[EVENT] Memory Tapes

[vrdr_mods]

On the morning of November 21st, denizens in the Velvet Room will awake to a message on their phones or by their bedsides in an envelope. Perhaps even on their computer screens.

Greetings! If you've received this message, then you've been selected as a participant in a new activity to strengthen bonds within this community.

In order to facilitate connections with your fellow residents, we advise you to watch this video. Watch it and return the tape to its rightful owner. If you lacked the means to watch VHS tapes before, we have provided you with the necessary equipment.

Failure to do so may put your own memories at risk. Do not be selfish, lest you find yourself struggling to recall crucial moments of your life. You have no way of knowing which memories have been shared, so ask yourself if it is worth the risk to selfishly hoard another's secrets.

They will soon find a VHS tape, with a case that gives off a soft, blue glow to symbolize its importance. If they lack a TV or VCR, they will find one in their living space.

What they do is up to them, but they should heed the warning, if they value their own memories.


[For links to characters' memories, please see this post in the OOC comm. Have fun!]

Comments

[fogbornphantom]

"I will." He could leave it at that, but... "And please take care, Falcon. If there's anything I can do to help, you know how to reach me."

[aknightnotaprincess]

Well I'm sure we would be there to support him if he takes it hard. He's still part of the team, shadow or not.

[She can't say about Teddie, given she's never met him.]

1/2

[lostgemini]

All Maruki's words manage to do is infuriate Kou more.

"You are SO full of CRAP!" he shouts, voice trembling with fury, "you think you can just lie to my face and that I'll believe you? Motherfucker, I watched you show Sumire the exact way and moment her sister died, when there should be no conceivable way for you to have that knowledge- let alone have a recording of it! You could have done anything- anything other than show her that! You want me to believe you're not cruel enough to force me to- to fucking relive the memories of my brother's death? To show me imagery and objects and horrorshows until I submit and beg for you to brainwash me?! I hate to tell you, doctor, but I've changed your grossly distorted heart before- and I know exactly what kind of man you are!"

He smashes his sword into a wall when it twists, and tries to herd him. It's fruitless, of course, but he doesn't care- he hopes to god that it hurts Maruki. He hopes that he can feel every single morsel of his rage.

"It's always about you!" he snarls, "everything is always about your need to further your research, your need to pry into people's lives for answers, your need to put the blame of your own fucking mistakes on other people! I didn't ask for you to lure me into your Palace with a cognition of my brother! I didn't ask for you to force me into your maze of horrors! I didn't ask you for shit! You decided that all on your own, and now you're mad at me for calling you out on your bullshit?! This is exactly why you have a Palace in the first place!"

And, as if to taunt him ever further, a very particular Metaverse mask shows up. Black, beak-like, a crack running down the side.

Kou feels the tears prick in his eyes, but he swallows them down, unwilling to let Maruki see his weakness. He doesn't pick the mask up- just ignores it, rushes by it as if it's going to burn him- only for, around the next corner, something else to show up. And the next, and the next, and the next.

A bracelet Ren gave Goro. Sunglasses Kou got as a gift. An engraved fountain pen.

A single black glove.

Kou swears he can hear Goro's voice murmuring in his ears, but he's obviously nowhere to be seen. The walls pulsate and squirm, changing from pristine to mazelike to elegant to brick back to pristine-

2/2 (CW: description of corpses)

[lostgemini]

He rounds the corner.

Wakaba's mangled, dead body stares back at him. She reaches out to him, her fishlike eyes staring through him.

"Which one?" she rasps, gurgles, "which one of you was it?" She takes a step forward, stumbling on her broken legs. "Youuuu..." Her head tilts in an extremely unnatural way. "Youuuuu...!"

Kou gags, but forces himself to run forward, sword held in front of him-

"Shut up!" he shouts, and thrust his sword forward, straight through the corpse's body-

-it's his brother staring back at him. Just as bloodied, just as injured, blood seeping from his chest, from his head, gaping bullets wounds.

"Kou-nii-" the- cognition groans, "Kou-nii-"

Kou stumbles back with a gasp, dragging his sword with him. The cognition keeps staring at him, reaching out-

-he's in their old apartment, their bedroom, Goro's body is healed. He's trembling, eyes wet with unshed tears, and he's looking at Kou, still reaching out to him.

"I don't want to die" he says, voice trembling, "Kou-nii, I'm scared-"

Kou's frozen on the spot, unable to move, to speak. It's like a warped version of the actual evening that Goro told him he suspected he was already dead. It's the same, but it's all wrong- and he- he-

"Stop this!" he cries out, trembling hands tightening around his sword- grief drowns out rage, his stomach twisting inside him with anguish. He's breathing too quickly, and his heart feels lodged in his throat, "Stop! Stop! How could you!" He heaves his breaths, trying to calm down, but Goro's crying in front of him, begging for help, and he can't- he can't-

"Isn't it enough that he's dead?! That he's no longer with me?!" he yells, without thinking, mind working too fast and too slow at the same time. "I hate you! I hate you! I'll kill- you piece of shit!"

in background

[linkclickakira]

10 minutes ago.

