takutomaruki | HOME/LAB [maruki family thread tracker]

The room is an endless hospital hallway filled with shattered glass window-combs and sirens glistening over the intercom.

"Room number -̵̨̠̩͎̗̺̘̼̟͍̼̻͖͖̎͒̄͜-̶̡̢̘̭̝̣̮̥̖͖̩̻̰̮͑̀̒̋͆̿̈̓-̸̼̩̦̌͐̃̍́͠-̷̧̱̖̪͔̲͔͇͚͖̉̒̆̑̉̉̓͛͒̾̚," says the nurse. Akira turns and looks up. The nurse at the station doesn't have a face, just another hand, long and snakelike and made from charred bones. She looks like the skeleton of a dead tree. "Fourth on the right."

He looks down the infinite hallway. He sees his reflection in the glass combs. He's young, small. He has two broken sandals on his feet.

Quietly, he moves forward. His sandal taps the side of a glass shard and

"YOU DID THIS TO ME."

Akira flinches back. The words echo through the hallway and screech in his bones, clawing his nerves, convulsing him forward-- another piece of glass goes flying as he stumbles--

"GET AWAY FROM ME. I WON'T LET YOU HURT MY FAMILY!"

what did he do? what-- what happened? It's a different voice, one that heaves desperation and vomits terror-- and his palm-- he's on the floor and his hand goes right on a shard of glass--

"YOU'RE SO CLUMSY. I CAN'T BELIEVE I GAVE BIRTH TO SOMETHING AS PATHETIC AS YOU."

Help! His cries are muffled. The nurse at the station doesn't hear. He slips again--

"HELP? GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Help me--! Somehow, he's at the door, the hospital room, crawling on his hands and knees through the glass on the white, uncaring tiles. I love you! Please, what are you doing? shaking hand reaches for the door fingers on the handle-- it glows sickly green and black and it's moist and wriggling in his hand-- Help! Please--! I love you--!

""I HATE YOU!""

Mom!

Mom! Akira wakes up in a scramble trying to get free and then there's nothing to tear into it's just the floor and the floor is hard and he didn't even notice he was falling until his knees were already bruised his hands were already scratched from the fell and where's his glove the air is like cold water in his lungs where is his glove which way is up he finds his desk and hauls himself up his glove his glove his glove is on but it's not even enough

where's dad dad knows everything dad makes everything better dad can fix the world dad can fix me

out into the hallway he turns on the light but then it's just the hospital again and he turns it off before the glass comes back

dad's room dad's room it's right down the hall dad's room is

closed.

Oh. His stomach churns; reality hits him square in the abdomen. He hunches over, leaning on the wall for support.

This...isn't home. Isn't Dad's apartment. And Dad isn't here. The only person who is here is Dr. Maruki, who doesn't like it when he's too clingy or needy or...

Akira flops over, slumping down to the ground. He considers knocking anyway. Thinks better of it, of course. Wraps his arms around his legs, skin digging into leather, curling into a ball.

He's only been awake for like a minute, and he's already so exhausted. Each exhale into his knees fills him up with more of it, the dizzying static of exertion. His knees are...wet? Oh. He's crying.

When the static of exertion turns into the whispers of sleep, of the faint lullaby dreamer, come back to us sung by humming electronics and shifting carpet, he offers no resistance. Akira passes out in the hallway, in front of a door he won't open that leads to someone who doesn't want to see him. The lullabies promise him escape into something better.

Maybe this time they'll be right.

Maruki ran his hand through his hair, glancing at the book spread open before him: 'The Whole-Brain Child.' The words on the page stared back at him, full of conviction and clarity.

“What your child needs most is to feel safe, seen, and soothed. This creates the foundation for secure attachment and emotional regulation.”

He underlined it with a faint frown, the tip of his pen pressing a little too hard. Safe, seen, and soothed. They made it sound so simple, so straightforward—as if all he had to do was flip a switch, say the right words, and Akira would magically feel secure in his care.

But execution? That felt like a mountain he had no idea how to climb.

He reached for his notebook, flipping to a page where he’d scribbled notes in blocky, almost frantic handwriting:

Morning (Akira): - Eager to please, but avoids deeper emotional discussions. - Childlike enthusiasm—defense mechanism? regression? - Sudden withdrawal when Rumi mentioned—why? (Different connection?)

Theories swirled in his mind, clashing with the parenting principles he was trying to absorb. Maruki sighed, staring at the highlighted phrase again. "Safe, seen, and soothed." Could he even give that to Akira?

His thoughts wandered, unbidden, to his own childhood. Being the middle child in a family of five meant he was... overlooked. His older siblings were praised for their accomplishments, his younger siblings doted on for their potential. Maruki himself? He was fine. He was good. Not extraordinary, not special.

Even his achievements as a student—excellent grades, glowing recommendations—were brushed aside with faint praise. "That's what you're supposed to do," his parents would say. And then came the comparisons. Why aren't you more like your older brother? Your younger sister is already excelling at piano; maybe you should try harder.

When he chose psychology instead of the more prestigious fields his family valued—medicine, engineering, anything with a capital-S Science—he could still hear the cold disappointment in his mother’s voice. "Psychology? What kind of future will that give you?"

Maruki shook his head, trying to brush away the memory. He looked back at the book, at another passage he’d underlined:

“Children don’t need perfect parents. They need present ones.”

He scoffed lightly, more at himself than the words. Present? He could barely hold himself together most days, juggling his research, his complicated feelings about this world, and now Akira’s well-being.

And still, that boy—not his boy—had looked at him as if he could make everything better.

Maruki rubbed his temples. Parenting in theory made sense. He could analyze behaviors, understand triggers, and craft a psychological framework for almost any situation. A support that would bridge them in comfort. But in practice? When faced with a child who was hurting—one who sought safety and stability he wasn’t sure he could provide—he felt utterly lost. Especially without Azathoth and he knew that whatever Maruki was helping this Akira before, used that persona to sort out through his needs.

How could he be what Akira needed when he didn’t even know where to begin?

He glanced at the laptop screen, where a paused YouTube video displayed an overly cheerful title: “Five Simple Strategies for Building Trust with Your Teen!” The frozen host seemed to mock him with their too-perfect smile.

Maruki leaned back in his chair, the pen slipping from his fingers. His gaze wandered to the notebook filled with theories about Actualization, about Akira’s fragile mental state.

How do you build trust with someone when you’re still learning to trust yourself?

The faint creak of wood beyond his door broke his thoughts, dragging him back to the present.

He raises his head then makes a quiet deduction that Morning might just have woken up to go to the bathroom. Looking away, he sighs as he looks up at the time. 2:30 pm.

Azathoth stirred in the infinite, formless void that brushed against Maruki's subconscious. It wasn't malice, nor was it compassion—merely an endless, yawning hunger to exist in the cracks of perception. And Maruki, for all his resolve and intellect, was an open door to the being’s influence.

The room around Maruki was silent save for the soft scratching of his pen and the quiet hum of the laptop. But in the folds of his mind, there was a discordant whispering, an ancient rhythm that beat faintly but persistently, like a distant drum in a suffocating fog.

Why do you toil so, Takuto? The voice didn’t speak in words, not truly—it was a swelling pressure, a suggestion that slithered through the recesses of his consciousness. You seek answers in books, strategies in pages...but you already know they are useless, don’t you?

Maruki frowned as a cold wave rippled through him.

This child...this boy. You think you can fix him? What a delightful fantasy. Fixing him requires fixing yourself. And you know better than anyone, don’t you, that you are...unworthy of such a task.

Maruki slammed the book shut, startling himself with the sharpness of the motion. He pressed the heel of his hand against his temple, squeezing his eyes shut. The pressure in his skull swelled, a dull ache that throbbed like an offbeat metronome.

Azathoth was relentless. It didn’t rage; it didn’t scream. It whispered with the patience of eternity, gnawing at his resolve.

Even now, you flinch from your past. You build theories about parenting, but you are still the forgotten child, aren't you? The one who never measured up. You wear the mask of a caregiver, but beneath it, you are empty. Empty without me.

You could have snapped away all your problems if you took the throne. You still can but you won't. I don't think even pity can measure up to how I feel about the misery you seek for yourself.

W̵͓̮̄ḧ̵̪̭̲̳͖́ỷ̵͕̒̐́̑ ̵̯͉̆f̶̟͎̤̙͕̍̏̂̎i̵̢̗̩̔͐g̶̻͍͗̈̍ĥ̶̨̬͙̘̺͗̆̈́͝t̵̗̔̈́̄ ̴̱̫̾̏̌͂i̷̤̝̋t̴̛͖͗̉͋͝ͅ?̷̭̖̽̊̓͝ ̵̛̥̭́̋̑͑ͅW̴͎͓͂͆͊h̸̢̩̜͌y̷̺͎̼̕͝ ̴̠͙͐̄t̶̺̹̀̐̿͌ṙ̵̹̖͎͂̈̄y̷͈̥̌?̴̢̜̹̗̿̀͌̐ ̸̡̰̙͕̀̀̔͠Y̶͕̐͑̿͝o̵̢̪͖̖̍͝u̴̻͛́̈́͘ ̷̨̺̭̠͔̍̐c̷̡͇͍͉̉̾̀̓̀o̴̺͍͓̤͂̏u̶̠͙͍͛̃̾l̵̡̰̱̪̾d̶̡͍̹̫́ ̷̘̙͚͍̇̏͑ș̵͐͐l̷̦̹̳̲̑̓͗͊ẻ̴̡̮̱͉͐͜e̷̘̬͔̺̒̋̏͂p̸͙͕͚̤̔̐͋͝͝,̸̛̟͍̦̀̉͐ ̴̢̧̖͓̻̌̀̉̄̕T̶̗̩̰̜̕ȧ̸̙̠̜k̴̤͎͗͋͜ṳ̵̼͉̼̻̃̿̚t̷̖͊͊̔̾̋o̵̯͓̍̃̅̂͝.̵͎͒͒͊͒ ̵̧͈͔͎͕͋̏̿͝͝J̴̪͇͈̝̠͆ú̶̞͂̏̈́s̴̯̜͖̲͎̓͊̾̀t̴͔̊͠ ̸̭̜͌͜c̷͔̖̜̿̂l̴̨̛̖̹̋o̶̞̳̞͈̭̊̂s̶̜̓́e̷̦͗̋͐̌ ̵͙̺͛̊y̶͙̻̼͕͊̉ͅo̷̼̐͆́̒u̸̠͓͉̞͈̒́̈́͘ȑ̴̄͜ ̴̨̼͆̋e̶̞̲͉̍̂́̋y̵̤̽ê̶̜͕̝̑̈́̈́͊ṡ̵̱͍̫͉̂̅̏͘,̷͉̤͓̀̔͠͝ ̸̖͉͈͔̮̀̋̕l̸̛̜͒̓͗e̸̘̹̙̼͗ṯ̷̞̖̗̒ ̵̹͚̫͓͆̌̋͝g̷͈̠̹͎͛̌̈́̋͠ͅo̴̡̼͔̦̐̈́̀ͅ,̵̦̯̭͐͑ ̷̖̓ả̴̧̜̩̹͘n̷͉̑̑͊̂d̶̗̽̈́̿̅ ̵̡̪͇̺̄s̶̼̮͉̔̎͌ͅu̷͉͓̠̯̥̽̿͑r̸̤͖͚̲̋͑̒r̷͎̽̄͑́̓ḛ̶̥̰̠͖͗̓̏n̸͇̬̈̀d̵̥̲̺͉̀̽̓é̵̯̺r̶̩̅͗͘ ̷̗̉́́̔͝t̵̰͛̎͛͛ó̷͍̞̫͓̙̾̅̔̄ ̸̬̰̣̺̊t̷͙̉͒̐͛h̵̘͂͛̀e̷̬̾̾͠ͅ ̴̯̙̭͋̽̊t̷̢̧͕̱͠ȑ̵̰̠̺̖̀̄̊̃ủ̷̧̦̬̯̙̿̓̈t̷͕̹̙͙̆́̏͝ͅh̸͉̲̚.̵̨͔̲̳͉̅̀̾̆

His eyes flicked to the shadow beneath the door, and his stomach twisted with worry.

“Akira?” he called, his voice low and uncertain.

No answer.

They need present ones.

He gulps.

His heart leapt in his chest. Memories clawed their way back into his mind—of a dimly lit living room, the flicker of a television, and the shattering crash of a window. The burglars’ shouting. The blood. Rumi’s parents—gone in an instant.

Maruki swallowed hard, forcing himself back to the present. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. Reaching beneath his desk, he retrieved the small gun he’d been keeping since arriving in this bizarre place. He tucked it into the waistband of his sweatpants, the cool metal pressing against his hip as he moved cautiously toward the door.

Maruki’s hand hesitated on the doorknob, the faint shadow beneath the door a silent alarm that quickened his pulse. He tightened his grip on the cold metal and exhaled through his nose. The image of Rumi flickered across his mind—her tears, her screams, the helplessness in her eyes as she reached for something no one could give back. His chest tightened as the memory bled into the present.

The wooden floor creaked beneath his weight as he cracked the door open, just enough to peer into the hallway. His breath hitched.

There, crumpled on the floor like a discarded doll, was Akira.

