Maruki watches her carefully. Every breath, every slight tremble, the way she curls in on herself like a wounded animal. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move more than necessary—just watches. His fingers remain where they are, resting gently against her back, the weight of his hand more of an anchor.
An intrusion.
Her reaction is telling.
The shake of her head. The tightening of her form. The way she refuses to lift her face, as though whatever she’s holding inside might spill out the moment she meets his gaze.
And then—
"February fourth."
Her voice wavers.
Maruki stills.
February fourth.
It’s September now.
Six months.
Six months she’s been carrying this weight alone, in a world where suffering shouldn’t< exist. From the moment he thought he had completed his work, this one young woman had slipped out of his radar somehow. How.
Six months, and he hadn’t noticed.
Hadn’t treated her.
He had let her suffer.
Something inside him twists, his breath catching before he can school himself back into composure. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.
Without thinking, he breathes out, “I’m sorry.”
It slips out before he can stop himself, too raw, too genuine. And he knows—he knows—he can’t afford to let that thread of doubt linger.
His grip on her shoulder tightens ever so slightly—not enough to startle, but enough to ground. A slow, steady reassurance. Then, smoothly, he pulls it back, voice softening, carefully measured once again.
“I didn’t mean to... if this is too much,” he murmurs, giving her space. “Take deep breaths. You don’t have to say more if you don’t want to. It’s alright.”
The apology, the I'm sorry cracks through what Hamuko had left for composure. A shaking sob wracked out of her - and with a start, she sat upright again, wiping her eyes, trying to will the facade back in place.
He remembers.
He understands.
But with the acceptance of everyone else being this strange 'happy'... he wouldn't understand really. And-- even if he remembered life before, that didn't mean he knew anything about what she'd seen. About the ever present threat.
"I'm okay, I'm fine. I'm sorry. Ugh...! I was supposed to save this for the specialist," she laughed amidst sniffling, wiping her sleeves against her face over and over. She's glad she didn't go with mascara today! "Thank you for listening. T-thank you for-- for speaking with me. I feel a lot better."
Ah, he knew the facade when he saw one. While most people around him were genuinely happy (they were happy); the choked out sob, the cracks in her composure, it made him panic. Undeniably so. His fingers twitched and a certain deep voice throttled within him.
Seek me, Azathoth's voice brimmed right through as Hamuko sat up. Enough of this nonsense, Takuto. You know what to do.
Maruki closed his eyes for the briefest second, inhaling slowly, deeply, before exhaling just as carefully.
Not now.
Not yet.
His expression softened, but his gaze remained sharp, searching. Watching as her laughter warbled between gasps, a sound so utterly wrong that it nearly made him wince. He forced a breath out through his nose, lips barely quirking upward as he tilted his head.
“Do you really?” The words weren’t harsh, but there was something knowing in the way he said them, something that danced between concern and quiet challenge. But then, a huff of air, a slight shake of his head, as if dismissing his own thoughts. “Well, I doubt you’ll fall apart like this in front of your specialist, but... I’m glad I could lend an ear, at least.”
He moved then, dipping forward slightly, a shift that could have been the prelude to standing up.
If only for the briefest moment.
And then, smoothly, he reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief, offering it to her.
“Here.” His tone was light, teasing—something to ease the burden pressing down on her shoulders. And then, with an amused lilt, he added, “If you keep wiping your face like that, you’re going to end up with sleeves that smell like snot for the rest of the day.”
"And I feel like I might feel responsible for that."
She'd jolted a little then, too, seeing him move as if to get up. Even if she felt distressed by him, her gut SCREAMED at the idea of him leaving her because she broke down - just like everyone else.
So the shift, the change to him pulling out a handkerchief instead... to giving it to her, a gesture of kindness and acknowledging her pain...
He was real.
"I do. Genuinely... thank you," Hamuko nodded, taking the handkerchief and sniffling as she wiped her eyes.
And it was true - a simple, frustrating minute of conversation cut through six months of extreme doubt. She knew now. The uncertainty of does Nyx exist and am I just insane were gone completely out of the window, with a single disagreement from a stranger being abrasive. Six months of feeling violently emotionally disconnected from the people she loved most finally felt like it made sense.
God, that did not bode well for reality, then - there had to be something going on.
"Ugh. I needed that," she mumbled into the handkerchief.
His words seemed to...improve her? All he really did was try to push the hopeless narrative that something was wrong with her. He was right about it too since she had no choice but to cling to that pain since his paradise was too disorienting for her. The fact that when it felt like he was getting up, she jolted because why wouldn't she? He wasn't part of his own paradise and he accepted that rather readily.
The price, the cost of it all justified the end.
Maruki let out a quiet breath, watching her carefully. His lips curved into something easy, something pleasant, but there was a slight tension in his brow, the faintest flicker of something calculating just beneath the surface.
