Chapter 36: Bodies, Minds, Souls
Just because deathly missions died down didn't mean work did. And just because Rima wanted to be put with Kanda on missions didn't mean that it ever happened. In fact, they were never on missions together. It seemed like Leverrier's doing, and while it angered her to know that he was purposely trying to make her life miserable—and succeeding somewhat—she did nothing about it. Kanda never mentioned it, and so she was in no position to whine.
More often than not, she was with Madarao. She was also thankfully usually with Lavi, which made the missions ten times easier and much more fun. The two of them still held a bit of awkwardness when animated chatter died down, but with Lavi's disposition, the mood was whatever he defined it to be, and he seemed determined to not make it awkward.
Most of their missions were Innocence-collecting ones. Strangely, though, their information was almost always false, with no Innocence there to begin with, leading to just a huge horde of Akuma and a long, exhausting roundabout trip.
Rima knew her body was wearing down, its attrition aided by the ceaseless missions. Ever since…her excursion to France, it seemed, she'd gotten slower. Her body seemed to be reverting back to its old, weak stage. Not drastically so—she still could synchronize, she still could fight—but she realized that most of the time, she was relying on Lavi quite a bit to get the mission done. And Lavi, observation powers second to none, noticed as well, therefore sending her to the Head Matron on one of their short breaks back at home.
"I'm going to listen to your heart," said the Matron, holding a stethoscope up to Rima's chest. "How have you been feeling?"
"Fine," she said automatically.
The Matron raised her eyebrows in skepticism.
"A little tired," admitted Rima.
"After a mission, or just all day?"
"…In general, all day," she said unwillingly.
"…Heartbeat's a little fast, somewhat erratic," said the Nurse, scribbling her notes down on her clipboard. "Your breathing isn't too good either—I can hear the rasp…and Rima, you have a bit of a murmur."
"A what?"
"Heart murmur. It's a result of turbulent blood flow, and can be caused by structural defects in your heart," she explained. "You haven't had it before…have you been sick recently? Fever or anything?"
"No," said Rima. "I've been pretty fine. Just tired."
She didn't want to mention the breathing attacks. That seemed like a bit too much at once.
"…I'll give you some pills for the murmur," said the Nurse. "As for your fatigue, well, that's obvious since you don't sleep at all, but if the pills fix your murmur, your sleep might be better as well."
She handed Rima a small white bottle; Rima took it with an appreciative nod.
"Have you been treating Yuu lately?" asked the Exorcist. "For his stab wound, I mean?"
The Matron scoffed. "You know that boy—thinks he can just regenerate whenever and doesn't have to come for treatment. I did drag him here the other day—maybe three days ago, when he came back for a break—and the wound had disappeared. He then proceeded to mutter under his breath that it had closed a week prior, and that it was all unnecessary and a waste of time."
"Sounds just like him," said Rima dryly, sliding off the examination bed. "Did he look like he's been sleeping all right?"
"Looked refreshed to me," the Nurse remarked. "Of course, with his impassive face, it's hard to tell if he's tired or not."
"Mm, thanks. I'll see you around then."
"Take care of yourself. Eat your medicine."
Rima let out a wry chuckle, tucking the bottle in her breast pocket.
"Will do, will do."
Rima didn't tell Kanda about her medical issues. They hardly saw each other anyway, so any time they did have together didn't have to be wasted on morbid things like medical problems. They spent their time obviously in silence. Sleeping. It was the small touches that mattered now—the hand-holding, an index finger trailing up the insides of palms.
She found herself being hyperaware of absolutely everything that had to do with Kanda. The moments when they were alone, his deep breaths, the slight elevation of his chest as he breathed in and then the descent as he let out, his warm touch when their fingers brushed by each other, even more when they were alone and he would just suddenly grip her hand, his thumb tracing down the edge of her palm and, when reaching the end of the road, return back on the way it came. She knew that she was not the only one feeling the sense of closeness; Kanda would so often glance at her when he thought she wasn't looking, his dark eyes trying to gain some kind of meaning from her existence. She knew his mind, his personality, his soul as much as she knew her own, and she knew that the reason for this closeness was Kanda's guilt for killing someone who had adopted her image. He, likewise, seemed to know the things that were weighing down her mind—her health, the ever-growing tattoo that now prominently reached the edges of her collarbones, her eye that was irrefutably growing lighter. He noticed her hitches in breath whenever something surprised her, the unsteady beating of her heart, the weakness that seized her whenever she came back from a mission, half walking on her own, half-carried by Lavi.