"Akira!" Maruki's voice broke into a panic as he pushed the door open fully, the dim light of his room spilling into the hallway. His heart pounded in his ears, his thoughts a chaotic blur of past and present.

No, no, no, not again.

He dropped to his knees beside the boy, his free hand immediately reaching out to him while his other instinctively gripped the concealed gun tucked under his waistband. His eyes darted up and down the corridor, searching for any sign of intruders. Empty. Safe. For now.

But that didn’t stop the tremors in his hands.

"Akira-!" he murmured, his voice trembling as he placed the gun on the ground within arm’s reach. His palm gently pressed against Akira's cheek, his skin cool and damp with the remnants of tears. "Hey...hey, can you hear me? Come on, wake up."

"Hmm...?" Akira makes little noises as he wakes at Maruki's prodding. "Hi, Da...Doctor." Not Dad. He looks distressed. "Nightmare." Akira brings a hand up to his face, touching where Doctor Maruki has his hand. Reassurance for both of them, maybe. "...Sorry."

He can't help himself from leaning into Maruki's touch. Comfort, if nothing else.

Edited 2025-01-15 17:51 (UTC)

Maruki’s breath hitched as Akira stirred, the boy’s quiet noises breaking the tense silence. His chest tightened when he heard the faint, broken syllables: "Hi, Da...Doctor." Not Dad. The correction nearly felt like a punch to his gut.

The contact sent a shiver up Maruki’s arm, and his hand flinched, recoiling just slightly before he froze it in place. He hoped desperately that Akira hadn’t noticed the tremor that rippled through his fingers, the telltale sign of how much the moment was affecting him.

He swallowed hard, forcing down the storm of emotions that threatened to surface. His hand steadied, pressing back gently against Akira’s cheek despite the sheer guilt threatening to surface. Wrong. So wrong. Can't fix yourself. Can't fix him. His other arm shifted, sliding under Akira’s back to help him sit up straighter.

"Don’t be ridiculous," Maruki said firmly, his voice low but tinged with concern. "You have nothing to apologize for."

He hesitated before asking, "Are you okay? Did you hit your head when you passed out?" His words came quickly, tumbling over one another in that classic, frantic concern.

"No, I'm fine...I just..." his voice falters, leaning into Dr. Maruki. He's almost embarrassed -- he's, what, sixteen now, and he still needs someone to help him through his nightmares? -- but he decides he doesn't care. "There were two ladies. In my dream. And they were so angry at me...and there was so much broken glass...and the sirens were so loud..."

His eyelids feel heavy...his lashes flutter as another wave of exhaustion crashes over him. If there's any weakness to Maruki's form, Akira doesn't notice it. "Thank you for helping me," he murmurs.

He's not alone. Someone cares.

A deep, yawning exhale, like a tree branch springing back to shape, and there's hardly any strength left in Akira to stay awake. "Tired...s'eepy..." he puts his whole -- rather light -- weight on Maruki, unable to hold himself up for much longer. "Donwanna be alone, though..."

Maruki’s breath caught in his throat as Akira leaned into him, the boy’s weight light but grounding, his words softer than the stillness of the night.

"Thank you for helping me."

Words he never thought he would hear again once he stepped foot here.

The corners of Morning's mouth curling slightly made Maruki’s heart twist.

The boy’s gaze...it wasn’t just gratitude. It wasn’t just exhaustion. It was trust. Absolute trust. And it was unbearable.

Maruki’s hand flinched again, this time retreating from Akira’s cheek to rest lightly on his shoulder. He couldn’t hold that gaze any longer. Not when every fiber of his being screamed that he didn’t deserve it.

~~don’t look at me like that don’t trust me I don’t deserve it how could you~~
~~not after what I’ve done after what I couldn’t do not after what another me must’ve done to you I’m worthless I’m nothing I don’t deserve this~~

The words hit him like a punch to the chest, sharp and unrelenting. Two women. Broken glass. Sirens.

Akira’s mother. Rumi.

His grip on the boy’s shoulder tightened just slightly, steadying both of them. The image of Rumi’s face flashed in his mind, her voice lost in a scream that echoed endlessly in the dark corners of his memory.

And yet, despite the turmoil raging inside him, Maruki managed a faint smile—his usual gentle, reassuring expression. It was reflexive, automatic, a mask he had worn so many times it felt second nature.

"You don’t need to thank me," he said softly, his voice tinged with a subtle waver he hoped Akira wouldn’t notice. "I’m just glad I was here to help."

When Akira’s weight fully slumped against him, murmuring about being tired but not wanting to be alone, Maruki’s composure faltered again.

His free hand hovered awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He couldn’t let the boy fall asleep like this. "Akira," he began, his tone gently firm as he fought to steady himself. "You can’t just sleep here in the hallway."

Don't expect me to carry you to your room, damn it.

He gently shifted Akira, helping him sit up straighter.

"Come on," he said, his voice softening again. "How about we...get you some water? You’ve been through a lot tonight, and I need to check for any signs of a concussion because I am not- sure if you fell but its better to be safe." He offered.

"Hnnn...?" Akira blinks, looking up at Dr. Maruki hazily. "I...fell? Ok..." he lets out a big yawn, though, and tries to get up, leaning heavily on Maruki.

"Dad checked me for concussions a lot when I was young..." he mumbles with a smile. "Any little tap and he'd be there, checking my pupil dilation..." a chuckle. "Some things don't change..."

Dad checked me for concussions...

He swallowed hard, his hand steadying Akira by the shoulder as he helped him rise. The boy’s chuckle and fond tone stirred something in Maruki, something that felt both achingly distant and too close for comfort.

Some things don’t change, Akira had said. But Maruki wasn’t his dad. He wasn’t anything like the man Akira was remembering with such affection. The thought made his stomach twist.

Still, he was quietly thankful for the shift in topic. The earlier tension—Akira’s trust, that overwhelming, undeserved gaze—was more than he could handle for another second.

Maruki raised a brow, the faintest hint of a teasing smirk pulling at his lips as he seized the opportunity to lighten the mood. “You sound like you’ve had a lot of practice with bumps and bruises. Should I be concerned about your clumsiness, Akira?” His tone was soft, a teasing edge giving it a gentle warmth.

As Akira leaned heavily against him, Maruki took a careful step back, steadying the boy but subtly encouraging him to stand more on his own. He crouched slightly to catch Akira’s gaze, a playful glint in his tired eyes. “Come on, let’s see you try standing on your own. You don’t want me to bring out the stethoscope out of concern, do you? Because I will. I’ll even grab the full medical kit if I have to.”

Akira lets out a long, dramatic groan through a grin on his face. "Not the stethoscope of concern..." he is, apparently, very well-acquainted with this stethoscope of concern. "He was just a worrywart. 'M not clums--"

Oh. Fffffrick. What's that thing on the floor?? His foot was not supposed to land like that--! He tilts forward before righting himself. "--not clumsy. Normally, anyway..." a sheepish laugh. "The pediatric nurses had to tell him to stop bringing me in every time I "felt a little hot" or something, apparently..."

He toes the object, tired but curious. "What's this for?" He squints, trying to see.

Edited 2025-01-17 02:08 (UTC)

Maruki pales slightly when Akira actually falters for a moment and he is there, almost in a second's haste before realising that it was a minor slip-up. He raises a brow, thoroughly amused as he joins in on the laugh. "Sure, Morning. Whatever you say~"

The little nostalgic tidbits were appreciated, however. They gave him insight into how he handled parenting, and judging from how this Morning's father acted, perhaps he didn't need a blood test after all.

However, his concerns were vanquished when he looked down at the object that Morning skidded on.

He froze this time, looking down to stare at the gun glinting under the light pouring through Maruki's room. Breath catching in his throat, he brought his own foot down- wearing a slipper as he pushed the weapon aside. "Oh, I was just worried someone tried to hurt you-" he stops when he blinks at his question.

"You...don't know what a gun is for?"

"It's a gun?!" Morning yelps, eyes wide, immediately flinching backwards. "I know what guns are! I wasn't expecting to step on one!!"

"Oh."

Maruki moves away slightly to the right as he casually kicks away at the gun as it makes its way past his door's threshold and reveals itself to be in fact- a proper revolver.

One that the doctor would have to pull a lot of strings for. He shuts the door so Akira doesn't get any further glimpses of his room.

"Sorry, I...thought someone might have broken in. I know this isn't America or anything... but I try not to take my chances here."

Edited 2025-01-17 18:36 (UTC)

"How dangerous is it here?!"

"It doesn't have to be real people," Maruki slowly adds. "Let's just say I am starting to realize that a lot of people, especially the ones I have seen do come here for a reason."

"Let's just leave it at that, alright?"

Well, Akira is completely distracted from his nightmare -- unfortunately, he's now worrying about random people trying to kill him on the street. He shuffles closer to Da-- Dr. Maruki.

"Okay-!" -and he's already shifting closer to him. Great job, Maruki. Maybe you should have slept this off.

"I also didn't have a roommate for half a decade so...I am just a little unnerved if I hear someone else in my apartment aside from me in the dead of the night. You are safe, Akira-kun. No one's going to hurt you."

"Mmk. I trust you." He still looks worried, but he nudges forward, heading to the kitchen table. "I get it. I'm sorry."

Maruki levels him a careful look, eyes drawn together as he finds himself growing more taut with those words.

He moves onward, running his fingers across the switches mounted on the wall to illuminate the place a little. "No, I am-" he stops, his apology frozen on his lips as he curls his fist tightly. This is not how he should be dealing with this situation. He needs to get his shit together!

"Again," he starts as he moves past him and gestures ahead at the small dining table. "That was a normal reaction. A world where people have to carry guns to keep themselves safe," he shakes his head and moves onward- grabbing a glass tumbler and turning on the faucet. "...that’s a nightmare I won't wish for anyone."

"We make only good dreams come true," Akira murmurs, nodding, repeating what Dad told him once upon a time. "Right. I...thank you."

He sits down at the kitchen table and another wave of sheer exhaustion breaks over him. Immediately, he's slumping over, resting his head on his arms.

Maruki stood by the sink, watching the water rise steadily in the glass tumbler. The quiet sound of the faucet filled the room, blending with Akira's soft, tired murmuring. "Good dreams... yes," Maruki said gently, his voice carrying a wistful edge. "Even if others can’t accept them at first, we should still do our best to help them." His smile lingered, faint but sincere, as he turned off the faucet and turned back to the kitchen table.

As he set the glass down in front of Akira, Maruki immediately noticed the boy slumped over, his head resting on his folded arms. His eyes softened at the sight, a fond huff following through. He reached out and ruffled Akira's hair lightly, careful not to startle him. "You know," he said quietly, a touch of amusement in his tone, "we should’ve done this back in your room. I don’t know why it didn’t even click for me."

Maruki’s own exhaustion was catching up to him; he stifled a yawn, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. A glance at the clock on the wall confirmed it—2:35 a.m. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’m not exactly operating at full capacity right now," he admitted with a soft chuckle.

"Occupational hazard when you have an insomniac streak, I guess."

"Only the best dreams for everyone." Akira leans into the head ruffle, just a bit. "Glad I didn' get that from you..." he mumbles. "'M always in bed on time..." He cranes his neck up just enough to take a sip of water. come back to us, dreamer. come back.

Maruki’s smile quirked faintly at the edges as Akira—no, Morning, he reminded himself—leaned into the ruffle. The soft texture of the boy’s black hair beneath his fingers was grounding, though the warmth it stirred was quickly overshadowed by the familiar sting of guilt. He averted his gaze, his hand dropping back to his side

~~Fixing him requires fixing yourself. And you know better than anyone, don’t you, that you are...unworthy of such a task.~~

The exhaustion pressing down on him was relentless, but it was familiar territory, and Maruki moved through it with practiced ease. He pulled out a chair and sank into the seat next to Morning, the creak of the wood sounding loud in the quiet kitchen. As he sat, his gaze softened, watching the boy tilt his head to sip from the glass he’d placed there moments earlier.

The instant should Morning set the glass down, Maruki would leaned forward, an instinct overriding his fatigue. “Hold still a moment, Morning,” he murmured, his tone gentle but insistent. His eyes carefully scanned the boy’s face and movements, noting the droop of his eyelids and the slight flush to his cheeks.

“Hmm...” Maruki tilted his head, his hand hovering briefly as though considering whether to check for fever or something else. "Something's off..."

Morning lets out a yawn. It would've been big, but he doesn't have the energy for that. His words are slow, slurred, and monotone. "I'll stay awake...just a few more moments...just for you, Dad..."

Each little cloudy exhale drags him deeper down into a peaceful, warm bed of a loving embrace, but...Dad needs him. He holds his head up and perfectly still against the pressing weight of the universe and the pulling drag of sleep. His eyes focus nowhere, just as still as the rest of him.

Maruki leaned in, his expression soft with concern as he carefully observed Morning’s face. His eyes tracked the boy’s pupils, the slow blink of his eyelids, and the way his shoulders drooped under the weight of exhaustion. “Just a little longer,” he murmured, almost absently, as though trying to reassure them both.

But then Morning went still. Too still. His head remained upright, his body unnaturally rigid despite the heavy pull of fatigue he’d displayed moments earlier. Maruki frowned, confusion flashing across his face. “Morning?” he called gently, tilting his head to get a better look at the boy’s unfocused eyes.