He's wearing a bag now- carrying all the important items he thinks he will need just in case things go dire with Corvus. Extra cameras. A powerbank. Two phones though he isn't sure if he charged them. Two trigger bombs. A lockpick. A flashbomb along with two submachine guns he has only ever used against shadows.

The door doesn’t budge. Not the first time Akira shoves his shoulder against it. Not the second. It doesn’t even budge an inch when he digs his heels into the ground and throws his full weight forward, the useless clang of metal reverberating back into his ears. The spot where Corvus disappeared remains closed, unyielding, like it’s mocking him.

Akira grits his teeth, stepping back to catch his breath. The dim glow of Maruki’s Palace looms around him, warm and unsettling, like the eerie quiet of a hospital at the peak of night even if its only 2:30 pm.

“You’re kidding me,” Akira mutters to himself, panting softly.

He's only been gone for a few minutes at best.

If anything, the more Akira stares at the entrance, the more the smooth metal feels alive, pulsing faintly as if sensing his desperation and delighting in it.

And then an idea flashes in his head.

The thought comes to him so suddenly it almost feels ridiculous, but at this point, what does he have to lose? With a deep sigh, he reaches into his coat and fishes out his phone, fingers hovering uncertainly over the screen.

“No way this works,” he says aloud, skeptical, as he navigates to the contacts section. There’s no number for Maruki’s ‘Reception’, obviously. He could even try calling Maruki directly but then he remembers—Maruki always ran his freaky place like a clinic, didn’t he? Full of well-dressed cognitive ‘staff’ who were more than willing to be helpful until you broke the illusion.

Akira scrolls for a moment and frowns. Could he just… call? Would that even work? Would a cognition pick up?

“I… have reached peak insanity,” he grumbles. But before he can overthink it, Akira punches in a number at random—the kind of generic sequence that most clinics seem to have while looking around for guidance. Just as he expects to hear an empty dial tone, the line clicks.

Someone answers.

"Thank you for calling Dr. Maruki’s Lab of Cognitive Research. How may I assist you today?”

Akira freezes for a moment, phone pressed to his ear. He hadn’t actually expected anyone to pick up.

“Uh,” he starts awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Yeah, hi. I… I’m here for a follow-up appointment. But the door’s locked.”

There’s a short pause on the other end of the line, followed by a voice that suddenly sounds hesitant. “I’m sorry, sir, but the lab is currently closed. You’ll need to return tomorrow.”

Akira pinches the bridge of his nose, frustration bubbling up already. “Tomorrow? I… I don’t think you get it. Dr. Maruki told me I could come by whenever. You know, let him know how the medicine worked.”

Another pause. “I’m sorry, sir. But Dr. Maruki is unavailable at the moment. There’s no appointment scheduled here today.”

Akira narrows his eyes at the door, as if glaring through the phone. “Yeah, well, maybe you should double-check. He told me I could come. That door shouldn’t be locked, right? This isn’t exactly what I’d call good service.”

The receptionist’s tone grows slightly defensive, but it doesn’t waver. “Again, sir, there is no appointment listed here. You’ll have to try tomorrow—”

Akira cuts them off, his voice sharpening as he drops the act. “Okay, look. I’m here because your medicine—the stuff Maruki gave me? Yeah, it’s made my stomach very, very upset. I’m talking bad. And you guys cover insurance, right? So unless you want me calling corporate or whoever’s in charge here, I’m not leaving until someone opens that door.”

The other end of the line goes quiet.

Akira smirks faintly, victorious. “That’s what I thought.”

But the receptionist doesn’t fold. After a few seconds, they simply respond, “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. However, Dr. Maruki is still unavailable. You’ll need to return tomorrow.”

Akira’s patience snaps. “What do you mean he’s unavailable? You’re a clinic! You can’t just lock the door and pretend nothing’s wrong! If that’s the case, I’ll sue. (he pretends those words don't unsettle him) I’ll sue this whole place. How does that sound?”

A beat of silence. Then, a low, unsettling rumbling comes faintly through the phone line, accompanied by muffled shouts in the background. Akira freezes, his smug grin fading as something—something—feels off. Feels so wrong. As if the whole place was being torn apart from the inside.

The receptionist’s voice returns, colder now, almost mechanical. “Then sue us. Or come tomorrow. Dr. Maruki isn’t available. Sorry.”

