phuio
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Summary
Silence had, from the start, been the survival strategy.
He doesn’t know when he learned it. How to step quieter. How to fold his limbs so he could pass by unnoticed as a long shadow at dusk. How to speak, and not say anything at all.
It was in Tokyo that he learned to hone it into a weapon: become pursuer as much as eternally pursued, pluck the fruit of injustice at its root and never leave a trace, slip from the spotlight into the shadows in a dance he felt to have always known by heart; his thrill at sliding into a role as naturally as his fingers did his red gloves, his joy in utter darkness.
Maybe it had been his fatal flaw.
In fleeting moments of consciousness, the frayed threads of his mind reach out for a single sentence: I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, as futile as his silence had been. There will be no forgiveness for him.
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Makoto finds him perched on top of a pillar on Moonlight Bridge, scarf hanging in the air in a still cascade of yellow. Always out of reach, now. Always vanishing the second Makoto might hold out his hand. Makoto’s tongue brushes over his inner lip, finding the dent he left on it with his canine teeth. He walks towards Ryoji.
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Behind Akechi, framed by the trees and roofs down the slope, Ren can see the sea. He can't hear the sound of the waves, not from this far away, but he can smell the salted air on his skin, on his pillow, already suffusing their scattered possessions. Ren can't remember the last time he saw the sea outside of Tokyo Bay. He never had reason to go anywhere farther than that.
Series
- Part 2 of false dawn
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Behind him, the music begins to quieten, settling into stillness until, suddenly, it takes a sharp turn, rising and surging like a wave before dropping and crashing brilliantly into a string of notes like falling dominoes. It stops Ren in his tracks, making a delighted shiver crawl up his arms. It's chaos in motion.
Series
- Part 1 of false dawn
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Summary
"You seem to be thinking about something."
Akechi angles his head in curiosity, swaying streaks of refracted light webbing over his features. A deflection comes easily and sits on the tip of Ren's tongue, but only out of habit. He can tell when he's been cornered. It's a challenge, and Akechi must know he won't, can't refuse him. Ren sinks his hands deeper into his pockets.
He resumes walking, trying to buy himself time. Akechi follows.
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