That’s when the unease crept in.

The faint flush of his cheeks, the listless expression, the way his body didn’t so much as sway or flinch—it all set off alarm bells in Maruki’s mind. His breath hitched, and his hand froze mid-motion before trembling faintly. “Morning,” he said again, louder this time, urgency sharpening his voice.

"I can hear you." He stays still and calm, breathing like a machine. "Just a lil longer, right? I'm tired..."

When Morning broke the silence, Maruki finally backed away and pulled his composure to what he knew best. With a disarming smile, he offered him space again and chuckled lightly- however it sounded far more nervous and jittery then before.

"No, its alright. You're fine," he waves his hand in clear dismissal, lying through his teeth. "Go get some sleep. You really do look like you need it."

And just like that, the last strings of his puppetry cut with razor-sharp scissors, he flops right into his elbows and falls fast asleep, passing out right on the table.

Maruki's face falls.

"What the hell...no, I didn't mean here I-" The doctor fumbled over his own word as he shook his head in disbelief as he shakes him. Gently of course, but regardless of that it is him shaking the other while trying to pretend all of this is normal. "Hey morning, how about you go to sleep in your room? I am sure the bed is far more comfortable than the table-"

Morning doesn't wake up, solidly snoring away under the shakes.

Maruki stood frozen for a long moment, his fingers trembling as they hovered over Morning’s limp shoulder. The rhythmic sound of snoring filled the room, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside his head. He could hear him. Azathoth, whispering, taunting, in that insidious way only it could, its presence a gnawing reminder of his own choices and failures.

"So fragile," it cooed, its voice slithering through his mind like oil on water. "You care so much for these fleeting things. But look at him... He’s already slipping, isn't he?"

Maruki clenched his teeth, forcing himself to focus. The dim light in the room blurred as his eyes glittered cold and sharp, like shards of broken glass catching a faint glow. His vision...shifted. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing, only that he felt it was necessary. Almost instinctual.

And then, he saw it.

It was faint, barely there, but Morning’s sleeping form seemed to be accompanied by a shadow-like framework. The shape was distorted, its outline significantly smaller—no older than five or six years. A child. Maruki’s brows furrowed deeply, his chest tightening as confusion warred with unease. What was this? The framework oozed, almost pulsated, like something from a nightmare brought to life. It dripped a sickly substance that wasn’t quite liquid, wasn’t quite mist but it fractured at the ends like broken glass and Maruki felt his stomach churn.

He took a sharp step back, his breath hitching as his back collided with the sofa. The contact jolted him, but the sight before him remained burned into his mind. He released a deep shudder, dragging a hand down his face as he tried to steady himself. His gaze flickered to the shadowy childlike outline again, only to find his mind screaming for answers it couldn’t provide.

"Not yet," Azathoth hissed, almost amused. "Not for you."

Maruki shook his head fiercely, as though trying to silence the voice. With a shaky breath, he straightened and raised his left hand. A single, trembling finger extended, and from it, a tentacle emerged. The sight could have unsettled anyone, but instead, Maruki focused entirely on its purpose. The appendage swelled, distorting and reshaping itself into something protective—a capsule-like form that enveloped Morning gently, cradling him with an almost tender precision.

The tentacle, careful not to wake the boy, receded toward the hallway, carrying Morning’s unconscious form like a parent tucking their child in for the night. Maruki followed, his legs unsteady beneath him, each step heavier than the last.

He stopped in the doorway, watching as the tentacle carefully laid Morning onto the bed, its movements disturbingly precise. It pulled the blanket over him with a deliberate care that felt almost mocking in its tenderness. Maruki stood frozen, his arms hanging limply at his sides, his breath uneven.

The guilt clawed at his chest, sharp and relentless. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the boy. Morning looked so small, so fragile, even as his steady breaths filled the silence. The image of the shadowy child lingered in his mind, an echo that refused to fade.

Maruki swallowed hard, his voice a mere whisper. “What am I doing?”

He pressed his knuckles against his forehead, his expression twisted with horror and guilt. He didn’t know if he was even helping the boy or violating some unspoken boundary. The tentacle retracted silently, leaving only Maruki in the room with the boy who, even in sleep, carried a weight far heavier than any child should. He wanted to ask why did he not knock at his door. Why did he pass out on the floor? Why damn it!

Maruki took a hesitant step back, his lips trembling as he muttered, “I’m sorry, Akira. I’m so, so sorry...” For what? He didn't know. He couldn't possibly know.

Then he turned away, retreating into the hallway with a heavy shadow cast down on his eyes.

Morning wakes up just enough to call "g'nigh, dad..." before the door closes and he curls up fast asleep again.

"I am thou...

Thou art I.

Within the mind’s depths, thou seeketh solace for all suffering.

Thou hast uncovered a bond with the Moon to dreams and despair alike.

May this bond guide thee to a future free of anguish—or consumed by it.

Edited 2025-02-16 16:15 (UTC)

The shrill ring of the alarm sliced through the silence, pulling Maruki from the half-conscious state he'd been in, his hand jerking toward the desk to silence it. His eyes fluttered open, blinking into the harsh light of the morning. The faint hum of the ceiling fan above him seemed distant, drowned out by the ringing echo of his alarm.

He groaned, pushing himself up, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on his shoulders like an anchor. A sheet of paper was stuck to his face, the faint imprint of his notes—a hasty scrawl from last night—etched onto his skin. The ink had bled slightly in places, evidence of his half-sleepy frenzy as he had tried to finish the work that had occupied his mind. He frowned as he pulled it off, setting it back onto the cluttered desk and peering at the half-written notes. His brain fogged with the remnants of exhaustion, but he tried to push them aside, focusing on the pressing matters at hand.

"Alright, no time for this," he muttered to himself, glancing at the clock. His practicals started soon, and despite the unorthodox nature of the class, he still hated being late.

He hopped around on one leg, struggling to pull his jeans on while simultaneously gathering the papers he needed for the lab. He stuffed his books and notes into a satchel, brushing past various strewn papers and half-empty cups. His hand went automatically to the coffee pot, but there was no time for that—he’d have to survive on the fumes of whatever he had left in his system.

I should not have stayed up that late, huh?

pulling on his jacket with one swift motion. He hated the idea of walking in late. He always had, even if it was just a cognitive college, and he could easily get away with it. But no, he had standards to uphold, even in the face of mounting exhaustion.

He grabbed his keys, tucking them into his pocket, then threw a last glance at his disheveled study. His eyes lingered on the notes he'd barely finished—fragments of thoughts, the threads of a mind too restless to rest. A quick sigh escaped him before he moved out of his room.

The hallway stretched before him, and as his eyes caught the door across from his own, his chest tightened.

Morning's room.

Right-

The memory of the night before flooded back in a rush, unbidden but persistent. The shadowy image from the nightmare still lingered in his mind, and despite the daylight, a chill ran through him.

He hesitated in the hallway, the unspoken question settling in his stomach—Was he alright?

A faint sound reached his ears, a soft noise echoing from the direction of the kitchen.

Maruki squinted down the hallway. "Morning?" he called out, his voice casual.

"Good morning, Da-- Doc!" Oops, almost forgot to correct himself. Hopefully, he didn't notice... "I'm working in the kitchen!"

Indeed, if Maruki were to step into the kitchen, he'd find it completely transformed: every inch scrubbed sparkling clean from top to bottom, all the drawers and cabinets organized, all the tools and implements either in use or neatly tucked away with a few completely new ones besides. Morning happily did this all this morning, and is currently hovering over the stove with a stovetop coffee pot, tending to the freshly-ground beans under its lid.

Maruki, thankfully still disoriented from the drowsiness of his own sleep didn’t catch the little slip up.

He walked past and made his way to the living room. Eyes follow the askew couch as he turns away and offers a slight smile. "So it seems," he makes his way to the kitchen and that's when he sees its tranformed state. The sheer neatness of the places catches him off guard, a man who like his own bumbling clumsy self had a kitchen of his own set up.

Boy, that smell of coffee...

"You have been...busy, huh?" He makes a quiet sound.The countertops gleamed, their surfaces spotless, and every tool, utensil, and gadget seemed to have found a rightful place in this new order. Even the cabinets had been reorganized—doors slightly ajar, revealing impeccably arranged rows of plates and bowls.

His eyes widened as he gave an awkward laugh, raising his hands in a gesture of faint disbelief. “I-I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place look...this clean. Or this organized."

Akira grins, still in his PJs, eyes free from any sadness or pain. "I could tell. Dad was the same way...I got into the habit of cleaning up after getting a job at LeBlanc!"

Humming with happiness at the praise, Akira moves to pour coffee into a mug, then pauses. "You seem like you're in a hurry this morning...want this in a tumbler?"

Maruki’s fingers twitched at his sides, his gaze lingering on Akira as the boy moved around the kitchen. The mention of LeBlanc nestled uncomfortably in the back of his mind. LeBlanc.

his Akira had spent his probation there, hadn’t he? The memory surfaced, sharp and vivid, of another time, another world. He couldn’t help but wonder—was this just a coincidence? Or something else entirely? Better

His thoughts trailed as Akira reached for the coffee pot, the question about the tumbler hanging in the air. Maruki shook his head slightly, raising a hand to wave him off. “Oh, no, no. The last time I tried carrying coffee in a tumbler, I ended up spilling it all over my shirt,” he said, chuckling sheepishly.

“It was... not one of my finer moments.” He glanced down at himself as though reliving the embarrassment. “I think I’ll just drink it here, if you don’t mind. Besides…” He gestured vaguely toward Akira, a lopsided smile forming. “I know that place from my world. Leblanc has one of the best coffees I have ever had sooo I’d like to see if that job of yours has taught you to strike gold.”

With that, Maruki turned his attention to the cabinets. His morning routine always started with his trusty snacks, and he automatically opened the first cabinet where he usually stashed them. His hand paused mid-reach as his eyes scanned the shelves.

The snacks weren’t there.

He blinked, closing the cabinet and opening the one next to it. Still nothing. A slight frown tugged at his lips as he checked another cabinet, only to find it filled with neatly organized jars and spices—none of which belonged to him.
“Don’t tell me you ate my snacks, did you?” he asked, his voice tinged with lighthearted disbelief. He gestured vaguely toward the empty cabinet, his hand lingering in the air as though the missing items might magically reappear. “They were right here yesterday. What happened to them? Did they… get caught up in your cleaning frenzy?”

Akira preens at the compliment, pouring his not-Dad a mug of the finest coffee he could brew on short notice, then rolls his eyes. "No, D-Doc. I didn't eat all your snacks. They're over...here!" He pops open the cabinet just beside him to reveal Maruki's wealth of snacking material. "Didn't touch a single one, I promise!"
A pause. "Dad kept his favorites in his room when I was little. I'd eat through them too fast for him to have any if he left them in the cabinet." He chuckles and hands the mug to Not-Dad. "I'm still working on labelling everything."

Maruki let out a dramatic sigh of relief, stepping over to the newly designated snack drawer with the kind of urgency one might expect from a man reuniting with a long-lost friend. He pulled it open, eyes sweeping over the familiar sight of his collection, and quickly grabbed a few choice packets. Without hesitation, he stuffed some into his pocket before tearing open a pack of mochi, the soft texture giving under his fingers as he pulled one free and took a quick bite of it. Was it unhealthy to just have this as his breakfast? Perhaps but that's why he has leftovers for college and cooks later during the evening or night.

Then, he turned, holding out the piece in offering.

Akira’s nostalgic comment made him pause mid-motion. His gaze flickered to the young man’s face. Maruki’s hand hesitated, his fingers tightening slightly on the snack as he considered it—then, with a quiet chuckle, he extended it again. "I am kidding."

“Guess I’ll have to keep an eye on my stash, then,” he mused.

Maruki exhaled and leaned against the counter, glancing around the spotless kitchen. His fingers tapped idly against the edge of the counter before he waved vaguely at the space around them. “You know, you really don’t have to go through all this effort,” he said, voice dipping just slightly in embarrassment. “I, uh… I like the—”

A pause. His lips pursed slightly.

“..The organized mess?” he finished not sure if he was making the best case for himself. He reached for his coffee, lifting it for a sip. “Gives the place a bit of character. Surely you could spend your time doing something else instead?”

Akira hums, turning to his work. "I'm sure I could simplify things...put things back where they were -- or closer to where they were at least..." with a furrowed brow, he starts taking the carefully-stacked plates out of the once-snack-cabinet and onto the countertop.

"Oh. Thanks." As an afterthought, he takes the piece of mochi with a sideways bow and pops the piece of mochi into his mouth, and heads right back into reorganizing. "I just wanted to show you my appreciation for comforting me last night. Even though I know you're not the same as my dad."

Edited 2025-01-29 19:37 (UTC)

Maruki followed Akira’s movements with feigned interest, unsure of what his play was. Maybe he was just this charitable in general. Or maybe… he still didn’t feel entirely comfortable. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had kept their hands busy to fill the silence while speaking to him, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

He sipped his coffee, watching as Akira carefully moved plates back onto the countertop, his motions fluid, practised—like someone who had done this a thousand times before. It was strange, this feeling creeping up on him. The presence of someone else in his home—especially someone who wore the face of him, of Akira Kurusu, the young man who had once stood before him with unshakable resolve—was unsettling in a way he couldn't quite put into words.