The line cuts off with an abrupt click.

Akira stares at his phone for a long moment, the silence around him suddenly deafening.

“What the hell was that?” he mutters, lowering his phone to his side.

He slumps slightly, frustration and exhaustion pressing on his shoulders as he looks back at the locked door. The smugness he felt moments ago has completely evaporated, replaced by the cold realization that he’s no closer to getting inside than when he started.

“Fine, then,” he mutters bitterly to the empty space. “Guess I’ll come back tomorrow.”

His words drip with sarcasm, but there’s no one around to hear him. No receptionist, no Maruki. Just the faint hum of the locked Palace door—unyielding, silent, waiting.

He goes for the whip tucked behind his jeans and looks ahead at the garden now splaying around the lab. There must be a back entrance. A trashing area? There's no way this place has only one door to walk through and maybe...maybe he will have to stay away from shadows but he could probably find a way in, right?

A scoff leaves his lips.

Tomorrow. Like hell he’s waiting that long.

[mirrorkechi]

Mockingbird winces but doesn’t interrupt.
He’s aware that he’s approaching a crossroads, it’s inevitable, hell he’s been to one before with Wakaba.
…
Doesn’t mean he appreciates it, he huffs and looks away, trying and failing to mask that he’s definitely been affected by the callout.
Damn, he’s getting rusty.

When Kira speaks next he looks over, and raises a brow. Well with a tone like that,
“I’m going to guess that you both didn’t make it out the other side?” Because when Shido is involved your life is always at risk at being snuffed out on his whim.
Damnit.
He can guess what choice his Akechi made, it’s likely one he’d have picked if he was truly alone.
… is he going to have to make a choice like that with his Akiren? Is this just an inevitable fact of their lives across the multiverse?
That’s incredibly morbid.

[fogboundcrow]

That's... apparently the Yoshizawa-san from my world.

[He grumbles.]

Well, Crow's. But still, it's troubling. At the very least, it sounds like Maruki's brainwashing can be undone...

1/?

[takutomaruki]

Maruki observes Kou’s outburst with a strained calm, though his furrowed brow betrays the turmoil bubbling beneath the surface. At first, he tries to process Kou’s accusations, his mind turning over each word with clinical precision, searching for logic amidst the whirling storm that Kou subjected him into.

“I… I don’t recall showing her that accident,” he says, his voice faltering as if a part of him wouldn't have been surprised if he did.“She described it to me—every detail—and I helped her process it. That wasn’t something I…” He trails off, unsettled by the sharp edge of Kou’s rage. If Kou's Maruki did that- he must have his reasons. Perhaps he was justifying Sumire's choices to everyone else.

It's always about you.

Maruki’s expression hardens. For the first time, his voice sharpens, though it remains unnervingly measured, a blade cloaked in velvet. “Always about me? Feels like it truly is difficult for you to grasp the concept of different universes, Corvus-san.”

He exhales, his gloved hands flexing against the unseen surface before him as he regains his composure. “My research—my actions—have never been about me. Everything I’ve done has been for the sake of others. To give people peace, to free them from the burdens that shackle them. You can hate me for that if you want to. But don’t twist my intentions into something so… self-serving.”

There’s an edge to his tone now—subtle, but undeniable. Maruki is no stranger to anger, but this? This pricked away at something he had hidden deep within. Kou’s words have struck at something deeper: the suggestion that his goals, his life’s work, are nothing but his own vanity when all he remembers are hopeless nights waiting at the hospital or living with the grief of never having his research validated. When it could have truly changed the world for the better- for Rumi, even if she forgot about him. Even if he had to let her go for her own sake. Not because he wasn't capable.

Did he truly believe himself to be in the right?

No god would grant humanity's wishes. Once casted away from Eden itself, was it so terrible that Maruki wanted to bring paradise to Earth? Did they not deserve this?

He couldn't help her.

The implication burns at him far more than he lets on.

[undyingcrow]

Middle school.

[He says it so incredulously. That's so young. Even younger than he was...]

Rather troubling that children were expected to clean up the messes of adults, but I can't say I'm surprised.

2/?

[takutomaruki]

But before he can dwell on it further, the labyrinth shifts again.

The sight of Wakaba Isshiki’s mangled form unsettles him further. Maruki shifts on his feet- his white coat shifting in the otherwise dark abyss. He whispers under his breath, “What is this…? Akechi was responsible for Wakaba Isshiki’s death—but why… why is this happening like this?” If it were regarding the existence of the twins- that would open even further questions. He already knew the Goro Akechi of his own universe had far greater intentions than being a meagre detective prince so-

The monitors flicker—first with the distorted form of Wakaba Isshiki, then the shifting, agonizing image of Goro’s broken body, morphing into something even crueler: a memory twisted into nightmare.

