Thanks very much to karina001 and Hn (who remains alive) for commenting on here, and to NTLeo for commenting over on ao3. Not much to say, but where it is ambiguous who someone is talking about in this chapter, there may be two people meant to be the subject of the words. Or I've just forgotten to use names instead of pronouns again. You all may never know.
Marie heard the scream of…rage?
No — not just one scream. Two. One came after that spoke of pain, like the one that had torn from his throat when his eyes were slashed, and the first one that was similar in texture. Anger mixed with something indefinable, and poured into the shape of a word.
There was something in it that pierced through the strata of the mind and hit the button marked 'run'.
It was dark out in Budapest, but the myriad lights of the city polluted the sky with light, forming an orange glow that faded as it climbed up into the darkness of the horizon. Down the crooked street, and over the thatch and tile rooves, had he sight he would have been able to see the half of the city blockaded by a river. He could hear the faint rushing of the water, winding lazily, and the crackling of a dozen fires — both within the hearths of the shops and houses surrounding him, and without.
In the air, there was the faintly bitter scent of smoke, as of things burning that should never have been hot.
Oh, no…
"General — that was Kanda."
He said it as calmly as possible, so as not to draw attention, but he could hear his heart start to speed up. The General must have heard the scream in some capacity.
The gutters and alleyways were pitch black by now, so no one could see them where they paused. Just out of the light of a wrought-iron street lamp, Marie's posture had changed, coiling like a spring.
He heard the General take in a breath.
"I can see something burning."
Marie nodded gravely. He was rarely wrong, however much he regretted it.
"May I suggest we run?"
Tiedoll spoke calmly, but in a brighter tone than Marie was used to.
"Yes."
...
Two figures took off through the streets, running quickly for their size.
Tiedoll felt his breath hanging ragged in his lungs. The kids could take care of themselves — Kanda especially, and even Daisya had been held on a loose rein by his parents — but the two of them would have been sound asleep. And Daisya was all too difficult to wake up…
They turned another dark corner, and the street was filled with noises of indignation.
If cutting through the crowds as through akuma could have made them move any faster, Tiedoll would not have hesitated.
…
Daisya had held his breath in pain, preparing to let it out with a gasp as he crashed on to the ground. He was surrounded by flames, and he was sure he was bleeding in more than a few places from the glass shards. It felt like he was on fire. Actually, he probably was on fire.
Still, the adrenaline coursing through him didn't allow for a lapse in movement.
As if in a dream, he launched himself forwards, perching on the window ledge. He looked down, though he didn't see much. The smoke stung his eyes, and drew out tears. Kanda would have gotten out of there now, with a few of the bags if he had any sense, so the ground would be hard, and gritty with dirt and stones and–
Unconsciously, he winced.
No. He had to jump. He had to jump. Remember what happened to Kanda?
Better a broken arm than broken lungs, better pain than passing out.
He pressed the heel of his hand into the ledge, and pushed off.
...
Four seconds.
The night air was warm from the blaze, but cool compared to the furnace he'd escaped. It flowed over him as he fell, and he let the tension in him uncoil.
They'd said that it kept your insides from getting messed up if you got hit hard. They said you could survive a pretty high fall when you did that.
Three seconds.
Even so, he'd probably break something.
Maybe an arm? And then he'd get his burns ground into the dirt and rocks and–
This was going to hurt like seven hells.
This was not a good idea.
Two seconds.
Why hadn't he–
There was the sound of cloth moving.
One second–
…
He fell heavily, and gasped in pain and shock.
It was going to be weeks before it stopped hurting.
Wait–
Nothing was broken. There was no telltale snap of bone.
He was in the air, not on the ground, with the dirt grinding into his skin.
Fingers curled over his shoulder, and there was the brush of air as whatever held him moved.
Someone had caught him.
He opened his eyes.
Kanda stared ahead, something flickering in his eyes, behind the blankness.
…
Marie rounded the corner, following the General's footsteps. He had to admit, at times like this, sight would have been an advantage. The heat was radiating in waves, and the crackling noise filled the air.
"Oh, thank god you're safe. Is Daisya okay? What happened…"
A quick flurry of words ensued, with the General's voice shaking like the timbers of the inn and Kanda's replies stayed even, and hushed to the point of murmuring. They both had the right to have been shaken.