For five, maybe six years, he had lived alone. And now, nearly a week had passed with someone else sharing his space, his kitchen, his mornings.

"That's—" The words barely made it past his lips before Akira’s reason settled in, catching him mid-sip.

"...Akira-kun."

His fingers tightened slightly around the handle of his mug.

"You don’t need to do any of that to show your appreciation," he said slowly, uncertainty threading through his voice.

He used to be a therapist too after all or even did internships and mentorships outside of his own course. While Azathoth's...assistance usually prevented any sort of actual crash out, he's studied enough to know how to comfort the heart.

He hesitated, the unspoken words sitting heavy on his tongue—I’m surprised you haven’t left yet.

Because, truthfully, he was.

It hadn’t been him who put Akira to bed last night—it had been Azathoth. That thing inside of him, the being whose voice still curled around his thoughts when the night was too quiet. It had cradled Akira with the ease of someone who knew exactly how to lull a troubled heart into rest. Not him.

And yet, here Akira was, in his kitchen, saying he had helped him.

Maruki's chest felt tight.

"-Did you sleep alright after all that?"

"I don't need to do anything, Da- Doc," he snorts with teenage humor, lightly, chuckling. "I wanted to. You did something nice for me and I wanted to do something nice for you!"

Akira takes the coffee pot off the stove and flicks the heating element off. "I slept just fine! Thanks for putting me to bed...I was really out of it, huh..." The snacks are piling back into where they once were. "I had great dreams! And uh."

He turns to look at Dr. Maruki. "Not gonna lie...I couldn't find a clean mug when I came in here this morning. I couldn't find a clean anything."

For all his guilt and self-doubt, Maruki couldn't quite suppress the tiny flicker of satisfaction that bloomed in his chest. So, in some way, he had helped. Even if it hadn’t been him entirely—just the mere fact that Akira had woken up looking brighter, feeling better, that alone felt like some small victory. A quiet, guilty pleasure he refused to examine too closely.

Instead, he took another sip of coffee, using it as an excuse to school his expression into something more neutral.

And then—

"Not gonna lie... I couldn't find a clean mug when I came in here this morning. I couldn't find a clean anything."

Maruki stiffened slightly.

"...Ah."

A beat of silence.

He cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, before offering the most dignified excuse he could muster.

"I, uh—well, you see... assignments. Lab reports. That sort of thing." He gestured vaguely in the direction of his study, as if the sheer weight of academia could excuse the state of his kitchen. "Takes up a lot of time."

Edited 2025-01-30 01:33 (UTC)

"Of course!" Akira beams, taking a sip of his own coffee. "You have very important work! But that was my. Other reason. For cleaning up. It wasn't totally out of the goodness of my heart." He grins.

Oh, he just...bought his excuse?

"Yeah, I just didn't find the time to really focus on my place, I guess," he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as he savours the coffee once more. "Sometimes I just settle down in my lab for a whole week but that point aside-"

"We might have to figure out a way to split chores for the future." Ah, he remembers the joys and the slight pains when he and Rumi moved into their shared Tokyo apartment fresh out of high school- unprepared for just how...'well' they would match each other's patience when they became roommates. They ended up taking a short break because of that too. "Hmm...? Do I even have enough dishes for two of us in the long run...don't think so."

As he starts thinking all too deeply, he sets the mug aside but its dangerously close to the edge.

"Your work is super important," Akira nods, a little too intently; with a sip of his coffee, he goes back to normal. "Well, everything is free here, so we won't have any problem finding more! I'm definitely getting more food today, too...lots to do..."

My work...

Maruki's lips quirk up. Just the slightest bit. For some reason, he was only slightest getting used to Morning's little perks.

"I might look around in Kappabashi then," he hums as he fixes his gaze on the floor as he pops another mochi into his mouth. "Maybe work on more recipes...after finishing the practical. Oh."

The practical.

He looks at his watch then closes his eyes in deep thought. Or something like he was trying to ignore just how late he truly was.

He quickly grabs the coffee, the ceramic clinking against the edge that the coffee sloshes inside but thankfully none of it spills.

"Wait!" Morning calls out, rushing forward and slipping something into Da- Doc's lab pocket. "There. A snack for the road!"

Maruki stops for a moment, looking back as Morning rushes and watches the snack disappear into his coat pocket. His eyes widen for a moment, speechless before he offers a quick smile and finishes the last of the coffee from his mug. "I really appreciate it, Akira-kun. And I also appreciate the coffee by the way, its exactly what I needed this morning," he continues as he places the mug back on the table and adjusts his collar.

"Say...message me what you want for dinner. I will buy some groceries along the way, alright?"

"Gonna cook it with your phD in setting water on fire?" Akira laughs. "I'll take care of it. Promise."

"Wha-"

"Oh that's hilarious," he starts and waves his hand. "I cook rather well actually, thank you." He grabs his bag and throws the strap over the shoulder. He quickly goes to the front to wear his shoes and remembers he should probably give the key to him. He usually just comes home through the window or something-

"No, can't do," he urges. "And if you don't message me I will call you."

"I'll believe it when I see it," he tsks, skeptical. "See you later, Dadctor Maruki! Have a good day at school and work!"

Maruki couldn't suppress his grin at Morning's skepticism but he lets it slide. He will simply prove him wrong.

"Dadctor?" He raises a brow before snorting to himself and waving back—considerably brightening from last night's events. "Anyways, I will see you in a bit. Message me or call me if anything happens and...maybe go out. Find others here. Don't stay cooped here for too long, alright? That's my job."

"I thought your job was ending all pain in the world?" Morning teases, but pushes his Not-Dad towards the door. "Have fun!"

The living room hummed with soft ambient light—the kind that drifted in golden through the gauzy curtains, catching flecks of dust mid-air like a sleepy snowfall. A quiet moment, held like breath.

By the small windowsill, Maruki crouched beside a terracotta pot, his hand steady as he tilted the watering can just so. Water dripped onto the dark soil with a soft glug-glug, the smell of earth rising briefly into the air. The tag on the pot read, in his tidy handwriting:

"Evenings only – overwatering will make her grumpy!"

He smiled faintly at the memory of how fussy this particular plant had been during trial-and-error. The leaves were glossy now, proud. It liked 7PM.

On the kitchen table just behind him, a modest bag rested neatly. Beside it, a sleek cylindrical case wrapped with a red ribbon—half practical, half sentimental. Inside: a brand-new spectacle case. Durable. Lined. Custom-fitted for someone whose current one was cracked near the hinge. Maruki had noticed. Quietly. Of course he had.

He didn't announce it. Just left it there.

Morning’s door was still closed. Had been for a while. Faint clicks and muffled button taps filtered out—the kind of sound Maruki had grown used to.

He leaned a little on one hand, twisting back to glance toward the hallway.

"You've been there for a while, haven't you?" he called out lightly, not loud enough to pry, just enough to be heard if Morning was listening. Suppose it's not videogames it's something else.

No answer, but he didn’t expect one right away.

The plant’s leaves shifted gently as the last drops settled in the soil. Maruki ran a careful finger along the rim of the pot, wiping away a stray splash. His gaze drifted to the spectacle case again.

He stood up, stretching with a soft sigh, back cracking in a way that reminded him he wasn’t the age he felt in his head. Then, hands on his hips, he glanced back toward the hallway one more time.

“If you’re hungry later, I picked up that strawberry milkshake you like. The one with the weird mascot. And the spicy chips that pretend they’re not spicy.”

He said it with the casual rhythm of a routine. Like he’d say it again tomorrow, and the next day. Like nothing had to be forced.

And then, he reached for a sticky note from the drawer, scribbled something quickly in his looping handwriting, and gently stuck it to the ribboned case.

“No pressure. Just thought it might be useful. – Doc”

He went back into the kitchen to wash away the watering can in the sink.

Edited 2025-05-02 10:13 (UTC)

A moment passes and Morning, already bundled up in cat-themed PJs and with a small case of bedhead, pokes his head out of his room. "Milkshake?"

As he set the watering can away, he wiped his hands off with one of the hand towels hanging at the side before leaving the kitchen to spot Akira there.

Back in his world, Maruki couldn't imagine the leader of the phantom thieves being this relaxed around him- despite them being pretty close confidants in the grand scheme of things. The cat-themed PJs and the bedhead.

Ah. Ah, right.

"Akira-kun in my world used to drink a lot of those back when we talked in Shujin's courtyard, you do like them, right? Or- or not?"

"I love milkshakes!! I don't know about the weird mascot, though..." the door creaks as he pushes it open, sleepy but happy. "Where is it?"

"It's...supposed to be a walking chilli pepper," he remarks as he picks up said chips and shows it off to Morning with a quick jiggle- just to let him know where the goods are. He even slid the milkshake to his side. "What were you up to?"

"Oh, that guy! Now I remember. Yum." He reaches out for the milkshake, taking a large, refreshing sluuuuurp. "I was nodding off while browsing the internet."

"Quite fascinating, isn't it?" Maruki can't help but grin at the mention of the internet as he watches Morning slurp away the milkshake. "How the internet functions in a way as if things continue despite everything being static."

He goes over to arrange some of the pots in the right manner and examine their state- just to make sure there weren't any holes or spots he needed to worry about before getting down to business. "Found anything interesting?"

"Lots of orbs."

"Wha-"

He blinks at the sentence. "Ah- right. The orbs. April Fool's was...something else."

"Actually," he straightened up and left the pots. "You still have your mini orb?"

"Yes! But the orbs are all the media here, too. They have an orb TV station."

An...orb station. Right.

The twitching brow on Maruki's forehead gives away his awkwardness. "Is that so?" He tilted his head as he went to one of the shelves where his books splayed along with notes, a plant residing right in one of the compartments, as he picked off the orb he's hidden behind the pot. "Well I think- we should honour them. Let's put our orbs together. I am guessing that since everything is connected by cognition- maybe that will influence the channel too?"

"It already has, I think. Lemme go grab mine!" With a yawn, Morning jogs back into his room to fetch his orb. "Oh--what about Ichinose-hakase's?"

Takuto watched the boy quickly rush into his room and get his orb out- meanwhile he turned his over in his hand- glancing at the funny looking stubble poking from the chin which melted away with the clothes and the labcoat. That was just his school uniform. Who comes up with the designs for all this? If it were winter would he be wearing a little beanie as well?

When he sees Morning pop back again, Maruki has already lined up his orb on one of the side tables next to a pile of books. "Hm?"

"Oh- she's placed hers at her main work desk. Figured that seemed fair, you know?"

"Yeah...that's fair." Akira puts his own orb -- in his cold-weather Shujin uniform -- in front of Maruki's slightly-larger one, but off to the side a bit. Plenty of space next to Dr. Maruki's orb for...well. Anyone else's, really.

Akira takes a sip of his drink. "Anything else?"

And there it is.
The orb residing next to his, typically staring them in Shujin, reminded him of his dynamic with the Akira back home. If only he knew how to knit... or maybe he could imagine the clothes for the mini dolls that resemble them? At times he even ended up forgetting the true potential of Azathoth sometimes.

But one thing at a time. Morning's question raises his brows as he quickly backs up and moves to the table. "Remember that little project I was working on earlier?"

With that, he leans forward, grabs the small bag, and pulls out the packaged spectacle case from earlier, nicely tied with a ribbon. He picks it up and presents it to Akira from the table "I believe I have made the final prototype. Still not the complete product I am..." his head sways from side to side. "-still figuring the when for that." He knows what date Morning's birthday was given that they had filled it on the first day for the DNA test and really- the idea of fatherhood hadn't fully settled in yet. Still working on it.

"I don't re-- oh!!" Morning's eyes go wide when he spots the gift. "Gimme!!"

Gleeful, he rips open the packaging and discards the bow. "What is it?"

There's a spectacle case residing within the careful packaging that Takuto ends up giggling at when it gets ripped.

"Remember when you said you couldn't perceive the cognitive world? Well, I took a peek at the games you played and...figured I could give you a little something to help you."

The...cognitive world? Oh! Akira pockets his own glasses and puts on the new ones. "How do they work?"

Maruki quickly grabbed the spectacle case for safekeeping, preparing the other as he stepped back in lieu of demonstrating.

"As of now, they will always be in effect once you put them on," he starts explaining. "I am thinking of specific gestures like either-" he lifts his glasses over his head then drops them on the bridge of his nose again. "To turn them on and off or have a button installed at the side. Either way you will be able to percieve cognitive phenomena like personas or shadows."

"Which I know- you can perceive Azathoth but not the other things. So far. That said-" he comes in closer, realizing that he missed a very important detail. "Can you promise me something?"

"Ooh! Do they need to be charged, or...?" He stops himself just before he clicks the button. "Hmm? What's that?"

Maruki blinked when Morning went ahead and pressed the button at the side anyway. "It's a trigger. Just in case you get distressed by seeing something which catches you off guard."

And it totally doesn't send him a notification on his phone when he does that. He is forever grateful for finding an engineer online who helped him set up the mechanism in his phone without making it too clunky.

"Would you like to test it out?"

"Of course!!" Morning beams, eyes full of trust and wonder. "I can't wait to see what's going on...!"

