personavelvetroomdr | [EVENT] Memory Tapes

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[EVENT] Memory Tapes

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!]

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The mirror doesn't so much as shatter as just... let his sword glide through. There's an impact, but no aftermath-

-and then the mirror is gone, and Maruki is once again speaking into his head from everywhere and nowhere at once. Kou's hands are still trembling around his blade as it rests against the ground, his heart beating in his throat, his breathing ragged and halting. Too many emotions flow through him at once, anger, grief, panic- it's a struggle to get himself under control.

A little much.

A little much.

That piece of-

A wild cackle escapes him without his consent at Maruki's words, but it's not amused, no. It's unhinged. Furious.

"How dare you. How fucking dare you. Be at peace? With your bullshit?! You're fucking- you're insane!" he shouts at the ceiling, leaning on his blade. "If you think I'll submit to you- think again!"

He forces himself to straighten up, not holstering his blade this time- he keeps it at the ready, Palnatoke at the front of his mind, just as furious as him.

"You think yourself such a good person, don't you, good doctor? A poor soul who just wants to take the pain of others away?" he sneers. "Your 'treatment' is a sham. Take it from someone who's very, very good at hurting people, Maruki; you're one of the most despicable human beings I've ever met. And I've met many of them."

He doesn't care what kind of intentions Maruki thinks he has; just the fact that he's forcing Kou through this is proof enough that he's not the kind man he portrays himself as. Oh, he certainly thinks he is, but thinking you're god's gift to humanity does not make it so.

He's a maniac. To put it mildly.

"I will get my tape, and I will get out of here," he snarls, stalking forward, "and either you let me and my tape go willingly, or you're going to regret trying to treat me in the first place." The grip on his blade tightens as he picks up the pace. Even if his heart still pounds in his chest, even if he feels destabilized, and there are brims of wetness in his eyes that he refuses to acknowledge. Fury over the blatant desecration of his brother's and his own memories keeps him going. "I will not fall to you, or your so-called treatment. Mark my words."

Maruki sat back deeper into the unseen void, the weight of Kou's words pressing down on him like a heavy fog. The all-seeing eyes that he couldn't even see- hovering above and beside him with pupils that dilated and pulsed as they followed each move the doctor committed. For once, he didn't respond immediately—his lips parted slightly, but the words failed to come. His gaze, still focused on the monitors, flickered with something unreadable. Frustration, perhaps, or maybe something closer to...

...Closer to regret.

He tried to speak, faltered, then let the silence stretch again.

“…Despicable,” he repeated softly, as if turning the word over in his mind. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he caught himself before his expression could betray any real irritation. There was a stillness to him now, a sort of resignation that seeped into his posture. Let's say even if he didn't manifest the labyrinth- even if he simply gave the tape to Kou after being impaled by multiple arrows manifested with Almighty energy...who's to say that would have stopped Corvus to kill him anyway?

“You think I want this?” Maruki finally said, his voice low—so quiet it was almost swallowed by the groaning maze. He hesitated, fingers twitching faintly as they hovered near the controls before curling inward. “Do you think… I’m sitting here, orchestrating all of this for my own satisfaction? After months—months—of being left in the dark, not knowing what you’ve done, what you could have done…? What if what you’re doing right now—what you’ve already done—is just history repeating itself? Another cycle of destruction, another path paved with ruin, and you would never even know.”

“Tell me, Kou-san—can you tell me why I did what I did to you?” His tone hovered between challenge and plea, as if searching for something he couldn’t name. “Would you even bother to give me an answer?”

Another pause. This time, the faintest chuckle escaped him—not sharp or mocking, but brittle and worn, like a fraying thread.

“…You will make me regret it either way, won’t you?” he said softly, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His gaze—though Kou couldn’t see it directly—fell slightly, as if Maruki were speaking to himself rather than to the young man. “Even if I let you go now, even if I handed you that tape and opened every door… you’d still come back, wouldn’t you?”

The silence that followed wasn’t oppressive. It was mournful. Maruki’s fingers danced briefly on the air in front of him, like he was tracing something invisible.

A faint sigh escaped Maruki, his shoulders slumping as he finally sat up straight. His hands fell limp for a moment before curling into his lap. “There is no treatment,” he said plainly, the words carefully enunciated yet hollow in tone, as if he were admitting something dreadful. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

Unless you force my hand.

It lingered there, a statement stripped bare of pretense.

The monitors reflected Kou’s relentless march forward, blade still ready, fury still unquenched. Maruki watched him quietly, perhaps waiting for some crack to appear—some flicker of hesitation in Kou’s eyes. But none came.