"Don't tell me you think dangling my life before us is going to have any impact on our decision."

The voice echoes across the maze.

His voice carries out into the maze, soft at first, as though he’s hesitant to interrupt. It echoes unnaturally across the labyrinth walls, bouncing back on itself like a distant, spectral whisper. “Corvus-san… please, listen to me.”

The sharp, chaotic crack of Kou’s sword against the wall echoes back to him, reverberating through the maze, but Maruki doesn’t look away. His brows draw together, and his voice sharpens—not with anger, but urgency—as the manifestations escalate.

“I don’t understand what’s happening. This… this isn’t something I created—at least, not intentionally.” He adjusts his glasses with a subtle, almost nervous motion, his hands trembling slightly before settling back down. “Wakaba Isshiki… Akechi… These are pieces of something much larger—far more chaotic than me. I swear to you, I didn’t put these here.”

He rubs his temple in frustration, whispering to himself. “These memories… Wakaba Isshiki. Akechi… why are they twisting like this? Azathoth… is this you?”

And then Azathoth stirs—dark, sly, and ever-present. Its voice slithers through Maruki’s mind like smoke, both indulgent and firm.

“Don’t look away, Takuto. This is what happens when you leave people to their grief. This… this chaos is what they create for themselves.”

Maruki stiffens, staring into the flickering maze. “…It’s because he’s resisting me, isn’t it?”

Azathoth’s voice hums with cold amusement. “Exactly. He fights you like they all did. Kou clings to his pain because he believes it makes him whole, when in truth, it’s ripping him apart. He doesn’t see the gift you’re offering him, does he?”

If I have done this beforehand then...is it all still there? Hidden deep in my memory? Why did I forget it? He rubbed his forehead in frustration. Goro Akechi's death- his affliation to Akira Kurusu for his own world: if he had the power to bend reality he would have done everything in his power to show him his gratitude.

Is...keeping Kou here the wrong choice?

But Kou doesn’t hear him. Or if he does, it doesn’t matter. Maruki watches as Kou’s grief unravels into something primal—despair, guilt, rage. The image on the monitor shifts as Kou stumbles, dragging his sword, his cries tearing through the hollow walls of the maze.

Maruki's finger hovers a bright red button that manifested out of seemingly nowhere- reading the words "STOP PROCESS". -But then what if the Akira of his world was attached to Akechi as Kou is right now."Kou is an independent variable,” he murmurs. “If I need an answer, I need to eliminate possibilities…”

Azathoth purrs, feeding his thoughts with quiet confidence. “Don’t falter now. You’re the only one who can fix him—fix all of them. Kou doesn’t understand the beauty of what you’re trying to do. If you stop here, if you let his screams cloud your resolve, you’ll be abandoning him… just like everyone else did.”

The words sink deep, dredging up the specter of Maruki’s own past failures—of her.

"Ugh," he hunches forward- fingers burying into his hair as he desperately tries to look through the patterns. The pheasants- the doves- everyone so far-

"I hate you! I hate you! I’ll kill— you piece of shit!”

The words hit like a sledgehammer. Maruki’s shoulders slump slightly, his lips parting as if he might speak, but he hesitates. The echoes of Kou’s anguish vibrate through the maze like ripples on water, and for a moment, Maruki can’t help but stare. It’s familiar. That raw, unfiltered grief—it’s a scream he’s heard before.

The faint hum of the monitors fills the void around him. Maruki exhales slowly as he sits up, leaning forward toward the screen as his voice rises again, more focused now, though still unnervingly calm as it drifts through the space.

“Corvus-san...” The words hang in the air, heavy yet gentle, spoken not as an accusation but as a quiet realization. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his tone even as it echoes unnaturally through the maze. "You miss your brother immensely, don't you?”

His wish--

Maruki pauses, his gaze steady as he studies Kou’s trembling form on the monitor. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” he says, voice weaving through the labyrinth like a quiet current. “I know you’re hurting. I know you’re angry at me—at everything. But this isn’t the answer.”

Azathoth whispers softly into Maruki’s thoughts, feeding the fire of his resolve. “Don’t let his rejection stop you. He’s too deep in his grief to see the truth. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you must save him, even when he fights you.”

The maze warps on the screen, as though reacting to the weight of Kou’s anguish. Maruki narrows his eyes behind his glasses, murmuring under his breath where no one can hear him, “…Azathoth. The chaos. It’s drowning him.”

But aloud, his voice fills the labyrinth again, carrying that same patient, therapist’s calm, despite the unsettling way it reverberates. “You’re not alone in this, Kou-san. You don’t have to carry this pain all by yourself forever. No one deserves to lose a piece of themselves they have always held dear.”

