I Against I
Six weeks prior
The entire Order was in mourning when Komui was killed. Lenalee cried for days on top of his casket, refusing to be moved or consoled. Allen was distraught, over their defeat, his grief, her love. On the opposite side of Headquarters Kanda lay in the infirmary. The battle had almost torn him from limb to limb; he couldn't feel his hands or feet for days after, and the knitting of flesh was painstakingly slow. Looking back, had he been in better condition he could've prevented a lot of the subsequent events from happening, but then it would've changed their shared path, and might not be for the better.
When Kanda finally stepped out of the sick green doors he was greeted by a now overly distraught Allen. At once Kanda knew something else was wrong, because the beansprout was looking at him like Kanda was his only chance for salvation. "It's Lavi," Allen said to him. "He's…it's better if you just come with me."
At the sound of that name Kanda inwardly groaned. In the past four months since the Bookmen's return he had barely seen the redhead, they being on separate missions half the time and Lavi doing Bookmen work the other half. He had tried to corner Lavi a few times, only to have the man slip away with expert extraction skills. Kanda knew when he wasn't wanted. But he still wanted to hear why.
Allen was looking at him expectantly as Kanda stood there, unmoving. "He needs help, Kanda." The white-haired Exorcist elaborated, seemingly afraid that Kanda would turn and walk away. "We tried but we can't get through. It –"
"Moyashi, just shut up and walk." Kanda cut him off. They were all very aware of the strained relationship he had with Lavi nowadays, and so he knew he could only be the last resort. Allen didn't argue about his nickname, for once, only nodded and resumed his way.
They walked through the eerily silent halls where Finders and Exorcists alike spoke in whispered tones. Kanda was confused when they walked right past the room that Lavi shared with his master, in which the door was ajar and Bookman sat alone, a smoking pipe in his hand. They ended up right outside Kanda's own room. Allen was anxiously twisting his hands, the cursed arm scraping against the pull of the bandages.
"He's locked himself in your room ever since Komui's burial." Allen explained. "It's been four days and he hadn't come out once. We wanted to force the door open but Lenalee said that we should wait for you, and I had Marie listen in to make sure he didn't…hurt himself. All Marie would say was he was lying down, but his vitals were fine. You gotta help him, Kanda. We have no idea what to do."
And you think I do? Kanda thought harshly. He hadn't even had a full set of conversation with the redhead since the time in the library. Looks like I'll get my chance now, he thought sardonically, and felt rage rising in his chest. Idiot rabbit, what the fuck are you trying to pull here? You're not the only one who's hurt and disheartened, and certainly not the only one in mourning.
To say he wasn't marginally worried would be false. But Kanda disliked playing the savior even more than he disliked playing the damned. However, Allen was looking at him so pleadingly, something he had rarely seen in the younger boy, and the facts he told Kanda were troublesome, indeed.
He knocked on the door even though he had the keys in his pants pocket. "Open up, idiot," he yelled, the effect dimmed somewhat by the hoarseness in his voice. Spending a week in and out of consciousness would do that to the vocal chords, he thought, and knocked again. When no answer came after a full minute Kanda scoffed and pulled out the key. He gave Allen a look that said 'don't leave yet' before stepping inside, closing the door behind him.
Lavi was lying on his bed, eye open and staring at the ceiling. His red hair, now reaching past his shoulder blades, spread out on the pillow like a curtain of fire. He didn't move when Kanda came in.
"Get the fuck off my bed," Kanda said. "And go take a shower. You look like shit."
Lavi ignored him. Kanda didn't like the vacant look in his eye. He stalked to the bed, yanked the redhead up by his shirt and tried to bodily haul him off. But Lavi quickly grabbed onto his hand and pressed it down on his chest. It didn't hurt but the grip was firm, and Kanda found himself unable to leverage properly. He would've used his other hand had Lavi not spoken up then.
"Yu," the redhead's voice was a monotonous drawl. "Komui's gone."
Kanda felt a sharp wrench in his chest. But he had been through this too many times, and the collective grief had taken the bite out of a single incident like this.
"We're at war." He replied. "People die."
