stealhearted | after me comes the flood;

There's a whole franchise about cooking. I haven't played any of them. My system plays... Punch Ouch and Star Forneus. [ So he's about one step up from just playing Pong, honestly, but it's neat to have. ]

After I got really good at one of them, I found out I never get hungry in the Metaverse anymore.

[One eyebrow quirks higher than the other and Akechi just shakes his head.] You could have done that on your own without video games, cognition is far too easy to change.

I'm not that skilled in cognition. [ Akira really just... fights through things. He hasn't had to actually change anyone's cognition on his own merits. Even Akechi --

Kill Bill style sirens go off in his head as he aborts that train of thought entirely, because thinking too deeply about the mess he's made of everything lately is dangerous. ]

But sure. I'll settle for just cooking for you instead of making you learn.

[Akira you're going to have to stop putting off this breakdown eventually.]

...that's probably one of the only reasons I got as far in betraying you as I did. It's one of the few things I picked up easily.

[ He's going to put it off until he can't anymore, which will probably be the worst possible time to have a panic attack, but there it is. ]

I was always jealous that you could change your outfit. [ Akira does not say that Akechi is considerably more skilled at Metaverse betrayals than those in the real world by virtue of giving himself away in literally their first conversation, because Akira does not want Akechi to become a complete pouty baby and shut down the conversation. Even though he's cute when he pouts. ]

But then I realized if mine changed everytime I switched personas I'd get dizzy, and also I'm terrified of the kind of outfit I'd get from using Succubus. Or Mara.

[He makes a starkly teenage boy expression at the notion of Akira getting a costume change for every Persona he uses, and even more of one at the mentions of Succubus and Mara.] I think the costumes changed because both Robin Hood and Loki are inherent Persona, I didn't... absorb them in the odd way you do with your collection. They manifested I imagine in a similar way as you did to Arsène, and the others to their single Persona. I just got two-- and before you try to claim that's impressive in any way, please recall Sakura's assessment. [That one was for his lies, that is.]

Sorry, I still think you're pretty impressive. [ Akira is too tired to fight the fact that Robin Hood must still be part of Akechi -- a part of him that's more than just lies. He knows what Akechi believes, and he knows that he doesn't have the strength to fight him.

He could probably goad him into an actual fight, but then Akechi would feel bad and then Akira would feel worse for making him feel bad, so.

Curry. ]

I don't really want to recall anything anyone else has said about you right now. [ He's just --

He just wants to stay in this moment with Akechi. It makes him content, which makes his stomach churn with unease because he can't -- he can't --

He's so afraid that he'll trap himself in another fake reality all over again. ]

...anyway, it's just about done, since we probably shouldn't put off errands in favor of the 6-hour version of this recipe.

[He just looks tired, because of course Akira finds him impressive. He didn't exactly expect much else. They're sort of both figuring out how best to navigate one another in their respective exhausted states, and Akechi isn't surprised that Akira is trying to be delicate with him, though he is surprised he's making some form of attempt to return the favor.]

[He doesn't stop himself from repeating Futaba's assessment, regardless.] Robin Hood is a manifestation of my lies. Loki is likely a truer form of my spirit of rebellion, but to the end of Robin Hood representing lies, Loki would, by extension, represent rage. It's never been a delicate thing, but Robin Hood is the only reason I made it as far in deception as I did. [He doesn't mention that Robin Hood is what he wanted to be. The depiction of a Hero he envisioned since childhood. He doesn't allow himself the notion that having both means there's enough of that actually within him to have presented him with powers in regard of it.]

[Carefully, he shifts his weight to one foot, and lets it align his body so he leans just slightly against Akira's shoulder. It's an odd impulse, and he isn't sure if it's more for his own benefit or Akira's.] Six hours is a preposterous amount of time to spend cooking.

I always thought Robin Hood was who you wanted to be. Or who you might have been, if the circumstances were different. [ Akechi may not say it, but Akira will. He likes this Akechi, the real Akechi, whether he's tired or angry or absolutely defeated, but Akira won't admit even to himself how much he'd like to be swept off his feet sometimes by a heroic figure in white who could chase away his problems with a laser sword. It's a nice thought. When he was a kid, he'd had those thoughts too; the idea of being spirited away to a place where he was valued and loved and could make a difference to someone, a place where people held him when he was scared and were there to help him with his homework. It's entirely too easy to fit Akechi's detective prince persona into that framework. ]

That there was still a part of you that... was some sort of hero. [ Akira regards Akechi very carefully; quietly, knowing he's treading on dangerous ground. ]

