[Open Intro] a pirate's life for me

[captainkurusu]

I. In the Velvet Room

The sight of an Akira in a long black coat and a high-necked gray vest is no rarity around these parts, but the one currently studying the conspiracy board is different. He has gold earrings, for one thing, and his clothes have a different style: hand-sewn wool and linen, not the slick, modern leather of Metaverse garb. His casual, hands-in-pockets slouch as he studies the conspiracy board, however, should look familiar to almost anyone.

Well. Anyone who knows an Akiren, anyway.

At the sound of anyone approaching him, Captain Akira turns sharply, his right hand flying to the hilt of the cutlass hanging from his belt. Depending on who he sees, he’ll say one of the following things:

If the character approaching him is an Akiren, his eyes widen briefly in surprise. Then he puts his hands on his hips, studying his double with interest. “You look oddly familiar, somehow,” he quips. “I’m afraid I can’t place you, though.”

If the character approaching him is an Akechi, the choked syllable “Go–” escapes him before he can stop it. Then he cuts himself off, smiling in apology. “Excuse me. I mistook you for someone else.”

If the character approaching him is anyone else, he nods a polite greeting and points at the conspiracy board. “Did you write this?” he asks cheerfully. “ ‘For mine own part, it is Greek to me.’ ”

Whether the character he addresses recognizes the quote or not, Akira’s puzzled expression translates its meaning clearly: Hey. What the hell is this?

II. In Tokyo

Tokyo is the last place Akira ought to set foot in--so of course, it’s the first place he does. To his disappointment, the city beyond the door is all but unrecognizable, full of bright lights and strange buildings and marvels Akira can’t begin to puzzle out. Even so, a vague familiarity remains, an instinct leading him deeper and deeper into the urban sprawl.

Any character passing through Shibuya can find Akira just off of Center Street, standing outside the door to Untouchable with a bemused expression on his face. He runs a hand through his messy hair and sighs, turning to smile at whoever is watching him.

“This place has changed a great deal since I saw it last,” he jokes. “Then again, I was a bit preoccupied the last time I was here.”

Comments

2/2

[takutomaruki]

There was a pause, Maruki’s gaze drifting briefly to the cutlass at Akira’s side, the gold earrings, the distinctly historical attire. His curiosity got the better of him, and he cleared his throat, his smile tinged with mild amusement. "Forgive me if this sounds rude, but...what era are you from? I only ask because your...outfit," he gestured lightly to the coat and cutlass, "is quite striking. Unless, of course, you’re cosplaying? Perhaps a One Piece fan?"

[captainkurusu]

"I'm rather partial to the tragedies myself," Akira says. "My first mentor kept a set of them, among some other works. I re-read my favorites whenever I had time."

Akira is certain he saw the name "Dr. Maruki" mentioned somewhere on the notice board, but damned if he can remember where it was. Everywhere he turns, he finds himself deluged with information he can't begin to puzzle out on his own.

Cognitive psience...cosplay...One Piece. I suppose I have no choice but to start studying Greek.

"The Bunka era, currently. Could you explain what it is you research?"

[takutomaruki]

Maruki’s gaze lingered on Akira for a moment longer, curiosity flickering in his eyes. The name Bunka era triggered something faint, a distant memory of Japanese historical periods he’d memorized once upon a time. He glanced down at his fingers, tapping them against his palm as he mentally counted—Jōmon, Yayoi, Nara, Heian...Bunka. His brows raised as the realization clicked.

"Ah, the Bunka era. The early 1800s," Maruki murmured, now studying Akira’s attire with renewed fascination. The long coat, the gold earrings, the cutlass—it wasn’t just some elaborate costume. This Akira truly belonged to that period. His expression softened, a mix of astonishment and professional intrigue crossing his face. "So, you’re...an actual pirate?" The words were said with such earnest wonder that it almost sounded like a child marveling at a bedtime story come to life. "The cutlass is real...my goodness. You know I was always intrigued by their stories ever since I was young. To become a captain and lead my crew into-"

He caught himself, chuckling awkwardly as he waves his hand- "Sorry. I suppose I never even considered the idea of someone historical stepping foot here-" he levels a look at Igor as his expression only slightly sours and his fingers twitch on the paper held in his hand. "That’s...remarkable," Maruki continued, his tone shifting to something more measured. "I suppose it makes sense, though—mental health and cognitive science would be...unfamiliar concepts where you’re from. If you don’t mind: are you familiar with the idea of therapy? Or perhaps the field of psychology?"