They didn't talk about any of their issues.
It was as if by being next to each other, breathing the same air, taking up the same space, living the same condemned lives, their hearts coursed the same blood, their minds circulated the same thoughts, and their souls intertwined to be the same souls. And even though everything was so tumultuous, every second of her living was so fragile and dangerous, never in her life had Rima felt more peace than this. Those rare moments when their breaks coincided, and they'd hardly eat anything in the cafeteria before retiring to Kanda's room, where they would just lie on his bed, side by side, in silence that was sometimes punctuated with murmurs, but mostly simply listening to the clock's mechanical ticking. They did not engage in anything physical—it seemed that the time for that was long past, that their emotional intimacy was on a level unable to be achieved by familiarity of the flesh—aside from the hugs or the very, very scarce kisses.
There was, however, one atypical time that Kanda did speak, and the conversation had been one that Rima hadn't expected.
It was a stormy night, one of those nights where she'd hate to be outside in the midst of the pouring rain, thunder, and lightning, but loved to be inside Headquarters with a roaring fire, a good book, and a piping-hot cup of tea or hot chocolate. Serene was how she felt at the moment, with Kanda's arm encircling her waist as they lied facing each other except not truly looking at each other. He shifted his weight on the mattress, causing it to creak eerily. Rima looked up at him, curious for the sudden movement. Kanda was the kind of person who could stay still for hours on end, the only muscles moving being the ones in his face as he glared at someone else for being loud or unstill, so the movement was an odd one indeed.
He met her gaze, his black eyes cold as always, just not really cold. Not towards her, for the most part. He seemed to have been thinking about something.
"What is it?" she asked.
Kanda cleared his throat. "This is going to seem…random."
"Mm?"
"On the day…that day…" He seemed to be thinking of a way to describe that particular day, but was at loss to do so. Rima knew what day he was talking about, even without the strange connection they had been feeling lately.
"I know what you're talking about," she said. "What about it?"
"…When we stepped out of those headquarters, that basement," he said quietly, "and you came up to me and…"
His voice trailed off, and his face was filled with a familiar expression of pure awkwardness that detracted from any seriousness that he was trying to maintain.
"Held your hand," she finished for him, silently amused that after all that their relationship had gone through, he still couldn't say the simplest things dictating sentiment.
"Yeah," he said, nodding slightly. "It was…bloody."
Her breath hitched, and Kanda noticed. His onyx eyes narrowed and he brought a hand up to rest against the side of her throat, searching for a pulse. She brushed his hand away.
"No worries," said Rima. "I'm fine. Go on."
"…Whose blood was it?" he said.
"…Alma's," was her quiet answer.
Kanda's expression didn't change at all. It looked like he'd already known, but had asked for clarification, or as an introduction to something deeper.
"Why?" was his next question.
Rima didn't reply. She just rested her head on the pillow, thinking, because she didn't know the answer herself. She could recall the scene perfectly—an azure sky that stretched on for ages and ages, white puffy clouds lazily floating, creating an image of perfected innocence that could not have possibly been more malicious than it already was. The thing she had sensed was coldness.
She woke up alone in that cold room, after being unconscious for days on end. Her mind was unaffected by her limbs that screamed with pain and her skin that was caked with dried blood; she got up from that steel bed and walked, to where, she didn't know, but her feet seemed to know. To the bloody expanse of a room where bodies after bodies were piled up, all faces that Rima recognized, but didn't really care for. It was an awful feeling, just seeing those corpses, of Dr. Edgar and Twi Chan and all the other people who had been there experimenting on them, but Rima felt no remorse for them. She walked instead to another fallen body, her feet drudgingly scraping the floor before she finally stopped.
