It's like watching a car crash in slow motion. First it's confusing, almost fantastical in the shift rome reality to the view another, fleeing the authorities, mind racing with emotions that are not hers. He's caught. He's cuffed. He's beaten. Why doesn't he defend himself...? What... what did he DO? Why doesn't he know??
She stumbles against one of the artifact cases, a hand to her mouth as glassy eyes look right towards Akira, imagining him bruised and drugged and struggling for breath and doing nothing to stop it.]
[and just like that, the memory is gone again, and reality resurfaces around him. . . and all it takes is one look at Luna bracing herself against one of the cases, staring at him with a distant and confused expression, for him to know what happened]
Shit--
[but his first thought isn't about himself, nevermind that the house has decided to share this memory with literally everyone he's spoken to. it's for her, because nobody should have to relive the hell he went through on November 20]
Sorry, I'm-- sorry, I didn't mean to. . . are you okay?
[he reaches out to her, hand extended towards her shoulder, as though trying to steady her or comfort her or something]
[Her normal reaction, to try and tell him she was ok, to calmly talk - it's muted, drowned out by the memory of being hurt, of HIM being hurt...
There's a break in her expression, torn apart, reaching her hand out to brush against his face with shaking fingers, where she knew had once been bruises and blood, as though it might help her remember that he's whole and fine where he stands.]
Why... [She hurts... but it's clearly for him, in a fog of confusion that screams at how wrong that memory is, even as it burns into her mind, her voice choking quietly.] W-why didn't you say anything...
[Akira freezes the moment her fingers touch his cheeks, as though such gentle care and affection was foreign to him. he neither leans into her nor pulls away, caught frozen in stasis, unsure of how he should react. his uncertainty is clear in his expression-- in the way he stares at her, wide-eyed and a bit bewildered, a bit confused. it's certainly not unwelcome, the way she frets over him, the way her fingers ghost over bruises that had long since healed, but it's not. . . typical]
[. . . it's a little warm, actually. warm in a way he can't describe. kind of like. . . the warmth he felt when he had found his home with the Phantom Thieves]
[when he speaks, his voice is weak and a little breathless]
. . . what would I have even said?
[like, really!!]
All that would've done is give them more of a reason to lash out at me.
[Akira doesn't like staying quiet, but even his defiant self knows better than to make things worse for himself in an already shitty situation]
[Except she knows it's likely not that simple. It shows in the utter lack of bite in her tone, not a blame but an unspoken question, her fingers curling against his skin to loosly rest the knuckles against his jawline, face a flurry of conflicting emotions.]
All those things they blamed you for... they couldn't be what you... y-you...
...
Plesse tell me you had a reason. Anything.
[She had seen how he moved, how he ran through the window as though he never wanted to get caught. But... ]
[his face twists at that, brows furrowed and gaze narrowed unpleasantly, a bitter edge to the curl of his lips. she should understand why. . . based solely on their conversation from Sunday]
People like that don't care about the truth.
[it somehow comes out both bland and bitter all at once, a brief resurfacing of the feelings he tended to keep buried underneath layers of collected calm. of lighthearted teasing]
They only care about their own selfishness. About stepping on those who get in their way.
They already knew the truth. They just didn't give a shit about it.
[he'll answer her other question in a moment, he just. . . has to address that part, first]
Ah. That tone is a little familiar. Her touch warily lowers from his face, instead moving to take the hand that he had rested against her shoulder, coaxing the grip off enough to, instead, rest in her palm.]
You... really have been hurt deeply by that part of the world, haven't you?
...
I'm sorry. It seems so unlike you to simply let something like that go with someone else... so I... I'm surprised.
[that gets his expression to soften, gaze flickering down to her hand and the way it is pressed against his own. on instinct. . . his fingers curl around hers, grip loose. when he looks up. . . he has calmed down]
I have.
[god, hasn't he. and it's the reason he tries so hard to make the world better, isn't it?]
And I wasn't letting it go. [even if it seemed like he was] . . . when I got arrested that time, it was on purpose. I needed to be arrested in order to draw out my enemies.
I needed to figure out who owned those cops so I could go after them directly.
