personavelvetroomdr | [ open ] welcome, dreamer, to the new dream

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[ open ] welcome, dreamer, to the new dream

Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz.

Akira, holding onto the train pole with one hand, fishes out his phone. It's that one group chat again, huh...he swipes at it, getting the ghost notifications off his screen. Futaba won't let him leave it, even though like, half the messages are just random blank texts...and she was weird about it...it's part of her software testing, right?

The train rumbles. His phone buzzes. The world settles.

Right. The metal is cold against his left palm; he can feel it through the leather. Futaba likes programming. She does this kind of thing all the time. Isshiki-san isn't here to rein her in. She's on a business trip. Futaba misses her.

Buzz, buzz. Bu--

Missing your parents...Akira can't relate. If anything, his dad, Takuto...nah. Akira loves his dad.

Hey, dad. I'm on the train right now. Can you imagine a world where everyone who needed one could always get a seat? That's part of your research, right?

Hazy memories of toddling around an academic conference, youngest there by far, researchers taking an interest in such a young kid, and--

Message not sent. Retry?

Huh? Akira taps the retry button.

Nothing happens.

Maybe...the metro has iffy wi-fi connection sometimes, doesn't it? He just needs to get off the train and...

The room is blue. It's so blue. His lone gloved hand, grasping nothing, falls limp by his side.

This...isn't the train station.

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Dad!! Everything inside Akira perks up when he sees Dad. Dad is bright! Dad is smart! Dad makes the bad things go away!

But Dad...Dad is angry. He's making a mad dad-sh around the room, even...and he's using his someone did something stupid at work voice...he gets a little scary when he's like this. Akira shrinks into himself a bit. Whoever this Igor is ~~the faint sounds of a deep, rumbling voice, smoothed over immediately...~~ had better give Dad a good explanation for what he did...

Maruki's anger had nearly rendered him blind as all he could truly focus on was Igor's stupid fucking grin that stretched across his mangled face.

"There is no torture here, doctor," the master sneered as he gestured ahead at the boy with an outstretched hand. "We are simply accomodating our new...guest. One who wishes to be by your side."

The doctor's eyes widen as he follows Igor's gesture, looking at Akira like the boy was going to summon an earthquake and drag Maruki right into the depths.

His lips parted, but no sound came at first. All the anger drained from his face, replaced by sheer disbelief and creeping dread. He shook his head in denial, taking a step back as though he’d seen a ghost.

“No,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. “No, you’re lying. You’re... lying. This can’t be—this isn’t—”

But Igor’s words lingered, a sinister echo he couldn’t escape.

"There's no reason for me to hide the truth."

Maruki’s heart pounded in his chest as his knees threatened to give way. Against every instinct screaming at him to look away, he turned back to the boy. His legs felt like lead as he took a tentative step closer, then another, each movement slower than the last.

His voice, when it came, was unsteady and raw, barely above a whisper.

“What... what’s your name?”

Edited 2025-01-02 13:41 (UTC)

Akira perks up, jumping off the couch. "Hey, Dad! Is it time to go home yet?"

Wait. Something in his brain kicks on. For just a moment. "You're...probably not my dad. Sorry..."

Edited 2025-01-02 18:04 (UTC)

Maruki blinked rapidly, his brain trying—and failing—to catch up with the situation. The boy—Akira—was already bounding off the couch, a bright and eager expression lighting up his face.

Maruki froze. Dad?!

"Wait—hold on!" He raised his hands, palms out, as though trying to physically halt the situation spiraling out of control. “I—uh, okay, this is—”

Maruki exhaled sharply, lowering his hands. “Right. Right. I’m not your dad.” He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardness radiating off him in waves. “I am... your therapist.”

Maruki, on the other hand, turned slightly away, his expression twisting as he thought to himself ...Did I ever have a kid?

He blinked, furrowing his brow as his mind began a frantic search through his memories. College? No...not even then. Rumi and him had a long conversation after that. That awkward reunion party an year after he first awakened to his powers?No, definitely not...he never really heard from that stranger again. He shook his head, more confused than ever.

Edited 2025-01-02 18:57 (UTC)

"Uh. I've heard from people there's some...alternate reality stuff going on..." his voice fades into a mumble. "I don't get it. You probably do."

Dad knows so much...even not-Dads probably know so much, too. "I'm sorry..."

...He wants to go home. Back to Dad.

"Oh no these alternative realities only ever made sense to me in theory," he shook his head- eyes bereft with an emotion closer to thinking on how the hell should he approach this situation anyway? "In person its...quite different. Coming here, has given me- a lot of perspective."

Considering what he could do in other worlds is it possible that...?

"No, no. No need to apologize," he tries again. Awkwardly. "What's your name? Did you mention yourself on the board yet?"