Rima looked down at Alma's collapsed body. Her heart did hurt this time. It was not like she had strongly disliked Alma. True, he had not been Yuu, but they had gone through the same things, and so it wasn't like she hated him. She didn't cry though. Her heart just hurt.
Her little brown eyes trailed over his figure, stopping at the gaping wound in Alma's chest that had signified his death. A clean slash wound that was disguised by the crimson liquid of life flowing out of it, pooling onto the floor and mingling with the others. Rima closed her eyes. Her heart hurt all the more now. She could feel it. It was not her pain. It was someone else's. It was Yuu's—she knew already. He had killed Alma. Rima didn't need the explanation as to why or how or when or where, she just knew it all. And she knew that Yuu was hurting now, which made her hurt.
Rima unconsciously bent down, her hands sinking onto Alma's still warm chest. The blood drenched her hands, dirtying them, and she stood back up, shaking her hands slightly.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Except that she wasn't sorry. It was not her saying sorry—it was Yuu, and she was saying it in his place. Conveying what Yuu was feeling at the moment. Complete, desperate, utter sorrow. The connection of their minds, their bodies, their souls.
She stepped around the body and went for the stairs that were illuminated by a stray streak of uncommon sunshine. Captivated by the golden color, Rima followed it, one step at a time, her hands leaving red marks on the rusted rails as she grappled them weakly to aid with her trek up to the surface.
She was greeted by a burst of light, and Rima squinted, looking away from the beauty and color and sheer brightness of it all. She gulped in the air, welcoming the freshness, as her eyes landed on Yuu who stood a few meters away.
Rima tottered up to him, her heart hurting even more than before as she neared him. No tears came though, and once she arrived beside him, Rima saw why those tears couldn't come. Yuu was using them all up, those slick droplets sliding down his grime and blood covered cheeks as he stared up at the vast sky, blown away by the beauty and irony of his surroundings.
One of her hands slid into his palm. The skin-to-skin connection caused her to shudder, caused her heart to hurt even more, but the pain opened her eyes, made her grow up, and everything about the blurry reasons to live became clear. She was not supposed to be alive—none of them were—and yet they were very much alive, connected to each other with beating hearts and thinking minds and dreadful souls. So this life, so her purpose—to be alive, to be there, by Yuu, to live on.
And so her mouth spoke those words, and with their fingers intertwined, she promised. To live, to be by him. Forever.
"I don't know why," she said in response to Kanda's inquiry.
Kanda looked at her unbelievingly.
"I'm serious," she said. "Things like that—you can't ask a reason why or how, they…happen."
"…What was going on through your head?"
"I don't remember," she muttered, twisting around to face the other way. Kanda's arm remained around her waist, and his hold tightened ever so slightly.
"I can feel it," he said quietly.
"…Feel what?"
"You're growing weaker."
"Thanks for stating the much-unneeded obvious," she said dryly, prying herself from his grasp and sitting up on the edge of the bed. "I don't need your pity."
"I'm not pitying you," he said a bit coolly. "Have you been to the Nurse?"
"Yeah," replied Rima with a shrug. "She says that it's nothing to worry about."
"I doubt that."
Rima gave an exasperated sigh. "I like it better when you're quiet."
"Rima, you can't keep ignoring what's happening to your body," said Kanda somewhat angrily. "Everyone knows what's going on with you—your steps are lighter, slower, you're having difficulty with missions you're not supposed to be having trouble with, and your tattoo is just spreading at the speed of light—"
"It's not that bad, stop exaggerating," said Rima. "You're just paranoid after what happened with Lulubell."
Kanda's eyes narrowed—he didn't like being reminded of those nights where he'd slept badly for no particular reason. Rima gave him a half-hearted smile and lied back down beside him, her fingers trailing across his chest.
"I am fine," she said slowly, punctuating every word with a quiet tap of a finger. "I may be getting weaker, but I suppose it's to be expected. It's not like I could keep running with the ability to destroy a hundred-plus Akuma in one sitting, mm? I think I reached the pinnacle of my strength a long time ago, when…" Rima paused, her breath hitching again.
Kanda looked at her, perplexed.