Ill give akira another tag or so and then u can suffer
You played stubborn so that you could get to a point of possible escalation, for... the sake of a lead? For personal justice?
[There's a hint of something unpleasant in the implication. To pursue another with a just intent was one thing, but... how easily that could turn into a harmful or murderous intent, an antithesis of her entire being.]
[there's no hesitation in his response, and it's delivered firmly and honestly]
It was.
[fortunately for Luna? Akira's ideals were so fixed that his desire for justice never dipped into something murderous, something unpleasant or opposed to his own entire being. but it isn't as though she would know that. . . after all, he still has yet to tell her about his exploits as a phantom thief]
[. . .]
[maybe it's about time he did]
I can tell you the whole story. It's-- long.
But it'll explain everything.
[including why Akechi had tried to kill him oh-so long ago]
Your interrogator mentioned stealing hearts, correct? I imagine that isn't a, um, literal sense.
...
Could it be that you--
[She suddenly cuts off, an odd loss for words as her mind suddenly turns elsewhere of its own accord, taking Akira's internal view with it. A memory crawls up from 19:16 - 23:28, obedience fighting with an unignorable desire to help instead of harm... and feeling the horrible grip of shame, of helplessness, of fear, all while you do precisely as you are expected. As you are programmed.
...
Luna's gaze instantly falls to the floor, withdrawing her touch as though she thinks she might hurt him with the contact. At least, of all people to see this memory... it was someone that already knew her side of it. But Akane's words so fresh in her mind stings, and it shows on her face.]
[he doesn't know what she's trying to ask. he doesn't learn, either. . . because before she can finish her question, his mind is yanked out of the present and into a world far, far away from his own]
[. . .]
[this memory would be more shocking if Akira wasn't already aware of what Luna was, of what she had been doing before being dragged into the mansion. the struggle between Luna's true desires and the old woman's orders is so crisp and clear that Akira feels Luna's pain, her loss of agency, her inability to do what she wanted to do and help as though it were his own]
[. . .]
[she draws her hand back. . . and he reaches for it immediately, grip tight]
Shit.
[that curse is not at all directed at Luna. and the way his eyes flash underneath his glasses, fire dancing in his irises, says everything that needs to be said about his opinions on the elderly Akane]
[The profanity isn't for her. Logically, she can parse it out. But she still flinches bodily, her body language practically crumpling between Akira and the fixture behind her.
She doesn't pull her hand back... but it shakes noticeably under Akira's fingers.]
...
Please don't.
This is just how things are.
[Her voice is distant and small. How she wishes it were not the case.]
[. . . in this moment, she reminds him so, so much of himself. of how he was immediately preceding his unfair arrest and rigged conviction. she reminds him of every reason he stepped into Joker's persona, leather jacket and red gloves and white mask his only weapons against an unfair world]
. . .
At one point in my life, I had said that, too.
[he says quietly, wrangling the anger in his gut to a more manageable level. he doesn't wish to startle her again]
[so long as she doesn't pull away, his grip on her hand remains]
[. . . oh no. are there tears? because they wrench at Akira's heart violently, forming a lump in his throat and a certain tightness in his chest that makes him want to yank out the heart of every nasty person who has made Luna's life miserable up until now]
[carefully (and with some hesitation), he reaches up to brush his thumb against her cheek to wipe away any tears. he doesn't guide her to look at him, though. . . not yet]
You are a person, Luna.
[he says that quietly, but with a sort of affirmation that makes it clear he believes what he's saying. that makes it clear he'd fight anyone who disagreed]
You think and feel and heart and mourn just like the rest of us. It doesn't matter what your body does, or what your programming says or tells you to do. You're a person.
And people who take advantage of your biological makeup to make you feel and treat you as otherwise-- [or non-biological, as it is] -- are nothing but scum.
[Her face twists, a deep and wrenching hurt. But she doesn't shake his touch away, starting slightly when she feels his fingers against her face. What... what is he...
...
She can't help it. She leans hesitantly into the touch, the comfort needed even as her tears keep coming, an unravelling in her that's hard to contain. Had... had anyone ever treated her like a person? Sigma had tried. But the distance was always still there, vast and unignorable.]
