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personavelvetroomdr2024-11-21 04:38 pm
vrdr_mods) wrote in personavelvetroomdr2024-11-21 04:38 pm
Entry tags:
[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!]
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!]
tw; corpses. blood. murder. shido
“Unfortunately, you can’t stab me,” he muttered, his tone flat, almost disinterested. “I’m not actually here.”
The subtle flicker of his form emphasized his point. He wasn’t physically present—only an echo, a piece of himself navigating this mess of memories and distortions while god knows what was happening to his real body in the mess. He didn't have much time. Were he in his lab, he might have ejected Kou entirely, but the maze was different. They were both within Azathoth’s labyrinthine mass now, and its warped existence answered to no clear authority.
He glanced briefly at the cognitive Akira, watching it crush the table into splinters with a casual flick of its hand. Maruki’s jaw tightened. Even through the pandemonium, he was still analyzing, still piecing together the puzzle. The prototype... yes, it had to still be in here. Everything had gone sideways too quickly, but that meant Azathoth was relying on his original designs to sustain the maze. A flicker of clarity struck him—it was all still based on his framework.
"I just mentioned you will get your tape if you traverse the maze a little longer." the Akira continues, his hands behind his back as he watches the sofa shift around a little more before he brings up an index- makes a looping motion and crushes the furniture into split... wood? "Now," Azathoth casually stepped away as Maruki kept glaring at him. "With Takuto's defiance, I don't think I will do that. We have fresh fodder by the way- maybe putting you both in the same cage will help us get better results."
He levels his gaze at the doctor as he spreads his hands- and suddenly the room outright stretches. In a quite literal sense. Everything in the room- going from the bed to the pen left on Maruki's table- they had been unnaturally stretched like a badly pixelated picture. It was disorienting but...
"Isn't that what you wish for, Takuto?"
"Not like this," he grits his teeth before looking at the tiles. They shimmered for a moment, revealing the grid like designs Maruki had telegraphed like they did in three dimensional development environments. The key to everything. His prototype was still in there, which meant-
The Akira sighs tiredly. "You have really forgotten everything, haven't you?"
It shifts, now revealing a tired old man staring back at him. He had red hair, eyes held in pain as a gunshot wound resided beneath in his abdomen and to the right side of his chest. "You don't deserve to do that," the man shakes his head- his voice turning tired as he places a hand to the wound with blood still oozing out from his body. "To forget the reason why you started all this. You failed to protect my daughter, failed to help us- save us- why do you question yourself after everything you've done?"
"Do you remember her screams? Screaming for us—screaming for you to make her forget?!"
"..." For a moment, Maruki was paralyzed. The weight of his past, real or not, bore down on him. His hand shook—but then it moved. Before he even realized it, his fingers curled around the familiar weight of a gun that materialized in his grasp.
Goro’s gun.
He lifted it with trembling hands."...defiling the grave."
"I think I get what you were trying to say."
The man's eyes flashed gold.
Maruki moved. His hand swung out the gun towards the face of the man he respected and loved like a damn son.
He pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The gunshot cracked through the air like a thunderclap.
The room convulsed, walls glitching and collapsing into a grid of sterile white squares. The distortion rippled outward, and suddenly Azathoth’s cry tore through the air.
A mangled, otherworldly voice reverberated through the very walls themselves, shaking the ground beneath their feet.
Maruki turned sharply, his focus narrowing as the tentacles began to unfurl across the room, curling along the walls. They twisted and multiplied, growing in size and latching onto every surface. The room darkened, the walls solidifying into a deep, sickly green.
Maruki raised a hand, muttering to himself. “The patterns... they’re the same as the blueprints. If they’re negating the exits—” His fingers traced the shimmering tiles in the air, still visible like an architect’s sketches. He spoke aloud, his voice sharp and analytical. “Azathoth couldn’t replicate this maze without following my way of thinking.”
He raised his hand- tapping along the wall as he tried to remember the protocol swtches he had installed and then he felt it- his hand briefly touched something soft and then he slammed it into the nearest wall. The impact sent cracks splintering outward, and the wall buckled under his sheer force of will. “This maze is mine,” he muttered, eyes narrowing as he pushed through.
The wall shattered, and Maruki stepped into another room.
It wasn’t just Kou's trauma maze anymore. It was his labyrinth too.
Shujin Academy loomed before him, but the halls were wrong. Blood smeared the walls, and echoes of screams reverberated down the corridors.
Maruki pressed on, his breath steady but strained. His hand curled into a fist as he slammed through another wall.
The room shifted.
A hospital ward emerged, sterile and suffocating. The walls here dripped with ichor, the flickering lights casting shadows of figures he didn’t recognize. There stood the cognition of the Ren with a bullet wound gaping from his forehead. And beyond him, Maruki saw a glimpse of Rumi’s parents lying lifeless on the hospital bed, their hands reaching out for someone who never came.
Maruki’s teeth grit as he swung his arm, punching through the wall again.
The scene broke apart, and he stumbled into a darker, colder space. Mementos.
The labyrinthine tunnels twisted and warped, tendrils of darkness slithering through the air.
“It’s not real,” Maruki hissed, his voice firm. His hand tore through the wall again, the cracks webbing outward as he punctured the illusion.
The office of Masayoshi Shido unfolded next.
The twins were here too, younger, back to back as if one was part of the moment while the other was the shadow- listening in, shaking with restrained rage as Shido sneered from behind his desk.
“Keep going,” Maruki muttered to himself, his focus razor-sharp. He swung his fist again, breaking through the scene, his breath ragged.
Finally, he reached the last room.
The walls began to close in, suffocating and pulsing with tentacles that lashed out in desperation.
Maruki froze.
The engine room.
Cold metal walls loomed around him, and the sound of Goro’s voice—young, panicked—echoed in the air.
It wasn’t real. He knew it wasn’t real, but the sight of a cognitive Goro holding out the tape was too much. His pleading eyes, the desperation in his voice—it brought everything full circle.
Maruki sank to his knees, his legs trembling before they began to flicker, dissolving into nothingness. Azathoth is growing stronger. He's feeding off someone else.
“Azathoth is... rebuilding the maze again,” he murmured, his voice hollow as he watched the walls pulse violently, the bindings crude and frantically woven. “The intruder to the Lab—I noticed his presence before—he’s here. An Akira or a Ren.”
The tentacles bound the maze tighter, curling around every nook and cranny in a rushed attempt to stabilize the collapsing illusion.
“I can’t—”
And just like that, Maruki disappeared, swallowed by the maze once more.
