paradisefraught (
paradisefraught) wrote in
personavelvetroomdr2025-01-01 02:32 pm
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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.
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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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."
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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?
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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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"And you," he points at Igor. "We are not fucking done. I am going to make you regret crossing me."
And then comedically he nods over, his lab coat flourishing almost dramatically as a serious frown takes over him while he leaves the place. Like he had just declared war on the master of this place- quite unlike him. He knows that.
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They are back in Shibuya again, the murmurs of the cognitive crowd shifting beside them as he shakes his head and snaps his fingers- a small hood unfurling from his lab coat. He pulls it over his head, much for the sake of protecting his own identity and to ensure that no one else spots him and Morning together.
"I know a place," he nods ahead to one of the cafes on Central Street as he runs his hand through his hair. "Can you bring me up to speed about your father? Have you two been living together in Shibuya for long?"
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If Maruki truly is this Akira's father he might have to rip a personal hole through the space time continuum to burn away that doctor's PHD because who allows their son to say things like-
"...scientific," he quietly corrects as if he were physically holding himself back from saying more. "And yes its...its very cool. Very enlightening. I am very hungry." How the hell does he even know-
Maruki presses his palms together, almost too suddenly as if sending a silent prayer to the gods above when there is one residing in his brain. God, give me strength-
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They reached the front of a small coffee shop, and Maruki pushed the door open with the weight of a man walking into another cognitive battle. The cozy ambiance greeted them warmly, but it did little to quell the simmering exasperation bubbling just beneath his polite smile.
“Keep this attitude up,” he said as they shuffled inside, his tone calm but dripping with warning, “and you will pay for your own breakfast, son.”
Maruki matched the grin—sharp, knowing, and just smug enough to hopefully give Akira pause. “I know exactly what you’re doing,” he replied, his voice so eerily pleasant that it had to be a trap. “But do go on. Please. Tell the nice barista how science-y cognition is when you order your plain black coffee, since that’s all your student budget can afford.”
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Without missing a beat, Morning skips forward to the counter, eager and shining and earnest. "Hi, Mr. Barista! Did you know that we can use the power of our own cognition to change our realities? It's true! There's a new branch of psychology called applied cognitive psience attempting to harness the power of our own perception to change the world! Have you ever heard of the placebo effect? It's like that, but imagine it on a much bigger scale..."
And he goes on and on, sounding a bit like he's regurgitating a powerpoint presentation, but mostly like he actually knows what he's talking about. Morning knows his stuff.
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In fact, Maruki got the chance to watch Joker walk up to the cognitive barista who offered them a lilted smile and proceeded to be overthrown by the sheer presence of Akira Maruki.
The fact that he did go on and on, made Maruki stall off on his own points of interest and arguments at Akira's understanding- like a teacher willing to pose a question to test him but ultimately he falls short. In fact, he finally decides to step forward and go- "Hookay- I get it. You do know quite a lot about this pscience- maybe I shouldn't have sold your father short."
"It's just-" he is about to pose him a question but instead denies against it. "You know what. Nothing costs money here, I will order some drinks and snacks then." He shook his head. "Go ahead and order because after that- we have things to discuss."
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"Don't worry I was just criticizing myself," he answers instead. Not like he was wrong.
"Fair enough. You can get us some seats then, I will get us our food."
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He squints at his own sandwich and proceeds to pull out a few sauce packets from his pockets. Ketchup. Mayonnaise. Mustard. Garlic Sauce.
Though the doctor doesn't touch his food just yet, instead he leans forward on the table and watches the other Akira like they were starring in some sort of sitcom. "So, Morning-kun. I have some concerns and questions I am afraid that will wear you out but its the only way I will be able to keep my mind at ease."
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“So,” Maruki began, his tone light but with an undertone of curiosity, “Morning-kun, let’s say—hypothetically—that I am your father in another universe. I imagine you’d know certain things about me. Or, well... him.”
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There's a grin as he places an index finger on his lips.
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