his side – in this reality, in the true reality, in so many others.
He will.
Maruki has felt the bone-deep catharsis of being able to share this pain and feel even a sliver of his grief several times over in this world. He's phenomenally lucky to have met a few people who he trusts with the very depths of his soul, and they've all given him more acceptance and comfort than he ever could have dreamed of–
But Akira's presence, here and now, heralds the first time Maruki has ever shared his terrible story and felt a swell of hope.
Their hands are stacked, one of his sandwiched between both of Akira's. It's silly, but he reaches up with the one free hand remaining and adds it to the pile, and the smile that blooms across his face is warm even as it wavers. ]
You truly are my guiding light.
[ Maruki stands, then, dislodging his hands so he can instead press them onto Akira's shoulders instead. For a moment, he only holds him at arm's length there, overwhelmed with such profound gratitude that he doesn't know what else to say.
A deep, trembling inhale, and– ]
I feel like I never know how to thank you. And I know you'll tell me it's not necessary, and you'll mean it when you do– but there has to be something, Kurusu. There has to be some way I can show you even... even just a bit of the light you've shown me.
[ His hands squeeze, desperate to pull him in for a hug, but staying still for now. That's only happened while they were in the throes of the flower illness; this isn't nearly so dire, no matter how close Maruki felt to death as he stared that doppelganger down. ]
[It's an immediate tangle of feelings, prickling through his veins and catching in his throat. There are no more petals and roots in his body any longer, but it feels, just for a moment, like there could be.
You truly ae my guiding light.
When Akira talks to Maruki, he doesn't think he sees the other him. Not anymore, at least. He sees him, except for the places where he inevitably can't; Akira doesn't hold that against him, because he knows that whatever circumstances are at work, he and Maruki's Akira must mostly be the same person. He knows Maruki sees him, and it doesn't eat away at him the way it used to.
And even so, Akira hears those words and feels like he's stolen away something important and precious.
Once more, he closes his eyes.
When you see him again, he thinks at a person he will never, ever meet, never take him for granted.
He reopens them almost as fast, blinking away the ties over his heart. If nothing else... this, at least, has an easy answer.]
You already know that way, though.
[Voice soft, but stronger than before. Surer.]
Stay with me. [His eyes flicker bright with a promise already made.] Help me save him. Help me save you. And at the end of it all...
[When he smiles this time, it's a wistful thing. Spoken words united with careful, neat writing on a small card.]
Remember me. As much as you can, even if whatever power rules this world tries to take it away... Even if your mind forgets, I'll forgive you. But remember me in your soul. Remember me, whenever you see Kurusu Akira.
He's already made this promise. He's already sworn this down to his bones, branded it onto his heart. He'll do it again and again, as many times as it takes to remind both Akira and himself that this is not the first time they've met, nor is it the last, and in every life, in every reality, their souls will remember what their minds might not.
Is it really that easy to show Akira the gratitude that threatens to consume him whole? Could it be true that all he has to do to repay Akira is the only thing he wants to do at all – stay.
There has to be more, Maruki thinks, that can't possibly be it, but–
The same words were on the tip of his tongue before Akira spoke. Please. Stay in the office. Stay here with me until I can face the rest of the world, and then stay by my side as I do.
Perhaps it really is the greatest thing they can do for one another.
Maruki's smile is water-thin, tight, wavering as he bows his head, eyes squeezing shut against the heat that keeps threatening to rise up. He nods, a soft exhale of a laugh escaping, then picks himself back up so he can look Akira in the eye. Like a flower bending toward any ray of sunlight to be found in the dead of winter, always, always. ]
Of course. Of course I will, Kurusu. Staying, remembering... you might as well be asking me to breathe.
[ That smile gains strength, as does his grip over Akira's shoulders, one final squeeze before he forces himself to drop his hands. They feel too empty hanging at his sides, but– ]
You forgot one thing, though.
[ Help me save him. Help me save you. ]
I'll save you, too.
[ Even if it doesn't involve rewiring reality to Akira's exact specifications, even if he doesn't know how yet, even if it takes every day of the rest of his life in this world to figure it out, even if Akira tries to fight it, or doesn't want to help him with it, or thinks he isn't worth it– ]
We'll save each other. I've never been more certain.
dear God i hope this is the wrap or u wrap after this or it'll kill me
Akira is the boy who stretched out a hand to someone in need and had it returned with words that sentenced him away. Kurusu Akira is the high school student on probation, the one who scares everyone away in the library, who makes himself useful to all, but especially to those who might be of use to him too. Joker is the leader of the Phantom Thieves, the one who strikes down owners of distorted hearts who abuse their power over those who are weaker.
He always stretches out his hand.
Over
and over
and over
and over again.