His voice softens further, though he doubts Kou is in any state to hear it. “You hate me. I understand that. Maybe I even deserve it. But you’re not wrong to wish for something else.” He exhales sharply, sitting back in his chair with a grim expression as the echoes of Kou’s voice ricochet across the maze.

To himself, he murmurs softly, as though admitting something dreadful, “…That’s what you wish for most, isn’t it? For him to still be here.”

Maruki rests his chin on steepled fingers, watching Kou closely, the guilt sinking deeper in his chest. He doesn’t know how to reach him—not when the chaos itself seems to latch onto Kou’s anguish, feeding it, amplifying it into something monstrous.

“I’m sorry,” Maruki says again, the words resonating through the maze, though they sound like a whisper. “I truly am.”

Azathoth hums in agreement, almost encouraging. “He thinks he’s strong for resisting you. But what does his strength gain him? Nothing. Emptiness. Loneliness. Is that what he wants? Or is he just afraid to admit he needs you?”

Maruki leans back, steepling his fingers beneath his chin, watching Kou’s broken form stumble deeper into the maze. His voice softens into something almost pleading, though it’s laced with grim determination.

3/?

[takutomaruki]

Break him.

And when he does, you'll be there to pick up the pieces.

Isn't that what it truly means to help someone?

[gorobo]

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He waves dismissively as he turns around, walking away. "Thanks. See you around, Crow."

4/4

[takutomaruki]

No...

No that doesn't-

That isn't how you help someone-!

The thought echoed sharply in his mind like a scream of defiance. His eyes stayed locked on Kou, who moved through the room like a man teetering on the edge of a precipice. Maruki’s breaths were shallow, desperate to find some other solution—any solution—through the unfolding chaos.
The doctor's brown eyes dart across screens- watching the different developments manifest ahead of the maze.

The labyrinth twists and warps violently under Kou’s relentless pace, his movements a blur of desperation and anger. Maruki watches through the monitors, his brow furrowing deeply as Kou carves through the maze without pause. Each wall Kou smashes through seems to writhe and shift, almost panicking in response to his ferocity. The once-endless hallways spiral into disarray, as if the maze itself fears being unraveled.

Maruki mutters softly under his breath, “…He’s forcing his way through. The manifestations can’t keep up.”

Suddenly, the walls settle and reconstruct themselves. The space around Kou shifts again—abruptly, almost unnaturally clean—as the floor beneath his feet solidifies into polished wood. The walls snap into place, paneling themselves with intricate, traditional designs.

It’s a high-end sushi restaurant.

A long conveyor belt winds endlessly across the space, carrying pristine dishes of expensive sushi—each plate glinting like porcelain under golden lights. The maze’s silence is broken by the faint sound of two children giggling.

The laughter filters in softly at first, like a memory seeping into the air. Then, it grows louder—high, carefree, and unmistakably familiar.

The sound comes from everywhere, yet nowhere. The room feels smaller now, suffocating in its opulence.

On the conveyor belt, Kou might notice two empty plates. The remnants of stolen sushi—just the faintest traces of rice and fish—sit abandoned, their presence jarring in the otherwise pristine display.

“You remember this, don’t you?” Maruki’s voice drifts softly into the maze, distorted by its unnatural echoes.

The laughter fades, replaced by the sharp creak of splintering wood. Before Kou can react, the room twists again.

The restaurant folds in on itself, like paper crumpling beneath an unseen hand. The elegant flooring peels away, giving way to stained carpets and peeling wallpaper. The walls morph into rotting wood, and a cold draft cuts through the air as dim light flickers through broken windows.

It’s a foster home.

The soft murmur of arguing adults seeps through the walls—voices Kou knows all too well. Shadows of people he once lived with pass by doorways like ghosts, oblivious to his presence. In the corner of the room, an old box sits half-open. It’s filled with a mixture of stolen trinkets and clothes, its disarray too familiar to ignore.

The room snaps back together into something new—something colder.

The air thickens. It smells of damp soil and rain. The sky above is gray and endless, pressing down on the scene like a weight. Kou may stumble to a stop in a desolate graveyard. Rows upon rows of headstones stretch out before him, each one eerily pristine despite the decay that surrounds them.

Maruki watches with an unsettled expression as figures begin to form from the mist. A crowd gathers—dozens of them—faces pale and hollow, their features flickering in and out like distorted images.

They’re people Kou and Goro have hurt.

Some are indistinct, blurring together like hazy memories, while others stand painfully clear. A businessman clutches at his chest; a thug slumps to the ground, his expression frozen in surprise. A woman reaches forward, mouth open as if to speak—but no sound comes out.