“Glad I could be of service, then.”
The warmth in his voice was measured, controlled. It lacked the same gentle patience he usually carried—like someone swallowing down the taste of something off.
Something had changed.
With her.
And change was dangerous.
But he smothered the thought down, tucking it neatly away. A single conversation wouldn’t upend anything. Would it?
He exhaled slowly through his nose, letting the easy smile settle, the mask fitting snugly back in place.
“I take it you’ll be alright for your appointment?”
"I'll live," she said through a sniffle, though now she was unsure whether there was a point in going to these specialists. If she was right.
She had to be. That's the only thing that made sense.
Her phone started chiming, the little alarm she'd set to wake her up in case she'd fallen asleep outside - which she had - reminding her about the appointment. Obligating her to move forward.
"Fine, okay, okay... time marches on," she sighed, turning off the alarm, reluctance weighing every cell in her body as she slowly stood up anyway. She turned to give Shibusawa a bow, passing the handkerchief back - mercifully free of snot, at least! "I'm sorry again for overreacting. I hope we bump into each other again, Shibusawa-san."
It had been a while since he’d needed to focus so intently on one patient, but he would correct this. He knew what to expect now. What to prepare for. What adjustments needed to be made.
Even if he had made a miscalculation today, Azathoth would allow him to smooth it all away.
After all, his presence—his true presence—would be too painful for anyone else.
Maruki didn’t flinch at the alarm. He had already been keeping track of the time, watching it slip away like the slow, deliberate movement of Azathoth’s tentacles curling through the fabric of reality. A quiet, ever-present rhythm. He was aware of it, just as he was aware of himself, down to the smallest details—the way each new grey strand in his hair blinked out of existence the moment he noticed it.
Time moved forward.
And yet, in some ways, it didn’t.
He stood as well, exhaling as he glanced at his watch—just a little act, a tiny performance. A sigh, practiced but natural, like he too felt the weight of time’s obligations pressing down.
"Ah- no, I didn't think there was any overreaction," he continues comforting with a quick wave of his hand before accepting his handkerchief.
I hope we bump into each other again, Shibusawa-san.
We will. Don't you worry.
His lips quirked ever so slightly, though there was something else behind his gaze—something obscured just enough to be unreadable. He tilted his head, letting his words come slowly, deliberately.
“But that would mean we’re still struggling, wouldn’t it? If we meet again in a place like this?” A beat. A slight shrug, light and casual. “Let’s just hope that, next time, I get some sort of upgrade from these ridiculous headaches instead.”
It was feigned ignorance—just enough of a deflection to seem natural. But the meaning was there. The point was there.
His expression softened again, his voice dipping into something gentle, something soothing.
“Still, I wish you a speedy recovery. You deserve to spend your days carefree.”
Then, as if just remembering something, he reached into his coat pocket.
A moment or two that passes, light reflecting off his glasses to obscure his gaze before he reveals a small donut wrapped in plastic. "Here." It's smaller in size, clearly more of a snack then an actual dessert as he presents it to her with casual amusement. "Just to make the whole process a little pleasant. I usually keep these on me too."
"Hah! Oh, that's fun," she laughed in surprise, despite how... stiff? Cold? That Shibusawa was being.
...But despite the fact that he was cold, that in and of itself was... a relief. He was unpleasant, in a way that someone that knew what before was like could only be. And despite being unpleasant, there was still a normal man behind the wall he was holding up.
Maybe that's why Hamuko felt a little tug at her heart. Something warm, something that gave her... purpose. Hope. Resolve.
There WAS a world before. Nyx does exist, but something else is happening. She just needs to figure out what.
Shibusawa is just trying to cope with the world they're in now, and she can't begrudge him that.
"You're right, though. It'd be a little glum to only keep meeting at a doctor's office. Let me give you my number... that way we can go on a date."
Maruki had already begun his usual routine—his quiet, polite exit.
His fingers tucked back into his pocket, and with an easy, practiced motion, he dipped forward slightly, just the barest inclination of a bow.
“Well then,” he murmured, the words smooth, automatic. “I won’t keep you any longer—”
And then—
"—that way we can go on a date."
For the first time in a long, long while, Takuto Maruki stopped.
It wasn’t just a slight hesitation, not the quiet, calculated pauses he sometimes took in conversation. No, this was a full stop, a complete derailment of the train of thought he had so carefully constructed.
His breath hitched just slightly, his weight shifting awkwardly as his head lifted to look at her, blinking rapidly, dark brown eyes staring in what could only be described as pure, unfiltered confusion.
His mouth, which had been poised to continue speaking, parted—then hung open.
A single, awkward laugh slipped out of him, utterly unguarded, more of a startled chuckle than anything else. His hand came up, fingers rubbing at the back of his neck as he let out another awkward, breathy, “I—I don’t follow.”