Time and time again, he has saved who he can. He has done everything to be strong, the one who can hold everyone up. But in reality
wasn't he simply waiting for
an adult that would finally save him, too?
You truly are my guiding light-
-and it's what Akira has stolen away from its rightful owner.
Akira has healed so much. He's grown so much, compared to the boy who saved people but hesitated to form connections of his own, after everything that happened to him. These are things he's rehashed and sorted and found the path to walk on, time and time again. They're things that he always thinks he's gotten over, before he figures out there's another step to learn.
But this time... it feels like something far deeper is being mended.]
You already have.
[It's soft, half to himself. Wondering and a little awed. As close as he is to Maruki, it's impossible not to be heard.
But then - louder, firmer, with shoulders that finally relax all the way:]
You have. You are. [Akira smiles, and it feels like the smile he's let himself wear around Maruki when they're in the place that's been made into a home.] And we will.
[He is a Phantom Thief, through and through. As it turns out, stealing a light isn't impossible for him after all.
And when the time comes for him to pass this bond on to who it belongs to... Akira trusts that Joker will steal back what's rightfully his.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
somebody make Me forget this thread
The guilt. The certainty about destroying Rumi's copy. The way he could only speak of this to Akira.
It should be a terrible thing to find out. Maybe it is. Maybe that's why his gut twists so terribly as he stares at Maruki's face, but if he were to really weigh it in his hands...
The sorrow on Maruki's face is deep and unending, no matter how much he's smiled through every terrible word he said. It's harder for Akira to look at than for him to hear the things that would horrify his friends.
"If I agree to this, the ruined city will return to normal."
But there's one thing that's never really changed about Akira, no matter who he's around or who he's spoken to.
"However, the people will remain trapped, abandoning their ability to think for themselves..."
Humans are capable of terrible, terrible things. The most wretched acts and most irredeemable crimes. That has never influenced who he spends time with, who he will make himself useful to so he may utilize them in turn. Nor has it ever changed the types of people who genuinely worked their way into his heart and all of the things they've done.
Akira knows that every inch of Akechi's hands are drenched in blood and he knows he will never try to wash it off, just as much as he knows that he'll tear himself apart if that's what it takes to save his life.
Because Akira has always known that he isn't a good person. He's only met people that made him want to be a better one, and who he's made better choices for the sake of.]
...So that's what it was. Why you were sure about her. And why your pain was so vast.
[It's not a far distance from Maruki at all, only a few steps. Akira crosses it.]
I can't be the one to tell you if her happiness is the only thing that matters. If what you did was right or wrong. I won't absolve you of it, the same way I won't condemn you for it. But...
[Akira stops beside where he sits, and looks down.
Before him is Maruki Takuto, suffocating under the weight of his own sins.
Before him is Maruki Takuto, who leaves snacks out on the table for when he gets home from his late shift at Club Quartz, somehow always his favorite. Before him is Maruki Takuto, the only one Akira will allow in the kitchen beside him, flowing from one spot to another without either of them ever disrupting their work. Before him is Maruki Takuto, who lights up with the enthusiasm of a child when he speaks of the difference between physics in the natural world and the Metaverse.
The person who Akira cares about, who he's willing to die to save, has killed more than Akira has dared to ask.
The person who Akira cares about, who fate denied him the chance to meet, wiped clean the mind of the woman he loves.
A person who Akira cares about is in incalculable pain.
His hand reaches out
When I was first placed under arrest, I felt cornered in an impossible situation. I felt trapped. I felt betrayed. People I've known since I was a small child looked at me with fear and disdain. If I'd had to stay there, in that place that used to be my home... my will itself would've been crushed. It would've eroded away me. No matter how else any of it made me feel... going to Tokyo was an escape from all of that.
[He's never told anyone this. Maybe will never tell anyone this again.]
I think that, in some situations... an escape is your only way out of it. There's a difference between running away and finding escape from the situation that's entrapped you. I can't say whether or not it was the same for Rumi-san. But I think she was also being crushed under an impossible weight. Maybe what you did was right, and maybe what you did was wrong - but it doesn't change that you freed her from it.
[Maybe, even if Akira can't free him from that pain... maybe something in his words can ease it.]
Since she's forgotten you, have you spoken to her?
no subject
The hand on his shoulder is the anchoring weight that tells him this this hasn't all been some sort of dream. Because what else could it be, when he's finally admitted the worst truth of all to Akira and received not only acceptance and understanding, but a peek into the depths of his own heart as well?
It would've eroded away me, and all at once, Maruki has so many questions that may never be answered. Akira speaks so little about himself, and somehow even less about the circumstances that he came from. He's always thought that the beginning of his time in Tokyo must have been so painful, so isolating, and maybe it was, but–
It was an escape. A necessary one, to keep from slipping away from this world, to become the person he was meant to be.
