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.
1/?
“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.
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.