Oh, he did follow. He just really, really wasn’t sure how to process it.
Because—
A date? A date?
His gaze flickered to her, as if trying to assess if she was serious or if this was some elaborate joke at his expense.
"Did you think I was joking about how handsome you were?" she teased.
...It felt good to tease someone like this. And not have it feel... wrong.
"We got off on a strange foot, but...! I think we could have a little fun seeing a movie, or going to a cafe. Probably a much better way to pass the time waiting for appointments, right?"
'Shibusawa' truly looks at her like she's grown a second-head. It's not like he isn't aware that people...seem to hold that opinion of him. Even back in Shujin Academy some of the students used to comment on his looks. Most of them were rather overwhelmingly positive or pointedly neutral.
Which was strange since Takuto only ever really put the effort in making himself look more put-together.
His lips parted again, before closing, before parting again, his brain actively short-circuiting. He hadn’t had a patient catch him this off guard since—
Since—
...It had been a while.
So, with a slightly forced, slightly frazzled chuckle, he cleared his throat and gave a helpless sort of gesture, waving a hand lightly as if that would dispel the sudden shift in atmosphere.
“Aha, um—” His voice cracked. “That’s... very kind of you, but I—uh, I really don’t think that’s—”
Still, spending time with her might give him an idea of what aspect of his reality makes her click away.
He's thinking.
He's been seeing people-couples and others laughing away to themselves, holding hands as they go on dates, shopping away with their friends and what not. Maybe if she saw what made his reality so beautiful, she would find it easier to accept it again without feeling like she isn't a part of it. That she could thrive in it.
Takuto didn't have any particular feelings to the date itself. His goals and his research took a lot of time from his normal life and a part of him knew that spending time on distractions would be another second he wasted where someone might be going through something far worse.
"...I'm not sure," he looks away, slight red on his cheeks. "I'd hate to take up your time like that."
Maruki would level her a look for her laughing if he wasn't already so conflicted by said events. What was her play here? What was she going to achieve by seeking him?
Fix this, Azathoth murmured into his psyche. Or leave.
He can fix this.
He just needs to know what makes her click.
His arms folded across his chest, posture tilting slightly as he regarded her, unreadable. “You’re quite relentless, Arisato-san,” he mused, voice light yet carefully measured. “No offense.”
He meant it. But this was her game, wasn’t it? He was merely playing along.
For now.
"But..." A small pause, deliberate. A tilt of his head, the ghost of a thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. "I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”
Because how could he ever say no to someone's wishes?
Still, he turned her words over in his mind, analyzing them as if they were pieces of a puzzle.
He shifted his weight slightly, glancing at her with something between curiosity and calculation.
“A long train ride, huh?” His voice carried a trace of amusement, but his eyes were sharp, quietly prying. “Do you live far?”
"Sure do! This isn't even the farthest I've been going for seeing specialists," she laughed a bit, rolling her eyes.
If it was a change in reality, no wonder none of them could help her. It's the same thing she experienced after the car crash.
"Buuuut the specifics... well, you'll just have to wait for next time, right? I'll text you to let you know when I'll be around next. Then we can more properly get to know each other."
Maruki’s expression didn’t shift, not even a flicker of reaction as Hamuko spoke—but his thoughts stirred, curling inward like ink spreading through water.
He should have known. Should have realized sooner.
The guilt pressed at the edges of his mind again, creeping in like an unshakable fog. He had overlooked her condition, dismissed it when he shouldn’t have. He was better than this—he was supposed to be better than this.
And yet, outwardly, his demeanor remained composed, his face betraying nothing.
Instead, he let out a soft, almost amused hum, slipping back into the easy rhythm of conversation. “You know, you could’ve just left a review with a phone number on the handkerchief instead,” he quipped lightly, his tone teasing but clearly joking.
Still, he shook his head, slipping a hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen for a brief moment before he finally glanced back at her, one brow slightly raised.
“I’ll warn you now,” he added, his voice dipping into something quieter. “There really isn’t much to know about me. You’ll probably just be disappointed.”
He didn’t mean for it to sound self-deprecating—if anything, it was just a matter of fact.
But this outing, this so-called date... it had its purpose.
Beyond the pristine white walls of the labs, beyond the sterile, calculated environment, this was an opportunity.
Because that was what mattered.
And if that meant indulging in whatever this was...well.
At the comment about a more smooth way to share a number, Hamuko snapped her fingers and uttered damn - her game really had been getting rusty from just half a year of not flirting! Noted for if these dates went anywhere - she wasn't worried about whether or not they'd romantically hit it off, but there's no way she'd let him win.
There really isn't much to know about me.
That just has her laughing. The laugh carried the weight of all of her feelings.
He could be dull as a rock, for all she cared - he was real, deeper than a shallow puddle, there was no way she wouldn't appreciate him and all of his weird, surly, meanness.