But the tape was there. Ripe for taking.
1/2
"Then come out and face me. And I said, give me the tape. I'm done with your bullshit." He goes to take a step forward- even if this is just a cognitive projection, harming it should have some effect on the real Maruki- he's intent on forcing the issue, but-
He wavers when Maruki grabs the gun- Goro gun. It feels like yet another punch to the gut, his mouth dry- is Maruki going to shoot him with such a familiar weapon? What irony- how fucking hilarious. Kou really does hate this man, the way he shoves himself into other people's- into his thoughts, using them against him, and having the gall to act like he's the one above it all.
Then Maruki shoots the bloody old man, and the entire place screeches, loud enough that Kou's forced to cover his ears, feeling the vibrations echo through him like knives. It's dizzying, his ears ringing, not helped by his already exhausted state. Maruki's muttering and mumbling as Kou tries to regain his composure, the entire place slowly shifting, and Maruki slams through a wall- shit, he's so fucking out of practice. Palnatoke urges him on as he shakes his head. He can't lose Maruki here- not until he has his tape.
"Get back here!" he shouts, running after the cognitive Maruki, snarling. The walls tremble and change just like before- a Shujin where the walls scream, then a hospital where ichor paints the entire ward- doubtlessly trying to shatter Kou's already emotionally fragile state. Maruki keeps bursting through walls, and Kou follows on sheer willpower alone. Mementos, Shido's office, complete with a sneering, furious Shido, images of themselves simply taking the abuse. Something terrible crops up in Kou's throat, something that makes him feel so horrifically small- but he ignores it, forcing himself onwards-
The walls become metallic, and Kou's breath catches.
Here once again, huh. He's not even surprised at this point, but that doesn't make it any less shocking, any less impactful. Tears prick at his eyes, and he forces them closed- but Goro's begging echoes in his ears, and he grits his teeth.
How much longer does he have to do this?
He opens his eyes just in time to watch Maruki disappear, muttering something or the other about Ren- or Akire- shit-, it doesn't matter-!
Face to face with him is another illusion of Goro.
And he's holding Kou's tape.
2/2
Or is it a sob?"Of course he'd do this," he mutters to himself, forcing his legs forwards- at least his fucking tape is here, now. "Fuck, what did I expect?"
"Indeed. What did you expect?" Kou startles as the cognition speaks, its voice mild, but friendly. "I could have given this to you earlier, you know?"
"What?"
The cognition smiles at him, tilting its head in a distinctly detective prince way that would charm anyone- if they didn't know better. "Of course, Kou-nii. You know I want what's best for you, right?"
Kou shudders as Goro's voice echoes off the walls again, howling in despair, how he doesn't want to die.
"Give me my tape," Kou commands, hoarsely, but the cognition only laughs.
"Oh, no- I can't, really. Not yet, anyway." It smiles at him. "You know what I want, right? What you want, most of all?"
Kou tastes bile in his throat.
"All you need to do is let yourself be cured," it says, and Kou grits his teeth. "You can have your tape, and then, we can be happy forever, without any pain to weigh us down.
"Doesn't that sound wonderful?"
It's horrible. The words that this- this caricature of his brother is spouting, with his voice, with his face, making Kou want to scream-
"My brother would never say that," he spits, and the cognition frowns sadly, demurely, before sighing.
"Seems you can't have your tape back yet, then."
Motherfu-
"Give it HERE!" Kou shouts, lurching forward with his sword, swinging it in a wide arc- but the cognition merely jumps- no, damn near floats backwards and out of the way, still holding Kou's tape, still looking like a kicked puppy with his brother's face, and Kou screams, trying again- only to be stopped in his tracks by a tentacle. It wraps around his sword arm, holding him in place, and the thing with Goro's face tuts in disappointment.
"How truly saddening," it sighs, giving him such a melancholic look that it scratches Kou raw under his skin, "you need only accept this- me, and we could have it all..."
Blue fire bursts out from behind it, and Kou's throat dries out as Loki's shadowy form- or an approximation, at least- hovers in the air, red-hot sword spinning.
"I suppose a little more persuasion is in order."
Kou's efforts to break free double, but the tentacle holds fast, and Goro's voice echoes-
"Eigaon."
1/2
He doesn’t know where it all even began. He was rushing to the front, sprinting like his life depended on it while the shadows manifested- the alarms in his mind blaring louder with every second. Then, he found himself standing at a railing, staring down at the source of the distortion—a massive black cube, pulsating with eerie green patterns that slithered across its surface like living veins. It felt alive. Malicious.
Kira directed his attacks on the cube. Whatever it was. He used two teleports to trick the fafnir to load its Gigantomachia on the…room? It had hissed in anger and before he knew it-
There was a tentacle rushing at him.
And the world turned sterile.
When he woke up he thought he found himself back in the strange dream he found himself a couple times before. A world full of void. Of endless corridors. He had seen it before in fragments of dreams he dared not revisit. The walls were lined with pictures framed in bleeding gold. An old couple, now drenched in blood. A woman in hospital clothes. Two interlocked hands, one marked by a birthmark. A drowning ship. A freshly dug grave.
He followed the sounds echoing through the corridors. Screams, roars, cries of agony—he didn’t know who or what was making them, but they dragged him forward like a hook in his chest. He couldn’t stop. Not now.
The labyrinth’s oppressive walls scream in distorted echoes as Akira sprints through the maze, his whip flashing out to hook onto edges and launch him forward with practiced grace. CLAP. CLAP. He had six more teleportations until his ears would start to bleed. Sixteen more until his eyes would start growing blurry. He didn’t have much time. Every sound pulls him deeper, every tremor in the air promising something worse ahead. The maze twists and shifts around him like it’s alive, but he doesn’t stop, not even when his muscles ache.
When the terrible roar of fire and the chilling cry of "Eigaon!" rip through the air, his heart seizes. The voice—familiar yet wrong—claws at his ears. He rounds a corner just in time to see the monstrous shadow of some creature painted in shades of black and white hovering behind what looks like Goro, the face too perfect, too cruel. His head turns in that split second, finding Corvus bound in writhing tentacles, struggling wildly, a sword clenched in his restrained hand.
Kira doesn’t hesitate.
BANG BANG BANG!
The submachine gun in his hand flourishes in an instant, now held in one as he shoots- the bullets rushing at the main target.
The one who wore his face. Goro. Except not. His mind screamed at the sight.