I'm a machine... H-how could you think that about a machine? Why would you...
[stop stop, don't look at him like that, he doesn't know what to do or say or anything to make her understand that he doesn't care about what she's made of, about her origins, about how she came to be.]
[he just cares that she is, and the fact that she is means she deserves. isn't that enough. . .?]
You've worked harder than anyone else here to make sure that everyone is healthy and well-taken care of. And I could feel it in that memory-- your desire to protect, to follow your own path, to be yourself.
If I can't trust someone like that, then who can I trust?
[That feeling only twists harder. It doesn't make any logical sense. And yet...
...
Her tears don't stop. But she's nodding, a hesitant motion at first, then repeated as she screws her eyes shut, pressing her free hand to her eyes.
She shudders for breath... but there's a smile on her face, fighting against the tears, even as she nods once more. He trusts her. He trusts her. Even if it should matter for her... for him, it doesn't. And her heart feels full to bursting trying to accept it.]
[better, he thinks. her smile is so much brighter than her tears]
[there isn't really much else he can say. Akira has never been great with words, although he always tries. and when he doesn't have the words, he has always been the type to allow his actions to speak for him]
[and so. . . with that, he drops his hand from her cheek, leans forward, and draws her into a warm, encompassing hug]
[She won't hug back, considering both her hands are working on trying to clean off her face, quietly apologizing for the mess. But she easily leans into his hold once she realizes what he's doing. There's a nervous sort of laugh as she accepts the embrace, a sigh on the release of breath.]
T-that... that was such horrible timing during something so important... I... [She swallows, wiping her eyes once more.]
M-maybe I... I can hope you won't steal my heart for the oversight...
[It's weak, but still an attempt at a segue, the corners of her mouth tired but still lifted, an apology in its delicacy.]
[. . . the timing was bad, yeah. and it was a heavy conversation, one that still leaves some lingering discontent in Akira's gut every time he thinks about that woman and how she had treated Luna as less than a person. but her commentary lightens his heart a bit, and he can't help but let out a breathless laugh, body shaking slightly with each chortle]
[his response is light, and he isn't yet pulling away from the hug]
[Mmm. This feels... nice. She wouldn't mind this for a little longer. But she doesn't want to keep him from what he was trying to explain, especially over something so important.]
...Could... you tell me more about what happened? About the hearts?
I... I would like to understand why you did what you did.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It's like watching a car crash in slow motion. First it's confusing, almost fantastical in the shift rome reality to the view another, fleeing the authorities, mind racing with emotions that are not hers. He's caught. He's cuffed. He's beaten. Why doesn't he defend himself...? What... what did he DO? Why doesn't he know??
She stumbles against one of the artifact cases, a hand to her mouth as glassy eyes look right towards Akira, imagining him bruised and drugged and struggling for breath and doing nothing to stop it.]
...
...Why?
A... Akira...
no subject
Shit--
[but his first thought isn't about himself, nevermind that the house has decided to share this memory with literally everyone he's spoken to. it's for her, because nobody should have to relive the hell he went through on November 20]
Sorry, I'm-- sorry, I didn't mean to. . . are you okay?
[he reaches out to her, hand extended towards her shoulder, as though trying to steady her or comfort her or something]
no subject
There's a break in her expression, torn apart, reaching her hand out to brush against his face with shaking fingers, where she knew had once been bruises and blood, as though it might help her remember that he's whole and fine where he stands.]
Why... [She hurts... but it's clearly for him, in a fog of confusion that screams at how wrong that memory is, even as it burns into her mind, her voice choking quietly.] W-why didn't you say anything...
no subject
[Akira freezes the moment her fingers touch his cheeks, as though such gentle care and affection was foreign to him. he neither leans into her nor pulls away, caught frozen in stasis, unsure of how he should react. his uncertainty is clear in his expression-- in the way he stares at her, wide-eyed and a bit bewildered, a bit confused. it's certainly not unwelcome, the way she frets over him, the way her fingers ghost over bruises that had long since healed, but it's not. . . typical]
[. . . it's a little warm, actually. warm in a way he can't describe. kind of like. . . the warmth he felt when he had found his home with the Phantom Thieves]
[when he speaks, his voice is weak and a little breathless]
. . . what would I have even said?
