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[And from there, something strange happens.

The little telltale ellipses that prove that Akechi is typing pop in and out, stopping for a few seconds before starting up before stopping again. It's clear the boy is typing paragraphs out and then deleting them, writing more than he'll ever send, struggling with just what he needs to say. But maybe ten minutes into this torture, Akechi finally hits send on something he deems acceptable.]

I have some experience with death.

And when Sumire returned from her own death, she felt some kind of ridiculous comfort in being able to speak about the experience with someone who understood.

So if this appeals to you in any sense, just say the word. I have the time.

[Caduceus doesn't answer right away. In part because it's an offer that clearly took a lot of courage and debating to send at all; he waits a handful of minutes on his end to give Akechi the chance to delete it and pretend it was never sent, if he wishes.

And also in part because there is, in truth, a hefty amount of hesitation involved in burdening a child with his own internal conflict. It isn't his way. He carries his own troubles because they are so, so much lighter than everyone he knows. His life has been good, and quiet, and gentle. 90 years he lived so pleasantly. Only the last decade has been what he could call real hardship, and even that was sporadic and lonely more than traumatic until the year his father and 'Belle disappeared. He's been alright. Almost fine. This has... shaken him, but he will breathe deep in the garden, he will drink tea and pray, and he'll be alright again. He's always alright. This is a child. Adults shouldn't burden children.

Akechi's not a young child, though. By human standards he's grown; in Caduceus' world he could have married, even had a child by his age. Old enough to know what death feels like, to remember it, to share the experience and the feelings and thoughts attached with another. And... maybe, he too needs to talk about such things. One conversation, one moment, is never enough to cure a pain so deep. Grief for oneself is a strange feeling, and grief never fades in a singular day.

It's an offer to which he should give the respect that is owed. So with a quiet sigh, he types a simple response.]

I think I would like that very much.

[Ah. Akechi isn't so certain how that response makes him feel, more full of nerves than he thought possible, knowing that someone might trust him with something significant like this. The possibility of fucking up feels heavier than normal, but maybe that's because he legitimately cares about this person.]

Name the place and I shall meet you there.

I've spent a lot of time in the garden, if that pleases you. I'll be there this afternoon, come whenever you're ready.

I've got Clarabelle with me, she won't fuss. But I can take her back to the stable if you'd prefer.

Don't bother, her presence won't trouble me. I'll meet you there this afternoon.

[Perfect. Now Akechi has a few hours to just Panic over not knowing what the fuck he is doing.

But anxious in his own ability to navigate this kind of connection with another person or not, Akechi arrives as promised, seeking out Caduceus immediately, greeting the man with a nod.]

Clay-san.

[And even Akechi isn't prepared for the deep exhale he releases just seeing with his own eyes that this man is whole and healthy before him, not bleeding out into the dirt and cold.]

[Always observant, Caduceus is quick to look up as Akechi approaches, smiling at him. Gentle as ever, his eyes are soft and sad, though masterfully toeing the line between shared sorrow and pity without crossing over to the latter. He's sitting in the sunlight, surrounded by the colours of the garden, a patch of gray and pastels.

The huge bulk of Clarabelle is curled up next to him, an outrageously large ball of cat. Caduceus is stroking the sleek black fur of her head, and at the sound of Akechi's footsteps, she lifts up briefly, blinks at him a few times, then rests her head back down again. (Predator recognizes another, perhaps. Or maybe the sunlight has just made her lazy.)]

Akechi. You look well, I'm very glad.

[His word choice is intentional; looking well and being well are very different things. And while his tone is (quite subtly) less robust than normal, he sounds so much stronger than the weak voice he'd used in his final moments.]

Why wouldn't I?

[He wasn't the one who died, after all.

But Akechi doesn't hesitate in settling across from Caduceus, sharp eyes running across the man's body - deliberately flicking over where he knows he'd been mortally wounded - but quietly avoiding the other's eyes.]

It must be even stranger for you than it is for me. To see the way the fae face no consequence for what they did. How they act as if nothing has changed.

[Caduceus gives him a scrutinizing look for the first (likely rhetorical) question, though he doesn't respond directly. Why wouldn't he? Dying isn't the worst thing that can happen to a mortal being, not by far. And sometimes, being left alone is just as painful. Maybe even more so. He remembers some very dark days, after his whole family vanished. Wishing he'd gone with them, even if their fate was ultimately to perish, at least they'd be together.

He says nothing, at first. He's nearly always overdressed, layers and fabric covering most of his body, and today is no different. Whatever wounds or scars he might still carry from his death are hidden away.]

It's strange, maybe, but not surprising. They've already made it clear to us that our lives are their playthings, and we're replaceable. I think, rather, I'm surprised that they're not more bothered at the apparent mind control that drove them to kill. That's usually harder to do to fey creatures.

That has been on my mind as well. Though there's always the possibility they don't wish for us to see it. I hardly ever know when to take the fae for their word.

[The real answer, of course, is never.

Strange how Caduceus' soothing presence always seems to penetrate all of Akechi's inherent neuroticism, the boy all twitchy and anxious and unable to stop from digging his fingers into his legs as he sits there across from the man, but even still, his narrow shoulders slump with some relief. The pause isn't quite as comfortable as normal, so after only a moment or two, Akechi breaks the silence to continue.]

If something like that were to happen again, I'm better prepared this time.

The fascinating thing about fae is that it's often the things they don't say, rather than what they do.

[They speak in half-truths, trapping mortals with words and omission. It's why giving them anything is so dangerous, even in a conversation meant to be courteous. Ask for a name, and suddenly it's gone. (And with it, apparently, the memories of one's mother, an unspoken penalty of a deal thought acceptable at the moment of exchange.)]