He saw the green eye flash in anger before Lavi leapt up from the prone position to throw a punch in his direction. Kanda knew his recovering body would be too slow to dodge so he just caught it, felt the force as it connected with his palm but didn't let go. Lavi struck again, swinging his other arm but Kanda caught that also. He flicked his hands down to grab the wrists, pulled the redhead off his feet, and slammed him into the wall beside his bed.
"Get a fucking grip!" Kanda snarled. He realized how hard he had thrown the redhead when Lavi's breath caught and a pained groan escaped his lips, but Kanda was too angry to care. "This war's far from over. Move on."
"God, even you sound like him." Lavi spat. "You all want me to treat this like some fucking statistic. Ink on paper, a blip in the overall things. 'A Bookman doesn't have feelings' he says. Komui's body wasn't even cold when he started talking about those goddamn records. Lenalee was screaming her lungs out and I was on the floor trying to get the number of the dead right. You ever tried to do mathematics while listening to your friends shriek in pain? How convenient, how lucky for you, to pass out and just be dead to all the wailing and grief. Well, I didn't have that luxury, Kanda. I never did. While the rest of you moved on I had to write and recall and remember every death, every defeat, every loss we've suffered for years! How could he expect anyone to stay sane and detached after that? I'm fucking sick of this, Kanda. Sick and tired. I can't do this anymore, I really, can't –"
Lavi's eye rolled to the back of his head as the emotion and exhaustion caught up with him. He slumped forward, into Kanda's strained arms and passed out against the swordsman's chest. Kanda barely had time to react and hold him up. My god, he stood there, stunned. Lenalee was right. No one else was prepared to handle this. Kanda didn't know if he should be glad or pissed that they shoved this burden his way. What the hell did they expect him to do? What could he fucking possibly do to remedy this?
Still he had to try. He wanted to try. Kanda shifted his grip and lifted Lavi up, arm hooking below the redhead's knees so he could carry him properly back to the bed. He saw his own fingerprints marring the thin wrists and felt a brief pang of guilt. How did Lavi's psyche deteriorate into this mess without anyone noticing? Someone had to have sensed the crack in the relationship between the Bookman and his apprentice. Hell, Kanda definitely would've, had Lavi not been actively avoiding him all these months.
It suddenly occurred to him that this could possibly be one of the reasons for the redhead's disappearance act. What was Lavi afraid of? That Kanda would know he had a heart after all? He had known that long ago, when they shared a bed for the first time. Even as Lavi rewrapped himself into thick clothes and thicker masks it still didn't convince Kanda otherwise. No, it had to be something else.
But the soul searching and the conjectures had to wait. Right now he needed to bring a broken Exorcist back from the brink. Kanda smoothed back a strand of red hair on the pillow, planted a chaste kiss on Lavi's forehead, and strode decidedly out of his room.
Allen was sitting against the door when Kanda exited. The boy jumped up when he emerged, questions immediately spilling out of his mouth. Kanda put up a finger to shush the gush of words, and only said "Watch him for a bit" before walking down the hall, ignoring Allen's confused look and bystanders' stares.
The cafeteria was almost empty when he reached it; it was early morning after all. Jerry cheerfully greeted him when he came up to the window. "Your usual, Kanda-san?" the cook asked, reaching behind him to grab the soba noodles sitting in a pot. Kanda shook his head.
"Not today," he said. Jerry, shocked, pulled down his sunglasses to give him an inquisitive look. "Tiedoll used to bring us this soup when we were on the road. He said it's your specialty?"
"Everything's my specialty, darling," Jerry flashed Kanda a wide, bright smile. "But don't you worry, dear, I know exactly what you're talking about. Give me ten minutes. I'll put it in a nice secure container for you to carry up, ok?" He blew him a kiss, and Kanda would've blushed if his mind weren't so preoccupied. He heard the sound of cooking and backed away from the window, crossing his arms as he waited.