"Here. I'll step my game up next time - it's a guarantee," she chuckled, sharing her phone number and exchanging contacts. "Alright. I'm gonna be late, I'll let you go. Next time, I promise we'll have fun."
He didn't know what exactly was she going to look forward to without any of the happiness that she blatantly refused or found herself struggling to accept. Maruki was just a man. A man who dreamt of a better place.
Beyond that? Beyond Azathoth? He was the only permitted blemish here.
"Now you have made me curious," he smiled softly at her supposed promise. "But yeah sorry- like I said, lost track of time myself. I think my specialist is practically getting used to it now. I am sure yours will be forgiving as well." There was a sigh following that sentence, a measured crack in the abrasive man. He stepped back, placing the hand holding his phone back in his pocket.
"See you around." He threw back with a quick lilt of a bow before turning around completely, not sparing another glance still even by the other rather amusing turn of events.
He already knew what exactly he will be drafting in the folder titled: "Case 40382917: Hamuko Arisato" after all.
It was time for her appointment, and this time... she didn't feel nearly so lost.
She sat with this doctor. Described her physical symptoms - periodic mental fog, lethargy, dreams. Body dysmorphia... not from dissatisfaction from how she looked, but from how she felt detached from the body she had now.
(Now, though, she knew exactly why.)
Pressed to explain her disconnect, Hamuko nodded and did just that - in a session recorded, being viewed though Hamuko did not suspect it would be.
"The reason I struggle to emotionally connect to other people is because no one has a depth of experience to connect to. No one else is as impacted by their troubles as I am. And no one seems... to even be able to handle me struggling. It's as if my existence is troublesome, and it gets glossed over until the problems are forgotten.
"But it wasn't always like this. I remember that those closest to me... they had also gone through pains like mine. They understood me, and I understood them... and we found a lot of meaning, together, about why we should keep living and striving for happiness together--"
"I assume this is from the dreams you claim to have, where those around you and yourself both were living through trauma?"
A pause. Swallowed frustration. He's missing the forest for the trees, again, they keep DOING that...!
"...Fate is not kind. And it isn't cruel, either. Life, death, happenstance, twists of circumstance... I won't run away from that truth anymore. The people around me don't deserve that. So, doctor-- please help me figure out what's happened."
"Alright... let's see. What would you like us to do next, Arisato-san?"
"Scans, biopsies, bloodwork - I want to know every inch of what my body is doing, especially my brain. I want to rule everything else out, please."
Once she had the confirmation that the physical was not the problem, she would know for sure that what had happened was metaphysical. Supernatural. She pressed for all of those today, and-- well, of course everything was ready even if it wasn't scheduled. Who else was suffering, right now, after all?
"Arisato-san... you are free to head home now. But before you go... these notes on Shadows, on this Dark Hour... do you still perceive these hallucinations?"
"...I don't. Not those specific things, no. The other feelings, though... the connections I feel from before... I think those still exist. I'm sure of it."
It's there that Hamuko bows, thanks him, and excuses herself. She has another appointment at this office in ten days clutched in her hand, and she has to decide what she wants to do after that.
Observed today's session in full. Subject continues to display clear signs of dissociation and a persistent, unresolved fixation on an alternate perceived reality. Emotional detachment from the present remains prominent—though she masks it well, there are definitive patterns:
-Disinterest in forming new, meaningful connections with other patients. -Strong attachment to a past she believes has been “erased.” -A fundamental rejection of the happiness available to her in the present.
There is no biological root cause. No neurological abnormalities. No markers of disease or damage. Her cognition functions at an optimal level—above average, even. By all accounts, her body is fine.
And yet, she suffers.
Her self-perception is fractured, disconnected. She seeks validation through pain, through struggle. There is no meaning in joy unless it is hard-earned, unless it is fought for. She will not accept happiness if it is freely given.
That is...troubling.
At this rate, she will continue to search. She will tear herself apart looking for answers that do not exist. No, that should not exist.
And so, the question remains: what does she require?
A place where pain is shared? A world where others have suffered as she has, where hardship is a necessary prelude to fulfillment? She claims that those closest to her once understood her because they, too, had endured. That their suffering was not a burden, but a bond.
If that is what she truly believes, then she will never—never—find peace here.
Not as things are now.
...She needs to heal.
Not through further struggle. Not through the endless, obsessive pursuit of something long gone.
She needs to remember what happiness feels like. True happiness.
She needs to see them again.
Not me—not this—not this careful, measured attempt at connection that she only barely entertains.
She needs them.
Her friends.
She needs to hate Shibusawa.
And if that still doesn't convince her. If she's still stubborn- slight misdirection, then. A carefully constructed truth.
Her tests will return mostly normal. Mostly. No glaring abnormalities, nothing that would disprove her own experiences outright—but just enough to keep her engaged. Just enough to keep her here.
