[ They're stopped on the path again. Surrounded by tall trees that reach toward an overcast sky. The late autumn sunlight is weak; only a few rays manage to peek through the cloud cover, the canopy of leaves. There is just enough daylight in the forest that it catches and reflects in those gray eyes. As bright and honest as ever.
And then–
If I won in a world without you in it, I'll never lose in one that has you.
It isn't something he has to hope for. All he has to do is believe in Akira. He would never lose in a world that has Maruki.
Something ruptures. One too many stones stack upon his chest, and then the whole thing caves in. He can't repair the scaffolding quickly enough to prop himself up and plaster back over it. If I won in a world without you in it, and such a world shouldn't exist, Akira should be yet another person he's meant to always find – I'll never lose in one that has you, and maybe that's why they're here now, maybe it was meant to happen like this. Maybe a final goodbye in a nurse's office after a decadent tempura udon lunch was only the beginning of one of reality's infinite concentric circles.
Maruki feels himself smile through it. Somehow. It wavers, but it's true. ]
I know that you're right. I've never doubted you. This place... it will mess with us. With everyone. But that's one promise I want to make to you now, Kurusu-kun.
[ People like them, they don't give up. Maruki will prove it in the foundation they rebuild, brick by brick. ]
No matter what happens, I won't ever doubt you.
[ He'll bring Akira to the machiya after this. He'll deliver him to Akechi, he'll go his own way for a while to fall apart, he'll piece himself back together and return for a meal and a discussion as they learn one another for the first time all over again. And they'll keep doing that, the next day and the next, until this reality shatters beneath their feet.
He doesn't tremble, but the feelings crash into him like a wave. What could have been, if only he'd had someone to tell him all this so long ago? Maybe it would've looked just like this.
Maybe it looked like someone extending a hand, saying they would believe him, saying they would never doubt him, instead of turning their eyes to the ground during his greatest time of need. Maybe it feels like Sojiro teaching him to cook, or Akira teaching Zenkichi to cook, and a smile full of pride instead of a frown of shame. Maybe it feels like the warmest well done he's ever heard, and an adult acting the way they should even once.
To experience it like this, near instantly, is flooring. Is it a product of this unique situation, or did an Akira in another timeline or reality or life feel just as swept away in this feeling? Did it feel like meeting someone he should've known for his whole life, relatable and with his whole heart on display for Akira to see? Did it feel like knowing someone he could lower so many masks around and bear so many of his vulnerable pieces?
He can't be sure. But what he does know is that he's feeling too many things to name. He knows he feels lighter and heavier at the same time. And what he knows most of all is-]
Thank you.
[Small and quiet, true and genuine.
He knows he wants this to last. The rest... he can figure that out. That's what Akira always does.
When he takes Maruki's hand, his own is steadier than he thought it might be.
His Arcana... Akira wonders what it was, what it looks like. What he'd feel like seeing it in the Velvet Room, or when Chihaya's fingers overturned it in the middle of a reading.
It would be a warm feeling, he thinks. Maybe he'd even smile. It would've been a nice counterpoint to the hollowness anytime after seeing La Justice.]
I promise I'll live up to that. [He will. He'll show him. Whatever that other Akira did - Akira will be worthy of it, too. Because, after all-] It's a deal.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
closes eyes. we can prolly wrap it up on yr reply but trust me i do want to die
And then–
It isn't something he has to hope for. All he has to do is believe in Akira. He would never lose in a world that has Maruki.
Something ruptures. One too many stones stack upon his chest, and then the whole thing caves in. He can't repair the scaffolding quickly enough to prop himself up and plaster back over it. If I won in a world without you in it, and such a world shouldn't exist, Akira should be yet another person he's meant to always find – I'll never lose in one that has you, and maybe that's why they're here now, maybe it was meant to happen like this. Maybe a final goodbye in a nurse's office after a decadent tempura udon lunch was only the beginning of one of reality's infinite concentric circles.
Maruki feels himself smile through it. Somehow. It wavers, but it's true. ]
I know that you're right. I've never doubted you. This place... it will mess with us. With everyone. But that's one promise I want to make to you now, Kurusu-kun.
[ People like them, they don't give up. Maruki will prove it in the foundation they rebuild, brick by brick. ]
No matter what happens, I won't ever doubt you.
[ He'll bring Akira to the machiya after this. He'll deliver him to Akechi, he'll go his own way for a while to fall apart, he'll piece himself back together and return for a meal and a discussion as they learn one another for the first time all over again. And they'll keep doing that, the next day and the next, until this reality shatters beneath their feet.
But first:
Maruki extends a hand to shake. ]
wrapping........ derogatory...........
He doesn't tremble, but the feelings crash into him like a wave. What could have been, if only he'd had someone to tell him all this so long ago? Maybe it would've looked just like this.
Maybe it looked like someone extending a hand, saying they would believe him, saying they would never doubt him, instead of turning their eyes to the ground during his greatest time of need. Maybe it feels like Sojiro teaching him to cook, or Akira teaching Zenkichi to cook, and a smile full of pride instead of a frown of shame. Maybe it feels like the warmest well done he's ever heard, and an adult acting the way they should even once.
To experience it like this, near instantly, is flooring. Is it a product of this unique situation, or did an Akira in another timeline or reality or life feel just as swept away in this feeling? Did it feel like meeting someone he should've known for his whole life, relatable and with his whole heart on display for Akira to see? Did it feel like knowing someone he could lower so many masks around and bear so many of his vulnerable pieces?
He can't be sure. But what he does know is that he's feeling too many things to name. He knows he feels lighter and heavier at the same time. And what he knows most of all is-]
Thank you.
[Small and quiet, true and genuine.
He knows he wants this to last. The rest... he can figure that out. That's what Akira always does.
When he takes Maruki's hand, his own is steadier than he thought it might be.
His Arcana... Akira wonders what it was, what it looks like. What he'd feel like seeing it in the Velvet Room, or when Chihaya's fingers overturned it in the middle of a reading.
It would be a warm feeling, he thinks. Maybe he'd even smile. It would've been a nice counterpoint to the hollowness anytime after seeing La Justice.]
I promise I'll live up to that. [He will. He'll show him. Whatever that other Akira did - Akira will be worthy of it, too. Because, after all-] It's a deal.
[A bond is forged.]