A glimmer of pride dared to show in Maruki's face as he ruffled his hair and gestured at his room. "Okay first, get changed. The areas are risky and can be prone to danger, I will cover you if anything happens~," he quickly adds in the end, like calming a shaking horse. "Promise me you won't leave my side, Morning. Can you do that for me?"

It had been, all things considered, a pretty riotous evening! Not too shabby! Ichinose had practically hung off of Morning and Maruki (though the latter wasn't any more sober than she was) and instead of going to the Palace, she followed them inside. Not that either of them would really resist.

Humming off-tune her favorite song, Ichinose had managed not to fall over when kicking off the borrowed shoes at the door and had managed to find her way to the sofa, flopping down into it without a care in the world. Mmm, not bad, she could snooze here...!

"You have sooooo many plants here!"

Maruki pretended—very badly—that the sound of his keys hitting the floor for the second time (and nearly a third) wasn’t mortifying. Or out of the ordinary. Just a regular night. Totally normal. Definitely not the first time in ages he’d invited anyone over this late, especially not in this state.

The door clicked shut behind them, and for a moment, he just blinked at his entryway, vaguely aware of how surreal it all felt. Huh. He hadn’t even had Shibusawa over this late, not really. And Morning had already half-bolted toward his room the moment the door opened, mumbling something indistinct. Poor kid was probably more drained than he let on.

Maruki bent down to straighten the pair of borrowed sandals kicked to the side, then slipped off his own, neatly lining them up. His keys jingled softly as he hung them on the little wooden key holder mounted by the door—a whimsically carved branch with four painted white birds perched on it, mid-chirp. It clinked against the background of Ichinose’s off-tune humming.

He followed after her, fingers moving absentmindedly to the collar before pausing—no tie. Right. Yukata. The satchel stays on across shoulders.

The living room was warmly lit, the kind of gentle amber glow that filtered in from a half-shaded lamp and the streetlights outside the balcony doors. A window was cracked open to let the night air sweep in, bringing with it the faint scent of city spring. A few boxes still sat along one wall—overflowing with stray research papers and half-sorted files—and two familiar notebooks lay open on the coffee table like forgotten thoughts.

But it was the plants that dominated the space.

Clusters of potted greenery lined the kitchen windowsill, the tops of bookcases, and a few end tables. Pale orchid blooms peeked out from beside a stack of psychology journals. A tall fiddle-leaf fig rested stoically beside the TV. Nestled among them were decorative odds and ends: a tiny ceramic watering can, a wind-up owl clock, and a coaster shaped like a cat hanging from a tree branch, with the words “Hang in there!” in cheerful lettering along the edge.

"What can I say—" Maruki said with a small, sheepish smile as he came to stand beside the couch, one hand briefly ruffling through his hair. "I get lonely without them."

He gingerly pressed his fingers to his temple as the room tilted a little too enthusiastically, but he caught himself before it became an issue, adjusting his stance with practised care.

"Back in my world last summer, one of my neighbours was moving and planning to get rid of some of her tsuwabuki—Farfugium japonicum, that is," he added absently, academic habits kicking in. "And some hozaki-nanaka? Nanako?" He stumbled over his tongue.

"Nanakomada. Ah, still got it."

"Beautiful shrubs—Japanese rowan. I couldn’t let them go to waste, so I ended up adopting them."

He motioned toward two of the more vibrant pots by the windowsill, one with glossy, rounded leaves and yellow blooms, the other dotted with tiny clusters of berries.

"Pretty sure I’ve got at least half her garden now," he chuckled, a bit dazed but clearly fond of the memory. "They’re good company. Very judgement free."

"It feels fresh and cozy! My attempt at taking care of a little snake plant was pretty disastrous - the succulents made it a lot longer, but I accidentally ended up drowning the poor thing because I could never remember when I last watered either of them."

A small laugh!

"I would need something that screams at me that it's hungry or thirsty," she laughed self-deprecatingly, setting down her kinchaku on her lap and opening it up, taking the kanzashi out of her hair and taking off her earring to tuck them safely inside. "But then again I would get called on extravagant tours and meetings and la-dee-dah parties that pull me away from home, so that wouldn't be any good either. Oh well."

It made for a quiet work space at home, at least. Both the home she had before in Shibuya and the one she took closer to the uni. Having the music going was a nice way to make it feel like her own space.

"Your plants all look healthy and vibrant - you really are quite the caretaker, aren't you?"

"Fresh and cosy?" He furrowed his brow. "I would call it messy and disorganised, really- which, sorry for that, I try to accommodate." The apartment was different from the clinical neatness his palace held, and with each passing second, seeing someone like Ichinose here made him nervous.

Her admitting that she couldn't commit to the bit made some of that nervousness shift. Someone who could scream their wants and needs.ike a pet, huh? He could understand that. With tours and meetings that she seemed to be quite busy with, he listened to her grievance. Her schedule was packed and constantly on the move then.

He was incredibly static in that regard. From home, to clinic, to the nurse's office in Shujin- Takuto usually made time for himself to work on his ongoing thesis in between counselling sessions.

Before all that...he got pretty busy too. There's a reason why he didn't have a pet, even if he bought pet food for the strays he came across occasionally.

Maruki turned to her at her question, raising a brow before shaking his head. "I am not much of a caretaker, just- okay I do like trying to look up each plant's wants and needs and try to accommodate as much as I can," he caught himself with his correction paired with a laugh. "It is pretty rewarding to see them grow against all odds. Like defying the set busy life I get caught up in sometimes."

"I won't deny I made my own mistakes. Still do, really, I am trying to get the perfect soil type for Azaleas, cause it turns out I didn't add mulch and then that Japanese maple doesn't like the hot sunlight so I need to figure out a space that it gets sunlight but not so much otherwise it will get sunburn." It's a lot of work, given that you need to either shift that plant from the morning light to the afternoon shade.

Edited 2025-05-14 11:16 (UTC)

All that talk and thinking had put a fervent strain on his mind. He swayed a little, catching the back of the sofa as he planted his other hand on the sofa cushion before he ended up unceremoniously dropping onto it face first or on Ichinose's lap, god forbid. His gaze fell on the kanzashi poking out from the drawstring bag.

"Um- uhhh would you like me to get anything? Water, tea or-?"

He looked half a second away from dropping onto the couch either way.

"Hahahaha! Proving how much of a caretaker you're not right now, aren't you?" Ichinose laughed openly at him, jovial and a bit too loud from being drunk.

"Just a pillow and blanket, I don't think you'll survive long enough for anything else," she teased, adjusting the couch cushions and humming a song to herself as she fluffed it up to sleep on. "Crashing on couches... I haven't done couch surfing since college!"

He rolls his eyes playfully at the laughter. "I will take it that you don't then," he eases up and loosens his yukata a little, letting the fabric hang off his frame to reveal an undershirt since there's no way he wouldn't be freezing up in the cold otherwise. He closes his eyes for a moment, missing Ichinose's actual request before catching her adjusting the cushions either way.

"Oh, you don't need to-" he speaks before he thinks and spasms with the blush now climbing up his cheeks from the alcohol as he jabs a finger at the hallway. "Let me show you the bed."

...Oh?

Ichinose blinked in some surprise, looking up at Maruki. The flush on his face, the gesture to the bedroom... that was definitely an invitation.

For a beat, Ichinose's gaze walked up and down her host. Soft expression, broad shoulders, the parted yukata showing the undershirt...

...

A smile crossed her face, and she leaned in, tugging one of those loose sides of the yukata hanging off of him. Just a little, like she was demanding his attention.

"If we're hooking up, I would rather be sober. So ask me again in the morning~"

There's a tug at his yukata and suddenly he's closer than he should ever be. Poking right around Ichinose’s safe space as he clutches the sofa as if he were summoning all the strength he could possibly have at that given moment.

...

Edited (changing icons lol) 2025-05-14 18:30 (UTC)

There was a full second of dead air between her playful tug and his brain finally catching up.

Hooking up.

Maruki's face ignited like someone had struck a match directly against his cheeks. The blood rushed so fast to his head that he swayed again, and this time he did have to sit down, flopping beside her with all the grace of a damp towel.

"I—!" he squeaked. Yes, squeaked. "I—I mean, no—I mean, oh my god—wait—not like that! That’s not—!"

He buried his face in his hands for a beat, fingers dragging down to rest at his jaw as he blinked wide-eyed at the ceiling like it might open up and kindly swallow him whole.

"That sounded—oh no, that sounded so wrong, didn’t it?” he groaned. “I—I promise I wasn’t propositioning you! I just meant you would probably get uncomfortable on the sofa, and I figured—like, logically, beds are more comfortable for actual sleeping, and I just—oh my god.”

He laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that sounded like someone dying a little inside, shoulders hunched, hands helplessly spread in front of him like he was physically offering the apology to her.

"I wasn’t trying to come on to you, Ichinose-san, really!" he added, eyes darting to her with genuine panic before he turned beet red again.

When he saw his clavicle being all too exposed even through the undershirt, he tugged his yukata more tightly around himself like that would somehow restore his dignity.

Edited 2025-05-14 20:40 (UTC)

Oh no, he was pathetic. Ichinose had scooted to give him room to flop over, too busy laughing to comment on how he caught her yukata sleeve under his butt as he sat, subtly tugging it free while he panicked and gestured madly.

He was redder than a tomato. Hah! And the sheepish way he covered himself up, like he was trying not to come off as a harlot - even more hilarious!

"Like I said! You can come on to me when we're sober," she laughed, jovial. "If the couch is so uncomfortable, then you better not sleep there either."

You're not helping, his eyes practically pleaded as he only just realised that Ichinose was fixing her sleeve, which meant he sat on it. Or he did something else.

He pressed his palms together and shook his head when Ichinose kept teasing him.

After a moment of very carefully not looking at her, he cleared his throat, still glowing warm. "Nah, I'll take the sofa. It's not uncomfortable for me because it's familiar. I like the sofa. The sofa and I go way back."

And with exaggerated delicacy, he patted the armrest like it was a dear friend who had just bailed him out of jail.

He smiled sheepishly, a little lopsided and sheepdog-tired now that the mortification was beginning to fade. "Really, don’t worry. You take the bed. I’ll be fine here."

He hesitated, then added with an almost inaudible mumble, "...And thank you. For being nice about it. Even if I sounded like a total creep."

"Someone might've taken it that way, but like I said - I wouldn't have minded on another night," Ichinose snickered, standing up - she was alert and just sober enough to not sway again the way he was.

"Now. I won't be taking your bed from you. Come on~" she insisted, taking a hold of his wrists and tugging him upright, fully intending to lead him to his own bedroom.

"You said- tomorrow." He gave a short, nervous laugh. Maruki pointedly decides he's just going to play along with Ichinose's snickering because he knows there's no way she actually believes what she's saying, just as he's almost perfectly aware that he would regret whatever decision he would make aside from sleeping alone on a flat surface. "Or not tomorrow. Just—hypothetically. Sober, hypothetical tomorrow."

He covered his face again, muttering into his palms.

"...I’m going to stop talking now."

The shield is pulled away when he feels his wrists in her grasp. Soft, is his first thought. What is the second question that is permitted into the pocket of his mind as his cheeks flush yet again.

Now what Ichinose was doing felt contradictory to what she said earlier.

"Hmm~ Ichinose-san, I mean it- you are not taking anything from me," his brows furrowed as he nearly got up. Maybe he got up a little too well, swaying before his head ended up falling face-forward onto her shoulder.

"..." His hands straightened down as his head only reeled from the whiplash. "Went overboard again.."

Edited 2025-05-14 21:51 (UTC)

"Mmmhmm, you're probably only a few more drinks in to a trip to the hospital," Ichinose chuckled, a little surprised by him dropping his head on her shoulder. She kept a hold of his hands, giving him a second to recover. "Come on, then. Head up - to bed you go."

Once she got him to lift his head, she started walking him down the hall, giggling a bit to herself in a drunken giddiness. Men! Absolutely ridiculous, sometimes.

Ah hah, this looked like a bedroom, not the room Morning had gone to. Into the room she pulled him until she could sit him on his mattress.

Edited 2025-05-14 22:06 (UTC)

This is what happens when you try to outdrink a cyborg, he tried to explain, but he could barely even move his head past the distinct humming. Now that the alcohol was finally settling into his nerves, he would gladly sleep on the couch. Won't be his first time passing out on it, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Still, he ended up obediently following her anyway, saying light protests along the way before he was inevitably led back to the subtle cosiness his bedroom offered. The satchel Hamuko made had joined Ichinose's kinchaku company, the ribbon glinting like Maruki's glasses that were slightly askew on his nose.

He chuckled weakly, a sombre smile taking over his lips. "...been a while since I have been lead into my bedroom," he commented as he planted one hand behind him to stay upright and not just sink into the goddamn mattress which was calling his name-

"Thank you," he continued sincerely as he looked up at Ichinose.

Edited 2025-05-14 22:20 (UTC)

And just why is this pathetic, silly man looking up at her like that? With such a wistful, sad expression. Maybe it had something to do with that unspoken breakup when they talked about the swan boats? She wasn't sure what exactly his expression was conveying besides just being pathetic and sad.

Really, the more mystifying thing was how she found that so endearing. Like rescuing a kitten from a storm drain.