“Proceed,” Maruki murmured finally, resigned, as though he were surrendering to the inevitability of it all. He adjusted his glasses with a single deliberate motion, then gestured faintly at the screen. “The maze has manifested something for you. Just ahead.”

On the floor, illuminated by the faint, sickly light of the labyrinth, sat a pack of cigarettes.

Maruki’s expression remained neutral, but there was an unmistakable weight to his next words.

“Perhaps we’ll find your answers there.”

"Oh, spare me the self-pity." Kou growls at Maruki's little speech. Boo-hoo, the mad doctor isn't getting the answers or results he wants. Truly, the epitome of a pitiable wretch who has never ever had anything good happen in his life. It makes Kou want to puke. "You do the shit you do because you just can't leave well enough alone- because you think yourself a god. The only one capable- no, the only one allowed to dictate what others feel." He narrows his eyes. "But you're no god of mine. And I told you, keep my name out of your damn mouth!"

He really hates Maruki's little woe-is-me act. As if Kou can't see right through it. This is a man hellbent on taking over the world- it's just that he tells himself he's doing it to 'take away pain'. Right- brainwashing everyone to forget that things are bad isn't dystopian at all. Fulfilling wishes? Bullshit. This guy never bothered looking further into why people are the way they are, or what they actually want. Only what he thinks is best for them, their actual wishes be damned.

So, hell yes is he going to make him regret it either way. After everything Kou's been through today, he's going to make this bastard pay. All he had to do is give Kou the tape when he entered the Palace- or hell, just asked someone to give it to him. Maybe, just maybe Kou wouldn't have been so fucking hostile if Maruki hadn't used his dead brother to lure him before trapping him in his Palace.

"Nothing is going to happen to me," he laughs, somewhat manic, "unless I don't play along- isn't that right?" He hasn't forgotten the way Maruki forced Sumire and her Persona to go berserk, back in his own world, just because he, Goro, and Amamiya wouldn't accept his world. Perhaps this one hasn't done that yet, but this maze is proof enough that he's not above such things.

And by god, he's going to tear this place to the ground. Whatever the next thing the maze has manifested for him- per Maruki's words- he doesn't care. He's not playing along. He's getting his tape back, and he's going to-

-is that a fucking pack of cigarettes?

If Kou weren't so wound up, he might've paused. He might've rolled his eyes, even, har dee har, showing the smoker a pack of cigarettes- or is it a metaphor for how he's slowly killing himself with his grief? How he's substituting Maruki's 'treatment' for something else that's 'worse' than his brainwashing, than his blatant disrespect for the dead?

As it stands, though, Kou only glares at the cigarettes, approaching it warily with his sword drawn, ready to defend himself. He doesn't trust this for shit- does Maruki think him stupid enough to fall for his traps?

"Any answers you're hoping to find," he sneers, "are not going to come from me."

(God, he craves a cigarette.)

His legs are trembling in a way he refuses to acknowledge as he slowly walks by, eyes not leaving the pack for even a moment. It's just an ordinary pack of cigarettes- his favorite brand, even, but with the way Maruki said that, there's clearly something else going on.

And he doesn't have to wait long for the other shoe to drop- as soon as he crosses an invisible boundary, the cigarettes ripple, the form changing-

Kou freezes, ever so briefly.

A gun sits in their place. But not just any gun.

That's the gun Goro and his cognitive versions were holding.

The gun that- that-

Kou twists his head away, letting out a low, angry (or is it despairing?) noise. His chest aches, remembering the faded scar Goro showed him, one that had healed for too quickly to be natured, one that should have killed, but Goro was alive- alive- except he wasn't, it was just his corpse, brought back by Maruki, remolded and reworked, ready to be used against-

"You've got some nerve." Kou grits his teeth. "Asking me for answers when you keep doing shit like this."

He forces himself to keep walking.

Maruki’s fingers stilled, hovering just above the unseen controls before curling into a fist. His brow furrowed, subtle irritation breaking through his carefully maintained composure. He stared hard at the monitors now, the reflection of Kou’s movements flickering across his glasses.

“God?” Maruki muttered to himself, a faint edge to his voice. “You think I see myself as a god?”

He let out a short, humorless laugh—thin and brittle, lacking warmth. “Do you even know what you’re saying?” Maruki shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as though trying to stave off a headache. “I rejected that, Corvus-san. The throne. The power offered to me. The chance to shape the world however I wanted. You think I would have put you here if I had that absolute control you speak of? What is it you are so scared of? Living a normal life with the people you love and cherish?"