The bloodwork, for instance. A slight anomaly—perhaps a minor hormonal imbalance, an unusual neurotransmitter pattern. Nothing alarming. Nothing definitive. Just a thread.
The neurological scans—clear, but...irregularities in sleep cycles, activity in regions associated with memory retrieval and emotional processing. A vague but plausible finding. A hypothesis worth exploring.
She will not question it. Not immediately.
Hamuko Arisato is not naïve, but she wants answers. And if I provide them in the right increments, if I give her just enough to validate her feelings without letting her spiral into paranoia, she will continue to trust me.
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An intrusion.Her reaction is telling.
The shake of her head. The tightening of her form. The way she refuses to lift her face, as though whatever she’s holding inside might spill out the moment she meets his gaze.
And then—
Her voice wavers.
Maruki stills.
February fourth.
It’s September now.
Six months.
Six months she’s been carrying this weight alone, in a world where suffering shouldn’t< exist. From the moment he thought he had completed his work, this one young woman had slipped out of his radar somehow. How.
Six months, and he hadn’t noticed.
Hadn’t treated her.
He had let her suffer.
Something inside him twists, his breath catching before he can school himself back into composure. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.
Without thinking, he breathes out, “I’m sorry.”
It slips out before he can stop himself, too raw, too genuine. And he knows—he knows—he can’t afford to let that thread of doubt linger.
His grip on her shoulder tightens ever so slightly—not enough to startle, but enough to ground. A slow, steady reassurance. Then, smoothly, he pulls it back, voice softening, carefully measured once again.
“I didn’t mean to... if this is too much,” he murmurs, giving her space. “Take deep breaths. You don’t have to say more if you don’t want to. It’s alright.”
His smile is warm, kind, as he tilts his head.
“I’m grateful you opened up this much.”
He means it.
And yet, deep down, something in him itches.
She shouldn’t have to feel this pain.
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He remembers.
He understands.
But with the acceptance of everyone else being this strange 'happy'... he wouldn't understand really. And-- even if he remembered life before, that didn't mean he knew anything about what she'd seen. About the ever present threat.
"I'm okay, I'm fine. I'm sorry. Ugh...! I was supposed to save this for the specialist," she laughed amidst sniffling, wiping her sleeves against her face over and over. She's glad she didn't go with mascara today! "Thank you for listening. T-thank you for-- for speaking with me. I feel a lot better."
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(they were happy);the choked out sob, the cracks in her composure, it made him panic. Undeniably so. His fingers twitched and a certain deep voice throttled within him.Seek me, Azathoth's voice brimmed right through as Hamuko sat up. Enough of this nonsense, Takuto. You know what to do.
Maruki closed his eyes for the briefest second, inhaling slowly, deeply, before exhaling just as carefully.
Not now.
Not yet.
His expression softened, but his gaze remained sharp, searching. Watching as her laughter warbled between gasps, a sound so utterly wrong that it nearly made him wince. He forced a breath out through his nose, lips barely quirking upward as he tilted his head.
“Do you really?” The words weren’t harsh, but there was something knowing in the way he said them, something that danced between concern and quiet challenge. But then, a huff of air, a slight shake of his head, as if dismissing his own thoughts. “Well, I doubt you’ll fall apart like this in front of your specialist, but... I’m glad I could lend an ear, at least.”
He moved then, dipping forward slightly, a shift that could have been the prelude to standing up.
If only for the briefest moment.
And then, smoothly, he reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief, offering it to her.
“Here.” His tone was light, teasing—something to ease the burden pressing down on her shoulders. And then, with an amused lilt, he added, “If you keep wiping your face like that, you’re going to end up with sleeves that smell like snot for the rest of the day.”
"And I feel like I might feel responsible for that."
no subject
She'd jolted a little then, too, seeing him move as if to get up. Even if she felt distressed by him, her gut SCREAMED at the idea of him leaving her because she broke down - just like everyone else.
So the shift, the change to him pulling out a handkerchief instead... to giving it to her, a gesture of kindness and acknowledging her pain...
He was real.
"I do. Genuinely... thank you," Hamuko nodded, taking the handkerchief and sniffling as she wiped her eyes.
And it was true - a simple, frustrating minute of conversation cut through six months of extreme doubt. She knew now. The uncertainty of does Nyx exist and am I just insane were gone completely out of the window, with a single disagreement from a stranger being abrasive. Six months of feeling violently emotionally disconnected from the people she loved most finally felt like it made sense.
God, that did not bode well for reality, then - there had to be something going on.
"Ugh. I needed that," she mumbled into the handkerchief.
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His words seemed to...improve her? All he really did was try to push the hopeless narrative that something was wrong with her. He was right about it too since she had no choice but to cling to that pain since his paradise was too disorienting for her. The fact that when it felt like he was getting up, she jolted because why wouldn't she? He wasn't part of his own paradise and he accepted that rather readily.