True to Jerry's word, the soup was done in less than ten. He handed Kanda a plain black container, complete with a handle and a top slotted with a spoon. "Good luck," the cook sang out his departing words. Kanda dipped his head in acknowledgement, before heading back to his quarters. It certainly wasn't usual for him to get food for someone else. Tiedoll would've cried and stammered how attentive he had become if he were still alive, Kanda thought, irritated and wistful.
Lavi was awake when he returned. Allen sat on the bed, talking to the redhead more to keep him conscious than anything else. The white-haired boy jumped up when Kanda came in. "That was quick," Allen exclaimed. "I told him you'd be back soon, but I wasn't sure how long – wait, what's that?" he pointed to the container in Kanda's hand, nose crinkling. "It…it smells delicious!"
"It's not for you, moyashi," Kanda scoffed, hauling Allen out of the room. "Now scram."
"Hey you jerk I was just –" Allen started to argue, but Kanda slammed the door shut and ignored the muffled protest coming from the other side.
"That was very mean, Yu," Lavi chuckled. "Allen was keeping me company."
Kanda put the soup down to examine the redhead. Lavi's eye was bloodshot as he leaned heavily against the headboard. But there were no sign of the outburst from moments before, and the expression Lavi wore was guarded but calm. He was looking at the container curiously, devoid of a Bookman's analysis. Kanda sighed. There were so many questions unanswered but all that could wait.
When he opened the lid a delectable smell quickly fill the room. It was a chicken and dumplings soup, the creamy broth was a rich brown with bits of fat floating on top. Kanda had to hold back a smile. He remembered Tiedoll giving him something like it every time he was injured while they were traveling, and he had always complained about how not-soba it was but still ate every drop. Although there was no way Jerry could pull this off in ten minutes. The man must've known beforehand, somehow. Just one of those mysteries that surrounded the cook, Kanda supposed.
"That smells really good," Lavi's voice brought him back to the present. "Is that chicken?"
"Your nose still works," Kanda said, sitting down on the bed and balancing the container on his legs. He took a spoonful of the rich hot soup and tasted it, eyes fluttering closed for a second as the warm flavor burst in his mouth. He had almost forgotten that he himself was a recently released ward of the infirmary, where the food was bland and chalky for various (stupid) reasons. He dipped the spoon again, picking up a large piece of meat, and aimed it toward Lavi's direction.
"Yu I can eat this myself –"
"Just open your damn mouth."
Lavi blinked, then let out a soft laugh. His parted his lips obediently, fingers steadying Kanda's wrist as he swallow the mouthful. Kanda saw the wonder flood his face followed immediately by the look of euphoria. "God, Yu," the redhead mumbled. "What…how…where did you get this?"
"Jerry. Where else?"
"You didn't tell him to put something addictive in here, did you?"
"No, you idiot," Kanda couldn't hold back a smirk. "This is what you get for not eating for four days."
"Technically three and a half, and I was asleep most of the time."
"Whatever."
They lapsed into an almost comfortable silence as Kanda fed Lavi the soup by the spoonful, occasionally stealing some for himself. He could practically see the tension fleeing the redhead's body as he leaned back, sinking into the pillow. The tall-collared shirt Lavi always wore now still made him look stiff, but at least his face was relaxed, and the thin hands had stopped their fidgeting on the sheets.
They were about halfway done with the food when Lavi took in a shaky breath and started talking. Kanda wasn't sure if he was actually talking to him or just talking aloud, where the thoughts that he had bottled up finally had an outlet. He talked about how hard he was training in the Mongolian plateaus, desperate to keep his feelings under wraps as they traveled toward the Gobi desert to avoid Akumas and the Order alike. He talked about how cold Bookman was during the Noah's interrogation, how cold he was when the person who had practically raised him didn't bat an eye when they broke his bones again and again, how betrayed he felt afterwards even though he knew it was what was expected of a Bookman. He talked about how he had huddled in the blanket in the tent they shared, watching his master light his pipe and feeling the confusion and hate bubble inside him, his memories a mess but his thoughts coherent, and the childish reverence he had for the impartiality of the Bookmen disintegrating like the Ark inside his very human heart.