[captainkurusu]

"No need to apologize. If it's any consolation, there's far more menial labor to sailing than the stories would have one believe." His tone is affectionate, like a man describing his lover's quirks. "But no occupation is glamorous all the time, I suppose. I find it more enjoyable than not."

He shakes his head at Maruki's questions, straightening out of his casual slouch. "I can't say I'm familiar. I've never had much formal schooling in science; beyond weather and ocean patterns, I'm useless."

[takutomaruki]

"No occupation is glamorous all the time," he agreed, his voice carrying a trace of melancholy. "I suppose that’s something all of us have in common, no matter the century. For me- you see things you’d rather not, and sometimes you can’t help the people who need it most. Still..." He trailed off, his expression softening into something distant. "The moments when you can make a difference—they make it worthwhile."

At Akira’s casual admission of his lack of scientific education, followed by his knowledge of weather and ocean patterns, Maruki tilted his head thoughtfully. His brow furrowed slightly, not in disapproval, but with the careful consideration of someone sifting through meaning behind words. The captain’s self-deprecating tone didn’t escape him, and his lips curved into a small, knowing smile—a disarming expression that held neither pity nor judgment.

"‘Useless,’ you say," Maruki repeated gently, the word hanging in the air as though testing its weight. "Forgive me, but that doesn’t quite ring true." He leaned forward slightly, his posture open and non-threatening, as if to silently encourage Akira to continue speaking.

"Ocean currents, weather patterns—those are hardly trivial matters. Geography, which touches on those topics, was never my strongest suit growing up, so I’m genuinely impressed by what you know. Navigating the seas requires a level of expertise that most people today would struggle to comprehend, including me." He chuckles lightly- slightly nervous as he places his hand in his pocket. "You probably know far more about the world you sail than I ever could."

He paused, studying Akira’s face carefully before continuing. "If you’re anything like the Kurusu-kun I know, though, I imagine it will take some convincing to get you to see that for yourself."

[captainkurusu]

Unfortunately for Maruki, his attempt to hype Akira up comes across more presumptuous than flattering. Akira's lips twitch as Maruki examines him, and he takes a moment to consider his reply.

"You misunderstand me. I wasn't maligning my own expertise, merely acknowledging my ignorance of yours." His voice is as bright as ever, but not as warm--the brightness of a lighthouse, warning of rocky shoals ahead. "An ignorance I'd be happy to rectify, given the chance. I believe you were explaining what you do?"

[takutomaruki]

Maruki’s expression shifted immediately, his apologetic smile softening the tension in his features. His hands moved slightly, an unconscious gesture of deference as he shook his head. "Ah, my apologies, Kurusu-san. I seem to have misunderstood your words. Force of habit, I’m afraid. As a therapist, I developed a knack for reading between the lines—though sometimes, it seems, I read too far into them." His chuckle was light but noticeably jittery, betraying his nervousness. "I didn’t mean to presume."

He really hasn't met me yet. Some part of me was worried that he was simply feigning ignorance to catch me off guard...

He hesitated briefly, as if gauging Akira’s reaction, before continuing with a more measured tone. "You’re right, of course. I was explaining my work." Maruki adjusted his posture, leaning forward slightly, his demeanor as inviting as ever as he looked ahead at the board. Or the incessant cursings on his name. "Well, let’s just say it’s a bit less tangible than sailing. I study the mind—the thoughts, emotions, and experiences that shape who we are."

He gestured lightly, as if tracing a thought in the air. "You know how we tend to wounds on our bodies—broken bones, cuts, illnesses? My field looks at how to help with the wounds of the mind. Pain, trauma, the burdens we carry in silence. That’s psychology—the study of the psyche." His tone carried the gentle cadence of someone sharing something deeply personal. "It’s not always well understood or appreciated, even in the current day and age. But to me, it’s a way of making sense of the struggles we all face. Helping others navigate the storms within their own minds—that’s my way of contributing, I suppose."