"When what?" he said.
"When Cross disappeared."
"Oh." There was a unanimous pause before Kanda added, "Where is he?"
"I dunno," she answered, laying her head on the precise place where she could feel Kanda's steadily beating heart. "I don't even know if he's alive."
"Mm…" said Kanda disinterestedly. It was clear that he did not care whether or not Cross was alive.
"Sorry you hate him," said Rima crossly.
"I hate pretty much everyone, so that's really no surprise," was his sour response.
"Point taken," she muttered.
She heard him scoff lightly before his hand twisted into her hair, his fingers running through the strands loosely. His other hand slipped up to her neck, fiddling with the golden locket that dangled loosely there, poorly mended after her last Critical venture. Rima had had no idea how to mend the seal, but the remnants of Cross's power seemed to have been enough for her to function.
Kanda seemed to think differently. His hand closed around the locket tightly, too tightly, as if wanting to crush it and everything it represented.
He didn't mention it though.
"Take it easy," he said very quietly. "I can hear your heartbeat."
"…And?"
"…It's quiet. Unsteady." He looked at her intently. "So take it easy."
Sometimes, things didn't feel quite right. Even though they would just lie beside each other in serene silence, Kanda couldn't help but notice the things that were very wrong with Rima. It wasn't like it had been a sudden process—her degenerative physique—but her weaknesses seemed to grow worse with each passing day. Whenever she fell asleep before him, Kanda would just watch her, ears straining to hear any signs of harm. Her breathing was always too shallow, and even though she slept, she woke up with the lethargy of one who had pulled an all-nighter.
He would've noticed it sooner, had they been sleeping in the same room after his Istanbul mission. But they'd separated their sleeping dormitories for a few weeks, mostly based on Kanda's desire to remain alone and Rima's understanding of his situation, but he began to regret the choice. He hadn't noticed her condition until a little bit later, and he couldn't help but feel like he'd been too late.
She brushed everything off like it was nothing, but Kanda knew as well as she did that something was very wrong with her. He didn't know why—Rima had been fine, hadn't she? And even though she'd gotten "slower" when they'd gone on their rebellious Parisian excursion, she hadn't shown any evident signs of weakening. It didn't make any sense.
Kanda didn't ask though. He refrained from bringing up the subject, just like Rima didn't ask about Alma any further than she'd needed to. They tread cautiously on those lines, trying instead to just enjoy each others' companies and attempting to ignore the lingering sense of foreboding that was always constant between them.
They went days, weeks without seeing each other sometimes.
These absences always felt very wrong.
It was getting to the point where she'd had enough. Rima slid out of bed early in the morning, having been woken up by the faint impression that she couldn't breathe. Making sure she didn't disturb Kanda, whose silent worry she could hardly stand to see anymore, she made her way softly over to the bathroom, where she opened the pill bottle that the Nurse had given her a few weeks prior and poured three capsules into the hollow of her hand. She downed them with a gulp of sink water and exited the joint suite through her room, her steps muffled by the shuffle of slippers on carpet. She let the heavy wooden door shut behind her quietly, well aware of Kanda's too-keen sense of hearing, and pattered softly away down the corridor.
Rima knew exactly where to go, and whom to go to. Not the Nurse, not Komui, and definitely not Leverrier. She had long begun to suspect why her body was behaving the way it was—she just needed the confirmation. A good part of her prayed that her suspicions were wrong, that her well-acknowledged pessimism was just elevating to a higher level.
She walked quickly to the atrium, opening the ancient oaken doors with some difficulty after ensuring that no one was around. No one except for Hevlaska was in the atrium either, much to her relief. It seemed that even Leverrier didn't prowl around at three in the morning.
Rima approached Hevlaska, who had noticed her the instant the doors to her residence had been opened. They remained in silence for a few minutes, the tension between the two still not lost after all the years.
"You know why I'm here," said Rima finally.
"I was expecting you…to come sooner…actually…" whispered Hevlaska.
Rima gritted her teeth. "So my suspicions are true."
"That…remains to be seen."
"Then check."