"What kind of monster would do that? Watch someone he'd raised getting ripped apart and not give a shred of, anything? Even Akuma was better than that. I was nothing to him, not even a speck of dust's worth. They could've skinned me alive or took out my brain ounce by ounce and he would've still sat there like a statue. I understand keeping secrets but this... If this is what a true Bookman is like I don't want to be one, Yu. Not like that."
"Don't be melodramatic," Kanda said, his words colder than what he actually felt. "You've trained your whole life for this. You're going to give up now?"
"Yu," the redhead said, eye pleading. "You have no idea – you don't know what kind of secrets I've kept from you, from everyone. I'm a coldhearted bastard who just got served his own medicine. It's pathetic."
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does –"
"It doesn't –"
"I knew about Alma."
Kanda stilled. Lavi kept talking like he was afraid that the minute he stop Kanda would disembowel him right there. "I knew about you, too. Have known for a long time. I knew exactly where Alma's body was kept in the Order. I knew about your lotuses, the tattoo, your past lives, everything. I didn't tell you because I couldn't without jeopardizing your history and the future. Yu, I really –"
He stopped abruptly, expression perplexed when he saw that Kanda had not reached for Mugen, had not screamed or punched him, hadn't even moved from the sitting position on the bed. The redhead blinked, then blinked again. His expression turned incredulous as the silence ticked by.
"You…you knew." Realization dawned, and the green eye widened so much Kanda could clearly see the pinprick of the pupil. "You knew."
Kanda sighed. He closed the lid of the soup bowl, reaching over to put it onto the nightstand. "You really are an idiot," he chided softly, shaking his head.
"But…how?" Lavi scoffed, suddenly angry. "And why didn't you say anything?"
"Why didn't you?"
"I wanted to! I've wanted to tell you ever since we got together but I couldn't! Why did you think he had condoned us? As long as I kept these secrets I could remain properly detached. I don't know how many times I've thought about coming clean but it was not – God, Yu, I was terrified and miserable and now, now you tell me that I could've just –"
"I didn't realize it back then," Kanda snapped, his own anger rising. "I only figured it out after we fought - if his body was kept here then you and Bookman had to know about it. Why the fuck are you getting so upset? You're the one who kept Alma away from me for so long."
The room was deathly silent as they stared at each other, mired in misplaced guilt and frustration arisen from ineluctable circumstance. Lavi's teeth were clenched against his lip while Kanda tried his damndest not to draw Mugen on someone he had just dragged back from the edge. There were so much to discuss, explain, apologize, confess, that neither one could find the right words to bridge the gap, and soothe the freshly ripped wound between them.
It was Kanda who finally looked away. He clicked his tongue, a "tch" on his lips, as he stood up from the bed. Lavi leaned back against the headboard, letting out a long, defeated sigh.
"Well," the redhead said. "At least it's all out now. No more secrets. Never thought I'd say that and mean it; wouldn't he be proud?"
Kanda gave him a sideway glance. "You were a good Bookman, Lavi, if nothing else."
"And that was all I ever was." Lavi said, and closed his eye.
Bookman Junior officially left the clan on a windy February morning. The ceremony took place atop the cliffs a few miles away from Headquarters, insulated by thick forests above a raging winter sea. It was a formal affair, and although the ceremony itself wasn't particularly long, the preparation took nearly a week to complete. Bookman had to procure the specific attires from one of the clan's secret carriers, along with a potent herbal concoction for Lavi to ingest three days before the ritual in order to purge himself from impurities. Afterwards Lavi stayed in the infirmary as he went through another day of fasting. He lay on a spare bed, writing in an empty logbook and seeing no one, and only emerged when the hours were up and the ritual was to begin at dawn.
Kanda was fairly convinced that all these prep was just a bullshit way to make the defector suffer. Lenalee agreed, but there was very little the Order could do to interfere. It took her – now officially the Director after Komui's passing – two whole hours of diplomatic discourse to persuade Bookman to reveal the location of the ceremony. Lavi was to become a full Exorcist in the end and that made him official Order business. These were times of war after all, she had argued vehemently. Some concessions had to be made for the sake of safety.