The submachine gun in his hand blazed to life as he fired at the monster wearing Goro’s face. The bullets streaked through the air, landing clean hits. For a moment, the cognitive Akechi flinched, Loki’s fire momentarily dissipating as the Eigaon collided to an area really close to Kou instead- cursed energy hurling at his direction as it exploded. One bullet pierced its hand—the one not holding the tape.
“You—!” The voice hissed in outrage.
The tentacles writhed violently, blocking or taking in the damage of the rest of the shots with ease. The rest of the bullets ricocheted uselessly off their dense surface. Akira’s frustration boiled as he flipped backward to dodge an incoming strike, throwing the strap of the gun over his shoulder.
“Seriously?!” he shouted, glancing briefly at Kou. “How many of you things resist bullets? This isn’t fair!”
The cognitive Akechi tilted its head, almost amused. Its crimson gaze followed Akira as he sprinted toward Kou, still bound and struggling. In one hand, the monster clutched the tape, its black blood dripping from the bullet wound.
Akira pulled something from his pocket—a grenade.
He didn’t have time for this nonsense.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, he prepared to pull the pin and hurl it at the tentacle holding Kou when something wet snapped around his ankle.
“No- no- no-” He cries out as he finds the tentacle yanking him into the air. He hurtled through the air, clutching the explosive as his world spun violently. “FUCK!”
2/2
The environment simmers, now revealing itself to be shrouded in black with neon green grid outlines and tentacles wrapped or lazily clinging to the high walls.
Blood rushes to his head as he struggles against the constriction, releasing a frustrated groan. His mind raced for a plan.
The bullet pierced his hand. Does that mean he resists gunpowder? A lot of it would still do decent damage, right?
The cognitive Goro turns its attention to Akira now, tilting its amused head at him.
“Oh, Akira,” it says, voice smooth and venomous, as though it knows exactly which buttons to press. ”You really shouldn’t have come here. Atleast...not without an appointment.”
“Maruki, what the fuck-!” He cries out at the cognition- not sure if this was some twisted version of the Maruki in his world who can just make him hallucinate into thinking this is supposed to be Goro Akechi. “This is supposed to be your shitty maze?! You are seriously doing this again!?”
The monster laughed, the sound a cruel echo of Goro’s voice. “This maze is far superior to anything that man could envision,” it said, tilting its head like a predator playing with its food. “And I see you, Akira Kurusu. Or should I say- subject Five?”
Akira froze. His breath hitched. “Who the hell is-"
The cognitive Akechi’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Oh, but you’re not him, are you? Not really.” It laughed again, a sound that made Akira’s stomach churn. The room shifted. Flickered. Revealing the walls of some facility in stainless steel, flickering to the cozy plaster walls with overhanging wooden beams of the Leblanc attic before ultimately shifting back to the neon-green grid walls from earlier. “You and Kou-nii must be treated. Both of you have suffered soooo much. Isn’t it time to rest and let me do the work with your memories?”
Grey eyes widen when he sees the tentacles unfurl. Wow, he’s hanging off upside down in some black void with a twin of Goro from another alternate universe who he was attempting to save. He feels very uncomfortable and he feels delirious with the sheer amount of tentacles this cognition seemed to have. This feels like the start of a very bad hentai manga.
There had to be something that kept Corvus here, right? The tape in that Goro's hand- was it his or Marukis?
“CORVUS!” he yelled, his voice cutting through the labyrinth’s oppressive silence. “THAT’S YOUR TAPE, RIGHT?!”
1/2
A shower of bullets tears through the room, and the Eigaon goes wide, just barely. He can feel the sizzle of curse magic burning against his face, but thankfully not close enough to actually inflict any damage. He's momentarily stunned, before he twists against the tentacle towards the new presence in the room.
"Kira?!"
What the hell is he doing here? Wait- Maruki said something about an intruder earlier, didn't he? Then that intruder was Kira?
He doesn't have time to think too hard about it, before Kira is dragged upside down by a tentacle. He sneers at the cognition.
"He has nothing to do with this- let him go!" he growls. "Your fight is with me."
But it seems he's ignored- the cognition with his brother's face taunting Kira as the enviroment shifts and flickers, tentacles undulating. (Maruki never truly cared what he or Goro thought; it was always Ren he wanted. Always.) Anger rises in his gut as the cognition continues to ignore him, talking over Kira- referring to him as subject 5? What the fuck? Could it be that this Maruki-
Kou snarls as tentacles start surrounding them, growing out from the walls, the cognition. That fucking Maruki, how dare he- how dare he use his twin's face to say that! How dare he call him 'Kou-nii', when that was something Goro only did when-
Focus. He's not going to let this happen- he'll die before he lets Maruki destroy his free will- especially when he's tarnishing Goro like this.
And Kira- Kira-
2/2
He takes note of the grenade in Kira's hand, the smug victory on the cognition's face, gears turning in his head. It took damage from the bullets earlier, and from the way it had to protect itself, it wasn't going to be immune to damage without any tentacles to brace itself. and even then-
Kou's breath stutters. Fuck, he doesn't have much left in him, but he has to get his tape back, and get out of here somehow- and like hell is he just going to let Maruki win.
The tentacles' grip on him is tight. Rigid. Not something he can just wiggle his way out of unscathed- but that's the key word.
The tentacles close in, their tips glowing an eerie cyan. Kou's eyes narrow.
"So- that's it. No more pretenses, huh?" he spits, tugging against the tentacles, "not even pretending you want our consent for your 'treatment'."
"Hm? Well- you two are in no state to make any permanent decisions," the cognition hums in Goro's voice, and Kou's heart cracks, "but there's no need to worry. That's why I'm doing this- it's in your best interests."
"You keep saying that," Kou hisses, "but you're going to brainwash us. How does it not get through your thick skull that that's wrong?"
"I'm simply taking away your suffering, Kou-nii." Goro's face says, and Kou's breath hitches despite himself. "See? There will be no more need for your grief. Just hold still... it won't hurt a bit."
The tentacles shift slightly against him-
Bingo.
With a resounding crack, Kou wrenches his arm free from the tentacles, ignoring the way his vision blurrs and pain lances through the left side of his body, and shoots forwards. The thing with his brother's face balks, momentarily stunned at the fact that he broke his own arm just to get free, eyes drawn to the way it now uselessly dangles next to him- but that's all Kou needs. He slams into the cognition, hissing in pain at the shock it sends through both his already injured body and his now-broken arm, but it has the desired effect-
His tape goes flying-
-and Kou sprints after it as it skids on what passes for the 'ground' in this hell, reaching out with his good hand-
"How dare you-!"