"…Very well." Hevlaska lifted Rima up in one of her many hands, a tentacle-like strand slipping to the tattoo at Rima's wrist. The Exorcist nearly jerked back upon feeling the probing sensation that entered her immediately afterward, causing her to let out an angry hiss of resistance.
"Relax, Shuki Rima," said Hevlaska serenely. "You know that I do not mean to harm you."
"Right," Rima breathed, trying to calm herself down. "Relax…"
The examination stretched on for a long time, all in silence, before Hevlaska let out a weary sigh and placed Rima back down on the tiled floor.
There was another pause.
"I'm right, aren't I?" said Rima, a latent desperation in her voice.
"…If you mean that you think your Innocence is eating you away from the inside…well then…yes."
"But why?" she nearly screamed, her voice echoing down the atrium. "Why, I haven't gone Critical in months, I haven't done anything! I've been careful, I thought I could slow down the process if I didn't use the Innocence, but I've just been feeling so tired, so sick, and I don't understand why—"
"That might be the reason why, actually…" intoned Hevlaska. "I have…two theories as to why your body's wearing away, both of which…overlap."
"I don't need to know them," said Rima harshly. "All I know is that this damn Innocence, even though I've been using it faithfully for years and letting it chip away my life force like a freaking leech, and when I actually try to protect myself, it just turns on me and decides to eat me from the inside out—"
"That's…not what I think…" said Hevlaska. "I believe your Innocence reached its highest point…when General Cross left. He had just…replaced the seal on your locket, hadn't he?"
Rima's hand instinctively leapt up to her throat where the golden lock laid and stroked it nervously.
"He…seemed to know…from the start that your Innocence would reach a pinnacle…and then drop, with catastrophic effects…on your body. The seal on your locket, whilst giving you Judgment, would…keep you from exerting your life force."
"But it didn't," she said resentfully. "The entire time, my Innocence was just itching to get out, to be used. And if an Innocence could be happy, I don't think there was a happier time than the time I went Critical on Tyki Mikk."
"I believe…at that point…you began to degenerate," admitted Hevlaska. "Your Innocence is like…a double-edged sword. Its strength is imbued…by the number of souls you remember through your…trials in this very room."
Rima's lips twisted into a bitter smirk. "You can say 'torture,' you know."
"…You found a way to get out of the aftereffects of going Critical, didn't you?" said Hevlaska.
Rima remained silent, thinking back to the night she'd returned with Hans. She and Kanda had been…rather intimate. She hadn't felt the familiar nausea like before.
"And I believe…because you didn't…suffer," continued Hevlaska, "the Innocence turned on you. There was not an equivalent exchange…of pain."
"…So my Innocence is a sadist."
"No…I don't believe that's it…you didn't reciprocate appreciation…for the strength Gin no Tsuki. You found a way to use it…without paying it back."
"No one pays their Innocence back," she snapped. "It should be happy enough with the fact that it can use my life force at all—"
"You've abandoned it."
Rima stopped, stunned. "…What? I haven't abandoned it, I'm using it just the same—"
"Allen Walker is connected to his Innocence. He speaks to it…cooperates with it…asks for its help. You, on the other hand…would like nothing more than get rid of it. Gin no Tsuki knows it…and it's slowly detaching itself from you. You've placed something above…your duty as an Exorcist. Your Innocence is punishing you for your betrayal."
"Meeting, meeting," said the Earl as the Noah all gathered in a crowded living room in Cyril's home. "Oh, hurry it up, Tyki-pon, you're much too slow."
"My bad," he muttered under his breath as he shuffled through the tall doorway and into a cushioned loveseat. "Sorry that I'm still recovering from very pure Innocence damage."
"You're such a whiner, Master Tyki," yawned Wisely.
"Shut up. I don't care if you're new or what—"
"I'm not new—I'm much older than you, and at least I remember everything that you don't—"
"Stop bickering," sighed Road as she played with the fire poker. "It'd be great if you all shut up, sat down, and listened to what the Earl had to say because frankly, it's pretty important."