"And as per mythology, no god ever gives the people what they want. Do you think they would have been gods in the first place?”

~~"My reality can be just the way you like. Let me guide you."~~

He stops, eyes shut close as he curls in on himself- eyes widening as flashes appear. Yet again. Memories flood in and he's grown almost quiet- trying to contain his own frustration, helplessness and the power trip that had nearly blurred out his vision. Azathoth pulsed within his veins as black lines outstretched on the skin under the white visage- an ugly green running its branches on pale skin.
He remembers Ren rendering his arm broken- riddling it with bullets.
He remembers the hate spiralling on the boards.
He remembers Kou's words.

"Yes. You finally understand."

But then he remembers Azathoth and how he had guided him to the bottom of mementos. How it was coercing the doctor from the start to use the maze on Kou and now he was doing just that. Kou was in the very walls of Azathoth- exactly as the persona planned.

"..."

Maruki is yet to even leave his lab at this point- stuck thinking about the what ifs of what would have happened if he stepped further and took the metaphorical map that resided in his hand.

He could have even changed this hate spiralling around him.

His voice sharpened slightly, the calm veneer cracking. “And yet, here you are, throwing the same accusation at me as though it’s so simple. As though this—all of this—is about some petty desire for control. You don’t understand a thing.”

Maruki exhaled deeply, his tone softening, though the edge of his irritation remained. “I tried to help you. I tried to speak to you like a reasonable person. But clearly, that isn’t going to work. So let’s drop the pretense, shall we?” He leaned back, his posture loosening, a familiar, practiced look settling on his face—one Kou might recognize from therapists he’s encountered before. Calm. Patient. Infuriating. What? He knows very well how therapists actually act. Hell when Shibusawa suggested an online one all Maruki thought about was just how cold they always were. Pretending like it was so easy to-

Edited 2024-12-15 21:18 (UTC)

Maruki’s voice took on a clinical, almost detached quality, as though he were guiding a session. “You say I’m doing ‘shit like this,’ but I think it’s time we clarify a few things, Corvus-san. Let’s be honest about what we’re seeing here.”

He gestured vaguely at the monitors, his gaze sharpening as he continued. “You’re seeing what you bring into this maze. You perceive what your own mind manifests- that's the whole principle of cognition. Its not something which is forced but something which manifests from your own perception. it is truly a shame that you don't wish to face it but we can work on that together. Or not.”

“Asking me for answers when you keep doing shit like this.”

...

Breathe. Take a deep breath. Get a smoke. Anything.

Maruki’s irritation boiled over, and for the first time, his voice raised—not quite shouting, but sharper than before. “I didn’t even know Goro Akechi had a twin in your world!” He practically hissed the words, his frustration clear. “In fact, I’m certain he didn’t exist in MY world. So tell me—how the hell would I know that you’re a smoker? How would I know that?!”

His hand lashed out, gesturing to the rippling maze as though it betrayed him. “Do you think I’m sitting here micromanaging every little thing that appears in this place? A pack of cigarettes? A gun? That’s your mind, Kou-san. Yours. Every little strange horrific thing sitting in your heart has nothing to do with me. Don’t pin that on me.”

Maruki sat back again, adjusting his glasses with a slightly shaky hand. He took a slow breath, his voice evening out once more—but the faint, bitter edge remained. “You’re angry. I understand that. But maybe—just maybe—you should stop to consider what this maze is really showing you. What it’s dredging up from you.”

As Kou would walk further ahead, an object would start floating above in the air- hovering in a sickly pale light as it revealed itself to be the outlines of a dark mask.

A mask waiting to be held.

He gestured faintly at the monitors. “Because whether you like it or not, Corvus-san, this isn’t about me. Sorry to disappoint you in those regards.”

All he can really see is just how ready he is to throw him out of here once he knows just why did his tape incite so much of his own memory. He's certain there was never a twin in the first place. He could bet his life on it actually but the death of Goro Akechi was integral. It was someone's wish and while he could guess who the candidate could have been- family was first.

Kou was Goro's family.

He would have the answer.

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-

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!"

Edited 2024-12-16 12:05 (UTC)

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.

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.

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?

Edited 2024-12-16 20:12 (UTC)

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.

Edited 2024-12-16 20:41 (UTC)

"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."

"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."

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?

Edited 2024-12-17 15:42 (UTC)

Maruki raises his head- now looking ahead as the screens shift again to Kou held within the walls of the sterile lab. Kou's vitals are stable, that much is obvious through the screens. The brain is clearly running on overdrive- it needs rest. It needs the peace. Any second and he could collapse if the adrenaline reaches dangerous levels. He watches him past his blurry gaze, a hand attended to wiping away a tear as he finds himself releasing a shuddering breath. "You're right," he says- looking ahead. "You're right."