A single headstone rises from the ground, separate from the others.

“Akechi.”

The name is etched cleanly into the marble, its presence stark and undeniable.

------

"...That's not how you help someone, Takuto?"

He didn’t see it. He didn't even try to hear Azathoth.

Behind him, the air warped subtly, darkening as if a shadow had settled into the very fabric of the room. A deep, unnatural chill bled into the space, its presence crawling across the floor like an invisible tide.

And then it moved.

From the dark corners of nowhere, a massive tentacle unfurled, smooth and sickly in texture, its surface rippling with malevolent intent. Its edges glistened under the faint glow of the monitors, razor-sharp claws like hooked blades protruding from its grotesque form. It crept forward—silent, deliberate—through the air, as though savoring the moment.

Maruki remained oblivious, consumed by the screens before him, his back slouched and posture unguarded.

The tentacle lingered above him, looming like a predator watching its prey. The sharp tips curled inward, flexing, the motion almost contemplative—as if Azathoth itself were deciding just how much to chastise him. The claws twitched in what could only be described as fury, their jagged edges glinting menacingly.

It was angry.

He defies you, Takuto and you still-!

The words whispered through Maruki’s mind like an accusation, crawling over his thoughts. A faint sheen of sweat appeared at his temple as he gripped the edge of the console tighter, unaware of the presence that loomed just a hair’s breadth behind him.

Then, it struck—slowly, deliberately.

The tentacle slithered toward Maruki’s arm, the grotesque surface cold as it gently coiled around his wrist, the motion disturbingly gentle at first. Maruki flinched at the sensation, his eyes snapping wide as his focus broke. He looked down, but not before the pressure on his arm began to build, firm yet unrelenting—forcing his hand away from the switch.

“No—!” His voice cracked, but he didn’t finish.

The monitor screens flickered briefly with static as the tentacle tightened ever so slightly, like a parent chastising a stubborn child. Maruki’s breath hitched, his entire body rigid as the cold pressure crawled across his forearm. The razor-like edges of the appendage brushed against his sleeve, a silent warning.

The message was clear.

His brown eyes darted nervously back to the screens, as though clinging to them for clarity, for some sort of root to reality itself. Kou was still there, still fighting, still refusing to break—but the sight only deepened the unease in Maruki’s chest.

The tentacle didn’t leave. It hovered just behind him now, its presence suffocating, its form an ever-present threat lingering at the edge of his vision. Another segment curled around to his side, low to the ground, like a serpent preparing to strike should he resist further.

Forcing his focus back onto the monitors, Maruki swallowed hard, his throat dry.

His eyes scanned the fractured maze and the sterile room that now contained Kou, desperately searching for something he could hold onto—something to prove he could fix this without breaking the very people he swore to save.

“Please…” he murmured under his breath, though it wasn’t clear if the words were meant for Azathoth, Kou, or himself.

The tentacle twitched again, flexing its claws ominously. But this time, it didn’t tighten. It simply waited, as though it knew Maruki would come around.

As though it knew his resolve would waver.

And Maruki—his arm still pinned, his body stiff with tension—didn’t even dare to look behind him.

[vampirethief]

Yeah but the question is how. Without a palace, there's nothing to work with. And it would be very difficult to convince him to undo it.

[And given her state, reasoning with her is impossible.]

[fruitknife]

Kirijo-san would've been happy to do it himself, if he could've. Problem was that he trusted the wrong person to make sure everything was done right. [And that resulted in bullshit like Strega, and like Ken being let on the team without anyone stopping to ask why the grade-schooler's Persona was associated with revenge.]

[linkclickakira]

Kira carefully looks at him- his gaze so restless and suddenly so much more older you wouldn't think he was the 17 year old boy anyone else would have known him to be. In fact, it has become a habit he can't even control anymore and he's got many worrying comments about that as a result across all future timelines.

"The other side?" he tilts his head at the answer- a small quirk of a brow at the vague answer though it made sense, didn't it? Ever since the start- Akira thought they were on the same side until he realized they weren't. "That's a way of saying it."
And then eventually, the realization came that Goro wanted to be on the same side too.

God- if only he were ever successful in bringing them together on the other side.

"Even worse," he quips after an uncomfortable silence. "I ended up studying junior year yet again," he gestures as he makes a loop symbol with a finger. "About a hundred dozen times at this point. Would not recommend just how many times I ended up shocking Shujin and its students about the fact that I knew everything that happened there but I was a 'delinquent' student," he rolls his eyes as he makes air quotes- "so nobody even tried to spice up my school life. It sucked."

"Its your turn by the way, Goro-san," he gestures ahead at the dart-board, once again letting either of them have a breather from the shitshow that was Akira's bizarre adventures. "Unless you really want me to get the pom-poms. Believe me, I will get them."