However, the exact words of the General and the child were drowned out by his own thoughts.
There were a few things that were unexpected about the scene.
Kanda's survival expected, but there was one question Marie felt form on his tongue.
If Kanda had survived unharmed, why had it been Kanda screaming?
…
Tiedoll was relieved to see both of his apprentices alive, but he still needed to hear the story. Kanda looked almost shaken-up — something that was neither expected nor comforting. His eyes slipped to one side or the other, sunken in their sockets.
"Don't remember when we fell asleep," Kanda had said, as if searching his memory, "The fire was inside the door when I woke up. Couldn't see too well. Thought Daisya was awake. I got the bags, but then I had to go get Daisya. Had to carry him out. The rafters were weak. The lamp exploded."
The story had rolled out somewhat robotically, but it was in Kanda's style of speech — short and choppy.
Tiedoll put it out of mind as he examined the full extent of Daisya's injuries. His back, neck, and legs were burnt, and he was covered in blood from where the shards of glass had hit him. From the look of the damage, it was a wonder both of them had gotten out. Scarring was inevitable, but these days there were few exorcists intact in both mind and body. Daisya would have to choose just one. There still might have been some stuck in his skin, but he couldn't see properly in the light. Best to assess the damage, and fix it than dwell upon the consequences.
Oh, well.
It was bad, but broken bones could have crippled him for months. He might still be able to fight, depending on the speed of his recovery.
Better to dally here than to waste another exorcist.
He announced his findings to Marie and Kanda, and picked the boy up. They needed to find a hospital.
Just this once, he thanked God for Kanda's suicidal urge to save.
…
Kanda examined the sky in agitation. Agitation at what, he couldn't say, to his annoyance. He could say it was because he could feel the seconds trickling by as doubtlessly another team of finders met their demise. But he couldn't. They were finders. That was their job.
He'd like to say it was because he felt angry at being forced to stay here, held back from doing the only job he had in order to watch some brat sleep the day away in off-white sheets in a less-white room.
Mostly he was angry at Daisya.
Why?
Because he threw him out a damn window, that's why!
Is it really?
Do you remember why you wouldn't jump?
Yes, but that was just for a moment, he didn't have to push me, the bastard!
You're awfully agitated. You were thinking of Alma, weren't you?
Shut up.
And do you remember what Alma did?
He killed people.
He also pushed you off a cliff.
Yeah, but killing people is more important than that. It wasn't even a cliff.
He made you fall. He saved you.
Yeah, what's your point?
You should know.
Shut up!
The words escaped Kanda's lips, albeit in a whisper.
He was angry at Daisya.
No, he hated Daisya.
He was chatty, creepy, and obnoxious.
He had pushed him out of the window, then asked him to lie about it.
Bastard.
Bastard bastard bastardbastardbastard.
He hated him.
Kanda hated him.
…
This is after. First there was before.
…
"Hey, Kanda?"
Kanda leaned Daisya against the wall, far enough from the inn for the air to be cool. The boy gasped as he felt the rough wood on his blistered back, and the world seemed to darken for a moment.
"What?"
The answer was flat, as it was calculated to be.
Kanda's face blurred again, and Daisya's grimace resembled a grin for a moment.
"Could…could you do me a favour?" he asked, breathing heavily.
Kanda ignored him, propping him up against a bag he'd grabbed. The shock and pain from the fire and the fatigue they both felt were taking their toll on Daisya. He'd be out in a few seconds.
"The…old man'll be pretty mad if I…tell him…what happened–"
Daisya broke off, coughing. Despite keeping close to the ground, he'd breathed in a lot of smoke.
"…anyway, don't tell him that I pushed you."
The words tumbled out in a whisper, and there was another rasping breath.
"You think you can make up a story?"
Daisya grinned, but his teeth were gritted. In a few seconds, he was going to faint. The ashes from the ceiling had been like a grey snow. He could feel them on his skin, scraping into the burns.
Kanda hadn't answered yet — he was just glaring at him, glaring at him. He did glare, didn't he? Mean, wasn't it, Kanda? But you're not like that all the time, Kanda, answer me, answer me…
The world went black.