[like, really!!]
All that would've done is give them more of a reason to lash out at me.
[Akira doesn't like staying quiet, but even his defiant self knows better than to make things worse for himself in an already shitty situation]
no subject
[Except she knows it's likely not that simple. It shows in the utter lack of bite in her tone, not a blame but an unspoken question, her fingers curling against his skin to loosly rest the knuckles against his jawline, face a flurry of conflicting emotions.]
All those things they blamed you for... they couldn't be what you... y-you...
...
Plesse tell me you had a reason. Anything.
[She had seen how he moved, how he ran through the window as though he never wanted to get caught. But... ]
no subject
People like that don't care about the truth.
[it somehow comes out both bland and bitter all at once, a brief resurfacing of the feelings he tended to keep buried underneath layers of collected calm. of lighthearted teasing]
They only care about their own selfishness. About stepping on those who get in their way.
They already knew the truth. They just didn't give a shit about it.
[he'll answer her other question in a moment, he just. . . has to address that part, first]
when u see the bad typo the next day.... woe.....
Ah. That tone is a little familiar. Her touch warily lowers from his face, instead moving to take the hand that he had rested against her shoulder, coaxing the grip off enough to, instead, rest in her palm.]
You... really have been hurt deeply by that part of the world, haven't you?
...
I'm sorry. It seems so unlike you to simply let something like that go with someone else... so I... I'm surprised.
THE WORST. . .
I have.
[god, hasn't he. and it's the reason he tries so hard to make the world better, isn't it?]
And I wasn't letting it go. [even if it seemed like he was] . . . when I got arrested that time, it was on purpose. I needed to be arrested in order to draw out my enemies.
I needed to figure out who owned those cops so I could go after them directly.
Ill give akira another tag or so and then u can suffer
You played stubborn so that you could get to a point of possible escalation, for... the sake of a lead? For personal justice?
[There's a hint of something unpleasant in the implication. To pursue another with a just intent was one thing, but... how easily that could turn into a harmful or murderous intent, an antithesis of her entire being.]
...
Could I ask if it was worth it?
I AM ALREADY SUFFERING
It was.
[fortunately for Luna? Akira's ideals were so fixed that his desire for justice never dipped into something murderous, something unpleasant or opposed to his own entire being. but it isn't as though she would know that. . . after all, he still has yet to tell her about his exploits as a phantom thief]
[. . .]
[maybe it's about time he did]
I can tell you the whole story. It's-- long.
But it'll explain everything.
[including why Akechi had tried to kill him oh-so long ago]
Well here is some more
Your interrogator mentioned stealing hearts, correct? I imagine that isn't a, um, literal sense.
...
Could it be that you--
[She suddenly cuts off, an odd loss for words as her mind suddenly turns elsewhere of its own accord, taking Akira's internal view with it. A memory crawls up from 19:16 - 23:28, obedience fighting with an unignorable desire to help instead of harm... and feeling the horrible grip of shame, of helplessness, of fear, all while you do precisely as you are expected. As you are programmed.
...
Luna's gaze instantly falls to the floor, withdrawing her touch as though she thinks she might hurt him with the contact. At least, of all people to see this memory... it was someone that already knew her side of it. But Akane's words so fresh in her mind stings, and it shows on her face.]
wails
[. . .]
[this memory would be more shocking if Akira wasn't already aware of what Luna was, of what she had been doing before being dragged into the mansion. the struggle between Luna's true desires and the old woman's orders is so crisp and clear that Akira feels Luna's pain, her loss of agency, her inability to do what she wanted to do and help as though it were his own]
[. . .]
[she draws her hand back. . . and he reaches for it immediately, grip tight]
Shit.
[that curse is not at all directed at Luna. and the way his eyes flash underneath his glasses, fire dancing in his irises, says everything that needs to be said about his opinions on the elderly Akane]
Re: wails
She doesn't pull her hand back... but it shakes noticeably under Akira's fingers.]