Had Akira not escaped, they never would have met. That goes for the Akira in his own reality, and the one who stands before him now.
And–
for the first time in his life–
Maruki wonders if he hasn't been crushed under an impossible weight for all these years too.
Just like that, with nothing more than his own story relayed and a comforting grip on one shoulder, Akira shifts something that's been stubbornly stuck inside his heart. Some twist of the knotted, gnarled distortion that still lives in there begins to unwind. If his own pain is real, if it goes beyond the all-consuming grief of losing Rumi, if he's been drowning himself in this guilt and loneliness–
Who will set him free?
No one can do that but Maruki and the person standing before him.
Somewhere above them, stretching so high into the sky that it reaches another time in another reality entirely, there is– was– will be a staircase, and a battle, and a hand wrapped around his wrist.
Here and now, Akira's palm is warm over the tense, tired muscle of his shoulder, and Maruki finds himself reaching up to cover it with his own hand. ]
No.
[ There's so much more he needs to say, to all of that, but first– ]
No, I haven't. I can't. I haven't even seen her. Today was the first day I've ever– but it wasn't her, of course.
no subject
[Akira nods, agreeing, as if Maruki needs to hear it, or maybe he simply needs to say it for himself.]
If it was me... If it was your Akira, too- I think in any reality, I would tell you it's better not to do what I'm about to say. But right or wrong, forgiven or condemned... There's only one person in any world who can give you the answer you're looking for, and it isn't me. [His voice is even gentler now. Maybe gentler than it's ever been, around Maruki.] Maybe you know that. Maybe you don't. But only Rumi-san can tell you if her happiness is what matters.
[Underneath Maruki's hand, Akira's squeezes at his shoulder.]
But I'm not saying that's an answer you have to seek out, now or ever. [He smiles then, and it's a crooked thing.] Someone would probably condemn me, for saying that to you.
[Maruki didn't do a good thing, regardless of whether or not it was necessary. It's simply that something like that has never gotten in the way of Akira caring for someone.]
I can't tell you to go to her or stay away for the rest of your life. I can't tell you how to choose to move on, either. [His other hand comes up, resting upon where Maruki holds his own.] All I can do is stand by your side, as your friend and your ally. All we can do is fight alongside each other, in this world and our own, and protect each other so neither of us ever feels desperate enough to make a choice like that ever again.
[He can't change what Maruki's done. Akira can't change what he's done himself, either.
But they can still do everything thing they can, to guard against doing anything they'd regret.]
no subject
All we can do is fight alongside each other, in this world and our own, and protect each other so neither of us ever feels desperate enough to make a choice like that ever again.
I know how dangerous this is. How dangerous I am. I can't change what I've done, and I never would. I can only change what I do going forward.
–and for the first time, Maruki dares to believe that the story will go on.
It's so easy for him to develop tunnel vision. Too easy, really. It happened with his studies, with cognitive psience, with his research, with the prospect of healing all pains – and lately, it's been happening with what awaits him after his time in this reality is finally through.
But for all the possibilities he's conjured up, all the contingencies he's planned for–
Maruki's never considered what his future holds.
Whether they're able to change Akechi's fate or not, whether he's able to change his own fate or not– life still goes on after, and not once has he spared a single second for what he might want to do with his life. He pictures it now, as Akira talks about moving on, and it's so foreign, so jarring – a great, vast expanse of blank white space and the daunting task of holding the pen to begin filling it.
Where would he begin?
How would he even start to move on?
Akira can't tell him how, but he doesn't have to. The first day they met, he told him the only thing Maruki has ever needed to know:
No matter how he chooses to do it, he will move on. No matter how impossible it seems with his heart still so mired in that tangled, distorted sorrow, he will move on. He will, because he has Akira at his side – in this reality, in the true reality, in so many others.
He will.
Maruki has felt the bone-deep catharsis of being able to share this pain and feel even a sliver of his grief several times over in this world. He's phenomenally lucky to have met a few people who he trusts with the very depths of his soul, and they've all given him more acceptance and comfort than he ever could have dreamed of–
But Akira's presence, here and now, heralds the first time Maruki has ever shared his terrible story and felt a swell of hope.
Their hands are stacked, one of his sandwiched between both of Akira's. It's silly, but he reaches up with the one free hand remaining and adds it to the pile, and the smile that blooms across his face is warm even as it wavers. ]
You truly are my guiding light.
[ Maruki stands, then, dislodging his hands so he can instead press them onto Akira's shoulders instead. For a moment, he only holds him at arm's length there, overwhelmed with such profound gratitude that he doesn't know what else to say.