Azathoth's right.

The walls shift- the sterile walls darkening and shifting into brick red before bubbles start coursing its way up then solidifying into dark red metal. Tentacles lurch out, carving and curling as they solidify and manifest into cold metal that made the very ducts running around the different areas of the room. Panels manifest, shadows erupt and most of all.
The cognitions.

Kou would find himself behind the line.

Everyone's here.
The shadows. The twin's cognitive doubles- now keeping their guns aimed away at the cognitive Goro and Kou. The phantom thieves. The Ren they know.

Would Kou dare to cross the line?

"You're the one who's going to disappear-!" Goro screams through his throat as he turns his gun and-

BANG!

The cognition shifts its weight, now falling to its knees.

Crow grits his tongue before turning and aiming his gun at the switch mounted on the far well just beyond the phantom thieves' reach. Just beyond Kou's reach because despite their circumstances, despite the vision of a better tomorrow- they would never-

"Wait."

The word rang out unnaturally, dissonant and off-kilter. Goro’s voice sounded wrong—warped, like a radio signal cutting through static.

The gun in Goro’s hand suddenly evaporated—as though reality itself rejected its presence.

The cognitive Goro froze, his eyes widening unnaturally as his neck twitched toward the switch. His expression fractured—panic flashing behind those once-empty eyes. Then something worse:

Confusion.

Azathoth’s gaze—those spiraled golden eyes—surfaced in the cognitive’s expression, flickering behind its distorted face as though the chaos itself were peering through.

How did it get here?

The realization struck too late.

Goro’s body lurched forward with an unnatural jerk. His voice erupted—this time clear, raw, and entirely someone else’s.

“LISTEN TO ME, CORVUS—”

The words came from Maruki distorted into the original voice. A mad volatile mix threatening to tip over and explode.

The cognitive Goro’s face contorted violently, half-melting into something grotesque. Tentacles lashed out from his back, oozing and writhing like open wounds.

“SHUT IT DOWN! SHOOT THE BUTTON! GET OUT OF HERE—!”

The voice distorted into a scream.

The cognitive Goro’s head whipped violently to face Kou—one eye still human, panicked, and the other a hollow spiral.

Meanwhile—

Maruki screamed as Azathoth’s tentacle slammed him into the console with terrifying force. His breath was punched from his lungs as another appendage coiled around his waist, dragging him backward.

“NO!” Maruki roared, thrashing as much as he could, reaching toward the screens. “STOP! KOU, SHOOT IT—GET OUT—!”

Azathoth moved too quickly. A wet, slick sound echoed as another tentacle lashed upward, slamming into Maruki’s face. It curled sharply around his jaw, talons pressing harshly into his cheeks, forcing his mouth shut. Maruki’s muffled screams sputtered as his eyes burned with tears of panic and frustration.

He fought against the tendrils, his arms trembling with futile resistance as Azathoth pinned him against the console.

The screens—his only window to Kou—flickered violently. Static crackled as the image distorted, the labyrinth itself warping, collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

“This is your fault.”

Azathoth’s voice resonated through Maruki’s skull like a drill boring into his mind. The pressure around him intensified.

Maruki’s eyes darted back to the flickering screens, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of Kou before the images vanished. But Azathoth’s tendrils surged upward, snapping against the monitors like whips, and the scene before Kou began to collapse.

“You had one role, Takuto.”

The words rang cold, and Maruki could feel the weight of Azathoth’s disappointment seeping into his bones as the clawed talon hovered dangerously near his heart.

“You are disappointing me.”

And then the screens—Maruki’s last connection—went black.

The scene plays out in front of him, just like he remembers, and Kou's breath stocks. He trembles- he doesn't know what to do. Instinctively he wants to reach out to Goro, his twin, to stop the tragedy that's about to unfold, but at the same time, Palnatoke whispers that he's still in Maruki's Palace, that surely, this will be used against him. Indecision eats away at him, but it doesn't look like he has to make a decision either way.

The scene starts melting, tearing at the seams, and Goro starts yelling- melting, screaming to shoot the button, and Kou-

Kou-

He screams, unholstering his gun and aiming at the quaking wall, willing his hands to still.

He fires-

-and the button shatters into pieces.

Bullseye.

The maze pulses.