"Thank you, Road," said the Earl sincerely. "Now, we've found out all about those silly and dangerous Third-rate Exorcists that our lovely friends at the Order have made, so now, time to exploit them! I think everyone knows what's going on with little Alma-kun, yes? He and Kanda and his dear friend Rima Shuki—"
Road abruptly singed the elegant rug in front of the fireplace.
"Road! These are new rugs," said Cyril disapprovingly.
"Road's just a little angry that she still hasn't caught Miss Shuki," explained the Earl. "No worries, no worries. All in due time, especially since they're so well entwined with our plan, mm? Alma's awakening will have a dire effect on her, I'm sure."
"I don't know…" said Road slowly. "I just feel like she's not quite like them. And it's really no fun killing them if they've gone all haywire and stuff anyway."
"I don't think she'll go haywire," said Wisely thoughtfully. "From what I've gathered from their pasts, she's not exactly a Second. Her friend, the pretty Japanese one, he might, considering that he's legitimately a Second Exorcist and is mentally very close to Alma, but the girl's not like them. They might share a connection—she and Kanda—but I don't think she and Alma have much of a connection there."
"Hm," mused Tyki, having conjured up one of his Tease and was playing with it, "well, what if he went berserk and she didn't? Wouldn't it be fun to pit them against each other?"
There was a silence after his words, and the Noah of Pleasure looked up from his hands.
"What?" he said.
"…I didn't think of that," said Road, somewhat astonished that the simple thought hadn't crossed her mind. "Wow, Tyki, you do have a brain."
"Sarcasm really not appreciated, Road," he said tartly. "I just thought it'd be funny if she ended up killing him."
Wisely chuckled. "And then she'd really go haywire."
"We could try to make that happen," mused the Millennium Earl. "A very pleasant scenario that would make. Hm. Let's aim for that, shall we?"
"But what if I want to kill her?" said Tyki. "Especially if I find the opportunity to do so?"
"Well, that can't be helped. I say finders, keepers," replied the Duke. "If you find a good opportunity, Tyki, she's all yours. If not, a setup would be a better idea."
It was a done deal. With Tyki being infinitely stronger since their last meeting, he really doubted that the girl could stand a chance.
She let out a cough, doubling over as it suddenly exacerbated into something much more severe. Lavi bent down beside her, one hand placed firmly on her shoulder as the other patted her back, trying to shake the cough out on his own. Rima shook her head, motioning for him to go away and keep a lookout for anything dangerous.
"I'm not going to move, Rima," he said sternly. "Marie is better at keeping track of things, and face it, we're on a mountain in the middle of China in broad daylight—there's not much that could happen to us unless a Noah pushed us off a cliff. The more important thing is that you're really not well."
"I'm…fine," she said, wheezing slightly as she struggled back to her feet. "I'm fine, really, I—" Scarcely had she stood up straight did she have to double over again, clutching her stomach tightly as she coughed like she was choking. Her insides burned, as if they were dripping with acid, and she could not help but feel like throwing up. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, there was nothing she could regurgitate—she had conveniently skipped breakfast.
"Go back to the ark," said Lavi severely, helping her straighten up.
She coughed as she stared at him indignantly. "You want me to go…back? Leverrier will—" She cleared her throat, allowing some moment of relapse for unhindered speech. "Leverrier will kill me. I'm fine, this won't take too long—"
"Why don't you just go back and take a rest," said Lavi dryly. "Just head to the infirmary and get some sleep—you really don't look too good right now, you know."
She was about to voice some further indignation but was unable too, hampered by the pain that laced her insides, causing her to struggle and breathe in deeply. Lavi looked at her with worried skepticism and pushed her back in the direction of the ark.
"Go back," he said seriously. "You're really going to keel over right into an Akuma's arms at this rate, and I'm sure Kanda will like that, having a dead soul chosen over him."
Rima gave him an ugly look. Lavi's lips quirked a bit.
She really did feel awful though. And she knew exactly why. And since she knew why, she did not feel bad abandoning the mission itself, but did feel rather bad leaving Lavi and her colleagues behind. Sensing her hesitation, the Brit gave a wry smirk.
"Look, being completely blunt with you, you'll be more of a hindrance than a help at this rate, Rima. I know you feel like shit right now, and I'm saying that hanging around isn't going to do any of us any good. So go home and sleep like a good little girl for once, would you?"
