[It's something he hasn't shared with his friend just yet, but Akira had become aware of the fame and acclaim he'd accumulated in the United States, tuning into his webshow whenever he could (whenever the time difference was most kind to him, otherwise trying to catch up whenever time presented itself). It'd always seemed like something that Ryo took well to, something which he had worn effortlessly, wielded with subtlety and finesse. A lot of things had seemed to come to Ryo like that, so he hadn't been surprised in the slightest. Wasn't that the mark of someone meant for such a position in the world, when they neither flaunted nor abused their perceived power?
He isn't sure if he's cut out for something like that. Getting accustomed to the power that being a devilman gave him had been like growing pains, but stronger and accelerated into the space of a few short days. At first there'd been something almost euphoric about it, watching all of the limitations your human body had shackled you with over the course of your life dissolve. To overcompensate for something you previously lacked was the kneejerk reaction of someone in such a situation, and Akira's unwitting willingness to give in to such a thing gave him pause, made him wonder if he was truly best for what he had been given. In the end, it probably isn't something he's meant to decide, and even if it was, there's nothing to be done about it now. There's only the day-in, day-out duty taken on to wear the mantle of "hero" as effortlessly as he had seen Ryo time after time manipulate the attention of thousands of strangers.
It is, in a single phrase, a work in progress, however. Akira has moments of transcendent gracefulness, times where the natural agility and strength that his demon body gave him now seemed like something he'd always had. There were other times, however, where he seemed like a puppy still fumbling with paws too big for its body, and now feels like one of those times. The sleeves of his coveralls accidentally burned away as he'd melted the metal away from himself, surrounded by the slowly-cooling debris of his own mistake. He feels a fool.
Fortunately the only observer to his lapse of proper judgment was Ryo, and he doesn't need to feel the prickling brush of embarrassment around him.
Instead there's just the feeling of ease of mind wash over him as he senses his friend's approach, his presence at his side, the warmth and pressure of his hand coming to rest against his shoulder. He breathes out, slowly, eyes growing a little heavy-lidded for a moment as the last residual shards of panic and alarm melt away, seeping out of his body and into the floor.
He nods mutely; Ryo has supported him both emotionally and physically enough times that he's not going to bother to argue. He gets to his feet, accepting helpful hands and the waiting crutch of Ryo's shoulders, wanting just as much as his friend did to get out of here before someone else arrived, the harbinger of a wave of unwanted questions.
But - before they do manage to leave, the door seems to shudder, an obvious shimmer spreading across the marred metallic surface. The movement draws Akira's attention immediately, eliciting a questioning,] Wh- [from his throat before he tugs at Ryo's jumpsuit, directing his attention towards it.] Look!
[The metal looks less so like a sheer, solid piece of matter and instead like a rippling pool; the holes he'd torn into the body of it fill in on their own volition, resolving into yet another perfect, smooth surface. There was another odd shudder, like the ripple of something falling into water a distance away, and then it grew still again.
Akira blinks, his eyes wide. He looks to Ryo.] Just like that! That's what happened when my arms got stuck.
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He isn't sure if he's cut out for something like that. Getting accustomed to the power that being a devilman gave him had been like growing pains, but stronger and accelerated into the space of a few short days. At first there'd been something almost euphoric about it, watching all of the limitations your human body had shackled you with over the course of your life dissolve. To overcompensate for something you previously lacked was the kneejerk reaction of someone in such a situation, and Akira's unwitting willingness to give in to such a thing gave him pause, made him wonder if he was truly best for what he had been given. In the end, it probably isn't something he's meant to decide, and even if it was, there's nothing to be done about it now. There's only the day-in, day-out duty taken on to wear the mantle of "hero" as effortlessly as he had seen Ryo time after time manipulate the attention of thousands of strangers.
It is, in a single phrase, a work in progress, however. Akira has moments of transcendent gracefulness, times where the natural agility and strength that his demon body gave him now seemed like something he'd always had. There were other times, however, where he seemed like a puppy still fumbling with paws too big for its body, and now feels like one of those times. The sleeves of his coveralls accidentally burned away as he'd melted the metal away from himself, surrounded by the slowly-cooling debris of his own mistake. He feels a fool.
Fortunately the only observer to his lapse of proper judgment was Ryo, and he doesn't need to feel the prickling brush of embarrassment around him.
Instead there's just the feeling of ease of mind wash over him as he senses his friend's approach, his presence at his side, the warmth and pressure of his hand coming to rest against his shoulder. He breathes out, slowly, eyes growing a little heavy-lidded for a moment as the last residual shards of panic and alarm melt away, seeping out of his body and into the floor.
He nods mutely; Ryo has supported him both emotionally and physically enough times that he's not going to bother to argue. He gets to his feet, accepting helpful hands and the waiting crutch of Ryo's shoulders, wanting just as much as his friend did to get out of here before someone else arrived, the harbinger of a wave of unwanted questions.
But - before they do manage to leave, the door seems to shudder, an obvious shimmer spreading across the marred metallic surface. The movement draws Akira's attention immediately, eliciting a questioning,] Wh- [from his throat before he tugs at Ryo's jumpsuit, directing his attention towards it.] Look!
[The metal looks less so like a sheer, solid piece of matter and instead like a rippling pool; the holes he'd torn into the body of it fill in on their own volition, resolving into yet another perfect, smooth surface. There was another odd shudder, like the ripple of something falling into water a distance away, and then it grew still again.
Akira blinks, his eyes wide. He looks to Ryo.] Just like that! That's what happened when my arms got stuck.
[This place... is fuckin' weird.]