Goro Akechi | good ending (
pheasantboy) wrote2024-02-12 01:36 am
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[ic] all the voices mistaken
In the end, they got Ren settled into bed, with a glass of water and his phone—though a big part of Akechi would have been far more comfortable if that glass was a sippy cup. He wanted to stay, to be on hand, but he didn't need to be told crowding Ren wouldn't be for the best. And he can be on hand just as well downstairs in the park as in his apartment.
So here he is, sitting on a park bench with his head in his hands, having vaulted the closed park gate as if he's done it a thousand times before—which may not even be untrue. Besides his fear for Ren, the things he's learned rotate in his head. He notices his episodes, now—that never happened before. And this thing Ren believes he did... what can it have been? Something everyone but him knows about, clearly. Something bad enough to make them hate him? Even to kill him?
Perhaps not coincidentally, he's sitting on the same bench another Akechi was feeding the birds from, long ago. The bag of breadcrumbs he forgot earlier has vanished, as if it never was.
So here he is, sitting on a park bench with his head in his hands, having vaulted the closed park gate as if he's done it a thousand times before—which may not even be untrue. Besides his fear for Ren, the things he's learned rotate in his head. He notices his episodes, now—that never happened before. And this thing Ren believes he did... what can it have been? Something everyone but him knows about, clearly. Something bad enough to make them hate him? Even to kill him?
Perhaps not coincidentally, he's sitting on the same bench another Akechi was feeding the birds from, long ago. The bag of breadcrumbs he forgot earlier has vanished, as if it never was.

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None of this occurs to Akechi, who stops at the second-last door on the top floor to listen, holding up his hand for silence.
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Nothing happens. Ren doesn't speak, but he frowns. Is that Akechi's apartment, even? Or is it... not?
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For the second time that day, he gets to show his apartment, with all the pine and the abundant houseplants, to a Ren. "This is it. Home, sweet home."—he says the last in English, before stepping out of his shoes.
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He runs the hot tap, but the door's open; they can still talk. The bathroom is, if anything, even more woody than the rest of the apartment.
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"The clothes," he says. "They get dirty too easy. Plus, I gave my Akechi a plant once and I think it freaked him out."
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Then he stops. The sight of another Ren on his couch twists his heart.
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He doesn't linger on that point, just opens up the box, producing cotton-wool swabs and disinfectant, which he applies one to the other. "I do miss my desk. I should think about getting one in here."
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If it were him, he'd steal it from a nearby apartment. But he remembers Akechi's opinions about the cognitions of fake Tokyo.
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Setting down the soiled swab, he takes up another and moistens it with disinfectant. "Some of those really are nasty. You say these are from the otters? Or the fennec foxes?"
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"Do you know otters in other parts of the world—I say the world—carry rabies? They do, you know." Wait, his world has rabies?
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He touches the new swab to the deepest bite.
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[These bites are as clean as they're going to get, by the look of it.]
Now, I can either close this—the deep one—or I can leave it open to breathe, in which case it will likely scar. It's up to you.
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I'll admit, I have bitten people in the past. But not for a long time. So you're probably safe.
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[But he reaches for the disinfectant and cotton swabs again instead, to do Ren's other hand.]
if you're quite sure, I'll leave it open. It's better for them to breathe, anyway—all that filth in the water, you know. Do you have many scars?
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[ He's unbothered by this, as well. He watches his hand as Akechi carefully tends to it. It's like something his own Akechi would do for his teammates—his actual teammates, anyway. With the same heckling about rabies, even. ]
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Well, I would have to agree with that. You could be dead, I suppose. Rather beyond my butterfly closures.
[It's almost devoid of his usual shock. His world was like the others, once. It was different. He was different. Already, he waits for the cut-out, but it doesn't come, so he resumes cleaning up Ren's other hand.]
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[ He'd have expected a little more shock, though. Knife fights? Gasp. But Akechi is in a weird mood in general, for him. ]
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Why would it be familiar?]
I should hope not. Didn't you threaten me with a knife once, or was that a dream?
[Dab, pat, rub. But he's almost done.]
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...I'm not gonna stab you unless you touch me when I'm not expecting it. Then I can't make any promises. But I didn't stab you that time, so you never know.
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...there we are. I'm afraid your shirt has seen better days. Not all wounds are so easily fixed, are they?
[And what a terribly strange thought that is. It feels otherwordly, like it should be too big for his head.]
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