I'm sure to you it was paying off a debt, or ensuring a means to an end, but you almost died for all of us. That's pretty heroic, I think. And now you're helping save the whole world for the second time. [ You're helping save me, Akira does not say, because he's afraid Akechi will have second thoughts if he does. That Akira will scare him away with the sheer volume of how much Akira needs him right now, with his steady hands and his predictable anger and the scoff he makes in the back of his throat to deflect surface compliments he doesn't want to hear. ]

[Akechi focuses on watching the onions in the pan to avoid looking at Akira, but he does listen. He always listens, even when he knows the words aren't things he wants to hear. Aren't things he's prepared to hear. He licks his lips absently, shifting his weight back to both feet so he isn't touching Akira, outside of their hands which are still loosely tangled.]

I wanted to be. [A hero. He admits to it, because he figures especially to Akira, it's obvious. Nearly all of them had seen him for what he was by the time he was declaring himself in the engine room, and if Sakamoto Ryuji could figure him out, there was no way Akira hadn't. He lets that be all he says for a long time, trying to not hate the taste it leaves in his mouth too much, and he finally looks up to meet Akira's eyes, if only briefly.] ...I didn't plan for it to be "almost". You misunderstand me-- I wanted to repay a debt, yes, and I knew I could entrust handling Shido to you, but... [He shakes his head slowly.] I don't know that I wanted to die, specifically, but I was so completely and utterly exhausted. I just wanted everything to stop.

[ Akira laughs; it's a quiet, suspiciously wet sound that he doesn't bother to keep the pretense of for more than a few seconds. Akira wants to rest. Akira wants to rest for a few hundred years, at this point; the thought of forcing one foot in front of the other to continue about his day is almost overwhelming if he thinks about it for too long. ]

I've always just... reacted. I make decisions when I have to, when the situation forces me to. Whenever I try to get ahead of things, it seems like it doesn't work out. [ Saving that woman that Shido was terrorizing. Saving Akechi, even if he doesn't really regret that. Saving the world, even if the entire experience was really weird. ]

But I'm really good at keeping going no matter what, I guess. [ He doesn't really sound like he's complimenting himself. It's just an observation: he has been wholly unable to give up even when he should have, probably. ]

We're alike in that way, except that my motivations were always selfish.

[He levels him with a tired, if curious frown.] You're so busy saving everyone all the time, who's going to save you?

Would you kick me out if I said I wanted it to be you? [ It's dangerous, because Akechi doesn't believe he can take care of anything without breaking it. It's dangerous because maybe Akechi can't take care of anything without breaking it. It's too much responsibility and too much heroism for Akechi and too much selfishness for Akira, but he doesn't have the energy to pretend there's any other answer right now.

He wants it to be Akechi. He wants Akechi to need him; he wants to need Akechi; he wants to be able to write away all of their myriad debts to each other in one fell swoop of reciprocity. It doesn't matter if they're needy if they both need the same thing. ]

It's one of those things. People don't notice I need help unless they want to, but everyone wants to have faith that I can manage anything.

But you -- you wanted to beat me, so it was okay if I failed. [ Akira puts the lid on the curry to let it simmer in its own juices a little.

It smells good, at least. ]

And if I failed with you, it made me want to keep trying. [ There's a weight to it there, because Akira feels like he has failed -- quantifiably, objectively, sincerely. But Akechi is here, and Akechi is still going, and it's --

It's one of the only things that's making Akira keep going. ]

[He expected-- maybe not exactly this, but something close to it. He expected at least for Akira to hope Akechi would be the one to catch him when he fell. Akechi only hates the hope and the request because he knows he'd try, and he knows he'd hold it against everyone who didn't try just as hard. It's a possessive thought-- no one sees Akira for what he is the way he does. No one realizes he isn't perfect, realizes he's falling apart without standing on the success and happiness of all his friends.]

[He supposes it takes one actor to see another.]

[He turns his head away and watches the curry until Akira puts the lid over it, humming thoughtfully.] I can at least recognize being a driving force behind your continued action. I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you, though-- I'm hardly stable enough to support myself, so I won't be saving you.

[ Akira removes his hand from the lid before the rattling gives away the way his hands are shaking. It's not... entirely a rejection. Arguably, it's moving forward, for them both to admit that they're complete wrecks and that they need help at all.