...
Please don't.
This is just how things are.
[Her voice is distant and small. How she wishes it were not the case.]
no subject
. . .
At one point in my life, I had said that, too.
[he says quietly, wrangling the anger in his gut to a more manageable level. he doesn't wish to startle her again]
[so long as she doesn't pull away, his grip on her hand remains]
It doesn't have to be that way, though.
no subject
[She doesn't dare look at him, but it's obvious she has started to cry, even though her voice stays somewhat steady.]
I'm not a person, Akira. I... just pretend to be one. That's all it is. Pretend.
Why do you think my body shut down on Friday? Or with Akechi? I...
I can't just... decide to be different.
no subject
[carefully (and with some hesitation), he reaches up to brush his thumb against her cheek to wipe away any tears. he doesn't guide her to look at him, though. . . not yet]
You are a person, Luna.
[he says that quietly, but with a sort of affirmation that makes it clear he believes what he's saying. that makes it clear he'd fight anyone who disagreed]
You think and feel and heart and mourn just like the rest of us. It doesn't matter what your body does, or what your programming says or tells you to do. You're a person.
And people who take advantage of your biological makeup to make you feel and treat you as otherwise-- [or non-biological, as it is] -- are nothing but scum.
no subject
[Her face twists, a deep and wrenching hurt. But she doesn't shake his touch away, starting slightly when she feels his fingers against her face. What... what is he...
...
She can't help it. She leans hesitantly into the touch, the comfort needed even as her tears keep coming, an unravelling in her that's hard to contain. Had... had anyone ever treated her like a person? Sigma had tried. But the distance was always still there, vast and unignorable.]
I'm a machine... H-how could you think that about a machine? Why would you...
[She lifts her head, her eyes filled with tears.]
W-why do you trust me so much??
no subject
[stop stop, don't look at him like that, he doesn't know what to do or say or anything to make her understand that he doesn't care about what she's made of, about her origins, about how she came to be.]
[he just cares that she is, and the fact that she is means she deserves. isn't that enough. . .?]
You've worked harder than anyone else here to make sure that everyone is healthy and well-taken care of. And I could feel it in that memory-- your desire to protect, to follow your own path, to be yourself.
If I can't trust someone like that, then who can I trust?
no subject
...
Her tears don't stop. But she's nodding, a hesitant motion at first, then repeated as she screws her eyes shut, pressing her free hand to her eyes.
She shudders for breath... but there's a smile on her face, fighting against the tears, even as she nods once more. He trusts her. He trusts her. Even if it should matter for her... for him, it doesn't. And her heart feels full to bursting trying to accept it.]
no subject
[there isn't really much else he can say. Akira has never been great with words, although he always tries. and when he doesn't have the words, he has always been the type to allow his actions to speak for him]
[and so. . . with that, he drops his hand from her cheek, leans forward, and draws her into a warm, encompassing hug]
no subject
T-that... that was such horrible timing during something so important... I... [She swallows, wiping her eyes once more.]
M-maybe I... I can hope you won't steal my heart for the oversight...
[It's weak, but still an attempt at a segue, the corners of her mouth tired but still lifted, an apology in its delicacy.]
no subject
[. . . the timing was bad, yeah. and it was a heavy conversation, one that still leaves some lingering discontent in Akira's gut every time he thinks about that woman and how she had treated Luna as less than a person. but her commentary lightens his heart a bit, and he can't help but let out a breathless laugh, body shaking slightly with each chortle]
[his response is light, and he isn't yet pulling away from the hug]
No promises.
no subject
...Could... you tell me more about what happened? About the hearts?
I... I would like to understand why you did what you did.
no subject
[. . .]
I guess I haven't told you about that yet, have I?
[he doesn't stiffen or close himself off from her when she asks, but there is-- perhaps-- a touch of apprehension in his expression]
The "professional thief" thing on my plaque is the truth. I am a thief.
I steal the hearts of corrupt criminals to make them confess their crimes to the public.
no subject
Could... you explain what that involves? It sounds very, um... metaphorical.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)