"Your back will thank me in the morning," she chuckled, untying her obi and walking to the other side of the bed. She didn't let the yukata fall open, but she very well couldn't sleep with a snug obi on, right?

"I suppose it will."

At her pulling away and walking to the other side, he sighed as he remained silent, not falling suit with Ichinose's preparation just yet.

Except his gaze had lowered, and then his head hung down, rubbing his clammy hands together as he closed his eyes.

The warmth of the room faded into something distant. Not cold, not unwelcome—just... muted. Like he’d slipped underwater. Ichinose’s soft movements at the other end of the bed no longer registered as something he was a part of. They were distant, happening in the periphery of a life that suddenly didn’t feel like his anymore.

He exhaled slowly, the sound shaky. Alcohol loosened the tongue, but in his case, it loosened memory. And now that her laughter had died down, and the night didn’t have anywhere else to go, his mind began to drift.

Rumi.

The name hovered behind his eyes like light through stained glass—familiar and too precious to look at for long. She’d be laughing if she could see him now. Not mocking—never that. But in that gentle, knowing way of hers. The way she used to when she caught him fussing over minutiae or apologizing too much to a barista.

Or staying up late nights for his research.

"..."

It'd been a long time since Ichinose had shared a bed with someone for any reason, but in the drunken haze of her mind, the blankets and pillows looked inviting. As she unhooked her bra and set it with the obi, folded on the floor on the side of the bed she stood, Ichinose hummed softly to herself as she tied the obijime around herself in lieu of the obi itself.

"Hmm hmm, hmm hmmm...♪"

Ahh, she's gotten that favorite song stuck in her head again. It really was such an earworm!

Once she was comfortable enough, she sat down on the other side of the bed, scooting herself onto it. Mmm, yes, good comfortable size! It fit both of them just fine. And there was not a single thought or doubt in Ichinose's mind - Maruki wouldn't do anything to her.

He stayed there, shoulders hunched forward, hands clasped loosely together as though in prayer, though there was no one left for him to pray to.

Her name barely would have made a sound in his mouth. But in his chest, it echoed.

He wasn't sure what had brought her to mind so suddenly. Maybe it was the quiet. The kind of quiet that only shows up when you're with someone else, but neither of you is talking. Maybe it was the bed— suddenly too wide, too soft, too new for someone who had gotten used to the awkward, half-collapsed sprawl of couch cushions or dozing off with the ringing in their ears because they stayed up too late typing away at their laptop. Maybe it was just how his heart always seemed to find its way back to her when he wasn't watching.

He rubbed his palms together slowly, like friction might burn the thoughts away.

She’d believed in his dreams—until those dreams took her away.

Now, dreams only visited in pieces. In voices. In memories that snuck up on him like this.

But—

Something shifted in the air. Like a soft wind picking up. Or a memory trying to replace itself with something new.

He blinked, the hum reaching his ears slowly, threading its way through the fog in his mind.

Ichinose.

She was humming.

He paused. Still.

His head turned slightly, just enough to glance behind him—just enough to see her scooting onto the bed. The blankets dipped with her weight, and the sound of fabric shifting, of something quietly domestic, filled the space between them. His gaze caught on her for a beat too long.

And in that moment, he realised he hadn’t remembered to fix his face.

He didn’t even know what kind of expression she might’ve seen on him. But it must’ve been sad. It usually was, when he let himself drift.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"...Four times," he said softly, almost more to himself than to her.

His hand came up to tug at the fold of his yukata. The motion was casual—half teasing, half methodical—as he started to undress in turn, slipping out of the outer robe and settling into the lighter, more breathable layer beneath. His movements lacked their usual anxious polish, a sign that the alcohol hadn’t entirely let go of him yet.

He folded the yukata neatly beside him, mimicking her care without even realizing it.

"I’ve heard you hum that song four times now," he continued, casting a sidelong glance her way. "Once in my Palace, when I showed you to your room. Second, when you were focused on whatever you were typing away at your desk. Third, in the party—though that one was more a... performance."

He gave a small, knowing smile.

"And now. The fourth time."

A pause.

He looked down, untying the sash around his waist with an exaggerated slowness.

"Only 3,496 times left before I catch up to your streak," he muttered with faint amusement, referencing the number she’d offhandedly mentioned (and was rather proud) about at the party. "So I guess I’m a little behind."

He leaned back, bracing himself with one hand as he stretched his legs out.

"But... I think I can manage. With time."

Edited 2025-05-14 23:28 (UTC)

The fact that Maruki had remembered that number, even when so incredibly drunk and clearly dwelling on a myriad of other things...

...He was listening.

Ichinose looked down at him, studying him, a bemused smile on her face as she tilted her head. He was keeping little details like that about her? That gesture... he really did take her seriously, then. He really did listen and dedicate her to heart.

Why was that, Maruki?

For the moment, Ichinose looked at him like she was truly seeing him.

Well, then... time for a gesture in return. Gently, she reached to his face and took off his glasses, folding them neatly and reaching over Maruki to set them safely on the nightstand. "I'm sure it'll get stuck in your head in no time, too."

His eyes met hers, unguarded and honest in a way that his words rarely managed.

The expression he gave back to her was weakly amused but ultimately lost in thought—lopsided, tired, and not nearly convincing enough to hide the weight still dragging behind his gaze.

He didn’t say anything right away, letting her study him as he slowly shifted, easing himself further back on the mattress with a quiet exhale. His eyes briefly flicked downward—catching the more relaxed, simplified way she’d tied her yukata, the absence of the obi, the little moments of comfort she had allowed herself.

And then she leaned forward.

He went still.

A flicker of panic passed through him—reflexive, anxious. The kind of uncertainty that came with not knowing how to interpret someone else’s nearness. His fingers twitched as if preparing for flight.

But she wasn’t reaching for him.

His glasses.

She was taking his glasses off.

He blinked—eyes rounding a little, caught off guard by how careful her fingers were, how gently she folded the arms and leaned past him just slightly to set them on the nightstand. He followed her motion with his eyes, expression softening with the realization.

"...Oh." A pause. Then, the faintest of chuckles. "A noble rescue."

He tilted his head slightly, eyes following her face now with something lighter than before. "You just saved them from an early death by getting smushed to the mattress. Again. You may not know this, but I... tend to forget they’re there until it’s too late."

His smile deepened, lazy but warm.

"My hero," he added, mock dramatic.

Without the frames, his face looked subtly different—softer, more exposed. The faint tiredness around his eyes, the small slope of his brows, the way the alcohol had left just a faint pink across his cheeks. Ichinose, blurry or not, would see more of him than most ever did.

He let his body finally rest, easing onto his back and sinking into the pillow like it had been calling him this whole time. The bed sighed beneath his weight.

For a few seconds, he just lay there in silence, breathing in the calm.

"I had a feeling. One act of heroism for another," she chuckled gently, patting his shoulder in a friendly manner, even if it came off as teasing given the whole context. "Though I have a bit to catch up on, with how often you come to my rescue. I won't forget."

With a small chuckle, she pulled her hair into her hand so it didn't go every which-way as she laid down next to him, her back to him as she settled in and got comfortable. She wiggled under the blanket but over the sheets, curling up and letting out a long, comfortable exhale.

His face looked adorably naked without his glasses, less guarded but also less of that magnified glimmer to them... what a funny thought.

"Good night~"

Edited 2025-05-15 00:36 (UTC)

Maruki let out a breath that was barely a laugh, warm and low in his throat.

"Friends don't keep tallies," he murmured back, voice already trailing toward sleep as he finally closed his eyes. So much happened today, he needed to get back to writing all of it down in his diary so that he could recall it all when he was sober.

"Good night, Ichinose-san."

The word was soft, not performative—just something he needed to say.

He shifted just enough to get comfortable, back turned to her as well, careful not to jostle the blanket too much. His hair, normally combed back into some semblance of order, was now a loose mess, slightly flattened on one side, sticking out in odd directions. Even in sleep, some part of him honored her space without realizing it—keeping to the farthest edge of his side of the bed, arms tucked close to himself, legs instinctively curled inward and away.

He was out cold within seconds.

The next morning — 6:07 AM

Maruki blinked awake.

It wasn’t pain, exactly, that pulled him from sleep—it was more like discomfort mixed with a foreign sensation.

Hair.

Hair in his mouth.

He gagged a little on instinct, sputtering quietly as he tried to sit up only to realize that something—someone—was tangled around him like ivy.

Ichinose.

Her long hair had become a blanket of its own, draped across his face and neck, some of it clinging to his lips, while her body was half-turned in sleep, pressed gently up against his chest. At some point in the night, they’d rolled over, completely taking over the bed’s center. Their legs were a mess of entanglement—her calf hooked lightly around his, her foot against his shin.

Maruki stared into the middle distance.

Hungover.

Too warm.

Still foggy from sleep.

But... not entirely unhappy.

He remembered Morning's words still. Touch-starved. Strange. The idea of him being starved of it...

He carefully lifted a handful of her hair and draped it across the pillow behind her, gently untangling what he could without waking her. It was everywhere—he couldn’t not smile faintly at the sheer chaos of it. She looked so small and peaceful like that, curled up under the blanket, her features soft in sleep, lips parted slightly as she breathed against his shoulder.

He blinked at her.

Then blinked again, clearing his eyes as he finally—carefully—slipped himself free from her.

His feet touched the floor with a soft thump as he stood, ruffling his hair back into something that looked marginally human. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand, slipping them on with a sigh. He was still contemplating the mild dehydration and a night of unexpected cuddling.

He stretched, bones cracking faintly in protest.

Then he checked his phone.

No urgent texts. A few missed notifs. An email from a classmate timestamped 3:21 AM. He squinted at that and made a mental note to flag it later.

And he was barefoot good god, he was an animal. He needed to get his shit together.

A few hours after Ichinose would see a pile of clothes at his side of the bed, tailored accordingly for her. A simple long white dress shirt paired with leggings. Why does he have women's clothing on him? Well, that was a mystery that Kuon was free to address.

There's a simple text on her phone. Left a change of clothes if you want to use them. If you are feeling cold there's my hoodie in the closet.

The hangover had sufficiently knocked Ichinose out - light snoring, completely unperturbed when Maruki untangled himself, and she slept on easily for another half hour with ease.

By the time she did wake, she was groggy, fighting a fierce headache - that's right, she actually got drunk for the first time in a while - and sleepily pat at the clothes to grab them and then her phone before trudging out of the bed.

Borrowing your shower!

Wouldn't be hard to find. She checked the closet for a spare towel and headed to the bathroom, cleaning up and shampooing as best as she could with the unfamiliar soaps - her hair texture wouldn't be the way she liked it, but at least she'd be clean. And the scent wasn't too bad, either, not heavily perfumed or overwhelming...

After a relatively brief shower (at least, as brief as her hair length would allow), Ichinose had changed into the offered clothes and tied her hair up in a towel turban before emerging into the apartment proper. Water. Hopefully quickly.

"Good morning!" she greeted in a practiced chipper voice.

Maruki had been writing a rather careful note in his diary on the balcony, a cigarette hanging off his lips as he read through a recent entry, pen ink still fresh.

...Hamuko-san certainly knows her way in catching me by surprise. The bag is spacious and accommodating :D Pretty useful during summer rather than carrying everything around in my pockets or wearing a thinner jacket. It helps in not relying on Azathoth for everything. Maybe she would like plants in return? Something permanent which can grow under your care. I could even get a hint at how much she's neglecting her own needs. We ended up talking a lot about...everything really. Is my smile really that deceptive? I hope I didn't end up saying something too strange. I don't even remember much from last night. Bits and pieces. And then we were sleeping in the same bed. I mean, surely if she was uncomfortable, then she would admit it right away, wouldn't she? No reason why she shouldn't. I don't remember a specific conversation we had, however. Said we will discuss it tomorrow. Maybe its not that urgent...?

His attention is diverted when he hears footsteps through the just open balcony door and he catches himself, pulling the butt away from his mouth and crushing it into the mounted ashtray. Bending down quickly, he placed the ashtray behind a small chair. He coughed, clearing his throat and the stench as he quickly picked up some peppermint and started chewing on it. He waved one hand to get rid of the smoke while carefully holding the diary in the other; pen tucked in between pages and an extended finger.

Once he was presentable- showered, shaved and dressed in a simple cotton shirt with sweatpants, he closed his diary and greeted her with a quick wave. "Good morning! Looks like someone's finally awake!" He grinned excitedly, his headache only vaguely thrumming as he ended up walking her way either way. Since he needed to keep his diary in his room.

"Please do get something to drink, it's surprisingly hotter than yesterday," he jabbed a finger behind him and passed her, making a quick note of the clothes and the towel. Ah, if Shibusawa was here he would tease the shit out of him. Thank goodness they weren't too big or small on her. "I will be right back." With that, he turned to his room to do the needful.

Back in the living room, Ichinose's bag was kept at the coffee table before the couch, Hamuko's satchel now nestling next to his laptop bag. There's a glass of water, a packet of aspirin along with a bowl holding almonds soaked in even more water.

Edited 2025-05-15 14:18 (UTC)

A smoker, huh? She thought she could smell a bit of it on him, though he did his best to keep it minimal. Detail noted internally, Ichinose moved to the living room to fetch her earring and put it on, fiddling with the ring at the end as she took the glass of water and an asprin and chugged it in one go.

