A very very late merry Christmas/winter holiday all, and thanks to karina001 and waterlit for reviewing. You guys are far too kind ^/-/^. I shall make a note to use more descriptive writing in the future.
Yes, Daisya is going to have one of those days; at any rate, his judgment's going straight out the window. Not that he had good judgment in the first place, today's just a special case. After all, opiates do have a rather intoxicating effect along with being good painkillers.
Daisya stared into his bowl, sighed, and dug a spoon in. It shifted a bit under his scrutiny. Porridge was always suspicious-looking. This stuff was mushy and thick, and you could see it spiraling if you tilted your head the right way. And it was the same suspicious grey-brown as the worn table. Oh, well. He wasn't going to heal too quickly if he didn't eat anything.
As he reluctantly shoveled down the oatmeal, Kanda glared, and Marie and the old man were talking. Something about some 'no-ah' or something.
His mind wandered, wondering where they were. Some inn, maybe, but it looked like it was just the four of them there. And it was way too small. There was a pot-bellied stove in the corner, with a small pot and a kettle. Probably some old abandoned house. Just the stove, this table and chairs here, and a pile of wood in the corner. Four chairs at the table, two off to the side a bit. The attic was the spare bedroom, probably, because there was an opening to another adjacent room. Maybe it was one of the houses that the akuma were living in, or a farm cottage near there. The akuma'd probably taken over a ten-kilometre radius, Marie said. That was a long distance.
He pitied the circus they said was coming to the now-empty village. At least they weren't going to wander in and die, or anything.
Whoever this Noah group or bunch of things or whatever was seemed pretty serious. Marie looked a bit nervous, and even the old man seemed tired. He looked like a raccoon, between those terrible thick glasses with the taped-up bridge and what looked like bruises under his eyes. Maybe he'd got those ugly things to hide the dark circles. They broke way too easily, anyway.
As he stared off absentmindedly into the distance, a glob of porridge slid off his spoon and on to the hem of his tunic.
Whatever, he thought. I can just wash it.
With that, he went face first into the bowl
...
After Marie had pulled him up and given him a gentle duck in the water barrel outside, Daisya was most definitely more awake. In fact, his muscles had moved without any thought being involved, which resulted in his current situation of balancing on the edges of the barrel. Actually, he didn't know how he'd managed to jump about four feet straight up. It was only a miracle he hadn't hit his head on the window-alcove-thing that jutted out from the side of the cottage.
"Whoa, what was that for?" he whined, wheeling an arm back to rebalance himself. Good thing he was wearing thick socks, otherwise he'd be walking on splinters.
"To wake you up. I'm sorry about that, but I find it is the most efficient way."
"But it's freezing—" Daisya started, then broke off. Marie was acting way too sensible, like he always did, but he looked like he was hiding a grin more than just smiling a bit. "You messing with me?"
Marie's grin made its way out into the open. "Not really. But you do look a bit funny up there."
He walked around to the side of the barrel, and held out an arm to help Daisya down.
"You should finish your breakfast. I have heard it's the most important meal of the day."
Daisya made a face, and braced himself off of Marie's hand before hopping down. Things still hurt a bit, even after the drugs. Strike that. Things still hurt a lot.
"You serious? What about dessert?"
...
Kanda had excused himself to tidy up a bit the moment he saw Daisya, which meant that the rest of the breakfast passed in peace. The old man was really in sketching the layout of the room, and describing it to Marie at the same time. Daisya hadn't really thought about it, but he guessed Marie only had a rough idea of what was where no matter where he went. It was a wonder he could navigate. He made a note to ask about it later. His hearing couldn't do everything, now, could it?
Anyhow, Kanda was probably off somewhere sulking or folding socks, which meant that he wasn't going to be paying that much attention. Or, even better, he might be combing that hair of his.
...
"Give. It. Back."
"Ow, yeah, yeah, okay, just — aaaaagh!"
Kanda twisted Daisya's collar, keeping his feet a few centimetres from the ground. He had been brushing his hair, using the window as a mirror. Just enough to see your reflection in, if you were concentrating, but not enough to make you notice someone else's reflection. Or to get a good view of the chair in the corner opposite the window that had a basin of water, a bit of soap, a toothbrush, and most importantly a hair tie laid out on it.
"Come on, I'll give it back if you let me down. Please?"
Kanda let Daisya drop, feet hitting the floor hard, and held out a hand expectantly. It took a few steps for him to regain balance, but he was muttering complaints and rubbing at his throat in a couple of seconds.
Daisya reluctantly surrendered the piece of string, and Kanda took it without a word.
"So," asked Daisya awkwardly, "You're pretty strong, aren't you?"
Kanda finished tying a knot in the hair tie, and ran a hand through his short ponytail. There was a smattering of a brighter hue around his cheekbones. Looks like even Kanda could get flushed from chasing after him. All those afternoons of football practice didn't go to waste.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he muttered, still glaring daggers. Actually, he was probably glaring swords. Daisya forgot what the word was.
"Well, the old man said you carried Marie and me when we got knocked out. And you took a chunk out of your arm, but you look fine now, and it's going to be weeks before I get better," he reasoned, noting the empty fury on Kanda's face, "So, yeah. You're not like me or Marie. Or most people."
"I'm not like anyone," Kanda snapped, tightening his grip.
