[ Back in the true reality, maybe he would have felt the same. After all, his focus had been on helping others – helping the whole world. The ability to finally make a difference would have been the most important thing of all. It was the most important thing of all; Maruki can still remember how it felt in that scanty amount of time before he was ripped away to this false world, the power of the collective unconscious buzzing in his fingertips.

But here– he can't make a difference. Can't help anyone. Can only fight, defend himself and others.

Perhaps that's why he so often feels set apart. It's anathema to what he and Azathoth should be doing. Hurting instead of healing. Leave it to a conversation with Akira to drive that reminder home.

Maruki smiles, broad and warm. ]

You did make a difference. You do. Even outside of the changes of heart. I'm glad you know that.

[ Maruki props an elbow up on the tabletop, rests his chin on his palm. Drums his fingers against his cheek for a moment before offering up gently: ]

Now that you're here, it feels like a piece of you is missing, doesn't it?

[ Waking up here without that power, yes, but also– without everything else that surely came with life in Tokyo. His friends, the people he came to care about. ]