Bookman was much displeased with the arrangement, but even he had to admit the Director's words had merit. However, it was as much as the old man would give. Lenalee had initially wanted to attend herself – the details of the ceremony was complete undisclosed, who was to say that Lavi wouldn't be maimed or even killed by the time it was over? When she couldn't push Bookman any further Lenalee took upon herself to hunt down the next best thing – a bodyguard in the form of the ever-prepared Kanda Yu.
She came to him the evening before, clipboard in hand and a sincere expression on her face. "I don't know what is going to happen and I don't want any surprises," she told Kanda. "No matter what, Lavi is our friend and an invaluable Exorcist. I'm not going to let him be harmed by a bunch of stodgy humans. This is completely against Bookmen protocol but, I trust you can attend without being seen?"
Kanda had to restrain himself from an uncharacteristic bark of laughter. "Don't worry," he said lightly. "I'll be there."
He didn't tell her that he had to be there regardless, as he was part of the ceremony unbeknownst to anyone outside the Bookmen. Lavi had come to him the day Bookman left to meet the clan member, waiting in his room just as he returned from his morning training. It gave him a start; everyone had thought Lavi went with the old man. It looked to be deliberate on the redhead's part.
So he stood there, still sweaty from the exercise, and listened as Lavi explained his request. The Bookmen, those sadistic bastards that Kanda always knew they were, spelled out explicitly in their creed that for anyone to secede, they had to present the cause at the exodus ceremony. It was definitely a bullshit excuse that Kanda thought was purely for revenge. You want to leave us? Fine, bring your reason, the real one, and we will pass judgment based on its worthiness.
"No," was Kanda's answer. They both knew he wasn't the cause of Lavi's defection, not really, and if the apprentice didn't want to name his own master as the culprit, well, that certainly wasn't his problem. Kanda was just a convenient and believable scapegoat, to which the swordsman had only his middle finger to offer as a retort.
"I'm not going to be your smokescreen. Go talk to Bookman."
"Yu, you know I can't do that. Those things I said to you – they're not meant for anyone else, especially not him. Plus, if I were to name him as my reason he'd have to get another member to master the ceremony. I can't afford to wait – if this doesn't happen now it may never happen again."
"Not my problem."
Lavi looked like he was ready to drop to his knees and beg. Kanda kept his composure, letting the redhead pace around his room twice before spinning around to face him again. He saw the mask slip, and what lay underneath was desperate and afraid.
"Yu, please," Lavi did beg. "I swear after this I'll never ask you anything again but please, it can't happen without you."
In the end Kanda consented. His own personal grudges aside, there were bigger things to worry about and he, much like everyone else, did not want the world to end in Millennium Earl's bloodbath. If he did this it'd cement Lavi's spot in the Order and they, so pitifully beaten and outnumbered, would keep a permanent ally. It would be worth it in the end.
Now, he stood a few paces away from the old man and the young apprentice, the ocean waves breaking below and the sun rising in the east. Bookman was dressed in an ornate robe with a matching hat. In front of him was a small wooden table that served as a makeshift altar, onto which had been placed a pot of ink, a brush, and a leather-bound scroll. Lavi had on an intricate golden shawl, the only garment of clothing he was allowed to wear. It reached down to his ankles but the material was so thin that Kanda could see the outline of bones and muscles beneath.
Bookman began to chant in a hymnal language, and soon Lavi's voice joined him, turning the sermon into a rapid exchange of inquiry and reply. After a few minutes the old man beckoned with a finger, and the apprentice stepped forward, stopping in front of the altar and kneeling onto the rocky ground. Kanda bit back a scoff – the sight of the nearly nude body was making him damn uncomfortable in all the wrong places. It was a good thing he had left Mugen out of reach per the ceremony's instructions; otherwise he might just have to start defacing the cliffside just to keep his thoughts in check.
The invocation ceased after a few minutes. Bookman reached down, picking up the brush to dip it into the inkwell. With a quick swipe he disposed of Lavi's eyepatch, revealing the white, dead socket and began to write a string of ancient words above the redhead's eyebrows. The ink dripped trails of black down Lavi's nose and his eyes slipped shut. When he was finished Bookman stepped back, murmuring one last chant before turning to beckon Kanda closer. It was the (fake) raison d'être's part now.