The price, the cost of it all justified the end.
Maruki let out a quiet breath, watching her carefully. His lips curved into something easy, something pleasant, but there was a slight tension in his brow, the faintest flicker of something calculating just beneath the surface.
“Glad I could be of service, then.”
The warmth in his voice was measured, controlled. It lacked the same gentle patience he usually carried—like someone swallowing down the taste of something off.
Something had changed.
With her.
And change was dangerous.
But he smothered the thought down, tucking it neatly away. A single conversation wouldn’t upend anything. Would it?
He exhaled slowly through his nose, letting the easy smile settle, the mask fitting snugly back in place.
“I take it you’ll be alright for your appointment?”
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She had to be. That's the only thing that made sense.
Her phone started chiming, the little alarm she'd set to wake her up in case she'd fallen asleep outside - which she had - reminding her about the appointment. Obligating her to move forward.
"Fine, okay, okay... time marches on," she sighed, turning off the alarm, reluctance weighing every cell in her body as she slowly stood up anyway. She turned to give Shibusawa a bow, passing the handkerchief back - mercifully free of snot, at least! "I'm sorry again for overreacting. I hope we bump into each other again, Shibusawa-san."
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This...oversight would not be tolerated again.
It had been a while since he’d needed to focus so intently on one patient, but he would correct this. He knew what to expect now. What to prepare for. What adjustments needed to be made.
Even if he had made a miscalculation today, Azathoth would allow him to smooth it all away.
After all, his presence—his true presence—would be too painful for anyone else.
Maruki didn’t flinch at the alarm. He had already been keeping track of the time, watching it slip away like the slow, deliberate movement of Azathoth’s tentacles curling through the fabric of reality. A quiet, ever-present rhythm. He was aware of it, just as he was aware of himself, down to the smallest details—the way each new grey strand in his hair blinked out of existence the moment he noticed it.
Time moved forward.
And yet, in some ways, it didn’t.
He stood as well, exhaling as he glanced at his watch—just a little act, a tiny performance. A sigh, practiced but natural, like he too felt the weight of time’s obligations pressing down.
"Ah- no, I didn't think there was any overreaction," he continues comforting with a quick wave of his hand before accepting his handkerchief.
I hope we bump into each other again, Shibusawa-san.
His lips quirked ever so slightly, though there was something else behind his gaze—something obscured just enough to be unreadable. He tilted his head, letting his words come slowly, deliberately.
“But that would mean we’re still struggling, wouldn’t it? If we meet again in a place like this?” A beat. A slight shrug, light and casual. “Let’s just hope that, next time, I get some sort of upgrade from these ridiculous headaches instead.”
It was feigned ignorance—just enough of a deflection to seem natural. But the meaning was there. The point was there.
His expression softened again, his voice dipping into something gentle, something soothing.
“Still, I wish you a speedy recovery. You deserve to spend your days carefree.”
Then, as if just remembering something, he reached into his coat pocket.
A moment or two that passes, light reflecting off his glasses to obscure his gaze before he reveals a small donut wrapped in plastic. "Here." It's smaller in size, clearly more of a snack then an actual dessert as he presents it to her with casual amusement. "Just to make the whole process a little pleasant. I usually keep these on me too."
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...But despite the fact that he was cold, that in and of itself was... a relief. He was unpleasant, in a way that someone that knew what before was like could only be. And despite being unpleasant, there was still a normal man behind the wall he was holding up.
Maybe that's why Hamuko felt a little tug at her heart. Something warm, something that gave her... purpose. Hope. Resolve.
There WAS a world before. Nyx does exist, but something else is happening. She just needs to figure out what.
Shibusawa is just trying to cope with the world they're in now, and she can't begrudge him that.
"You're right, though. It'd be a little glum to only keep meeting at a doctor's office. Let me give you my number... that way we can go on a date."
1/2
His fingers tucked back into his pocket, and with an easy, practiced motion, he dipped forward slightly, just the barest inclination of a bow.
“Well then,” he murmured, the words smooth, automatic. “I won’t keep you any longer—”
And then—
"—that way we can go on a date."
For the first time in a long, long while, Takuto Maruki stopped.
It wasn’t just a slight hesitation, not the quiet, calculated pauses he sometimes took in conversation. No, this was a full stop, a complete derailment of the train of thought he had so carefully constructed.
His breath hitched just slightly, his weight shifting awkwardly as his head lifted to look at her, blinking rapidly, dark brown eyes staring in what could only be described as pure, unfiltered confusion.
His mouth, which had been poised to continue speaking, parted—then hung open.
Nothing came out.
A blink.
Another.
And then, finally—
“Uhh.”
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Oh, he did follow. He just really, really wasn’t sure how to process it.
Because—
A date? A date?