...Soaked almonds? What in the world? Was that meant to be some hangover cure...?

Hmm.

She decides to stick to what she knows, instead: going for as much water as she can stomach. Her muscles were sore, bones aching a bit from being so dehydrated and drunk, but catching up on water will at least soothe things. After using the sink to refill her glass twice after she drained it, she settled back down at the sofa, already feeling free of the nausea and waiting for the rest to settle in and make the rest of the pains go away.

Once he had placed everything, he walked back in after washing his hands again so that he could further remove the smell of smoke. He usually ended up smoking at odd times such as this, and having someone over at his place meant he needed to make sure they were comfortable.

And he got nervous almost with almost every first-times. First time having Ichinose over at his place as a friend or otherwise would have left the same effect.

He walked back in, noting her silence. And the untouched bowl of almonds.

"You slept well?" He asks instead, unsure how she felt.

"I did. Hopefully I didn't end up kicking you too much," she chuckled in amusement, sipping from her glass some more. She gestured to the bowl of almonds.

"What're these soaking for? Is this a hangover cure you have in your back pocket?" she asked, a lilt of amusement in her tone.

Oh, she's amused. Maruki's expression settled into ease as he waved his hand in dismissal. "I did end up waking up with my mouth full of hair, but that's as far as it went," he remarked while gesturing at the towel now wrapped around her head. He followed her gesture to the bowl of almonds, confused by the question before realisation swept over his expression.

"Those were for you...you mentioned you liked snacking on them, so figured you would like it," he chuckled lightly as he gestured at the bowl and reached down himself for one of the soaked almonds. "It's a healthy snack to start your day with- though as for an actual hangover cure, I do have one specific recipe in mind. If you are down for something savoury."

With that, he walked past her and bent down to grab some things from the lower cabinet- already getting down to business.

He really is memorizing all of the little details about her. Charming. How in the world did someone break up with him?

She leaves the question unvoiced, settling instead for plucking a few almonds out and enjoying them. "Mmm, I've never actually soaked them - I usually just eat them out of the bag. Good for the salt fix, that way - but this is surprisingly nice too."

Relaxing against the back of the sofa, she turned to watch him as he moved to the kitchen. "I don't mind anything savory. I was going to offer ordering breakfast in if you were too hungover to cook, but if you're up for it, I won't say no!"

He sets down a few things before diving into his fridge and pulling out an open container with a towel draped over it.

"I don't usually order breakfast unless I really can't make it through the day. I do enjoy cooking at home." He grins as he arranges the pot on the stove and then gathers some vegetables to chop them. "It's actually a pretty popular hangover cure, sooo I will let you guess. Most of my ingredients are up and ready- just need to assemble them together."

"Ohh, a soup... that makes perfectly good sense, very hydrating, after all. Let's see..."

Something quick and easy, suitable for breakfast - come to think of it, he's made something for her breakfasts and lunches along those lines, hasn't he?

"Miso, maybe? The konbu would be great at providing minerals a dehydrated body's missing."

The clams were always the tricky part, given that if you were a newbie you needed to make sure you drain them of any pests or parasites before you could safely consume them.

As someone who did end up getting regularly hungover, he always kept some at bay.

"Getting warmer~ no pun intended," he teased as he tossed in some chopped ginger and japanese leek before proceeding to make the miso broth. "It is one of the ingredients."

Edited 2025-05-16 10:57 (UTC)

"Hmmm... you're probably adding some protein or carbs... extra tofu, maybe?"

A fun guessing game! With a bit of a yawn, still catching up from waking up so hungover, Ichinose got a handful of the damp almonds to start crunching on them.

Takuto paused, glancing back at her. "Do you prefer that with your miso?" he asks with a cheeky twinkle in his eye. Try again.

With that said, he easily moved the pot away from Ichinose’s view and grabbed the previous container from earlier- now opening the clams to slip them into the broth. He's done. Nearly.

"That would be traditional! Hmm... enoki maybe? Good source of vitamins... or maybe shrimp, or some other leftover seafood. I knew someone who would always save the last bits of fish from dinner to put into his miso in the morning."

Frugal! Waste not, want not, right?

Hm, maybe he could add some enoki in... he hums as he goes around the kitchen and grabs some of it from the adjacent section in his fridge. He quickly chops some of that, ensures that all the scum is gone for sure he lowers the heat and watches the shijimi clams open up nicely. "Oh-? Sustainable! I approve of your friend," he grins at the mention of adding fish.

Once he's sure the miso is dissolved, he lowers the heat completely and removes the pot. He serves more of the portion to Ichinose since he had some earlier this morning before garnishing it with some chopped scallions. "You were very hot to the actual dish, and now I am just hoping the cure is worth the wait." He chuckles lightly as he sets the pot aside, checks the stove and walks past to get some of the fruits he had chopped up earlier when he got Ichinose's text.

Maruki sets down the dish in front of her and sits beside her, holding his own bowl. There were some apples cut in the shape of bunny ears on a small platter as he finally eases up and turns to Ichinose with something like excitement.

"It's Shijimi Miso soup. Just with a few touches of my own."

"Clams! Now that makes sense. That smells fantastic, thank you," Ichinose chuckled in delight. She went right for the soup, taking a sip and relaxing a bit, the warmth washing over her as a small balm against the soreness and aches of the hangover.

"That was my ex boyfriend - he was such a penny-pincher, even though I offered to cover more expenses if he needed. Men are so stubborn about letting a woman contribute, even if she's doing better financially than he is."

"No problem," he grinned as he went back to attending to his soup, stirring the ingredients together. "These clams just eat away at the toxins produced in your system- I don't know where I would be without it."

Ah, ex-boyfriend. He remembered when she had mentioned partners to him earlier- this might be a relationship that didn't end on good terms. Better tread carefully.

"Hmm, probably because men struggle with the idea of not being the provider, kind of like a problem we bring up on ourselves," he sighs as he takes a quick sip of the broth. "Brings back memories when we used to struggle with bills too- a researcher's pay leaves much to be desired."

"I can imagine. You're all in on cognitive psience, right? I was able to pay my way around easily by selling code and getting a few programming gigs during school," Ichinose chuckled. Between that, selling EMMA and her inheritance... she's been pretty comfortable for most of her life.

"Are you also too proud to let your partner take care of you?" she asked after chewing on a clam, giving Maruki an amused grin.

"I opened up a counselling clinic back home along with being a part-time counsellor at Shujin Academy. I occasionally visit those places here, too. My Palace gives me more patients though," he explains. "It's easier to tackle the limitations of my previous profession with cognitive pscience."

Are you also too proud to let your partner take care of you?

His expression sobered a little at the mention of it. A partner.

"I wouldn't...call it proud...?" He tries as an answer, glancing back at Ichinose with an eye pinched playfully. "You would have to ask my former girlfriend that question for an unbiased opinion."

"Ohh? Was she a doting type of girlfriend, or did she butt heads with you over wanting to help out?" Ichinose snickered in amusement, curling up on the couch with the miso bowl in her hands like a cup. Warm...

"My ex would raise a fuss about me being the bread-winner. So sensitive about it, I never understood why - I tried to listen, but it just never made sense to me."

Maruki couldn't really answer her question right away- not with the way he seemed to be so utterly focused on the soup before him.

Butting heads...in a way he had always opened his heart to her in time of need. She doted on him with ideas, and he did everything in his power to spoil her too.

"Sounds like there's a reason why he's your ex," he remarked easily as he crossed one leg over the other. "Perhaps he was a little insecure. When the roles shift, even if it's for the better, sometimes people might feel... lost, or even ashamed. Defensive even." Rumi earned more than him back before everything so when her company laid her off, when she ended up in that comatose state, things felt so much more hopeless. With him saving money for her treatment to working on his research...

"...she was more of the reassuring kind. She had the ideas, and I used to do whatever I could to make them come true."

Hmm... the topic of his girlfriend seemed to really dampen his mood. That sort of reaction means he might still care for her, doesn't it? Ichinose tilted her head in thought, for a moment, watching Maruki's expression.

...Did she still pine for her ex boyfriend? ...Not really... she didn't think about him much. Even now, reflecting on him and his little quirks, even reflecting on how defensive he would get or the other things he said... it didn't feel like much of anything. That was a while ago.

"You're the most cold, heartless woman I've ever met. You don't even care about me."

He probably wasn't wrong, if even now the thought of him dumping her didn't stir her much. It didn't make her make a face like what Maruki was making.

"She sounds nice," Ichinose offered instead of vocalizing any of that, pausing to sip her soup. "It's too bad. It seems like that loss is painful."

"Painful?" He whips his head back at her, confused for a moment. Was there something on his face that made her come to that conclusion?

"Well, obviously. Getting dumped is painful, right?" She tilted her head. Wasn't that obvious? Of course that was supposed to hurt a normal person.

Oh.

He thought she meant it some other way. "Sorry, I misread that, I guess," he looks away. "She didn't dump me...would you be surprised if I said I was engaged? We were together for most of our lives, with a small break-up in between before picking things up again."

Edited 2025-05-16 15:37 (UTC)

Ah-- then the other unfortunate fate. Engaged, dating for a long time...

"My sympathies for your loss. ...But I can see you engaged, at least - you're very enjoyable. I imagine there are plenty of women that would confide in you once you're past mourning."

Oh wow, he was really blowing this out of proportion. The compliment aside, which made him sputter and stutter out of pure confusion. "No, I am not- see that's the thing. People confide in me cause I am trained in it again- I am not mourning her."

"It was all my fault in the end." He offers her a weak smile as he finishes the last of his soup. "For being a bit of a coward. It's been a good few years since then, and she's much happier now! Much happier than back then...there's nothing more I am grateful for."

...? What in the world is he talking about? Ichinose's brows furrowed in thought as she examined him, turning the words over in her head...

"...A coward... oh! Did you run from the altar?"

Maruki began sipping away on the soup, hoping that she would drop the topic. It's a thing of the past and he has much bigger things to worry about and work on so-

Did you run from the altar?

"...!"

"Bwfah-" Maruki chokes on his soup, some of the enoki gladly making their way to his windpipe as he coughs and sets the bowl on his lap. "Wha- okay."

He ended up laughing- not expecting that speculation at all. Most people didn't ask beyond that but Ichinose-? She did.

"I wish it was like that. Honestly."

Well, she was terribly off the mark - but at least he was laughing about it instead of looking offended. Lucky her!

"Well, then, what happened?"

She was insistent. Maruki tilted his head at her, trying to grasp her intentions. The look in his eyes held as much lethargy as the night before, even with the smile persistent on his face.

"..."

"It's a thing in the past now," he starts as he finally places his bowl on the table. "Our relationship was tested by things beyond our control. Things she wouldn't have recovered from if I hadn't pulled away."

A dull ache overflows his senses. He leaned forward, gripping his nose to contain it when he swore he felt something pull at his mind again.

"Haha! Sorry for being a bit of a buzzkill," he caught his breath as he pulled his hand away to glance back at her.

Something strange and painful then. Miscarriage? A traumatic event? Had he somehow abused her? The latter part seemed uncharacteristic, but looks could be deceiving.

Still, Ichinose just tilted her head, looking him over.

"No, I'm sorry to bring it up. You look distressed."

"Now you sound like Shibusawa," he shook his head with a wry chuckle. "It's fine. It's been like what- 6 years now? I've been working on it..." His gaze drifted to the couch as he finally crossed his legs together. "In any case, I am not looking for a romantic relationship anytime soon."

"...here especially." Oh, he hopes that wasn't an awkward statement, but it is true.

It didn't make her feel awkward - in fact, it got a bit of a bark of a laugh from her.

"Hah! God, no, could you imagine? Falling for someone in a place like this, only to get whisked away and be literal universes apart? That's tragic."

Isn't that right? Maruki couldn't even fathom something that was unachievable. That inconceivable..

Ah, but Rumi was here, wasn't she? He even thought he could salvage a relationship with her again, even as a friend.
Until he was told that she isn't real.

"I do see the romantic appeal in it," he admits with a soft smile on his lips. "Like star-crossed lovers who only met in this one extraordinary circumstance out of the million universes."

"Wouldn't the heart crumble from something like that?" Ichinose chuckled. She wasn't being snide, at least not intentionally - that sort of heartbreak seemed extreme when most romantic couples whined about being only a city apart. How much more severe would it be to have it be literally impossible to see the person you cared for?

It's a fair question to ask, given everything. He knows a lot of things he believes in don't hold much weight when you weigh the truth- your internal world with the bitter external one- you are often left dissatisfied.

"A heart crumbles easily," he says slowly. "At the end of the day, it's all about how much you are willing to sacrifice, isn't it? For both yourself and your partner."

And he would sacrifice gladly. Time and again.

He folds his arms on his lap, growing quiet.

"If both parties would get hurt, then wouldn't it be better to not entertain those feelings at all...? Or can you just not help it, at that point?"

The latter would make sense - maybe that's the difference between herself and others. She could easily shift gears, stop wanting something she can't have and focus on the attainable, the practical...

Though, things are much more attainable than they seem, aren't they? EMMA proved as much.