Suddenly, the switch lurches out- stretching absurdly far across the wall like a distorted, glitching rod. For a moment Kou might find himself standing and looking at the button before it shifts—caught in a paradox of time folding in on itself—before it shifts violently. The environment becomes volatile, incomprehensible, wrong. Its volatile. Incomprehensible. Like an inescapable glitch in a game who’s odds are already against you. Cognitions and voices mix in together.

The walls pulse red.

A singular message stretching across its walls reading a few words in glitchy white text that surrounds Corvus in a blanket of horrors itself- as if he were stuck with a computer looping with the words-

Stop process!

Stop process!

S̴̥̮͈̫̭̤̉̽̎̉T̷̂̌̈́̾͜Ȏ̸͕̈́͝P̵̨̧̞̞̈́͋̑̀̚̕ ̸͎̲̻͒̊̍͆̉̕P̷̢̰̜̙͙̙̩̑͌̎͘͠ͅR̶̲͔̋̌͒͆̊̏͗̓͝͠Ó̵̜̫̱C̸̘͇͛͋̌̂̅E̶͓̯̣͕͑͐͛̈̈́̃̓Ş̸̈̔̍͛̓́̃̀͠S̸̪̠̰͈̲̘͂͌?̴͉̱̱̹͖̤̗̣̦̬͑͐͛͒̋̋̎̐̕͠

ԵȝՐʍɿՌԹԵȝ ՇԾՌՌȝՇԵɿԾՌ?

F҉i҉n҉d҉i҉n҉g҉ ҉n҉e҉w҉ ҉c҉l҉i҉e҉n҉t҉.҉.҉.҉

The walls around Kou would suddenly collapse, an endless abyss stretching as he would find himself falling.

The air would hold him. Suddenly. Now hovering just a couple metres away from where Maruki and Azathoth were truly stationed.

Maruki’s eyes remained widened in horror as he watched the scene before him.

But Kou will not get to see that sight.

He won’t perceive the golden all-consuming stare of Azathoth staring back at him through the screens before tentacles will lurch out and walls will erupt again- volatile. Ever shifting. The maze still remains a large cube with a side measuring 10 m of black mass in the real world but somehow that same 1000 cube metre is holding a world to infinite possibilities and the sheer madness of a god who should never take control.

[ooc: it says terminate connection and finding new client]

Edited 2024-12-18 23:34 (UTC)

Kou will find himself sitting up in a room.

Draped in the clothing of a prisoner in Maruki’s world- held in the visage of black and white against the all homely presence of what could have only been the counselling room in Shujin Academy. The brown leather chairs, the green tiled floors along with beds lined up with translucent pink curtains- the study which held a chair and a hundred dozen pieces of information lined up in books and sticky notes.

The door was shut away and locked.

Across him two cognitions shimmered into cognitions. There was a faint glow around them- signifying that they weren’t real.

Two of the walls towards the study table shifted as the atmosphere changed.

Maruki sits in a sterile, quiet room, wrapped in a scratchy emergency blanket. His brown hair is shorter, but his face tells a different story—his eyes, hollow and lifeless, sit sunken beneath dark circles. The low hum of fluorescent lights buzzes above, and the faint sounds of police chatter filter through the thin walls. He doesn’t seem to notice the cup of lukewarm water placed in front of him or the soft murmurs from the officer seated across the table. His hands tremble slightly as they clutch at the edge of the blanket, his knuckles pale.

“You’re doing great, Maruki-san. Just take your time,” the officer says gently, voice calm but firm. “Can you go over what happened again? From when you and Rumi arrived at the house.”

Maruki’s eyes shut close as he gritted his teeth against the tentacle.

Maruki exhales sharply, his gaze unfocused. “We were just... visiting,” he whispers, as though saying it out loud might somehow make it worse. “It was supposed to be a normal day. We’d been planning to see Rumi’s parents for weeks. When we got there, nothing seemed wrong at first. Just—nothing out of place.”

His voice falters, and he shuts his eyes tightly as if trying to force away the memory. He can’t.

“Rumi... she went ahead. She opened the door. I didn’t think—" His voice breaks. “There were noises—scuffling—and I just thought maybe it was the television, or... I don’t know. I didn’t react. I didn’t react.”

He slams his hand lightly against the table, anger and regret bleeding into his voice. The officer doesn’t stop him, just nods and waits.

“When I walked in... they were already there. The men.” His breathing grows uneven, and his fingers tangle into his hair, pulling as if the pain will anchor him. “They had guns. Rumi’s parents—her parents were—”

”STOP IT!” A voice yelled across the maze though it didn’t quite sound like the confident tone from earlier.