Maruki hummed lightly, the tension in his expression easing. "Of course, that’s just part of what I do. My actual work as a cognitive pscience researcher dives into much more complex territories—how cognition and reality intersect, how perception shapes our world. It’s fascinating stuff, though I wouldn’t blame you if it sounds a bit...abstract."

He offered a tentative smile. "If you’re curious, I’d be happy to explain more. But only if you’re interested—I wouldn’t want to bore you with the intricacies of my work."

[captainkurusu]

A surgeon who pries into people's memories. Now there's a ghastly thought But Maruki seems like a decent sort, if a bit awkward, so Akira keeps this opinion to himself.

"You aren't boring me. Most of my crew took up piracy in response to the sort of 'burdens' you describe. We're in related lines of work, I suppose." He smiles. "The bit about cognition and reality, though--I can't say I understand that. Would two people having different recollections of an event be the sort of 'intersection' you mean, or am I completely off the mark?

[takutomaruki]

Maruki's smile took form- awkward but softened as he couldn't help but wonder just what kind of adventures the crew dealt with though past all the grandeur; there's always the grand nature of living in a lawless world. Frankly speaking, Maruki knows he would never be able to fit in with others. His strength has always been academics after all. Not battling away with an impressive cutlass such as the one hanging off from Akira's waist,

But the fact that he isn't boring a pirate is a good sign, right?

Then again, judging from his expertise and the fact that Akira appreciates a person who reads then maybe its not any different.

It was the Akira Kurusu who had showed him the physical manifestation of the metaverse. Perhaps this is his way of returning the favour.

"Hm, you aren't off the mark regarding how cognition works. By definition, its our basis of perception. Whether it comes to us appreciating the tragedies written by Shakespeare to us laughing along with a joke as others react to it. Its pretty fundamental but understanding the very nature of how it stems and how it actually changes things for us is where things get complicated. It’s what makes us so uniquely human. But when I say cognition and reality intersect, I mean something...deeper." Maruki gestured lightly, as if painting the idea in the air. "You see, reality isn’t just shaped by cognition. In many ways, reality is cognition."

He pauses for a moment, considering the fact that he was technically in a rush just a few minutes ago. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, before he turned to Akira, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I have an idea for a very strange analogy, but bear with me. It involves sweets so...well- do you like sweets?"

[captainkurusu]

Akira has no idea where this is leading, but the question is straightforward enough. "I do, and now I'm curious. What is this strange analogy of yours?"

[takutomaruki]

Maruki clapped his hands together once, a small spark of enthusiasm lighting up his features. “Alright then! Let's drive straight in!"

He reached into his coat pocket, already feeling around for the items he had hastily stuffed in there earlier. “As it happens, I just bought some snacks from the nearby store. Well—everything is free here, but you get the idea. This one was especially rare to find.” His fingers brushed against crumpled paper, and he frowned.

Paternity test results. Right. He quickly shuffled past them.

His hand then landed on something familiar, and he pulled it out—only to be met with a half-eaten pack of wafers. Maruki blinked, stared at it for a second, then sighed and tucked it back inside. Not exactly the pristine demonstration material he was looking for.

He tried his other pocket. Wallet. Why did he still carry that around? Force of habit, probably. A fresh packet of apple juice. Tempting, but not the focus right now.

Muttering to himself, he rummaged deeper. “Now, where did I put it—ah!” Triumphantly, he pulled out a small, sealed packet of Skittles.

“Here we are.” Maruki opened the pack with a quick tear, immediately plucking a single purple candy from the bunch. He examined it for a second before popping it into his mouth with a satisfied hum. “Skipped breakfast this morning, so this works out.”

He waved a hand. “Anyway! That’s besides the point.”

As he chewed, a thought crossed his mind. Wait… would this be safe for him to eat? He glanced at Akira, then at the colorful sweets in his palm.

Akira was from the 1800s. He had no idea if modern processed sugar, artificial flavors, or whatever else went into these things would affect him differently. Then again… cognition was a strange thing. Would it even matter here? There was only one way to find out.

Shrugging off the concern, Maruki extended the open packet toward him, his expression gentle—inviting, like any well-intentioned researcher conducting a simple thought experiment.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged. “I wouldn't mind if you take as many as you want but for now maybe just take like...four or five of them. Any and all colours you see. The analogy lies in the candy.”