His gaze flickered to her, as if trying to assess if she was serious or if this was some elaborate joke at his expense.
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...It felt good to tease someone like this. And not have it feel... wrong.
"We got off on a strange foot, but...! I think we could have a little fun seeing a movie, or going to a cafe. Probably a much better way to pass the time waiting for appointments, right?"
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'Shibusawa' truly looks at her like she's grown a second-head. It's not like he isn't aware that people...seem to hold that opinion of him. Even back in Shujin Academy some of the students used to comment on his looks. Most of them were rather overwhelmingly positive or pointedly neutral.
Which was strange since Takuto only ever really put the effort in making himself look more put-together.
His lips parted again, before closing, before parting again, his brain actively short-circuiting. He hadn’t had a patient catch him this off guard since—
Since—
...It had been a while.
So, with a slightly forced, slightly frazzled chuckle, he cleared his throat and gave a helpless sort of gesture, waving a hand lightly as if that would dispel the sudden shift in atmosphere.
“Aha, um—” His voice cracked. “That’s... very kind of you, but I—uh, I really don’t think that’s—”
Still, spending time with her might give him an idea of what aspect of his reality makes her click away.
He's thinking.
He's been seeing people-couples and others laughing away to themselves, holding hands as they go on dates, shopping away with their friends and what not. Maybe if she saw what made his reality so beautiful, she would find it easier to accept it again without feeling like she isn't a part of it. That she could thrive in it.
Takuto didn't have any particular feelings to the date itself. His goals and his research took a lot of time from his normal life and a part of him knew that spending time on distractions would be another second he wasted where someone might be going through something far worse.
"...I'm not sure," he looks away, slight red on his cheeks. "I'd hate to take up your time like that."
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...It was a complex little web of emotions. She missed that.
"I'd like to get to know you. And besides - it'd made the hour-long-plus train ride less of a drag. Give me another shot?"
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Fix this, Azathoth murmured into his psyche. Or leave.
He can fix this.
He just needs to know what makes her click.
His arms folded across his chest, posture tilting slightly as he regarded her, unreadable. “You’re quite relentless, Arisato-san,” he mused, voice light yet carefully measured. “No offense.”
He meant it. But this was her game, wasn’t it? He was merely playing along.
For now.
"But..." A small pause, deliberate. A tilt of his head, the ghost of a thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. "I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”
Because how could he ever say no to someone's wishes?
Still, he turned her words over in his mind, analyzing them as if they were pieces of a puzzle.
He shifted his weight slightly, glancing at her with something between curiosity and calculation.
“A long train ride, huh?” His voice carried a trace of amusement, but his eyes were sharp, quietly prying. “Do you live far?”
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If it was a change in reality, no wonder none of them could help her. It's the same thing she experienced after the car crash.
"Buuuut the specifics... well, you'll just have to wait for next time, right? I'll text you to let you know when I'll be around next. Then we can more properly get to know each other."
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He should have known. Should have realized sooner.
The guilt pressed at the edges of his mind again, creeping in like an unshakable fog. He had overlooked her condition, dismissed it when he shouldn’t have. He was better than this—he was supposed to be better than this.
And yet, outwardly, his demeanor remained composed, his face betraying nothing.
Instead, he let out a soft, almost amused hum, slipping back into the easy rhythm of conversation. “You know, you could’ve just left a review with a phone number on the handkerchief instead,” he quipped lightly, his tone teasing but clearly joking.
Still, he shook his head, slipping a hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen for a brief moment before he finally glanced back at her, one brow slightly raised.
“I’ll warn you now,” he added, his voice dipping into something quieter. “There really isn’t much to know about me. You’ll probably just be disappointed.”
He didn’t mean for it to sound self-deprecating—if anything, it was just a matter of fact.
But this outing, this so-called date... it had its purpose.
Beyond the pristine white walls of the labs, beyond the sterile, calculated environment, this was an opportunity.
Because that was what mattered.
And if that meant indulging in whatever this was...well.
He could play along.
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There really isn't much to know about me.
That just has her laughing. The laugh carried the weight of all of her feelings.
He could be dull as a rock, for all she cared - he was real, deeper than a shallow puddle, there was no way she wouldn't appreciate him and all of his weird, surly, meanness.
"Here. I'll step my game up next time - it's a guarantee," she chuckled, sharing her phone number and exchanging contacts. "Alright. I'm gonna be late, I'll let you go. Next time, I promise we'll have fun."
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The strangest problem case yet.
He didn't know what exactly was she going to look forward to without any of the happiness that she blatantly refused or found herself struggling to accept. Maruki was just a man. A man who dreamt of a better place.
Beyond that? Beyond Azathoth? He was the only permitted blemish here.