Maruki’s eyes dart toward the officer now, searching, almost desperate. “You have to understand. She was terrified, but she ran after them. She went after them! She wasn’t thinking—she just—” He gestures vaguely, hands shaking as he tries to recreate the moment in the air. “One of them turned back. He hit her with the gun—hard. She dropped to the floor, and there was blood—so much blood. I didn’t even know if she was alive.”
He stares blankly down at the table, his voice hollow now. “I didn’t catch them. I couldn’t stop them. They ran out, and I... I stayed. I—I tried to help her parents. I did everything I could. I tried to stop the bleeding—I thought maybe if I could hold on, maybe if the police got there soon enough...”

Maruki suddenly looks up at the officer, his eyes wide and pleading, his voice cracking with desperation. “Did they make it? Her parents—can they... are they going to be okay?”

The room shifted.

Kou was left all alone again.

Except a woman’s scream echoed across in the empty counselling room.

“TAKUTO!”

The counselling room shifts violently. The fluorescent hum grows louder—almost unbearable—until suddenly, the noise cuts off.

Rumi’s cognition appears, seated across from Kou on one of the leather chairs. Her expression is distant, empty—but her voice is razor-sharp, drenched in cold accusation.

“It’s your fault.”

The words hit like a physical blow.

Maruki’s faint voice echoes somewhere in the space, frantic and pleading. “Rumi! It’s me! Please—please stop screaming. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

Rumi’s cognition doesn’t flinch. Her eyes bore into Kou, but it feels like she’s looking through him.

“You let them die. You let me get hurt.”
Maruki’s voice breaks again, distant and desperate: “I didn’t want this! I tried—I tried to stop it! I didn’t—”

Rumi rises to her feet now, her figure shimmering as if she could vanish at any moment.

“You could’ve stopped it.”

“You were right there.”

Her voice echoes around the room as the walls pulse faintly, the illusion threatening to shatter entirely.

Maruki’s broken whispers bleed into the room: “I can’t face her. I can’t... I didn’t save anyone...”

The counselling room—its strange, homely presence—feels crushing now. The light dims to a cold grey.

Rumi’s last words ring through the air like a final nail in the coffin:

“You were supposed to protect us.”

The room begins to flicker.

The maze shifts again.

A single cognition sits across Kou. One that the brunette might find very much familiar.

….

“You betrayed me.” Akira speaks. “And now you dare to forget?”

Edited 2024-12-18 23:42 (UTC)

linkclickakira - 2025-01-29 23:40 (UTC) - Expand

CW: vomit

lostgemini - 2025-02-03 09:59 (UTC) - Expand

Re: CW: vomit

linkclickakira - 2025-02-03 11:40 (UTC) - Expand

Re: CW: vomit

lostgemini - 2025-02-04 14:57 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

linkclickakira - 2025-02-16 23:49 (UTC) - Expand

The sound of his own boots hitting the tiled ground echoes faintly in Akira’s ears as he steps into the overgrown garden sprawling behind Maruki’s sealed-off lab. Thick, twisting vines hang along the walls like veins, some writhing faintly in the unnatural breeze that flows through this dream-like Palace. Maruki’s warped sense of paradise bleeds into every detail—gorgeous patches of flowers bloom vibrantly, but their colors are too sharp, their petals almost waxy under the soft golden light that filters down like a perpetual sunset.

It looks serene. But Akira knows better.

He moves carefully through the overgrowth, crouched low as his sharp eyes dart around, scanning for movement. Sure enough, dark figures patrol the area—Shadows, their forms shaped like scientists, lab assistants, or occasionally floating black wraiths with white masks fixed onto their heads. They glide methodically, some murmuring to themselves like lost echoes of Maruki’s fractured reality.

Akira presses himself against a crumbling garden wall, peering out briefly before slipping further into the foliage. His heart pounds in his ears, and he’s already cursing himself for his earlier bravado on the phone. Calling reception might’ve been a long shot, but this—this sneaking around—is dangerous.

“Gotta love a guy who locks every entrance but leaves a garden wide open,” he mutters to himself under his breath, voice low and clipped as he slips past a Shadow obliviously fussing over a clipboard.

Up close, it’s even more unsettling.

The building is sprawling, a patchwork of dreamlike architecture—smooth glass panes framed by ethereal golden light, swirling columns of marble, and impossible floating sections of staircases that spiral and vanish into nothing. Some parts of the lab gleam with pristine, heavenly light, while others seem to sink into shadow, darker than any void Akira has seen.

His brow furrows as he scans the rear side of the building, his gaze narrowing in on a particular detail: vines. Long, thick tendrils twist along the walls, creeping up the glass panes on the second floor. One of the windows has an unnatural haze to it, like it’s flickering between states of reality.