I'm sure we'll be more prepared next time. The trouble is when they throw a situation at us that we have yet to predict. [He exhales slowly, catching himself even as he finishes.] I'm sorry, that's too cynical. You're right, we need to better prepare ourselves, and not become resigned or complacent.

[Caduceus' little casual throw out of 'next time' only leaves Akechi making a very teenage-looking face. Most of the time, Akechi's seriousness looks so ridiculous on someone his age, it might be refreshing to see him acting more his age for once.]

Considering what we've all been through, a little cynicism is expected. As long as we don't become too complacent and end up getting ourselves into even worse danger.

[Seems silly to say considering Caduceus fucking died, but Akechi is unwilling to let his guard down for even a second around the fae. There's even worse coming at some point, something even bigger on the horizon. But he doesn't let the thought linger for too long, before he's reaching up to pull a familiar pendant from around his head, holding it right back out for the older man.]

Here's this back, by the way. I should have returned it sooner, but things have been... Complicated.

[Whatever he might have said to the first part is lost as Akechi offers the pendant back. Caduceus blinks, initially, not quite surprised, more caught off guard as he accepts it back. He's quiet for a moment, fingers closing around the gem, holding it to his chest. It's strange... the object itself means so little. It isn't some critical artifact with great importance to someone, like the Luxom or the amulet that protected Caleb from Ikithon. It isn't the Star Razor, or the crystal that will save the Blooming Grove from its corruption. It's just a little amulet that spares one from death's edge, he doesn't even know where it really came from. But.

"Sometimes acts of good faith deserve to be rewarded, when they can."
"Welcome to the Nein."

It was a gift. A symbolic gesture. A sign that his presence was welcomed, even when the world itself seemed determined to make the opposite feel true. It had been his inspiration, for a while, to stay on the path that ultimately proved to be the right one.

"Even when we're not the best of people, I feel like we're still moving towards something that's good and worthwhile, and I'm feeling the struggle's in my way to bring us to where we need to be."
"I'm honoured."]

Thank you, [he murmurs.] For carrying it with you. I hope it helped.

It did.

[Maybe not to keep him alive, but just having that reminder of Caduceus against his skin had kept the boy going in a few of those moments when he might have just given up completely. Akechi's not entirely certain he would have survived carrying the grief of Futaba's death if not for the pendant's weight resting against his chest.

It was kinder than anything anyone has ever done for him.]

You didn't miss out on very much else, if you were wondering.

Ah... I knew that, actually. You were aware that the dead were left behind as ghosts, right?

[He's not actually sure how well known that part of the Hunt was, considering the Leafs were so unhelpful and the ghosts could only interact with one another.

He lifts the necklace in the meantime and drapes it back around his neck, tucking it beneath his robe where it's always remained. Feels good to have that weight back, a feeling they'd shared unknowingly.]

Ah.

[Akechi heard as much from Mishima, but he hadn't been certain if it applied everyone the fae killed or not. Hopefully Caduceus missed the way Akechi had to scrub away his tears after the man finally passed.]

I had some inkling, but I'm grateful to have the confirmation. [and then an awkward little pause, akechi tugging at his gloves.] ...What do you need?

Hmm. [That sure is a good question that he wishes he had a good answer for.] I'm... not sure. I've died before. I've felt pain, been injured. Even been hunted many times. That isn't the part I'm struggling with.

[Maybe this problem is that, while he likely can't be the only one who feels this kind of way about things, it sure feels that way due to his reasoning. Hard to talk about.]

Death is... a part of every natural existence. The inevitability of it, the life that comes from what remains, gives me comfort even in the face of the pain it brings. I was taught that death is how we nurture life, that is what my family has always believed. Before I came here, I had a conversation with my sister, about my wishes for what remained of me, if I didn't survive. We were headed somewhere terrible, dangerous, I hadn't fully expected to come back alive. I wasn't ready, but I'd thought- I had to be. Because we had to go. One day, sooner or later, it would come for me, too.

[And yet. His gaze shifts to his hands, recalling the sensation - or lack of it - after he'd died. He'd been...]

I didn't- I never expected to... stick around. Ghosts are against the natural order of things, abominations to the Wildmother. Kinda spent the rest of the Hunt hating my own existence, and that was... new, for me.

[And considering his final wish as he'd died, it sure was an extra kick in the teeth he hadn't wanted or expected.]

[oh.

Akechi thinks that he might understand, how the inevitably of death has made it that much easier to accept, to hold his chin up and stride forward towards the oblivion that he knew awaited him. But this in-between existence, these drawn out months where Akechi's been forced to live knowing it could be pulled out from beneath him at any time, it's borderline torture to endure. So to expect death and then be forced to see the world you can't reach through the eyes of a ghost? Yes, that does sound like hell.]

I have nothing of comfort to add on, but I will remind you that this place doesn't adhere to the rules of our worlds. It's better to remember this existence as another trial to survive, knowing that one day you'll get back to where you came from, where everything makes sense again.

[It's impossible for Akechi to not remember Caduceus' final words, talking about how she would take him home. How disappointing it must have been to find she couldn't reach the man in this place.]

Has it shaken your faith?

No, [comes his immediate answer, alongside the swift shake of his head. But that's all he says for a long moment, hesitant as to what else he wants to say in response.]

The flaw doesn't lie with her. Contrary to what people often believe, the gods aren't infallible, all powerful. They are not obligated to be at the beck and call of their faithful at every moment. An unanswered prayer doesn't mean a lack of faith or love, it only means a lack of alignment in priority. [He smiles wryly.] If I'm being honest, I've had the good fortune to have many prayers answered. I could always feel her presence, back home. She's never given me reason to doubt her.

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