Edited 2025-01-02 19:16 (UTC)

"I wrote it down!" He perks up instantly, ready to show (not)-Dad the thing he did! Akira shows (not-)Dad the list on the board. "Maruki Akira. My nickname is Morning! I wanted Assistant at first since that's what Dad calls me, but I don't wanna get called around like an intern."

Maruki’s eyes followed the boy’s line of sight, landing on the board. Maruki Akira. The name hit him like a freight train, but the nickname scrawled beside it was worse: Morning. His breath hitched, and for a moment, the room spun.

Morning... No, this has to be a dream, he thought desperately, a shaky laugh bubbling up as he gripped the desk for balance. Forcing his gaze back to the boy’s bright, eager smile, Maruki swallowed hard. “That’s...my name alongside yours alright,” he managed, his voice unsteady. If this is a dream, why does it hurt so much?

A small, broken laugh escaped him, unbidden. He clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle it, his mind racing. What next? Rumi walks through that door and tells me she’s been waiting for breakfast?

"...God how much did I drink last night-?" he asks himself.

Edited 2025-01-02 21:27 (UTC)

Morning stops, gloved right hand going for the pen. "D'you not like my nickname? I can make a different one..."

Maruki only just manages to catch his bearings as he watches the gloved hand, catches the small detail before placing his arm on his right shoulder- giving him a reassuring pat. "No, no- I," he catches himself, gulping down his own unease. "I love it. It's...very warm. And enlightening...ˢᵉᵛᵉʳᵃˡ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ᶜʰᵒᶦᶜᵉˢ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈʳᵒᵒᵐ," he says the last part too quickly as if his voice is cracking.

"What's up with the glove by the way?" he raises a brow as he gestures at the little accessory that looks frighteningly similar to what some Akechi wears.

"Oh! Thank you! My favorite star is the morning star, and that's where I got it from!"

And the glove...uh. Akira looks at it. "Dunno. Worn it as long as I can remember!" He shows it to not-Dad, but notably doesn't make any motion to remove it.

"...interesting," he starts as a smile threatens to crack on his lips. "The planet Venus appearing in the east before sunrise. I remember star-gazing back when I still went to the countryside," he starts as he remembers his parents used to really ever stay in Mikage-cho for half the year and half in a seperate location.

"That aside."

He decides to prob on the glove topic a little more. "Gloves usually come in a pair." He starts as he tilts his head and takes a good look at the leather reflecting away the overhead lights. "Did you lose one?"

"Yeah! We'd visit Grandma and Grandpa and you'd make so many mistakes about which star was which that they joked about you--" audible pause. He looks sheepish. "Err...my dad...having a bad memory for someone who studied the mind." Morning kicks at the floor a bit. "Lost glove...probably. That'd make sense when I only have the one."

He works the gloved hand, feeling the leather against his skin. It's not worn in to him...probably pretty new. He likes the feeling, though.

...He doesn't want it to get worn in.

Edited 2025-01-03 02:05 (UTC)

This whole conversation is in regards to another Maruki from a different world so- why does he feel a pang of annoyance? Usually he's quick to dismiss any other Maruki from his own self but something about how this Akira's Maruki having a decent relationship with his parents was almost...odd. The last time the doctor checked, his parents never even noticed him beyond his own parents or just how unsupportive they were when he said he wanted to divert from studying something like pure science and mathematics to psychology.

They weren't exactly supportive when he scored rather well in his college entrance exams that he got seats to far 'stable' (as his parents liked to call it) subjects.

So to hear that this Maruki, whoever Morning might be referring to, whether went through the same thing or not, still considered keeping the familial bond after...having a child. Well, Maruki has studied that- how some get even closer with family after having children but-

Everything felt off.

Because right now, as Maruki stood there- he could catch something faint behind this Akira. A tendril of sorts, blooming right behind him- drawn from the position of his own heart. His eyes widened for a moment as he considered the words Assistant earlier and then this glove- well he can't exactly tell if it belongs to him, his Akechi or his Maruki or his own cat- but the hints of Actualization were very much present.

"...Call me Doc if that's easier for you," he sighs instead. "You can't exactly blame me for thinking all of this is a fever dream."

Or if your Maruki was somehow, more attached to you than I thought. And not in a biological sense.

"So um...what about your mother? Is your Mar-," he coughs. "-dad, well- did he marry someone after all?" His voice holds a faint quiver- as if he can't even believe the possibility of it. A world where he and Rumi...

His heart sped up in his chest as he finds himself being at his last straw- thinking his knees could give out at any moment.

Oh. That's right. Most people have...moms. Morning visibly deflates.

"Um. Dad-- Doc. Dr. Maruki." Just like all those conferences, right? "My dad wasn't married...he had. Arguments. With my..." what did he call her?? Oh! "Egg donor! With my egg donor. And he had a couple dates. But...he stopped eventually."

A pause. He tries to think really really hard. "There was one lady he really got along with...I liked her. I wonder why he didn't end up marrying her."

Edited 2025-01-03 17:23 (UTC)

Oh no.