"Now you have made me curious," he smiled softly at her supposed promise. "But yeah sorry- like I said, lost track of time myself. I think my specialist is practically getting used to it now. I am sure yours will be forgiving as well." There was a sigh following that sentence, a measured crack in the abrasive man. He stepped back, placing the hand holding his phone back in his pocket.
"See you around." He threw back with a quick lilt of a bow before turning around completely, not sparing another glance still even by the other rather amusing turn of events.
He already knew what exactly he will be drafting in the folder titled: "Case 40382917: Hamuko Arisato" after all.
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She sat with this doctor. Described her physical symptoms - periodic mental fog, lethargy, dreams. Body dysmorphia... not from dissatisfaction from how she looked, but from how she felt detached from the body she had now.
(Now, though, she knew exactly why.)
Pressed to explain her disconnect, Hamuko nodded and did just that - in a session recorded, being viewed though Hamuko did not suspect it would be.
"The reason I struggle to emotionally connect to other people is because no one has a depth of experience to connect to. No one else is as impacted by their troubles as I am. And no one seems... to even be able to handle me struggling. It's as if my existence is troublesome, and it gets glossed over until the problems are forgotten.
"But it wasn't always like this. I remember that those closest to me... they had also gone through pains like mine. They understood me, and I understood them... and we found a lot of meaning, together, about why we should keep living and striving for happiness together--"
"I assume this is from the dreams you claim to have, where those around you and yourself both were living through trauma?"
A pause. Swallowed frustration. He's missing the forest for the trees, again, they keep DOING that...!
"...Fate is not kind. And it isn't cruel, either. Life, death, happenstance, twists of circumstance... I won't run away from that truth anymore. The people around me don't deserve that. So, doctor-- please help me figure out what's happened."
"Alright... let's see. What would you like us to do next, Arisato-san?"
"Scans, biopsies, bloodwork - I want to know every inch of what my body is doing, especially my brain. I want to rule everything else out, please."
Once she had the confirmation that the physical was not the problem, she would know for sure that what had happened was metaphysical. Supernatural. She pressed for all of those today, and-- well, of course everything was ready even if it wasn't scheduled. Who else was suffering, right now, after all?
"Arisato-san... you are free to head home now. But before you go... these notes on Shadows, on this Dark Hour... do you still perceive these hallucinations?"
"...I don't. Not those specific things, no. The other feelings, though... the connections I feel from before... I think those still exist. I'm sure of it."
It's there that Hamuko bows, thanks him, and excuses herself. She has another appointment at this office in ten days clutched in her hand, and she has to decide what she wants to do after that.
end of thread for now
Entry #01
Observed today's session in full. Subject continues to display clear signs of dissociation and a persistent, unresolved fixation on an alternate perceived reality. Emotional detachment from the present remains prominent—though she masks it well, there are definitive patterns:
-Disinterest in forming new, meaningful connections with other patients.
-Strong attachment to a past she believes has been “erased.”
-A fundamental rejection of the happiness available to her in the present.
There is no biological root cause. No neurological abnormalities. No markers of disease or damage. Her cognition functions at an optimal level—above average, even. By all accounts, her body is fine.
And yet, she suffers.
Her self-perception is fractured, disconnected. She seeks validation through pain, through struggle. There is no meaning in joy unless it is hard-earned, unless it is fought for. She will not accept happiness if it is freely given.
That is...troubling.
At this rate, she will continue to search. She will tear herself apart looking for answers that do not exist. No, that should not exist.
And so, the question remains: what does she require?
A place where pain is shared? A world where others have suffered as she has, where hardship is a necessary prelude to fulfillment? She claims that those closest to her once understood her because they, too, had endured. That their suffering was not a burden, but a bond.
If that is what she truly believes, then she will never—never—find peace here.
Not as things are now.
...She needs to heal.
Not through further struggle. Not through the endless, obsessive pursuit of something long gone.
She needs to remember what happiness feels like. True happiness.
She needs to see them again.
Not me—not this—not this careful, measured attempt at connection that she only barely entertains.
She needs them.
Her friends.
She needs to hate Shibusawa.
And if that still doesn't convince her. If she's still stubborn- slight misdirection, then. A carefully constructed truth.
Her tests will return mostly normal. Mostly. No glaring abnormalities, nothing that would disprove her own experiences outright—but just enough to keep her engaged. Just enough to keep her here.
The bloodwork, for instance. A slight anomaly—perhaps a minor hormonal imbalance, an unusual neurotransmitter pattern. Nothing alarming. Nothing definitive. Just a thread.
The neurological scans—clear, but...irregularities in sleep cycles, activity in regions associated with memory retrieval and emotional processing. A vague but plausible finding. A hypothesis worth exploring.
She will not question it. Not immediately.
Hamuko Arisato is not naïve, but she wants answers. And if I provide them in the right increments, if I give her just enough to validate her feelings without letting her spiral into paranoia, she will continue to trust me.
She must.
This is for her own good.