"You're really insufferable sometimes, you know that?" she said deprecatingly.
"I'll take that as a 'Yes, I'll go back,'" said Lavi. "Bye, now."
Her head spun. She did feel absolutely awful. And screw Leverrier. Rima let out a sigh and took a step back in the direction that Lavi was gesturing to.
"Bye," she said wearily. "Be careful, all right? I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if you got mortally wounded or what…"
"I'll be fine, as will the others. Go back now."
Rima gave a little wave and left, her legs carrying her mechanically to her destination. Each step was a burden and struggle, and her heart seemed to be pumping so furiously that it felt like it was going to explode. She incessantly walked, guided by the prospect of a cool, sterile atmosphere with a soft mattress and clean covers that could never have been more tempting, even though she knew mostly everyone else was away on missions. Every Exorcist was deployed for the moment, with Kanda more specifically at the Jordan camp. Madarao, thankfully, was not with her, or else this trip back to Headquarters would've been strictly forbidden.
The wind blew in gusts, ushering with it a scent of fresh vegetation and cleanness up in the rural area. Rima gave a sigh and edged carefully down the mountain, her thoughts inevitably turning to issues that were much more important.
She had dared to ask Hevlaska how much time she had left.
Maybe it had been a bad idea. Rima hadn't expected it to be so little.
Three months, at best. One month, if the process sped up.
She gave a bitter smirk. She had not found the heart to tell Kanda—indeed, what kind of conversation would it have made if she had just told him, "Oh, by the way, Yuu, I only have about twelve weeks left to live at most." What else could she have added? That she really wanted to just not work and actually do something she wanted with her life, something that didn't have to entwine with a life-sucking force that she could care less about?
So what if she put someone else above the Innocence?
So what if one person meant more to her than killing the Earl?
Was it wrong for her to cling to a life she wasn't supposed to have, to people who weren't supposed to be alive either?
She gave another sigh. Sometimes, all the morbid thoughts made her almost pessimistically glad that she wouldn't be around too much longer to continue thinking about them.
Rima opened the door to the infirmary, surprised to find that the three members of the Steuern family were there as well. Luise was sitting on a bed as the Nurse listened to her heartbeat; the German woman smiled upon seeing Rima.
"Hello there, Rima," she said. "I thought you were on a mission?"
"I…" Rima could see Tanya looking at her accusingly. "I came back early. Lavi said I should probably check in with the Nurse—I haven't been feeling wonderful lately…"
"You certainly to look a bit worn out," said Luise. "Nurse, why don't you go ahead and look at Rima—"
"It's fine," said the Exorcist, waving her hands to deny the offer. "Are you here for a checkup, Luise?"
"For a checkup and hopefully checkout," grinned Hans. "She says she feels about ready to be out of Headquarters now."
"Are you sure?" said Rima worriedly. "It might not be safe, you know—"
"We're going down to Australia," interrupted Tanya, her blue eyes flashing a bit. "We have some relatives down there, and it should be far away from all this business. We'll be in hiding, somewhat."
"Ah…I see. Well…I hope you'll be all right there," said Rima. "The whole family's going, then?"
"I thought it'd be better for my children to be out of the line of fire," said Luise somewhat guiltily. "I know that we promised to help the Black Order, but after…Franz…"
"That's perfectly understandable," insisted Rima. She gave a little laugh. "Honestly, if I could do the same thing with a family, I would…"
She noticed them exchange glances, obviously perturbed hearing the wishes of an Exorcist who wanted to abandon her job. Her Innocence, at that. Oh, wait, she apparently had already. That was why she was being disintegrated from the inside out.
"You're free to go, Mrs. Steuern," said the Nurse finally. "Be sure to eat regularly and keep exercising, but you're very well otherwise."
"Thank you, Nurse," said Luise graciously. "Rima, your turn."
"Of course. When are you three leaving?"
"…Now, as a matter of fact," said Hans brightly. "We packed our bags in hopes of good news. And since our mother is now discharged, we're free to catch the ship in three hours."