Akira keeps watching, and then he sees it—a Shadow researcher or something emerging onto a rickety fire escape-like platform suspended on a floating staircase. They’re alone, pulling a key from their coat- locking away the door before turning around and placing the key back in- shuffling through a file clutched to their chest before glancing briefly over the edge and heading back inside.

An opportunity.

Akira sprints toward the base of the wall, sticking close to the shadows cast by the larger vines and foliage and grabs it with a hand. He and Goro have went bouldering before and he only needs to make it to the first floor from where he can use his teleportation powers to take advantage of the situation. The good part? For some reason this place was as easy to scale and jump around in like back in Mementos which he guesses...made sense. There were shadows here. Whatever this place meant.
He pauses only for a breath, checks that the fire escape staircase remains open as the shadow still stands there, then uncoils his whip with a flick of his wrist. The leather sings through the air with a sharp snap as he hooks it to the platform’s railing.

He glances at the watch which shows the footage of the camera now hooked onto the other end of the whip. He heaves a deep breath as he watches the shadow walk past, not noticing his little prop hooked onto the railing as he goes for the sunglasses tucked in his collar and switches it with his usual frames. Once the dark haze settles over him, his eyes narrow down like sharp blades.

CLAP!

The shadow shifts when he hears someone vault over the railing. It turns as it notices a certain whip or a rope(?) now whipping up into the air.

CLAP!

Suddenly, his body shimmers, momentarily dissolving into fractal-like particles before snapping back into place on top of the fire escape platform—and directly above the Shadow researcher.

The Shadow lets out a startled noise, turning its head just in time to see Akira materialize above it.

Akira wastes no time. The second his boots hit the platform, he flips out a small flashbomb with a practiced motion as he tosses the bomb downward.

“You—!” the Shadow starts, but it’s too late.

The flashbomb detonates.

A blinding white burst of light floods the narrow space, accompanied by the crackling pop of the bomb dispersing. The Shadow cries out in shock, fumbling backward and clutching at its mask as the light overwhelms its senses.

Akira doesn’t hesitate. He steps into the Shadow’s space with swift, deliberate movements, gripping the edge of its lab coat as the scuffle ensues. The Shadow thrashes, swiping wildly at him, but Akira is quicker—ducking beneath its arms and twisting the coat free before shoving the stunned Shadow to the ground.

The Shadow lets out a faint groan, already beginning to dissipate into black smoke.

Akira stands over it, panting softly as he flicks the coat into place over his shoulders. He adjusts the collar, straightens the fabric, and pulls his sunglasses a little higher onto his nose.

“Not bad. It even fits.”

He spares a glance back at the ruined flashbomb, smoke still curling in the air, before giving the fallen Shadow a small, mocking salute.

“Appreciate the uniform.”

With that, he turns around and starts retracing the shadow's steps. The place's effects certainly help him to propel around easily without putting a strain on his body as he makes it to the entrance. He hums, patting the pocket as he still looks through the bunch of keys. Jesus fucking christ, that's almost a dozen. Maruki has tight security>

Not his style of checking every key but what can you do?

Edited 2024-12-19 00:46 (UTC)

Akira moved quietly through the cold, sterile corridors, the hum of the air conditioning louder than ever in his ears. His earlier unease had begun to morph into something else—a strange, almost childlike curiosity which felt highly misplaced in an unsettling place such as this.

The further he went, the more bizarre this portion of the Palace became. It was as if he’d stumbled into a forgotten place, an area that Maruki himself had abandoned. Shadows patrolled lazily, muttering incoherently under their breaths, but Akira’s movements were quick and precise, a silent glide from corner to corner.

His boots made little sound as he crept along the edge of a wall, his borrowed lab coat fluttering faintly as he passed one darkened hallway after another before the light started giving way. Growing more polished by the second as he sprinted down a very inclined set of white stairs.
His focus was unwavering, eyes sharp and alert with his dagger and a gun strapped to his shoulder—until something stopped him in his tracks.

A void.

Akira blinked. At first, he thought it was a trick of the low light, but no—the hallway ahead didn’t simply end. It dissolved. A chunk of this area had been ripped out, like a missing piece of a puzzle. Beyond the jagged edge where tile and concrete abruptly stopped, there was only black, an oppressive nothingness swallowing whatever had once been here.

“The hell…?” Akira whispered under his breath.

Despite himself, he stepped closer, drawn to the strange scene. The edges of the broken room were frayed and uneven, as though the Palace itself had been violently torn. There was a sense of collapse here, as if time and purpose had disintegrated and left only this wreckage behind.

