Maruki tightens his jaw and prepares himself with the onslaught of questions and suspicions every Akechi seemed to carry here. His eyes lingered on the gloved hand resting against the man’s chin, the theatrical gesture reminiscent of the princely persona this particular Akechi seemed to embody.
He let out a measured sigh, breaking the silence. “Yes, of course, I’ve watched it,” he admitted without hesitation, though his tone remained soft and polite. “I had to review it thoroughly to ensure I wasn’t handing over a memory to the wrong person. Patient confidentiality is a principle I respect deeply—but verifying ownership in a place like this requires a certain... diligence.”
Maruki’s smile softened, though the faintest edge of weariness flickered at the corners. “It wouldn’t do anyone any good to return such a deeply personal artifact to the wrong person. That would hardly foster any semblance of healthy mental growth, wouldn’t you agree?” He tilted his head slightly, his expression remaining calm but hinting at a quiet exasperation. “If anything, it would create even more drama—like, well... this.”
There was a beat of silence as Maruki regarded Akechi’s carefully disarming smile, the sharp glint of his eyes betraying his guarded demeanor. Maruki’s own smile grew faintly amused, his exhaustion tempering the friendliness in his tone with an almost ironic candor.
“I have to admit,” he began, his voice carrying a trace of dry humor, “there’s something amusing about you asking for honesty from me of all people. I mean, why would I have any reason to lie?"
He placed the tape on the table between them, his gesture deliberate but without any hint of malice. His gaze was steady, kind, and tinged with the weariness of someone who had spent too long trying to fix things he couldn’t fully control.
“Here’s the truth: I watched it, and I know what I saw. But whatever choices you made in that memory are yours to grapple with—not mine to judge. Though I am intrigued by some of the details.” His voice softened further, his sincerity unmistakable. “Take it, Akechi-kun. It’s yours.”
no subject
He let out a measured sigh, breaking the silence. “Yes, of course, I’ve watched it,” he admitted without hesitation, though his tone remained soft and polite. “I had to review it thoroughly to ensure I wasn’t handing over a memory to the wrong person. Patient confidentiality is a principle I respect deeply—but verifying ownership in a place like this requires a certain... diligence.”
Maruki’s smile softened, though the faintest edge of weariness flickered at the corners. “It wouldn’t do anyone any good to return such a deeply personal artifact to the wrong person. That would hardly foster any semblance of healthy mental growth, wouldn’t you agree?” He tilted his head slightly, his expression remaining calm but hinting at a quiet exasperation. “If anything, it would create even more drama—like, well... this.”
There was a beat of silence as Maruki regarded Akechi’s carefully disarming smile, the sharp glint of his eyes betraying his guarded demeanor. Maruki’s own smile grew faintly amused, his exhaustion tempering the friendliness in his tone with an almost ironic candor.
“I have to admit,” he began, his voice carrying a trace of dry humor, “there’s something amusing about you asking for honesty from me of all people. I mean, why would I have any reason to lie?"
He placed the tape on the table between them, his gesture deliberate but without any hint of malice. His gaze was steady, kind, and tinged with the weariness of someone who had spent too long trying to fix things he couldn’t fully control.
“Here’s the truth: I watched it, and I know what I saw. But whatever choices you made in that memory are yours to grapple with—not mine to judge. Though I am intrigued by some of the details.” His voice softened further, his sincerity unmistakable. “Take it, Akechi-kun. It’s yours.”