Maruki visibly deflated from hearing those words. He would love to tell him that he doesn't mind if this Akira wants to call him dad but that would...come later. Right now all he can really do is nod slowly and runs his fingers through his head. So in another universe he's...

He's a single father with a son that shares the same face as his patient- one that he also considered to be his closest confidant at some point.

"Yeah knowing me," he looks away at the ground. "He probably lost all those arguments."

With those words he took his seat on the couch, placed his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead on the knuckles of his clasped hands. He feels like he's aged atleast two decades at this point.

There's a pause while Morning thinks and then-

His eyes widen as he looks at him like he just locked on a jackpot."Do you remember her name? Did she have red hair?"

"You lost them, but it was funny." Dad has a bad relationship with his parents? Huh...Akira's world tilts on its side a bit.

And then it fully inverts.

[ It's a cold and snowing February 3rd and the year just started and Mom (who's better than "real Mom") won't wake up. Why won't she wake up? Why is she screaming? She's Mom, not...not...-- ]

[ She can scream all she wants. Akira is brave! He'll stay with Mom. He can-- he can-- ow-- why is she-- ]

[ A stranger with brown hair and glasses clutches his hand. "When am I gonna be home?" The squeeze gets tighter. "I wanna see onē-san's school project..." His older sister is cool! The other person in the cab with him nods--]

...Oh! Huh? He blinks. Did he fall asleep? Hazy images are already filtering out of his mind like grains of sand.

"Hi, Dad." He murmurs. "What's for dinner?"

Edited 2025-01-04 01:49 (UTC)

Maruki's sharp gaze locked onto Akira as the boy suddenly fell silent, his expression shifting from composed to distant, spiraling into something uncomfortably familiar. Eyes widening, Maruki shot up from his seat, placing a firm yet supportive hand on Akira’s shoulder. "Akira? Hey Morning!" he asked, his voice low and steady, as though grounding the boy through sheer presence. "Morning, listen to me-!"

But then, just as quickly, Akira’s demeanor flipped. His words landed like a dissonant chord.
Maruki froze, the shift so sudden it felt like whiplash. His eyes widened further when he realized Rumi was the trigger to the Actualization and that made things...so much more complicated than they already were, and--

-his hand slipped from Akira’s shoulder as he staggered back onto the couch. He buried his face in his hands, the weight of realization crashing down on him.

This isn’t just another universe, another life to observe from a distance. No, this is going to be his responsibility. All of it.

Pulling his hands away, Maruki stared at Akira with disbelief etched across his face. He inhaled sharply, his voice trembling just enough to betray his inner turmoil.

“Do you remember when I said I’m Doc? Not your dad? I’m from a different universe.” The words hung heavily in the room, as though he was trying to convince himself as much as Akira.

Blink, blink. He pops up, back to rights. "Oh! Hi, Dr. Maruki. Not-Dad. You wouldn't know anything about dinner..." his stomach rumbles. "What were we talking about again?"

At Akira’s stomach grumbling, Maruki’s stomach grumbles in kind.

Almost comedically he remembers that he hasn't even had breakfast yet. He buries his face in his hands and releases a loud- "oughhhhhhh"

Morning grins. "Maybe you do know something about dinner, then."

Kurusu-kun."

He looks up- a tired expression on his face. "Maruki- er-"

"Morning," he finally relents. "There are far pressing matters then dinner here. By the way, its breakfast we would be having- and no I can hear the joke with your codename but my brain is struggling to catch up with everything else."

Kurusu...where's he heard the name before...aside from on the board...oh! That's Dad's...cousin? Something like that!

And...no food...he visibly shrinks. It's morning here, too. He had to spend his morning dealing with the weird cat that keeps following him and then at lunch all his friends kept talking and he didn't get the chance to eat...how does he even get food here?

"We can talk about it over food?" His stomach rumbles again and he looks at Dr. Maruki, his sad grey eyes pathetically begging: Please. Please food? Pleeeeeease?

Edited 2025-01-04 21:25 (UTC)

Maruki let out a long, weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to collect himself and felt like he should use his last wishing star to request a specific noise-cancelling room to scream in.

The look in Akira’s eyes—wide, grey, pleading—was practically weaponized, the kind of gaze that could make him question every boundary he’d ever set.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, his tone a mix of resignation and exasperation. “We’ll get you food. Just—just stop looking at me like that, please.” His hand fell to his side, and he gave the boy a tired yet pointed look. “And for the record, I am not your dad, Morning.”

Standing up, Maruki exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as he sent a silent, desperate plea to Azathoth, the entity nestled in his psyche. Please, just this once, give me a hint. What does he like?

His hand dipped into the pocket of his coat, and with a touch of theatricality—perhaps to keep the mood light—he pulled out a single apple, holding it out like a peace offering. “Here,” he said, trying to sound casual despite the sheer absurdity of the situation. “It’s not much, but it’ll hold you over for now."

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