"Oh. Oh," realized Rima. "You do mean…like…now. Well…" Her voice trailed off. "That would make this goodbye, wouldn't it?"
"I suppose," said Luise, already teary-eyed. "It was…thank you for so much, Rima."
"No," said Rima uncomfortably, "it was really nothing."
Luise embraced Rima, letting the hug linger for a few seconds.
"Keep safe, will you?" the German woman said upon letting go. "And write, hopefully? We can send you a letter and you can just write back at the return address—maybe when this war is over we can meet up again and perhaps go to a ball of some sort, catch up…"
"Yeah, that sounds wonderful," smiled Rima reassuringly. "Thank you for everything, Luise. Take care, all right?"
"Mm. If you ever hear from Cross again, give him our regards, all right? And tell him that I'll forget about the money he borrowed if he decides to visit us."
"Will do," said Rima wryly, vaguely wondering if she'd even live long enough to see Cross again.
Hans approached her and stuck out a hand.
"It was wonderful to meet you, Miss Rima," he said genially. "Thank you for everything."
"Take care, Hans," she said, shaking his hand and giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek.
Which left Tanya, almost unfortunately. The two females looked at each other, giving the clear impression that there was really no love lost between them.
"Keep safe, then, Miss Tanya," said Rima sincerely.
"I'll be sure to," said Tanya in a more sedated tone than she normally used. "You as well then."
"I can take care of myself, no worries," she replied. "See you, then."
Tanya curtly nodded, once to Rima, once to the Nurse, and then ushered her family quickly out of the hospital wing before the atmosphere got any more awkward. Rima could hear Luise calling faintly one last time, "Don't forget, Rima! I'll write and you must write back!"
"Delightful family, they are," said the Nurse musingly, sitting Rima down on the examination bed in front of her as the door shut behind the Steuerns. "As for you—are you feeling bad again?"
"…Worse than before," said Rima, her eyes closing as the Nurse felt her temples.
"Have you been taking your medicine?" said the Nurse strictly.
"Yes," sighed Rima. "Doesn't help, really."
Rima paused a bit, thinking as the Nurse pulled out her stethoscope.
"Nurse…" she said slowly.
The Matron raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"There's really no need," she said. "I just need some sleep."
The Nurse looked surprised. "Well, yes, I agree completely, but I don't think that's the only potential remedy."
"No, Nurse," said Rima softly, struggling to keep her face impassive. "There really is no remedy."
"What do you mean?" said the Nurse, aghast with Rima's conviction. "Certainly there is a remedy—we just haven't figured out what's quite wrong with you—"
"No," said Rima, her voice starting to shake a bit.
There was something about saying the next statement aloud, like it was going to set it in stone, and it frightened her. She could not get the words out.
"You're just tired," said the Nurse gently. "I'll give you some medicine, and you can go get some rest. You really don't look well."
"Y-yeah," said Rima wearily. "Would you mind if I went back to my room? Leverrier—"
"The Inspector is out at the North American branch, as is the Head Supervisor and a good bit of the Science Department," said the Nurse. "You'll be quite fine right here."
Rima nodded listlessly, letting her continue with the examination and nodding occasionally if she said anything. She didn't really listen. Her thoughts were undeniably elsewhere.
She wondered how Kanda was doing at the Jordan camp. Maybe she'd sneak off to go see him.
Because there was really no point in avoiding the truth anymore. If she was going to die, she might as well at least be in a place she wanted to be, with a person she wanted to be with.
The prospect of Death did not make Rima any different, did not change her desires, her wishes, or her whimsical dreams. It just made her more regretful, less hopeful, and infinitely bolder when it came to forgetting everything except her wishes and their enactment.
She still felt just the same as she always did. A little more desperate with a bit more longing. But still, ultimately, undeniably, irrefutably, she was as she always was.
Scared of Death, scared of no future, when her body and mind would turn to dust, and her soul's connection with Kanda's would disappear into oblivion.
Free Talk
Sorry for the wait. Thank you to all those who reviewed last chapter, and be sure to leave a review on your way out as always. :)
I'd say...two chapters left.
xoxo,
m.n