ɪɴʙᴏx [ᴇxᴘɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ]

[chemex]

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right after the madness with Dazai & Co

[murderingjustice]

[Is it late? Or maybe early? Hell if Akechi knows anymore nor does he care. He's roughly patched himself back together and there's a makeshift cast around his broken finger. It's not the pain that bothers him, but rather the flames of rage blazing within him.

Watching Dazai taking a trip to darkest parts of his mind truly reminded Akechi of himself, and the rush of adrenaline, thrill of violence all excited him and coaxed out of his own desires for destruction. He wanted to break something.

But this is no metaverse with shadows roaming around, and Akechi hardly had any interest going on a murder spree. So, he turns to the only resource (a lifeline, his persona taunts) that he has.]

Where are you? [His voice is heavy and agitated, full of that same anger and fury that Akira has witnessed while roaming through the white hallways of Maruki's palace]

smh bitchy wife why you gotta be like this

[chemex]

[Napping. Akira was fucking napping.]

[Funny story, he struggled to sleep without specifically Morgana in his room, but he'd always had a bit of a hard time sleeping entirely alone. It was by no means to say he didn't do it for years of his life, wasn't used to it, but he slept much better in the presence of someone he knew and trusted, and his little Cat Nap with Akechi had reminded his body of that. So he didn't sleep a whole hell of a lot at night, and would instead catch short little naps here and there when he flagged too hard.]

[It was absolutely a healthy state of being, what on Earth are you talking about.]

[Anyway his voice is thick with groggy stupor when he answers with a wordless sound, but the rage that drips from Akechi's question snaps his brain immediately awake.] In my room, what's up?

he brings you the drama

[murderingjustice]

[Not interested in beating around the bush he just goes straight to the point:]

Get up, then. I owe you a punch in a face.

[nullificates]

Hello, Akira!

This is Dazai, the man whose clothes you've been wearing! I would like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright?

[chemex]

[The alarm bells at being addressed by his first name by a stranger, man. Akira's spine pulls so straight it almost hurts, but he replies pleasantly.]

Thanks for those, by the way. Shoot.

SMHHHH

[chemex]

[Akira blinks, then he grins.]

Don't think you owe me one, but I'd like to see you try. Where?

[nullificates]

You can keep 'em! Good fashion never hurt nobody.

(as if he doesn't dress like an alleyway manic from the 19th century, but alas.)

Do you happen to know a man named Ango Sakaguchi?

[murderingjustice]

I don't fucking care! [He growls at the charm. Then, takes a break to take deep breaths. Let's not get too agitated just yet.]

Orchards.

[chemex]

Ooh, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Be there in ten. [It's not that he likes when Akechi is angry-- he's always some degree of angry, anyway. It's that he gets a specific sort of thrill out of being someone Akechi can safely go to as an outlet. And maybe he's a masochist, but who cares about that?]

[Anyway-- true to form, he's at the Orchards within ten minutes, dressed and not looking even remotely sleep-deprived or like he was conked out and drooling on his bed before Akechi called him.]

did akira just blush

[murderingjustice]

[Yeah, he's not going to answer that. Akechi happens to be in the foulest mood in ages and he really wants to slam his charm against the pavement but that'd be bit too much like a gamer-rage. Despite what some might thing: he's not a child.

Akechi is waiting for him there already. A bit paler than usually and left hand in his blazer's pocket (look, he had to actually cut his glove off because of the swelling shh). He's tried to fix his hair after with Dazai so that it covers majority of the red marks in the back of his neck that just conveniently happens to take the shape of Chuuya Nakahara's fingers.

But nevermind that, he's clearly mad. The seething rage is apparent in his body language. Tense, as if he's holding him back]

Fucking finally.

[chemex]

[Akira frowns slightly, but-- maybe he can give the coat to Akechi. It's way more his style. He frowns at the name, thinking for a minute.]

...the author?

never underestimate his masochism

[chemex]

[Akira ambles toward him and takes stock-- he's holding himself in a way that Means Something. Akira just isn't entirely sure what, yet. His hands are never in his pockets, so that instantly reads as weird, and his hair is..., Strange. But he doesn't comment, not yet.]

So what's got you all pissed off? I'll let you swing at me all you want, on the condition of you blow off steam and talk to me.

[nullificates]

... Author? He's not an author. Can you explain to me a little bit?

[chemex]

[Hm. Obviously, Akira has an open enough mind about the idea of varying alternate universes. But this... is particularly Odd.]

Do you mind if I ask something, too?

[murderingjustice]

[The tension on his shoulders is tight like a violin's string. His hand still hurts but that doesn't stop him from closing it into a fist. The pain keeps him grounded and still, away from just going all berserk on Akira out of frustration.]

Fine! I just-- [He pauses again, gritting his teeth together, eyes wandering around while avoiding Akira's] I need fucking break something or I'll go crazy.

[chemex]

[He nods, stepping closer on light feet.]

Come on, then. Hit me. [His hands are still in his pockets.]

[nullificates]

Sure, what is it?

[chemex]

Osamu Dazai is the pen name of a very famous Japanese author, as far as I'm aware. But that's not true with you, right? That's your actual name.

[He's trying to explain, roundaboutly, that Shit Is Weird.]

[murderingjustice]

[He's so on the edge at the moment that even Akira's willingness is pissing him off. But then again, about just anything would do the trick, really.

There's a brief silent pause between them as Akechi measures Akira with is eyes. He takes a deep breath, turns slightly to side to keep his injured out of his rival's field of view. He inhales deep through his nose.. And then quickly takes the step forward to close the small distance between them, aiming his fast fist towards Akira's cheek.

He trusts that Akira won't just stand still and take his anger.]

[nullificates]

... What? No, it's my real name. I'm definitely not an author, and I'm definitely Japanese, from Yokohama.

[chemex]

[Akechi is a strange, delicate little puzzle of a person. Akira relishes in the constant need to decipher him, to read into movements and tells he doesn't want to be understood, relishes being given the chance to be around him and recognize them better. To that end, there's definitely something Wrong, but Akira can't be sure what it is, still-- that he's using his right hand and specifically hiding his left is very telling, even if Akechi thinks he's being slick.]

[Luckily for them both, Akira is nothing if not agile. He may not be Joker, he may not have the inhuman grace and charm he dons with a domino mask, but he's still quick on his feet. He ducks, and then lunges back forward, aiming to grab Akechi around the middle.]

[chemex]

Oh, I was just in Yokohama. [Focus, Akira.]

But-- anyway. You talk like you know Sakaguchi personally, and you're both not authors.

[nullificates]

I do. Can you tell me what you know about us, please?

[murderingjustice]

[Neither of them are in their best shape. This is no metaverse and both of them are bound by the saddening limitations of their human bodies. Gone is the enchanted agility and reflexes, leaving them bare and deal with their own physical strengths.

Akechi had almost expected Akira to block the incoming blow, but ducking isn't something he didn't see coming. He waits for Akira to lunge forward and steps to the side just on the right second to make him miss his mark. Trying to make him trip, Akechi directs a kick to Akira's legs.]

[chemex]

[The kick lands, in some regard, but Akira throws himself forward, landing on his hands and then tumbling in a roll. It's not as graceful as it would be in the Metaverse, but he manages. Popping back up to his feet, he grins and bounces back and forth from foot to foot.]

Come on, Akechi. You're holding out on me.