A tentacle snaps at him, winding around his leg, but Kou shrieks as he dives forward, wrapping his fingers around the tape. He pulls it away from the tentacle trying to snatch it from his grip, kicking at the cognition as it closes in with a sneer.
"Stop struggling!" it snarls, "this is for your own good!"
Kou, of course, does not stop struggling, wrapping himself around the tape, and turning to Kira.
"THE GRENADE! THROW THE GRENADE!"
no subject
Prepare a distraction. Throw the grenade at the thing which has Akechi's face and skedaddle then somehow convince Corvus to highfive you because apparently that's a very integral part of their little escape.
Yeah. Seemed convincing enough, right?
Well, that didn't matter in the long run, did it?
None of it ever did.
Subject 5...where has he heard it before?
The momentary headache that spikes through his head is his undoing because he can't even begin to fathom the ends of his own peril and the time when he hears a loud sickening crack- of bones that echo into the pitiless void that it- nearly stunts Akira. If he weren't so fucking used to being on the other side of a gun held in a gloved hand or watching the light fade out from those carmine eyes- he would have been rendered motionless.
"NO-! CORVUS-!" He screams as he thrashes against the clutch of the tentacle wrapped around his ankle. As he practically shakes in its hold, the world shifts as he swings and for a moment he swears he sees the flash of the fucking universe itself and then- a flash of something else.
Dark sterile walls. An exploding planet.
None of it seems to matter when one of the tentacles ease in at Corvu's blatant shove and he finds himself falling or moving erratically.
He catches himself at the last moment as he falls to the ground and rolls out on said ground. The tendrils under his palm hiss as he tries to stabilize himself- his dark disshelved bangs laced in sweat as he finds Corvus struggling against the cognition. The tape.
The grenade.
Akira looks down at the grenade in his left hand. He could easily put an end to this madness but Corvus won't be able to get away on time.
He gulps as he looks up, a second delay before he's sprinting at him.
But instead of committing to the desired act of pulling away at the pin with his teeth and probably setting off a trap that could essentially kill both the cognitive Goro and Corvus, he shoves the grenade into his mouth and goes for the whip tucked next to him. It spreads out- lashes- curls around the struggling forms of Corvus and "Goro" and Kira connects his hands in a loud resounding CLAP!
He manifests right before Kou- his teeth still holding onto the body of the grenade as his boots would barely appear before the other's struggling position.
Without another second wasted, he cracks the whip again. This time hurling it like a rope as he forces the end of the whip, the default camera position which displays the fast propelling footage all too perfectly flickering into place as the cognitive Goro's back flashes on the camera of his watch.
Akira's eyes flare bright gold.
CLAP!!
He wraps his arms around the cognitive Goro- pulling him back for Kou to get away.
"Ah-! You brats! You-" BANG BANG BANG BANG!
Akira keeps pressing the trigger of his gun, shoving the barrel even further into "Goro's" back as every bit of play switches into cruel cold murder. The tentacles lurch out as Akira keeps weakening its source. It commands the damn tentacles. The Akechi doesn't even get to lift his hand as Akira empties out the whole round.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Until he needs to reload.
He isn't done.
Swerving around the cognition, he tosses away the gun at Kou's direction and uses his now free hand, breathing hard as he took the grenade from his mouth and shoved it into the cognition’s face.
“Stay dead this time,” he hissed, wrenching the spoon free.
The grenade sank into the writhing mass as Akira spun on his heel, snapping his whip. It melts into tentacles- a silent golden eye manifesting in that void as Akira releases a gasp but pulls at the spoon at the last minute.
He cracks his whips again. Takes a look at his watch. CLAP!
The explosion triggers.
BOOM.
The explosion rocked the maze, fire and smoke engulfing the cognition. Akira reappeared meters away, slamming into the ground with a gasp as he coughed up blood. His body screamed in protest, his limbs trembling with exhaustion, but he forced himself upright, fumbling for the Bead in his pocket.
The glowing magical item radiated faint warmth in his hand. He hesitated, glancing at Corvus, who clutched his tape with one arm hanging uselessly at his side.
You’re running out of juice. You’ve got one Bead left after this. But Corvus—he’s hurt bad.
With a frustrated growl, Akira hurled the Bead toward Corvus. “Take it! Don’t argue—just keep moving!”
The maze shook like they were in a damn earthquake.
He vaguely remembers the words from the journals he had found earlier. "This maze—it's using power. It needs a source!"
As if to punctuate his words, the walls pulsed an ominous red. Akira turned sharply, eyes narrowing as a glitchy white text began to spread across the grid.
Stop process!
The words rippled, twisting into jagged shapes that blinked and jittered unnaturally.
Stop process!
Ș̵̘̈́́͠T̵̨̹̤̠̉͑̂̀͐ͅO̶̬͚͑͐P̴̳̹̍͗͝͝ͅ ̵͍͂̓͑ͅP̶̛̬̘̝̦̺͒̋͐͜͝͝R̵͉̤̩̈́̉́̍͋͂͘O̶̢͓̼̽̍͂͛͛͝͝C̵̡̲̘͕͉̹̔͑͛̀̚Ẻ̷̢̢̛̜̖̍̏͐S̷̹͓̬̯͉̀̎͌͌͋̆̋̎͠S̵̜̤̗̝̝͇̓͂͂̊͘?̴̛̝͓̈͘
The message multiplied, spiraling out of control, blanketing the maze’s walls. Akira could feel the static charge in the air, like a storm about to break.
The letters twisted and warped into unsettling, jagged shapes, multiplying until they covered every visible surface. But this time, the grid beneath Akira’s feet began to glow.
Red light spread outward, veins of energy snaking toward him like a predator honing in on its prey. His eyes widened in horror as the glow intensified, the maze itself breathing as it latched onto him.
“Oh no,” Akira whispered, the words barely audible over the crackling energy.
The text changed.
F҉i҉n҉d҉i҉n҉g҉ ҉n҉e҉w҉ ҉c҉l҉i҉e҉n҉t҉.҉.҉.
The words spiraled downward into a singular point—beneath Akira. The glow beneath him surged brighter, and walls began to build around him, fast and furious, like an unrelenting storm.
“Corvus!” Akira screamed, the maze shifting wildly as concentrated tentacles surged toward them, thick and barbed. “Don’t stay still!”
The tentacles slammed down between them with brutal force, tearing through the grid like a blade. Akira dove to the side as another mass shot toward him, slamming into the ground where he’d been standing moments before.
He looks up, finding a concentrated wall of pulsing green facing him.