[mirrorkechi]

…right the time travel. Fuck time loops.

How- how long has Kira been 17 exactly? How many loops has he gone through to be so laze-fair about this?
…
He isn’t sure he wants the answer to that question… not today anyhow.
And especially not after practically confirming to him that his akechi has killed him at least once.
……
Fuck.
Guess the breather is a relief, he approaches the dart board to take his turn.
“Please don’t do that. I’d die from embarrassment” he groans, fine, he can let the more serious questions drop for now, he gets the picture.
What a future he has in store huh?
Darts in hand, he stands at the line and prepares his shot. To be honest, it has been a very… enlightening conversation with Kira, even setting aside all the implications with this time travel future knowledge thing, talking with Kira has been… fun, yes let’s call it fun.
Not that he’d admit it out loud, he’d never hear the end of it.
He takes his shot, it’s a bullseye.

3

[fogbornphantom]

I'm certainly willing. Thank you for reaching out to me.

[fogbornphantom]

I agree. What Morgana is matters less than who he is, and if Teddie can grow a humanoid body inside of his mascot form, who's to say Morgana can't do the same?

[He stops, chuckling.]

Although it's a rather grotesque mental image, I won't lie.

[aknightnotaprincess]

[Shiho can't help but make a face at that.]

That sounds like something out of a horror movie. Morgana ending up in a cocoon like a caterpillar would be less disturbing.

[Though the mental image of Morgana gaining butterfly wings sounds really adorable. Morgana would likely not like that if he was here.]

[fogboundcrow]

Really, it must be difficult for Joker and Crow. They're the ones closest to her, yet there's an undeniable rift due to her... condition.

[Which in turn must isolate her from people who should be familiar and safe.]

[vampirethief]

I imagine it would have been. Back home, I was pretty much in the dark and thought she was Kasumi. It wasn't until Maruki's palace that I learned the truth.

[But had he known, it would have been difficult. Confidant link or not. There would have been a rift that he wouldn't have been able to cross.]

1/2

[lostgemini]

"Shut up! Shut up!"

Fueled by rage and grief and desperation, he forces his way through the walls of the maze, uncaring about the tentacles trying to cling to him, to drag him back on track. He doesn't care what Maruki's saying, how he's trying to excuse himself, what he's trying to offer. Kou doesn't want it. He never asked for it.

Of course he misses Goro more than he ever imagined he ever could. Of course he wants him back- but he's done this song and dance before. He knows what it would cost- and that cost isn't worth it. Of course he was happy to have Goro back, back then- but Goro didn't want it, and Kou also couldn't stand the thought of himself and Goro once again losing what little agency they had.

Goro's dead, and that's the reality of it all. No fake reality is worth his- either of their independence. Goro was fucking scared to die again, but at least dying was a choice he made for himself.

The maze tries to catch up to him, changing and whirling- places from his childhood, from his memories, echoes of him and Goro together. it only makes everything worse, and his breath heaves as he runs and runs, his lungs burning- he doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up but he has to, he won't-

A droplet of wetness hits him.

Multiple, actually.

A light rain makes him look up, trying to calm his breathing. Did he make it...? Is he out...?

But that's clearly wishful thinking, as the faces of people- dead people stare back at him, tombstones surrounding him. Some clear, others hazy, murky, forgotten, but the ones he recognizes-

These are his and Goro's victims.

Kou's breaths start speeding up again, eyes wild behind his mask, but he forces himself into a battle-ready stance regardless as the dead start approaching him. Some try to speak, others just gaze emptily, and dread runs up Kou's spine as they close in on him. How much of Palnatoke's power does he have left in him? How many peopel are there?

Palnatoke's own fury meets his own- but it's mixed with regret. A whisper of guilt. I only have one Megidolaon left in me.

That's not gonna do, and Kou grits his teeth as he backs up, holding his sword in front of him defensively-

He stumbles over a grave he didn't see before. He curses, and scrambles upright, ready to defend himself, but then he realizes- they are no longer approaching him. They are merely pointing at him- no, at something next to him- the gravestone he stumbled over.

He shouldn't. He shouldn't.

He can't stop himself from looking, only to immediately regret it.

Akechi, followed by an unintelligeble mess that could be either Goro or Kou- he can't tell, the Kanji are far, far too messed up to read. A pit that wasn't there before has opened itself, an empty, open casket in the depths.

Kou tries to swallows- but he can't, he can't- his heart is beating in his throat, and he's trembling so hard it's a miracle he hasn't dropped his sword. The dead stare at him and point at the grave and Maruki's voice exhoes in his head and and-

"MEGIDOLAON!"