"Actually, on that train of thought, I wonder if one could bridge this world and other worlds more concretely - supposedly our messaging apps continue working through time and space and the multiverse, so who's to say we couldn't come up with a way to reinforce that connection more directly?"

"Oh?" She has his attention almost too easily- leaning against the couch with one elbow angled on the cushion.

"Are we still thinking digitally or more so through cognition?" he asks. "Because I can imagine you could probably utilize slightly higher tech- like the ones I have seen the Hasegawas use so that you can, to an extent, interact with others."

"But cognitively I know Igor holds all the cards." There's a tsk like even he's annoyed by it. Which he is. "You would need to sway the entire world along with its recipients to cause a fundamental change in the system."

"That said...sorry, please continue. I am curious to hear your thoughts."

"If the data can transfer a call connection, it can transfer any kind of information - digital ought to be incredibly easy just by reverse-engineering how the connection itself works, paranormal or not. An AI could be sent to another universe, for example."

Hmm... Ichinose ponders a bit, taking a minute to eat all of the scallops in her bowl.

"Which may be pertinent information if those two from the future need last-minute adjustments to the program I'm making for them. I could potentially build them an AI - not self sufficient, mind - that could react and patch code in real time as that world's EMMA and Ichinose attempted to change their programming to defend themselves. Hmm. And then there's the matter of physical matter... or a person. Depending on exactly the magic behind the connections in the phone work, perhaps there might be some way to transfer a person's cognitive self through that connection... they may need a body or to be digitized on the other end, but it could functionally be them. Or at least a copy of them. Scanning the mind to catalogue one's personhood... now there is a thought..."

Maruki fell silent for a while, cataloguing Ichinose’s words in his head. An AI that could react and patch code in real life, he supposed that Ichinose could pull it off again- given that she made EMMA. "That EMMA and Ichinose probably have something similar to that too."

And then there’s the idea of physical matter. A person. The idea of transferring a whole person from one universe to another was absurd- especially from a scientific concept. But cognition recognized that pattern and flipped it over- instead unveiling the discrepancies in how time and space can be percieved in a more primal way. From areas that existed between dream and reality to otherwise.

"If one could possibly replicate the nueral pattern down to the T- that will essentially make a clone that holds all your memories and experiences intact." He adds after. "But to sustain that system you would need a huge power source, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, naturally... but with you and Azathoth here, I'm not concerned about limitations of power," Ichinose stated completely matter-of-factly. "Hmmm... maybe programming a basic AI infrastructure for a cognitive scan to map onto, saving time from shortcuts involving the senses and focusing on what makes someone who they are... that might be an interesting little project."

Intriguing. Ichinose stopped to finish her miso, setting the bowl down on the coffee table and fishing out a few more almonds to crunch on in thought.

"That would be a very direct way to get a more intimate understanding of the human mind."

Of the human heart. And why she lacks what others have.

"I think I could do it... I could use a brain scan to give an AI a heart."

Maruki's smile grew at the statement, and he was glad that she had admitted that outright. She came up with the ideas, and I did everything in my power to make them come true. He lets her stew on it, coming to conclusions of his own in quiet. It did make him wonder, for example, like how he had manifested her clothes from actualisation itself. Through Azathoth, he sorted out a simple outfit through the power of thought, and with a bit of reference to how her Yukata was, it was easier to come up with measurements.
But the very idea of manifesting clothing like that...he was sure he and Azathoth had the power to sustain a force like that.

Whatever happened to wanting to take away people's hearts, Ichinose?

"The human mind fascinates you quite the bit, doesn't it?" he remarks as he watches her set away the bowl. He had questions burning in his mind- things far away from the current matter at hand but one thing at a time.
He leaned forward, excitement evident in his eyes. "Though you could interchangeably use it with the term heart. The heart of your brain," he taps at the side of his head. "The limbic system specifically. A fascinating place that creates psychological patterns with external stimuli."

"In the end, it all goes back to that, doesn't it?" he remarks, reading her carefully. Her little quirks. The way she chewed on almonds to get her mind running. Her insistence on understanding the human heart in the way she knew how to.

"In a cognitive space, I can manifest...copies of people. To an extent, they are soulless husks, similar to most of the cognitions we have met here. I have been working on trying to create the perfect physical being for reasons similar to yours, for assistance. Support, but they never lingered for long. Not beyond the walls of my palace."

"That instance might be similar to an AI not developing at its own pace. The moment it steps out of my palace, it loses cognizant value. It needs strict orders from me or Azathoth by extension. The gap between the internal and external mind causes unrest."

"It's essentially a persona. In practice."

"So you can create, but autonomy is difficult. I can program autonomous thinkers, but manifesting them here - I'm not sure I could do it so easily."

Interesting. Ichinose returned the curious grin to Maruki, catching how much he was leaned forward and how she had caught his rapt attention. And why wouldn't he? If he was trying to create someone real...

"We should experiment with this line of thought. See if we can collaborate and create a self-sufficient entity together, one that can maintain autonomy outside of the Palace and have self-determination."

They were filling each other's weak points. It would be so easy...making sure that he has all the influence over a person so that he could take care of them properly. Make sure their wish is something that would be within their reach and give them something tangible to hold onto while he tries to figure out the best approach to dictate the collective unconscious in the right direction.

"Watch them grow and learn new things. Survive against all circumstances in the right environment and make them aware enough so that they can support others." He looks almost too wistful. Hopeful even.

"We will have to conduct experiments. Produce prototypes. Evidence of a sign of life... I could even recruit personas or shadows to test the idea of a brain scan. I love that idea."

"Say if I tap into your cognition- how much would you be willing to bet that I will get a crash course on AI programming?" He genuinely sounds serious, staring at her with all the attention in the world. "

"Ohh? What knowledge do I get to know in return, hmm? Your cognitive psience studies? I haven't been able to observe it directly, so I am technically behind you and EMMA," Ichinose chuckled in amusement. It's not a no - sharing a little of her knowledge directly sounds risky, but fascinating.

"I will teach you the art of desanding clams," he teases with a grin. "Or ways to accelerate the process while you are already hungover. Without me around. With me I could get you all this with my eyes closed-"

He stops, realizing what he's saying. "I do realize that's not something to be proud about right now."

After a moment's pause, the teasing slips. "I am joking. Like I said I have my papers if you ever need to read through them. They are all yours to refer to."

"Not to mention- again its the idea of autonomy. I could probably structure the idea of a computer or an AI but for it to grow...I need the knowledge from a sharp mind. That mind is you."

"True enough - but I think if I program the AI and you talk to them first, that ought to help solidify the process of actually making them physical, don't you think? But I did promise I would teach you coding - if you want to poke around in my mind and learn that way, you have my permission."

"...?!"

He was a little caught off guard by how easily Ichinose claimed to make that sentence. "Are you being serious?" He says, staring at her in confusion like she didn't just make a claim for him to do full open brain surgery on her to extract data of his own.

Edited 2025-05-18 19:33 (UTC)

"You can be that precise, can't you? You can go in, connect, share that knowledge... and then leave everything right as it was before you started. You have that level of control, don't you?"

A storm of emotions flickered in Maruki's eyes: uncertainty, confidence, and an ignition in his ego. Becoming the perfect doctor to cater to everyone's needs, God, he would give everything to remove the pain in her heart. The pain that made the burrow in her chest, that she denied ever having a heart.

He places his hand on her arm, tentative but respectful. "I won't ever do anything that would hurt you, Ichinose-san," he shakes his head like even the thought of turning someone like her into Sparrow or the Doves was straight up absurd. "I swear- whatever anyone says- I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

And yet here she was, telling Maruki to leave everything the way he found it. A pain she refused to acknowledge didn't need to be removed, right? Hah.

She smiled at the touch to the arm. That point of trying to connect, that moment of humanity - it should stir something in her, right? But she just looks at it, then into his face, curious about the warring emotions fighting to express themselves on his face.

I know you won't, is her immediate thought.

You better not, follows soon after.

"Good boy," is what leaves her mouth.

Maruki freezes. Like, visibly. For just a second.

"Good boy."

A phrase that instantly short-circuits whatever calm professionalism he was pretending to maintain. His hand is still on her arm—but now it’s hovering slightly, as if unsure if it’s allowed to still be there.

"O-oh!" he lets out a little laugh, a little too quickly. "Well, I—I try! Years of positive reinforcement theory at work, right?" He makes a lame finger-gun gesture, then winces immediately as if even he knows that was too much.

"...Sorry did I make you uncomfortable?"

She just laughs at that - she completely threw him for a loop, huh? The finger guns just made her laugh even harder.

"Hahah! Do I look uncomfortable to you?" she asked instead, amused entirely.

"I mean...ending up in my apartment late night, having to sleep in my bed, using my shower..." he tries to explain, but that just seems to make him fluster a bit more. Really, in Japanese custom, most people, most of all Morning, would assume things got dicey after drinking.

He coughed and let his expression. "If I did say anything strange either today or last night- I have a bad habit of going overboard, you would tell me, right?"

"You really don't remember, do you...?" Ichinose chuckled, smirking at him a little. Pausing, just to make him sweat it out for a minute.

"It's fine. We're friends, so I told you that if you wanted to do anything like that, my only rule is that we should be sober."

"Oh no, what did I say?" He blinks at her, easily falling into the trap of falling into an endless circle of anxiety that would only spiral further.

He grows quiet when she proceeds to explain and gives him no context whatsoever.

The context he can fill in however, makes his sweat drop.

His glasses would almost comedically reflect back white as he leaned forward and rested his chin on two clasped hands.

"...are we still talking about our research by any chance?"

Ichinose leaned a little closer towards him, talking in a low tone, as if Morning might overhear.

"If I let you plumb the depths of my mind for research, I would let you explore more of me just for fun, too."

Please just play along with the joke, please just play along with the joke-

Oh no, she's leaning close instead-

Maruki backs up on the sofa, scrambling for purchase as she leans in, her hair falling past her shoulder as it nearly drapes over his arm, the silkiness simmering in with the scent of his shampoo in the mix.

"Ichinose-san I-" his voice catches as his blush only sputters and sparks as he chuckles wryly. "I understand, alright? Message received; whatever preposition I made last night- I apologise for that."

"...and like I said I am not looking for a romantic relationship anytime soon so-"

"Oh, me neither. We're friends, that's all," Ichinose chuckled, leaning her elbow on the back of the sofa. "I'm not interested in romance either. We even had a conversation last night along those lines - how tragic it'd be if someone got romantically involved with someone from another universe. Honestly, pass!"

Edited 2025-05-20 20:44 (UTC)

Is it safe to come out yet...? Morning knocks on his own room door. Loudly.

"Y-yeah...even if that's the case-" Ugh, he hates stuttering like this, it will give away the wrong message- as if he isn't already giving the wrong message. Really if anyone saw him like this he's red as a tomato.

Knock knock.

"...!"

He turns at the sound of the noise before his eyes widen. "Morning-?" He's pulled away from the spell, picking up the two finished bowls and piling them together, sorting out the spoons as he got up from the couch. "Everything okay?" He calls out, now turning to Ichinose with confusion flickering on his face.

"Is he...knocking on his own door?"

Ichinose laughed at that - what a strange thing to do, let alone in your own home!

"We're decent, Morning! You don't have to lock yourself away."

Morning opens the door, shuffling out. "I'm sorry!! I just didn't want to interrupt anything... erm... important..."

Decent? he mouthed at her, genuinely befuddled by the wording because he doesn't know how could they not be decent- oh. Right.

He coughed into a closed fist and looked away for a bit and really Morning was being a mirror to him right now- externally projecting his current state if he needed anymore proof of his lineage.

"Oh no, Morning- nothing to worry about here. We were just talking about work, weren't we?"

"We have a plan to experiment with creating a physical AI, possibly by scanning a human mind as a partial template. Interesting, right?" Ichinose asked, leaning on the back of the sofa as she smiled at Morning.

At least Maruki is free of Ichinose for now!

"That sounds fun!" Visibly relieved, Morning brightens. "Do you need to take my brain out of my skull to do it?"

Now now, that is impossible, isn't it? Maruki isn't just free of someone. If he isn't carefully dissecting each facet of you and finding ways to ensure he can preserve your smile, he will do his best to do just that.

With that said, he quickly shuffles over with the bowls to the sink, the open doorway allowing any conversations to be heard.

And sure enough, he heard what Morning was saying- causing the bowls to clink all loudly and over each other, as if he had clumsily dropped them. He gulps as he turns to the wall with a look of complete bewilderment. Why would he say something like that?" "Now now- that would be a brain transplant, wouldn't it?"

"She's referring to a brain MRI. Or even an intracranial CT scan- depending on which one will be more accurate. Its a completely painless procedure morning..."

"Besides, a brain transplant would be messy! I only know coding, I can't keep meat alive like that, hahaha!" Ichinose laughed heartily, like it wasn't a terribly morbid thing.

Really, it was such an outlandish idea that it just made her laugh.

"Do you want a robot sibling, Morning~?"

HOME/LAB [maruki family thread tracker]

[ at Maruki's apartment, late at night / cw horror b/c nightmare]

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end of cr 1 where i try to figure out what will morning be to maruki's confidant list

[at maruki's apartment, the next morning, current cr: 1]

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Rank 2: back at home, 19:00

Re: Rank 2: back at home, 19:00

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