"SHIT!" Because of course. "I KNOW A WAY OUT! I WILL TRY TO FIND MY WAY BACK TO YOU!"
no subject
-Kou's not sure what the fuck happens, dizzy with pain and exhaustion- until there's a bead being shoved in his face. The full heal is rejuvenating, even if it doesn't help the Persona situation, but he's been running on fumes for what feels like hours. With new energy and resolve, he runs together with Kira as the maze destabelizes- and fuck, Kira looks pretty goddamn badly hurt himself. Did he give Kou his last bead...?
Idiot-
A source of Power? "The obvious answer is Maruki, but how do we-?"
He's cut off by the maze rumbling further, ominous red words glowing through the grid. He barely gets the time to process before-
Tentacles surge between them, isolating them from each other. Kou is quick to avoid them, but he's also quick to notice something else.
They're targeting Kira.
Shit.
"Watch out! I don't know what he'll try to do if he catches you!" Kou calls back. "I'll meet you in the middle!"
One hand still clutched around his tape, the other goes to his gun, pointing them at the tentacles. With a snarl, he shoots the main tentacle dividing them.
"Hey, shithead! It was me you wanted, wasn't it? What, too much of a coward to come at me when I've so thoroughly rejected you?!"
He dodges out of the way as some smaller tentacles dive for him, the room's structure flashing and rumbling between locations, voices echoing. Kou steels himself against them, rushing forwards and hitting what he can.
"COME AND GET IT!"
no subject
He hears something whip into the air and he barely manages to spot the tentacle that rushes directly at him- now barely dodging as it lodges into the ground that was- right beneath his feet. He tries to catch his breath, his insides burning as he looks up and hears the sound of gunshots.
His head whips up as he watches Kou pull out his gun and aim it at the main tentacle. Instinctively he rolls away, making use of the environment as another tentacle slithers and he kicks down on it to propel him forward.
He goes for his whip again, takes a quick glance at his watch. 38%.
"Keep shooting, Corvus!" He yells as the tentacles threaten to overcome them. They rush away at them from all corners- the spidery tendrils splitting and manifesting just as quickly.
The main tentacle howls at Kou, its spidery appendages reverberating like a true eldritch monster rearing its head from the depths. Akira however, catches the gap in the wall that was manifesting between them and he takes advantage of it.
He snaps the whip right through the very gap, the end with the camera whipping into place beside Corvus as the footage is taken and then-
CLAP!
He pierces through reality itself, now ripping open into the present which was towards Corvus side.
Without thinking, he grabs Corvus's hand and pulls him forward- just to make sure Maruki, or god knows what, tries to seperate them. "Holy shit, this is- this is fucking insane-" He hangs the whip around his neck in a loop- keeping his hand free as he- shit- he needs his fucking phone. He can't transfer the footage to his watch without both of his hands. "This is Maruki?! Seriously? He didn't know how to do any of this in my world-!"
The tentacles chase away at them and the room shifts- now reflecting the barren grey walls of a certain interrogation room.
no subject
Kou growls as he dodges tentacle after tentacle, shooting until his gun's completely empty, and moving on to slashing them to hell and back with his sword after. He's clutching his tape close to his chest the entire time, furiously defending it from the tentacles. He's noticed the gap forming, and he's slowly fighting his way towards it-
CLAP!
-reality ripples as Kira appears next to him, and Kou notices just in time to not make him a few centimeter short with his sword- sending it flying at a tentacle instead. He doesn't know what kind of powers Kira has to do that- it has something to do with that whip- but he doesn't care right now. Instinctively, he reaches back to Kira, grasping his hand tight with his gauntlet as he follows along. The sword he can replace, it's fine, if they get got by Maruki and brainwashed-
"Freak out about it later! We need to get out, now," he yells back, rushing forwards. He grits his teeth at the once again familiar walls of the interrogation room, forcing his mind to stop thinking about it-
"Stop right there!" an echoing voice calls out, a mix of Goro and Amamiya and Maruki and- but Kou ignores it, his lungs burning as he and Kira run for their fucking lives. Tentacles undulate under the walls, chase after them, try to form into people only for them both to rush by. No matter where they go, they get chased, forcibly blocked off, and redirected.
"You said you knew the way out?!" Kou yells over the chaos at Kira, still clutching his tape desperately.
no subject
He shook his head as the walls around them finally started to calibrate again. The hidden shrieks withheld with a faint rumbling as the walls read in a few block letters, Recreating environment...
A wall closed in behind their running forms- sealing them into a one way path, remiscent of the very start of the maze. The walls were now drawn in asphalt, the hallways leading to a certain interrogation room where screams couldn't possibly be heard.
It seems as if Akechi-san was right about him after all...
You have been detained, Kurusu and will be transferred soon. You are under suspicion of various counts of first-degree and second-degree murder, manipulation of evidence, an accomplice in numerous crimes and...god knows what else you have done.
A line of blood followed from Akira's mouth as he pursed his lips.
Akira heaved a deep breath and pulled his hand away from Corvus's. "Okay, I need you to cover me," he goes for his bag and pulls out a rifle. A legitimate one, heavy as he quickly goes on a quick rant while throwing the bag over his shoulder. "This is real by the way. The magazines and everything are loaded just flick this switch," he gestures at a small rotator switch mounted at the side of the gun and shifts it to SEMI and holds it out for the other. He makes sure to keep walking, a flashbomb clinking to the cuffs of his jeans. "And I will be needing your gauntlet out so we can high-five with no issue," he holds out the gun for the other- his finger off the trigger as they stop- for a moment.
"If we run into the actual Maruki, a real gun would go better."
no subject
Kou has no time to think about it; between the tentacles and the shifting scene, even if he did have any energy left, he doesn't have any healing skills, nor does he have any healing items. He accepts the gun with grit teeth, stuffing his tape under his armpit, unwilling to let it go.
"Got it," he growls, pulling off his gauntlet and readying his stance with the gun. He's not exactly experienced with rifles, but it'll have to do.
Within seconds, tentacles shoot out with horrible, ear-piercing noises, trying to get to them both, some of them shifting into the vaguest versions of people, voices echoing through the room. They beg, they scream, they cry, Goro cries, for him, for Kira, and Kou's eyes water, despite himself.
"Fuck OFF!" he shouts, voice trembling-
He fires.
The kickback is more than he's used to, and he has to readjust himself constantly in order not to lose his tape. It's all he can do to keep the tentacles from getting to them, to keep the fakes from forming. Wails and cries of agony in his voice try to dissuade them, but he ignores it, he has to ignore it-
"Hurry up! I can't- I can't keep them off our backs forever!"