The look in his eyes had run dull again. Daisya noticed them, the same as after the fire, and behind the shutters. He was remembering something from some other time, some other place. Maybe some other world. He'd calculated the remark to try and get some information out of him, but it looked like Kanda was shutting down again.
Kanda obviously wasn't going to give him any more information. He'd just have to work with what he'd got.
He thought for a moment.
"What are you looking at?"
Contempt dripped off of Kanda's every syllable. He did recover quickly, in more ways than one. He'd almost been angry enough to snap Daisya's neck. Not at him, but at something else. It was like he was staring at a point two inches behind Daisya's eyes. Something not there.
"I think I figured out why you hate me."
Daisya's hands were at his sides, displaying defenselessness despite the fingers at his throat. It was like dealing with a shy dog, the one that the kids two doors down had gotten off some merchant. You had to make sure it had no reason to bite you.
Kanda didn't give the courtesy of a reply.
"I got all burnt up in the fire, and you were sleeping, so it ended up with me saving you, even though you would have been fine," Daisya continued, almost accusingly.
Kanda remained silent. That wasn't it, but he was close. Close enough.
"Am I right? You've really got a hero complex–"
"Shut up."
Kanda stared straight at Daisya. There was nothing behind his eyes.
"You're wrong."
The words were quiet, but full of venom. Kanda turned away.
Alma. Kanda. Other world. Shut down. Fire. Fall. Shutters. Weakness. Strength. Anger. Hate. But something more...
Daisya decided it was time to push his luck.
"Then it's because of Alma, right?"
...
He couldn't quite recall the movement, but in the course of a few seconds, Kanda had knocked him across the room, and was holding him against the wall. He could feel him trembling.
"Who told you about Alma?"
Kanda's voice was low, and guttural, and Daisya's held breath was running out. Damn damn damn damn God be damned that wasn't a smart idea.
"Y-you said it when you were sleeping," he choked out, "I figured you were having a dream, or something. I c-couldn't wake you up."
The grip released. He dropped to the floor, and put a hand around his throat. Shit. Tears were leaking out of his eyes — Kanda's hold had grated on his burns.
"You act like Alma, sometimes," a voice said tersely. "Except you're worse."
Kanda had turned around, and left a handful of footsteps between them.
"Who was Alma?" Daisya asked, his voice rough.
"Alma was a bastard. Tried to kill me. Pushed me off a cliff."
There was something thick in Kanda's voice as he walked away. This Alma must have shaken him up. Maybe he was a teacher. Sibling. Parent. Someone you could never forgive or even try to forget.
Even if his voice was fine, Daisya couldn't have spoken in that moment.
"That's all you're ever going to know. Consider yourself lucky."
Daisya could barely hear the last words, but something in them made him get to his feet, and run after Kanda.
He'd spoken that way, once. To himself. Just before stabbing himself with the needle, trying to change something, anything, and tattooing a pair of amateur tears down his cheeks. Trying to escape. Not that badly, not in that harsh a whisper, but with the same wish to somehow erase the words he was saying as he said them. Tiedoll said that when you wanted to change something you couldn't change, you changed the things you could. It explained a lot of the stupid shit he'd done.
There was the pounding of footsteps on a wooden floor.
...
Kanda was slouched outside, against the wall of the inn. The sun beat down on the wooden boards of the house, reflecting slightly off the packed dirt and scrub of the compound. Maybe this was a garden, upon a time, before the plants took all the richness out of the soil, and just left sharp stubs of grass. Still, it was getting to be autumn, and a breeze took the edge off of whatever sun-baked monotony might have otherwise been there.
Daisya tossed the ball up and down as a token gesture, then, against his better judgment, sat next to him.
Kanda didn't even bother to look at him.
"Want to play some football?"
Kanda stared straight ahead, as if Daisya wasn't there.
"It's pretty nice weather, not all boring and hot."
Again, silence. Daisya felt his heart rate start to increase. He was ready to run at a moment's notice, in case Kanda tried his strangling trick again. The best thing, in this sort of situation, was to pretend that nothing was happening. Just ignore reality. That's what he'd done right up until five minutes ago, and look how that'd turned out for him.
"Come on, it's just a game. And I'm still healing, so you might be able to beat me, if you try hard."
Kanda raised a hand, and rapped the wall of the house once. Twice.
Daisya had to hide a smile, as his heart rate went up again. He may have been fun to to prank, but Kanda was pretty scary when he acted weird like this. By weird he meant nice. Well, not actually nice, but not actively taking a swing at him.
"Okay. Your loss, sucker."
Daisya took a breath, leaned over, and planted a kiss on Kanda's cheek.
"Hey!"
But Daisya was prepared, and dodged the punch easily, and the kick, and the heel-strike, before running away fast enough to stay just ahead of Kanda.
Laughter and swearing echoed in the dusty yard.
Explanation, for those confused: Daisya physically resembles Alma, and acts like him sometimes, particularly when it comes to pushing Kanda off of things. Kanda is an emotionally unstable 11-year-old just recovering from one really traumatic unfortunate incident. From a few chapters ago, one knock means yes, and two knocks mean no. And Daisya just can't not wave the proverbial red flag in front of the proverbial bull. That said, his last act of stupidity is actually semi-sensible, as it's severe enough to distract Kanda without provoking him to the same level as he just did.
It takes a certain type of cleverness to do something that stupid.
Edit: No, Marie can't see Daisya, but Daisya's pretty oblivious and Marie likes to very passively mess with him.