Palnatoke bursts to life as he tears his mask off, roaring with a rage and grief that echoes his own, heartbroken and furious and everything in between as the white-purple magic of Megidolaon tears through the graveyard. He doesn't care what he hits, he just needs this place to go, he needs it gone-

When the light clears, the dead are gone, and he's alone. The only grave left is the Akechi one, and he sinks to the ground, completely out of energy.

A hand rises from the grave, grasping Kou's arm- and he jolts violently, trying to pull away-

Once again, Goro is staring at him. His smile is plastic, but there's something incredibly off about it.

"Join me, Kou-nii," he whispers, eyes crinkling in amusement, "join me. I'm so lonely, Kou-nii. You'll join your little brother, won't you?"

"Don't-" Kou tries, but his voice cuts off, unable to speak with how rapid his breathing is- he can't- there's not enough air-

"Join me," Goro repeats, "join me, join me, join me-"

"Give in."

2/2

[lostgemini]

"NO!"

Kou's eyes snap open, and he pulls himself away from- no, that's not Goro- that's a thing, and scrambles away furiously. The claws of his gauntlets dig into the dirt as he forces himself upright to run, every muscle in his body protesting but he has to- he can't do this- he needs to get away, he needs to get out of this place-

Goro's voice echoes behind him. Join me, join me, just give in Kou-nii, won't it be so much better? We'll be happy Kou-nii, we'll be so happy-

"Lea-ve- me alone!" Kou heaves, and with all the strength he has left, throws his blade Goro's way-

-and imbeds itself into a pristine, white wall.

Once again, hallways stretch out in front of him, and Kou collapses onto his knees once more, gasping for breath between gags. He doesn't puke, but it's a close thing.

"I wish-" he snarls, when he's finally regained his breath somewhat, "that it was you Shido ordered a mental shutdown on instead of Isshiki-san."

1/? Tw: vomiting sensation. suicidal thoughts.

[takutomaruki]

Maruki doesn't say a thing.

For a moment he doesn't even try to breathe with the way the tentacle grasps away at his hand- the glowing talons at the ends of the tendrils merely tracing the white leather of his gloves as he feels the hair raise behind his neck. Danger.

This is dangerous.

The air shifts like the very shuffling of the cards, cascading and toppling on top of each other as Kou is forced to hover and keep up with the ever lasting change. Chip chip chip the dead flee and erase just as they did in the normal world. The blood that drenched the twins and consumnated their tragic life- bound by the chains of fate itself. In death, only they remain together in the maze as sweat traces Maruki's brow but he staunchly doesn't try to give away any emotion but flexes his fingers a little.

As the red button reading "STOP PROCESS" quickly sinks further into the console.

"Good."

The screens glitch away to reflect golden eyes, held in spirals, watching him directly as he finds his fingers shaking- held in the cold embrace of Azathoth's watchful gaze.

A mental shutdown on him.

The possibility of it- the chances of his brain being scooped away and left with an empty husk of regrets and pain...somehow that's the only other ending he could imagine for himself when he lost to hearing Rumi's occasional screams in the cold air of the hospital. The pain of it all, haunting his dreams and fuelling his day-to-day actions- everything to make their faces disappear from Rumi's pleas, to make their voices stop echoing in her head or how if anyone- if anyone should have died it should have been-

"If it was me your...happiness- your dreams would not have come true. I- I was the only one who could give that to you-"

Him. It should have been him. He was always weak and frail. Where did he go wrong?

You're right

It should have been me.

Me.

Me.

"Its thanks to Azathoth who has granted me the chance against all odds- I- I- I could have never-"

He was going to puke.

He felt his body shake, a clambering pain shaking the very root of his being as he clasped his hand to his mouth before a tentacle followed, now resting on his back- patting him gently. Tears prickled his eyes as Azathoth, the one who was healing the very wounds festering inside him as he felt like he could lurch out the very essence of Azathoth seated within him and then-
It was coiling within him. He could feel it. He could feel it lifting away the unpleasant sensation. The tightness in his chest. He gasped in horror as he felt like for the first fucking time- he wanted to feel the pain which was being slowly removed from his anatomy. "Don't..." he pleads. "Please. Let me-"

I still need you, Takuto.

That was undeniably Rumi's voice.

Fuck.

Fuck.

"Stop it."

His voice clambered and shook the very walls of the maze. "DON'T YOU DARE USE HER-"

He grows quiet when the tentacle shifts and a single sharp talon pokes right on his neck. Just a few inches within- if it shifted- it would make its burrow into his heart. He stopped. Tears gushing down his face as he doesn't even know what the hell he's doing anymore.

Why is he-

You have come too far. You granted her wish. If she knew, if she knew you let someone else suffer like this...could you imagine?