1/3
Not now. Not while everything still hinged on finding a place—a place Maruki didn’t know.
The vibrations from Kou’s rifle reverberated through the space, each shot accompanied by the ear-splitting screech of tentacles bursting apart. The noise rang in Akira’s ears, but he focused harder, jaw clenched, sweat dripping into his eyes as he pushed through the maze of footage. Then the files blurred into static—one by one, until blackness enveloped the entire screen.
“Dammit,” he hissed, shifting on instinct as a tentacle lashed out, only narrowly missing his shoulder. He thought fast, ignoring the strain in his legs and the tremor in his free hand.
It has to be somewhere safe. Somewhere he’s never seen. But where?
It can't be his place in the hotel.
What if Corvus turned on him in the future? Revealed everything to everyone else? His way of operation, his way of-The phone buzzed weakly, threatening to die if not for the battery pack strapped to Akira’s side. He cursed under his breath. Another crash echoed from behind him as Kou fired again, each shot tearing through the onslaught, but the voices—the voices were worse.
They begged, screamed, whispered truths Akira couldn’t face. He swallowed hard.
You don’t care about him. You only destroy what you touch. You’re no different from me.
That voice wasn’t Kou’s. It wasn’t Maruki’s. It wasn’t Goro’s. It wasn’t anyone’s.
It was his.
2/2 [TW: blood, injury]
The young boy stood at the far side of the room, black hair matted to his forehead, streaks of golden ichor streaming from hollow gray eyes. His clothes were threadbare, institutional—like something from a failed lab experiment. On his neck, a bold number 5 was tattooed in harsh ink, mirrored on the small tag sewn into his collar.
Subject 5.
"Or should I say...subject 5?"
He was crouched before a small tower of blocks, hands meticulously arranging each one into a delicate structure. It wasn’t until Akira heard the guttural scream—Akechi’s voice echoing in rage and agony—that the tower came crashing down.
The blocks scattered across the floor, and Subject 5 froze.
Akira watched, frozen in place, as the boy’s hands began to tremble. His breathing turned ragged, uneven. Then he snapped.
With a cry of frustration, Subject 5 lunged at the blocks, smashing them apart with his fists, stomping on the remains with bare, bloodied feet. His screams pierced Akira’s chest like a dagger as he clawed at the ground, tearing at nothing, his hands red with blood and dust.
And then he turned, blood-streaked fingers pointing directly at Akira.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” the boy shrieked, voice warping and twisting into something inhuman. “You’re wasting time! Go back! Go back to the game!”
Akira’s chest tightened as the child-like figure stalked toward him, eyes ablaze with fury and despair. “You’re not helping him. Not your Goro. Not even yourself. THIS isn’t your world! THIS isn’t your fight!”
The words hit Akira like a physical blow, his breath caught in his throat as the room twisted again, warping into a surreal, suffocating distortion. His feet felt like lead, his limbs heavy as he watched Subject 5 stumble closer, leaving bloody footprints in his wake.
“You always ruin everything,” the cognition sneered, voice dripping venom. “You don’t save people. You destroy them. You destroyed him! YOU KILLED HIM!”
The memories surged to the surface—of another Goro, another timeline, another failure. Akira’s knees buckled. His hand fell to the rifle in Kou’s grip before he even realized what he was doing.
He grabbed the body of the rifle, yanking it toward him, his fingers curling tightly around the trigger. He barely registered the recoil as he fired, again and again, bullets ripping through Subject 5’s small frame.
The cognition screamed, its form shuddering as the golden ichor poured freely, pooling beneath him. It kept glaring away at Akira and the Akechi, blood mixed with gold pouring in as he sniffles and slowly- it crumbles. The echoes of its cries lingered in the air, ringing in Akira’s ears as he stood trembling, smoke curling from the barrel of the rifle.
His throat was dry. His mind raced, bile rising in his stomach as he forced the rifle back into Kou’s hands.
“...Okay.” Akira’s voice was barely a whisper, shaky and hollow as he tried to steady himself. “I think—I think I’ve got it.”
no subject
No, no matter. This isn't for him to see, and he doesn't protest when Kira grabs the gun from his hands, shooting the cognition to smithereens. He keeps an eye on the tentacles closing in, readying his remaining gauntlet to claw them to death if needs be. Fucking Maruki, what a piece of shit. It's the exact same as with Sumire.
He attaches his tape to his belt while Kira shoots, freeing both hands properly. He... frankly, Kira looks horrible, and Kou can't blame him. He's barely hanging onto his own sanity by a thread, forcing focus by focusing on his anger for Maruki, for all the horrible shit he's doing.
... Tentacles are closing in again. Kou swallows, and eagerly accepts the rifle once more. His hands are more shaky than he'd like, and aiming is harder than it should be.
He shoots, regardless. Maruki's Palace keeps assaulting them, and he feels- something in his chest as a cognition of Goro starts forming again. He reaches out gauntlet-less hand, grasping at Kira's.
"Then let's get the fuck out of here."
no subject
Corvus is going to question that.
He will question that and my powers damn it.
I will have to move houses again.
All of that, for a moment, didn't seem to matter when Corvus grasps his hands. He levels him a look, eyelids drooped with a darkened gaze as he gulps down on his own doubts and nods. "Yeah, okay-" he let go of his bare hand and grabbed another grenade hooked to the side of his bag. He pulled at the pin of the explosive again with his teeth and tossed the gunpowder at the cognitions- its explosion surging through the now weakened tentacles.
Maruki knew something he didn't.
"Put the gun aside and hold onto me," he starts as he waits for Akechi's hand to be free. His right hand clutching the console- flashing the video image of his room before grabbing Akechi's wrist that still wore the gauntlet to direct him to his right.
Parallel to them, a cognition watched them from afar. Matted black hair, clothes reeking of sweat and toil, grey eyes watching them with amusement with a single fork in his hand that lacked a thumb. Gushing with blood.
His voice echoed. "How do you know he's real, Corvus?" The voice undeniably belonged to Akira. "He is the bodysnatcher. It will be a shame for you to trust him."
The cognition doesn't move from his position- simply flipping the fork over his fingers with the ease of a dagger in red gloved hands.
"I am real you asshole," Kira cries desperately, holdingout his left hand, the free one. "High five me. Don't question it."
no subject
"Shut the fuck up," he snarls at the cognition. Yes, he knows alright, he's seen exactly what the robot said on the network. But right now? He'll take a potential body snatcher who's trying to fight back against Maruki to the active fucking threat trying to brainwash both of them.