It just feels like they still have an insurmountable task ahead of them. ]

You already are. [ Akira squeezes Akechi's hand, almost like an afterthought, almost like he'd gotten so used to their hands being connected that he'd forgotten until it was at risk of being removed. ]

[It may well be the squeeze to his hand that makes him withdraw, pulling his hand free of Akira's and moving past him to exit the kitchen.]

Then you must not really need saving-- unless you mean the me Maruki dreamed up for you was saving you. In which case, by all means, it seems my interest in dying aligns with your interest in being needed, and it's not like I'd know any better after a while, if you let him fully take over. It's hardly even my choice to make, at this point.

...I wouldn't do that to you. [ But it's quiet; it's soft, because Akira almost did. Akira almost let that happen. He wanted so badly to live in that world with that happy Akechi and for it to be enough for the both of them.

It wasn't. He doesn't know what's worse: the fact that he apparently can't be satisfied or the fact that Akechi won't let himself be happy for even a moment. ]

Whatever choice you make, I want you to be able to make them, at least. [ It's Akira's turn to wish he could just Stop. ]

Because that's gone so well, until now.

[There isn't an overt amount of malice in his tone, but the words are harsh enough on their own. He glances over his shoulder with a bland expression, not quite looking at Akira so much as just angling himself toward the kitchen.] Don't decide I'm saving you when I'm clearly not. It's no better than Maruki forcing my hand to be a longtime friend of yours whose biggest point of stress is college entrance exams.

[ Is it that bad? For a moment, Akira looks like he's been struck -- and then he manages to recover, letting his gaze shutter away his feelings as he turns the stovetop entirely off. He gazes unseeingly at the pot for a long moment, and then finally, vaguely: ]

It's ready whenever the rice is done. [ And then he steps away to go to the bathroom, because it feels like there's fire lancing through his skin until he can't breathe through the pain of it. He waits until the door is closed to rock back against the wall and press the heel of his hand into his eyes while he tries to get control over himself.

It's fine. It's fine. It's fine. He just has to do what he always does. He's fucked everything up and maybe it's beyond repair, now, maybe he's lost the only chance at having the first thing he's ever really wanted, and maybe that's his fault for taking so long to decide he wanted it.

It's fine. It's fine. Make a plan; stick to the steps. Don't cause trouble, don't make any demands for yourself --

It takes him longer than he'd like, but eventually, he wraps up all of his feelings and manages to shove them into a lockbox inside of himself. It's fine. He has things to do.

He knows better than to lean on anyone else. ]

[Akechi stays still, not watching Akira but listening to his footfalls until he gets to the bathroom. He knows the layout of his condo, knows the sounds each door makes and where they are spatially within the dwelling. Akira isn't as covert as he would like to be in the way he puts his back to the door-- it creaks, just barely, in its frame.]

[When he comes back out, Akechi has packed two neat portions of rice onto two plates and turns slightly in his direction.] ...come help me with this, I don't know how much you want.

[ Akira keeps almost all of the feelings off his face; his neutral look is back, content and curious instead of anything else. He'd perfected the specific look that made him look unthreatening and casual while he was back in his hometown, and it's easy to fall back on it now, even if it hadn't done so well his first few months at Shujin.

The last thing Akira wants to do right now is eat, but he's still a teenage boy, so he knows he can stack it away. ]

I usually just fill the plate a little. [ Akira demonstrates. A healthy appetite, ignoring that he has no appetite. ]

Edited 2021-07-27 22:22 (UTC)

[Akechi watches, calculating, and reaches out to set his fingers against the back of Akira's hand.] What I said before was uncalled for. [He doesn't apologize, not exactly. But this strangely robotic Akira is unsettling.]

[ Akira looks at his hand for a moment and then offers Akechi a smile. It's -- calculated. It isn't exactly fake, but it isn't exactly a happy smile, either. It doesn't quite reach his eyes, because his eyes betray the fact that he's just exhausted. ]

No, you're right. It's not fair of me to keep trying to make you fit into roles you don't want. [ He'd wanted Akechi to want it, was the thing. He'd wanted Akechi to want him enough that they could at least be --

He doesn't let himself think about it. ]

It isn't, [He agrees, recoiling his hand and portioning himself a much smaller amount of curry onto his plate.] But I also don't need to be so caustic about it. If we're going to coexist, it's best I make an effort to be tolerable.

You're always caustic. [ It's mild; it's a little more genuine, this time, when Akira flashes him a smile. Akira'd always wanted to see that side of Akechi, hadn't he? Well. He should have been careful of what he wished for, he supposes. ]

It's not intolerable. Neither of us are at our best right now.

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