He stepped into what remained of the space. The air was colder here. Papers littered the floor in messy heaps, some stained and torn. Broken lab equipment lay scattered—test tubes shattered like fragile ice, microscope lenses cracked and clouded with dust. A few chairs were overturned, their legs bent awkwardly.

“Some kind of… lab?” Akira murmured, his voice barely audible. He knelt to the floor, curiosity tugging at him. Amid the papers, one stood out: an almost-burnt journal entry or some sort of lab report, the edges charred but the middle still legible.

He picked it up carefully, holding it close to his face in the dim light. Words were scrawled across the page in hurried handwriting.

“...the maze is incomplete. Patterns unstable… yet it still reacts to the mind’s intent…”

Akira furrowed his brow, flipping through more of the scattered documents. Half-burned reports, calculations, diagrams of something resembling tangled corridors. Words like “cognitive construction,” “Azathoth integration,” and “initial parameters” jumped out at him, but nothing made total sense.

“Maruki… What the hell were you doing here?”

He straightened up, clutching the journal entry as he scanned the ruined space again. His mind buzzed. The maze design sounded familiar—like a concept Maruki had toyed with in his own universe but it was far different. Those were linked to photos. Not magic or the cognitive mumbo jumbo this place was built on. But here… it was raw. Broken. Dangerous.

Before he could dig any further, a voice snapped through the silence.

“Hey!”

Akira froze.

A Shadow researcher stood at the room’s entrance, wearing a pristine lab coat. Its face was obscured beneath that uncanny mask Shadows often wore, but its posture was sharp, suspicious.

“What are you doing here?” the researcher demanded, stepping forward. Its voice was clipped, low, and reverberated faintly like static. “This area is off-limits to unauthorized personnel.”

Akira’s heart jumped to his throat, but his expression remained cool. What the fuck- He slipped the journal page into his coat pocket with a flick of his wrist before spinning around to face the Shadow.

“Ah, my bad!” Akira raised his hands in an exaggerated gesture of sheepishness, flashing an awkward grin. “Guess I got turned around. You know how it is. Big palace. Lots of corridors.”

The Shadow didn’t move. Its head tilted slightly, unblinking.

Akira cleared his throat, straightening his coat with feigned authority. “I’m, uh, here for the cause, obviously.” He waved vaguely behind him as if the wrecked lab explained itself. “I was just… double-checking inventory. Can’t have too much trouble, right?”

There was a beat of silence. The Shadow took a step closer.

“You’re an intern?”it asked skeptically.

Akira nodded quickly. “Yup. Totally. Big fan of the work being done here.”

The Shadow regarded him carefully, and Akira fought to keep his easygoing mask intact. He could almost feel it scrutinizing him, the silence dragging out for far too long. Then—

“Why are you wearing a lead supervisor’s coat?”

Akira blinked.

“...Huh?”

The Shadow’s mask seemed to narrow in suspicion, its voice turning sharp. “The coat. That’s not standard intern issue.”

Akira glanced down at himself, a sinking feeling in his gut. The lab coat. The one he’d stolen. Of course it looked important—high-quality stitching, extra pockets, some frilly insignia on the cuff. Lead supervisor.

“Uh...I am his...favourite intern?”

The Shadow took another step closer. Its head cocked again, sniffing faintly at the air, the motion alien and unsettling.

"...Your scent...”

Akira stared, his brows furrowing. Scent? What the hell was it talking about?

“Okay, that’s weird,” he muttered under his breath. He took a step back instinctively, fingers flexing near the hilt of his dagger, already planning the fastest route out.

The Shadow suddenly stiffened. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Uh-oh.

Before the Shadow could react further, Akira darted. With a sharp spin on his heel, he lunged for the nearest corner around the hallway sprawled before the otherwise destroyed void or room, his coat flaring out behind him as he sprinted.

“Intruder alert!” the Shadow roared, its voice echoing through the darkened corridors.

Akira’s pulse spiked as alarms blared to life, red warning lights flickering across the ceiling. Shadows stirred somewhere beyond the hallway, their voices rising in angered, distorted calls.

“Fantastic,” Akira hissed, leaping over the broken equipment as he bolted for the nearest door. “I’m not getting paid enough for this.”

The echoes of pursuing footsteps grew louder as he looks over a certain legend mounted on the top that read a few different locations marked like how some hospitals or labs posessed.

His eyes locked onto Reception and the chaos screeching in the phone call earlier.

Corvus.

That has to be it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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