"This better fucking work," Kou hisses, and he slaps his hand into Kira's.
CLAP!
no subject
Stuck in a nightmare, forever stuck in an endless nightmare. Corvus's words draw a single line in his head- the possibility of it not working. It should work, he has done it once with Futaba unless Igor decided to-
CLAP!!!
The world warps around them. Twisting and turning as a loud sudden screech spears right through his ears.
Youuuuu willl payyyyyyyy-! That voice echoed and scratched like the long drawn out eeek of a chalk running across a dry blackboard. The world warped into a strange dark abyss with flashing green eyes staring down at them and then--
Home.
Kira, still having his clutched tightly by Corvus- dropped down on the floor in a flash- shoes screeching against the wooden floor of his hotel room as they are dropped right into the middle of it all. A single one bedroom hotel with a running monitor placed on the study table- showing multiple footages of areas across Tokyo, a ransacked room with a few open drawers that stowed away the weapons and a wide arsenal Akira was clearly in a rush of searching through.
None of that seemed to matter anymore. The first time Akira had used his powers of jumping through time- his mind was disoriented beyond relief. He steps ahead and leans over the chair- catching his breath as he drops his bag to the floor. "..."
"...You alright?"
no subject
It's only for a moment though, and after what feels both like maddening eternity and less than a second... they're out.
Kou stumbles, clutching Kira's hand for a moment to keep his balance. They're out of Maruki's Palace (hopefully- he's not wearing his Metaverse outfit anymore. They have to be, right?), but he's still on high alert, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Glancing around the room, he realizes it's a hotel room- one that's been thoroughly ransacked and adjusted to someone's needs.
Kira's needs, he realizes. This must be where he's been staying.
He blinks when Kira lets go of his hand, quickly snatching his own back. Even if this is Kira's home, he's not quite out of fight-or-flight mode, still breathing heavily. He barely hears Kira's question.
The tape. Where's the tape?
"My- my tape," he says, jittery as he pats himself down, "where is- where's my-"
He breathes a sigh of relief, calming visibly as he pats the front pocket of his hoodie, only to be met with something hard and square, immediately fishing it out. It is, indeed, his tape- the one Maruki stole from him, the one he held hostage in favor of...
He's been holding himself together remarkably well, all things considered. But, now that he's coming down from it all, adrenaline slowly leaving him- everything Maruki said and did, everything he was forced to live through-
It comes crashing into him at once- the horrific images of Goro, the anger, the grief, the regret of letting Goro kill himself again for the sake of reality, the guilt of that thought alone, the temptation that Maruki's offer brought. His breath catches, and he staggers- only managing to not fall by virtue of his knees hitting a bed, catching him as he drops on his ass, cradled around the tape. Palnatoke worries in his mind, but he can hardly hear it over his own heartbeat, over his own whirling thoughts.
He wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants- he wants-
But Kira's still here. Kira, who's seen at least some of the worst shit in his life- and he, in return, awful secrets he's sure Kira never wanted to share. It wasn't much, but enough to paint a picture- one Kou's unable to properly think about right now.
It is only by virtue of not being alone that Kou doesn't break down, right then and there, his expression shuttered into a careful neutral. His eyes are still red. He's still shaking.
"... I'm fine," he answers, belatedly. It's a blatant lie, but if Kira doesn't call him out on it, he won't call Kira out on his own objective lack of being fine, either. "You?"
no subject
But he had seen it.
His heart twisted at the memory of the cognitive Goro—of Maruki—who had been ready to kill his own twin brother. That was Maruki?
Maybe he should be more concerned. Maybe he should be picking apart what they just saw, analyzing it, preparing for whatever fresh hell awaited them next. But his thoughts kept circling back to that child. The cognition of himself—wild-eyed, wrong, golden ichor dripping like tears.
He had seen it before.
He had never heard it scream like that before.
But Akira knew himself well enough. If he let himself really think about it, let it sit—he’d start spiraling. And between the two of them, someone had to keep the mood light before they both lost their damn minds.
So when Corvus blatantly lied about being fine, Akira only let out a quiet, hollow laugh—half amused, half resigned. He gave the other boy a lazy thumbs-up, as if they had just survived an especially bad group project and not a nightmarish, soul-crushing reality-warping hellscape.
“Brain’s still catching up to me,” he finally muttered, kicking his bag further into the chaos of the room before making his way over to the bed. Yes, it was an Olympic queen sized bed, a perk of just grabbing whatever room you wanted from a cognitive hotel.
He barely paid attention to that fact as he all but collapsed face-down onto the mattress beside Corvus, letting out a muffled groan of relief. The sheer exhaustion pulled at every inch of his body, and for a brief, blissful second, he let himself sink into it.
Then he noticed the blood—his blood—smearing against the sheets.
“Ugh.”
He sighed, bringing a hand up to his nose, feeling the sluggish warmth of a shallow nosebleed. Just his luck. First time-jump injuries, then cognitive nightmares, and now he was going to have to do fucking laundry? Amazing.
Still, he didn’t move. Just shifted onto his side, using the hem of his already-ruined shirt to halfheartedly dab at the blood while keeping his eyes lazily trained on Corvus.
“Seriously, though—how’s your arm?” he asked, voice quieter now but laced with something almost genuine. “Time jumps aren’t exactly forgiving on injuries. The pain of your past wounds can do this funky little nostalgia trip in your brain.”
His grin turned wry, self-deprecating. “Actually- scratch that. It’s super nostalgic.”
CW: vomit
Kou should probably be more concerned about that, after everything they've both endured, but- fuck, he can't find it in himself to be. He's much, much too busy keeping himself from falling apart, and if Kira's not concerned, why should he be? It's kinda gross, the way Kira smears the blood on the bed first, and then wipes it off with his sleeve, but- fucking whatever. They both look like absolute shit. It's only by virtue of having a magical outfit change in the Metaverse that Kou's own clothes aren't thoroughly ruined, probably.
A noise he intends to be a chuckle leaves his throat, but it sounds more like a held-back sob. He forces himself to swallow a few times, blinking his eyes to force the tears back.
"I hardly feel it," he says, after a moment- which is true. He hardly feels anything at all, numb all over. If he's in physical pain, he's unaware. He's fairly sure he'd hardly even notice a bullet wound, now.
He swallows again.
Nostalgic. That's one way to describe things.
