disclaimer: KHR is Amano's, not mine.
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birdsong
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She has always been one to isolate herself, with a preference for going her own way and asserting her independence. So it surprises her deep down that she has developed a deep tolerance — deep down, she mentally reminds herself — of her students behaviour.
Lal is amazed at how carefree, innocent and open-minded her student approaches life. He can be so… optimistic. That should not be possible in her world, their world. It should be blood and gore, and death and violence.
Over time, she becomes used to him. Over time, she starts to belong.
...
It's hard for her to think straight as she sniffs at damp air. Her mind becomes a mixture of torrential thoughts. Her blood runs cold for a split second, and a breath catches, lodging itself in her throat. Lal's nails harshly dig into her whitened palms (she feels no pain other than the self-destruction of her heart as it caves in). She doesn't notice, and if she draws blood, she doesn't care. Something just feels so so so wrong – it terrifies her not knowing.
She chokes silently and bites her lip. Maternal instinct? Maybe. Protectiveness? Possibly. But the feelings of drowning in discomfort and loneliness are worse than any bullet hole or stab wound.
How is she supposed to save Colonnello when it's her who needs him?
Please, please, please be alright.
...
No one speaks to her. Out of fear or pity, she's not sure, but she is glad.
She screams into her pillow and regrets everything – no one can see her fall apart. It was supposed to be her. Her burden to carry, her judgement to pay. Why on earth did he have to be so reckless, stupid, stubborn and why couldn't he just do as he was told for once?
Maybe then she'd be spared of this god-awful heartache and suffering.
It's not fair, either. It was her that always insisted on apathy, her who told him not to shed tears. Yet, years later, it's her who is being ripped to shreds.
They burn and stain – suffocating her. They are foreign and uncomfortable – she hates being subjected to anguish. Cloth and long hair are damp and will not dry up anytime soon. She always planned to breakeven but that idolism has been tossed carelessly out of the window. Fingers tremble and she doesn't have the energy to move for minutes, hours or days.
...
The first day is shock. It takes a while to sink in, and when it does, it just makes things worse and Lal knows for the first time what sadness is. Painful, tragic and broken promises. She knows what seclusion and emptiness feel like. It hurts.
...
The second is more about trying. She forces herself to get up and move no matter how many times she collapses. Every bone in her body is on fire without the tranquil rain. The coarse flames blaze and scold and she just wants to give up. What kind of pathetic soldier is she, lying pathetic and meek, entirely incapable of fending for herself?
Was it not her who was his teacher? He'd laugh that annoying laugh and smirk that irritating smirk if he were to see her now.
...
The third is when she remembers.
"You know, you'd be really beautiful if you weren't so serious," he teases her in a memory like so many others from a date and time that doesn't matter anymore.
The way a single eyebrow raises cautiously as she looks up mimics a familiar pattern. There is no bird song, but rather the familiar crescendo of bullets and battle cries, on the COMSUBIN training grounds. It is by far her favourite place in the world. People get her here, understand. Yet still, she gets lumbered with the idiot.
Sometimes, its not that bad, though. But only sometimes.
She knows exactly where he is going with this. It is apart of their routine, what builds their foundations. He proceeds to spout pointless drabble that she ignores or berates. But deep down, she is grateful and cherishes his words, heart pounding and blood rushing.
He makes her feel human in a universe where humanity is pointless and thrown away. She feeds him lies that she knows he will ignore, somehow making her words tangible and irrelevant.
She remembers how she wanted to be like him.
...
Lal doesn't listen to the whispers that whirlwind around her – blocking them out until they are nothing but a blur of background noise.
Her body is a fissure of emotions she abandoned more than two lifetimes ago, and the tears go into free-fall. But she doesn't care. Appearances are certainly not worth much these days.
She stands tall and proud despite her expression, oblivious to the world, clutching onto his forgotten headband. Smiling bitterly and briefly, Lal carries on walking.
Undoubting, she knows he will be back — one day — to being himself and filling her with worry and heartache and pride. Although the urge for revenge is deadly and poisons her mind. She waits for that day, because he will not be gone forever. A promise between two friends, soldiers or whatever-you-want-to-call-them.
Lal has faith in Colonnello, because he is her student, and she taught him better than that. She knows that death cannot get the better of him.
extra: Urgh. They are so tragic and beautiful at the same time.
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