A deep, trembling inhale, and– ]
I feel like I never know how to thank you. And I know you'll tell me it's not necessary, and you'll mean it when you do– but there has to be something, Kurusu. There has to be some way I can show you even... even just a bit of the light you've shown me.
[ His hands squeeze, desperate to pull him in for a hug, but staying still for now. That's only happened while they were in the throes of the flower illness; this isn't nearly so dire, no matter how close Maruki felt to death as he stared that doppelganger down. ]
no subject
When Akira talks to Maruki, he doesn't think he sees the other him. Not anymore, at least. He sees him, except for the places where he inevitably can't; Akira doesn't hold that against him, because he knows that whatever circumstances are at work, he and Maruki's Akira must mostly be the same person. He knows Maruki sees him, and it doesn't eat away at him the way it used to.
And even so, Akira hears those words and feels like he's stolen away something important and precious.
Once more, he closes his eyes.
When you see him again, he thinks at a person he will never, ever meet, never take him for granted.
He reopens them almost as fast, blinking away the ties over his heart. If nothing else... this, at least, has an easy answer.]
You already know that way, though.
[Voice soft, but stronger than before. Surer.]
Stay with me. [His eyes flicker bright with a promise already made.] Help me save him. Help me save you. And at the end of it all...
[When he smiles this time, it's a wistful thing. Spoken words united with careful, neat writing on a small card.]
Remember me. As much as you can, even if whatever power rules this world tries to take it away... Even if your mind forgets, I'll forgive you. But remember me in your soul. Remember me, whenever you see Kurusu Akira.
no subject
He's already made this promise. He's already sworn this down to his bones, branded it onto his heart. He'll do it again and again, as many times as it takes to remind both Akira and himself that this is not the first time they've met, nor is it the last, and in every life, in every reality, their souls will remember what their minds might not.
Is it really that easy to show Akira the gratitude that threatens to consume him whole? Could it be true that all he has to do to repay Akira is the only thing he wants to do at all – stay.
There has to be more, Maruki thinks, that can't possibly be it, but–
The same words were on the tip of his tongue before Akira spoke. Please. Stay in the office. Stay here with me until I can face the rest of the world, and then stay by my side as I do.
Perhaps it really is the greatest thing they can do for one another.
Maruki's smile is water-thin, tight, wavering as he bows his head, eyes squeezing shut against the heat that keeps threatening to rise up. He nods, a soft exhale of a laugh escaping, then picks himself back up so he can look Akira in the eye. Like a flower bending toward any ray of sunlight to be found in the dead of winter, always, always. ]
Of course. Of course I will, Kurusu. Staying, remembering... you might as well be asking me to breathe.
[ That smile gains strength, as does his grip over Akira's shoulders, one final squeeze before he forces himself to drop his hands. They feel too empty hanging at his sides, but– ]
You forgot one thing, though.
[ Help me save him. Help me save you. ]
I'll save you, too.
[ Even if it doesn't involve rewiring reality to Akira's exact specifications, even if he doesn't know how yet, even if it takes every day of the rest of his life in this world to figure it out, even if Akira tries to fight it, or doesn't want to help him with it, or thinks he isn't worth it– ]
We'll save each other. I've never been more certain.
dear God i hope this is the wrap or u wrap after this or it'll kill me
Akira is the boy who stretched out a hand to someone in need and had it returned with words that sentenced him away. Kurusu Akira is the high school student on probation, the one who scares everyone away in the library, who makes himself useful to all, but especially to those who might be of use to him too. Joker is the leader of the Phantom Thieves, the one who strikes down owners of distorted hearts who abuse their power over those who are weaker.
He always stretches out his hand.
Over
and over
and over
Time and time again, he has saved who he can. He has done everything to be strong, the one who can hold everyone up. But in reality
You truly are my guiding light-
-and it's what Akira has stolen away from its rightful owner.
You truly are my guiding light-
-and it's what Akira has waited and hoped to be for someone, for so, so long.
Akira has healed so much. He's grown so much, compared to the boy who saved people but hesitated to form connections of his own, after everything that happened to him. These are things he's rehashed and sorted and found the path to walk on, time and time again. They're things that he always thinks he's gotten over, before he figures out there's another step to learn.
But this time... it feels like something far deeper is being mended.]
You already have.
[It's soft, half to himself. Wondering and a little awed. As close as he is to Maruki, it's impossible not to be heard.
But then - louder, firmer, with shoulders that finally relax all the way:]
You have. You are. [Akira smiles, and it feels like the smile he's let himself wear around Maruki when they're in the place that's been made into a home.] And we will.
[He is a Phantom Thief, through and through. As it turns out, stealing a light isn't impossible for him after all.
And when the time comes for him to pass this bond on to who it belongs to... Akira trusts that Joker will steal back what's rightfully his.]