Alright, day four is here and and here is the fourth petal! I'm really glad to be back on track here!
Just a heads up, this chapter gets back to some darker themes, and contains a few spoilers for the Alma arc, so be prepared for angst and possibly pain on this one.
Day 4: Death / Last Words / Goodbyes
Chosen theme: Primarily death, but once again, the others are incorporated as well.
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To most, death was a permanent thing.
There was no way to come back from it, no way to escape the twining vines that grasped at the soul, dragging it down into the endless abyss beyond. The hold was too powerful to struggle free of, the grip as strong and unyielding as a marble statue's.
Even the strongest were helpless to fight it, unable to break even a single one of the strong vines by their own strength, with only the rarest succeeding by sheer force of unshaken will.
More often though, without some other intervention, it was only a matter of time before one succumbed. With the help of another, sometimes someone could be pulled back; the twining vines clipped or cut by some outside force till they finally retreated, freeing the poor soul they'd previously held captive until the time came for them to try and take it again.
Often times if was some form of healers' doings that freed one of the hold. Other times it it was a loved one, or the kindness of someone who had never even laid eyes on the poor being before.
But still, everyone succumbed eventually.
They were pulled down to the deepest parts of the void, sorted into heaven or hell, or whatever form of afterlife awaited once the heart stopped beating. Their life drew to an end, their story reaching the final page, the final paragraph, sometimes in the blink of an eye, with not even a chance to read the final word written on the page.
Life always ended.
That was this world's one and only inescapable truth, and it was supposed to remain that way. There wasn't meant to be anything after that, at least, not on this side.
Anything coming after was unnatural. An abomination that went against nature, that had no right or reason to exist.
That's what the akuma were; souls brought back from the void to play the role of the Earl's puppets in this travesty of an existence that they hadn't even had a choice in. They were forced into it by the earl's twisted games that played off of the emotions of the departed's loved ones.
And, in a way, Kanda almost pitied them.
He related to them more than he would ever admit, to himself or to any other, for like them, he had also been denied his place in the void, and continued to be, even now.
He had had another life once; one with a true body born into this world by natural means. He had lived it for years, though he remembered only mere seconds of it. He had had someone who meant the world to him, someone he had longed to see in this life, despite not even knowing her name. He had become an exorcist, chosen by innocence to fight in the holy war, and eventually dying in service of that cause.
That should have been the end.
There should have been nothing more after that scene in the field of lotus flowers, a hand reaching for the sky with what remained of its owner's strength. All that should have remained was the back cover, closing on that final page.
There should have been no epilogue written by those taking the powers of life into their own hands, fiddling with the intricate designs they had no hope of understanding, and yet there was.
It came in the form of waking in hole filled with icy water, staring up through the still surface at a figure leaning over the side of the hole. It came in that first conversation, and that first raise of his hand, before he was pulled from his shallow resting place in his mockery of a 'birth', and it continued to be written out, day by day in a world where pain was a familiar companion.
A world where the innocence that had belonged to his former self wasn't returned to Hevlaska's body of light where it belonged. Where it could rest, dormant until its new accommodator came to wield it in his place as fate should have allowed.
Instead it remained, in the same place as him, continuously placed before him in the terrifying form that almost seemed a mockery of an angel with its missing head and arms and the wings that spreading from its back.
Instead he was forced to make contact with it, let it sink its 'feathers' into his body in an attempt to take root; time and time again until he couldn't even hope to move. And even then, he'd be hoisted to his feet, his body forced towards the manifestation to once again touch the inhuman form as they tried and tried and tried to force the synchronization.
Sometimes it would even go, the manifestation's wings piercing him, leaving him agony as he bled out, until his heart finally stopped beating.
Then they'd impatiently await his 'rebirth' and repeat the process all over again.
That was the curse he was forced to bear as a Second Exorcist, a curse only one other had ever had any hope of understanding, because only one other had ever bore it.
Kanda had met his end more times than any other could possibly imagine, his heart stopping, his body slumping and his consciousness slipping into what should have been an eternal sleep, and yet, he was still here.
Serving a Church he despised with so much of his being, a Church that had caused him nothing but pain, and suffering, with no hope of escaping for as long as he remained an accommodator.
This artificial body that bore only a single piece of anything even remotely belonging in this world, a single piece of his original self that he couldn't even remember, was an abomination that couldn't die, not until its powers of regeneration finally dwindled to nothing.
For these reasons, there had been times, scattered over the years, that he had envied Alma almost as much as he'd missed him.
Alma had met his end, had been allowed to drift into the rest he had previously been denied.
At least that's he had believed for so long, nothing ever giving him reason to doubt.
He had never once thought that Alma had lived.
That he had still been suffering, being twisted, manipulated, and used by the very order that had once again denied him his right to rest.
He had never thought that he would once again meet Alma face to face. That he would once again draw his blade against the first person he had ever been able to bring himself to call a friend.
That he would once again be the one tasked by the cruel hands of bitter fate, to play a part in his end.
At the very least, as he sat in the cool sand, his back resting against one of the crumbling pillars that still retained some of the desert sun's warmth, he knew Alma wouldn't be denied again.
The air in the ruins was cool, the moon's rays drifting down from the large hole overhead the only source of light in the near silent confines of the hidden chamber that rested beneath Mater's streets.
The last time he'd been here it had been equally as quiet, the doll the Moyashi had fought so hard to protect having finally brought her song to its end after three long days. After finally fulfilling her promise to the only person she had ever cared for.
It seemed almost fitting in a way, Kanda now finding a new appreciation for the Doll's promise, for her resolve to sing till she broke, as he clung to his own solemn vow.
This time, he wasn't going to leave Alma.
This time, he was with him to the very end, and as he watched the ripples in his illusion's pond begin to settle, the final echo of that familiar voice fading from his ear, he knew his promise, like Lala's had been kept.
A burn he had scarcely felt in so long made itself known behind his eyes and his arms clung tighter to the body cradled in his arms as a few pieces crumbled to the sand, and he knew that those words were Alma's farewell.
This time he knew, in the deepest parts of his heart that Alma could finally rest.
He was finally free of the order they had both despised.
Free of the innocence that had caused them both so much pain.
And free of the artificial life that neither of them had ever asked for, that neither of them had wanted even after it was received.
And, as he felt the injuries Alma had inflicted, the pain still present in broken bones, burns, and cuts that were healing so much slower than they ever had before, he knew it was only a matter of time before he followed.
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And with this the countdown is now half way done~ Just four more days till -Man Hallow airs!
Honestly, I kept rereading a bit of the Alma arc while writing this , and goodness me, honestly I don't know how I'm gonna handle that pain animated!
Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!