His nose feels clogged, he thinks. He blinks away more tears, refuses to let them fall. His breaths are still uneven despite his best efforts. He should also probably care a little more about the whole 'time jump' thing, but again- Kou can't bring himself to care. Not when he feels like he's at the edge of an abyss, teetering and fighting not to fall.
He looks at the splatter of blood on the sheets, and suddenly, he feels nauseous. Something rises in his throat, and he swallows and swallows, but it refuses to go back down. The shakes increase, cold sweat dripping from his face, his saliva tasting sweet, for just a moment-
Lightning-fast, he scrambles off the bed for a nearby trash can, nearly faceplanting but catching himself on his knees, and he's just in time before his stomach empties itself, and then some. Multiple waves wash over him, again and again, horrible noises of misery echoing from his mouth.
... When he's finally done, he notices Kira hovering near him. He's shaking even harder than before, and his mouth and throat burn, just a little.
"... Shit," he coughs, after a few seconds. "Sorry."
Re: CW: vomit
He just watches.
Sees the way Corvus swallows over and over again, his body trembling despite his best attempts to mask it. The way his eyes stay fixed on the blood staining the sheets, like it's some kind of trigger, something prying apart whatever fragile hold he has left on himself.
Then, like lightning, Corvus bolts.
Akira’s mind stutters, lagging behind his body as he lifts his head, blinking hard through the dull ache forming behind his skull. He barely processes what’s happening before Corvus is half-tripping over himself in his rush to the trash can—
And then he hears it.
The wet, gut-wrenching retch.
Akira is up in an instant. Vaulting off the bed, leaving exhaustion behind like it never existed, and closing the distance in just a few steps.
By the time he reaches Corvus, he hesitates.
Because—what is he even supposed to do?
They’ve known each other for, what, a handful of hours? This is only the second time they’ve ever spoken. And sure, Akira had been the one to pull him out of that hell, but that doesn’t mean Corvus is comfortable with him—doesn’t mean he wants him here, seeing him like this, shattered and shaking and completely vulnerable.
Akira should give him space.
Should turn around, let him get through it alone, pretend he didn’t just hear the sound of someone trying and failing to keep themselves together.
But then another wave hits.
And Corvus chokes on a sob, his entire body heaving forward, gripping the sides of the trash can like a lifeline.
And—yeah. No. Fuck that.
Akira kneels beside him immediately.
He keeps a careful distance at first, watching the way Corvus trembles like a wire pulled too tight, his face ghost-pale and covered in cold sweat. Akira’s been in that position before. He knows the raw, miserable burn in his throat, the way the nausea comes in cruel, endless waves of sometimes all too pure agony when he sees another life he can't save. Another life that he can only witness as the audience to a movie, except there's no one in the cinema hall and the cinema hall is crafted to the size of his damn body and he's trapped in that body until he claps. Claps away that noise. The dulling sensation of being thrown into a movie with a script in your head but the control in his brain—knows that if Corvus is still shaking this much, he’s not done yet.
Akira doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react to the mess, doesn’t let any trace of disgust cross his face. (Not that he would, anyway—this is nothing compared to the things he’s seen, the things he’s felt when diving into people’s memories or pasts.)
Instead, he shifts a little closer, his voice soft, sincere in a way he rarely lets show.
“Hey, hey—just breathe,” he murmurs, rubbing slow, steady circles into Corvus’s back. “It’s okay. Nothing to apologize for.”
His hand is warm. Grounding.
He lets a beat pass before continuing, voice still quiet, careful. “You think you’re done, or is it still coming up?” He’s already scanning the room, already trying to piece together what Corvus might need. “Do you need water? Something to rinse your mouth out?”
Re: CW: vomit
Kou despises it with all his might, tries to glare- but he can't. He can't. Wrung out like a dirty dishrag, both emotionally and physically, all he can do is sit there, stewing in his own misery over a trashcan, waiting for another wave to come. He tries to swallow the horrid taste out of his mouth. Ugh. He's pretty sure there's some in his nose, too. He fucking hates this.
But no more comes, and carefully, he lets himself fall on his ass, exhaling. He wants to scream. Or maybe he wants to sleep until all this blows over, and they can pretend this never happened.
"... Some water would be nice," he mutters, wrinkling his nose as he gets a look at the contents of the trashcan. Ugh, what a nasty mess.
Weakling. You've seen and done so much worse.
He hates that Kira can see him like this. Hates it, hates it, hates-
It's the only thing he can do to keep him from fully breaking down, from bursting into tears and screaming for a brother who'll never come. This is bad enough already. (Only Goro- only Goro ever got to see him like that, was allowed, trusted with it- and Goro's not here anymore.)
He needs to pull himself together. He needs to leave. He needs to get home and- he doesn't know. Sleep this off. Break down in the privacy of his own bedroom. Not in front of Kira- Kira, who already saw him at his lowest, who saw some of his worst nightmares- and he some of Kira's, in turn.
What a pitiful fucking duo they are. He almost wants to laugh.
"... I'll clean it up," he says, rising to his feet. He still feels horribly unmoored, wavering a little.
no subject
But that doesn’t mean he’s leaving.
Corvus was all alone in Maruki’s labyrinth, trapped with his pain, without anyone to pull him out. Akira had seen it—had felt the crushing weight of it when their memories had brushed against each other’s. The emptiness.
The hopelessness.
The endless looping despair.
And Akira’s not about to let him sit with that again.
So when Kou asks for a glass of water, Akira nods wordlessly. He waits a beat, making sure Kou’s not about to tip over, then backs up and makes his way to the hotel room’s small kitchenette. He grabs a clean glass from the cabinet, rinses it thoroughly under the faucet, and fills it three-quarters of the way with cool water.
By the time he returns, Kou is on his feet, a little unsteady but upright. When he mutters, “I’ll clean it up,” and starts to move toward the trash can, Akira’s eyes narrow slightly, and he steps in before Kou can do anything else.
“Whoa, whoa—you are not doing any of that,” Akira says, voice laced with exasperated tone. He sets the glass down on the room’s work table and places a firm but gentle hand on Kou’s arm, grounding him once more.
“And if you force yourself to move too fast, you’re just gonna give yourself a migraine. Trust me. I speak from experience.” He flashes a crooked grin—something light to take the edge off the moment—and then pulls his hand away again.
Without giving Kou a chance to protest, Akira side-steps quickly, positioning himself between Kou and the trash can like some sort of human shield. As if blocking the sight of it could erase the whole ordeal.
Then he grabs the glass, turns back to Kou, and holds it up for him to take. His eyes soften just a little. “Here. Take it slow.”