Wordlessly Kanda walked up to the duo, stopping in front of Lavi's upturned face. The written characters resembled childish scratches, ancient enough to obfuscate most of their meaning. Kanda raised his hand, gently pressed his thumb onto the forehead, and drew it across the inked skin.
Lavi's eyes fluttered open when Kanda touched him. The green eye followed his finger as it moved, smearing the words into unintelligible whorls of grey. One, two, three passes, and Kanda moved his hand down, smoothing the tip of the nose and the cupid's bow onto the middle of the redhead's mouth. He could feel the dip of the lip and the hard white teeth, and Kanda, for a fleeting moment, wanted to press harder, to shove the finger inside the warm cavern and touch that lying, silver tongue. Beside them Bookman's gaze was heavy and piercing, but the old man held his composure, only his eyes belied his disgust.
To Lavi's credit he didn't move a muscle as Kanda's quite sacrilegious thoughts leaked into the motion of his finger. The gesture was supposed to symbolize reopening a seal, the exact reverse of the induction ceremony Lavi had gone through as a child. When Kanda finally lifted his thumb the ink had covered most of the mouth, leaving only a trace of red at the corners. It slightly reminded Kanda of Allen's clown makeup, only more somber and carried the finality of an apropos end.
Bookman stirred, a sculpture coming back to life. He turned to his former pupil, mouth set to a thin stern line. "I hope you are satisfied," the old man said, voice bitter in the cold wind. "You who have forsaken everything you have ever known," he glanced at Kanda, "for a mere man, not even that, strictly. I truly hope you find it worthwhile."
"Fuck you," Kanda snapped. Now his part was over he no longer had the grace to keep his temper in check. He still ranked higher than the old man in the Order hierarchy, and he wasn't just going to take that clear offense at his personhood. Bookman huffed, turning to pick up the scroll from the altar. He didn't bother to give the two younger men another look as he headed back into the surrounding forest, his robe trailing on the rocky terrain.
With a grunt Lavi got back on his feet. He put back on the eyepatch, half-heartedly wiping away the lines of ink on his face. It only made him look even more ludicrous, so much that Kanda gave him a handkerchief to at least attempt a proper cleansing.
"Thanks, Yu," Lavi said, dabbing the cloth on his face. "I'm sorry about his outburst. That was totally out of line."
"What're you apologizing for, idiot? He was insulting you."
"He has the right to. I failed my apprenticeship. Now he has to find another person and train them from scratch, which may or may not happen during his lifetime. It's not a quick fix, my decision. Of course he's gonna be displeased."
"Your mistake, you mean." Kanda said, peeved. The fuck was Lavi doing? It was a bit late to entertain thoughts of regret. He crossed his arms, watching the redhead shiver in the cold. I didn't come here and do this for nothing, you indecisive fucker.
"No," Lavi stated. "It's not a mistake. Especially not mine."
The redhead's tone gave him pause. Kanda looked up at the man who stood barefoot on the rocks, arms wrapped tightly around himself for warmth. For someone who had grown up knowing only masks and aliases and faked emotions, who had never exposed himself except in the few shared moments that lead to his eventual disillusion, this abrupt deviation had left an almost palpable mark. Kanda could clearly see the uncertainty, camouflaged by sheer determination but still very present. The moment filled Kanda's heart with a rare tenderness. It was suddenly painfully obvious where his priorities now lay.
He reached out, if only to pull the redhead to him, to provide some small relief on this cold winter morning. But Lavi backed up quickly, slipping out of reach once again and clutching the shawl like a piece of armor. "I should go and report in," he said, looking briefly into the woods before turning with a familiar smile. "We're going to be real comrades from now on, yeah? I'll work hard to get my Hammer crystalized – don't want to drag you down in battle."
Kanda stared. That smile wasn't faked but it still left a hollow feeling behind. Lavi waved before he left for the woods. Kanda watched him go, and belatedly realized that he had missed the chance to call him back.
