The random latin is just a bad google translate rewriting of Dixit Dominus and a couple of mass movements, because I wanted the [slow mo, trippy special effects, dramatic choir] effect, but it's hard to do in writing. Benjamin Britten's Agnus Dei from Missa Brevis conveys the right amout of creepiness for DGM, if you want some background music, but there aren't too many good recordings of it.

I'm thinking of giving this another edit later, by which I mean I'm going to forget about it and go back to read this chapter and cringe in three months, but no matter!

Anyway, someone give these kids a blanket and a library of self-help books. Please. Please.

The cold, slim blade of Mugen cut down his wrist, and and then was cast on to the grass beside.

…

Dominus a dextris reges confregit in die irae tuae amans

Judicabit in ecclesiarum

…

Kanda watched the scene through the eyes of what the Order called God: he saw from far away a small figure, hunched over and reaching outwards over a corpse, as if in prayer.

Only now it seemed such a weak gesture, lost in the immense shadow of the abbey.

In a matter of minutes, flowing fast as sand through an eggtimer, the doll-like supplicant's expression changed. The initial anxiety took on a sheen of agony, but quickly settled in a kind of mania, the lips drawn back in a grimace even as the eyes burned.

Of course, from this distance none of that was visible. It was just how he remembered it.

…

Implebit ruinas, conquassabit capita in domum tuam

…

It seemed the body was no more than a bundle of rags, flopping over when Kanda set it on the ground, now back in his body and looking through his eyes. The head especially kept shifting, until finally he braced it against the rough bark of a white spruce.

Its mouth was full of blood. Was it his own? Was it Daisya's? Kanda could still see it on its lips, unmoving under the forest's shelter

…

Kyrie eleison

…

In the end, he had gone in for the kill. Flitting steps and cautious jumps had led him to the bell tower's top in a matter of seconds, even as the stone shifted beneath him. This Innocence was a wounded animal, lashing out at any and all who drew near, and like an animal it would be put down.

…

Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto

…

Landing lightly on the ground, Kanda gazed up at the light that shuddered in the sky above. The bell cracked like eggshell, piece by piece disintegrating as the Innocence within burned through the shell without, in doing so leaving the building around them. Stone crashed, for each scrap of iron that winked out there was a section of a battlement that fell to earth, shaking but never swaying the boy that there stood watching.

He never looked away. Though the air cracked with thunder, his eyes were raw and fixed on the green-tinged glow of the thing that had destroyed so much.

…

Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in secula seculorum

Amen

…

Laid out on the bed, he was alive, at least, and could be lucid, but for how much longer?

Kanda watched him sleep, as he had after the fire, after the river, not knowing if he would keep risking his life for the Innocence.

…

Agnus Dei

…

Wondering, without really feeling anything but anger, if he would keep risking his life for him.

…

Qui tollis peccata mea

…

Not knowing if next time, he would be too late for Daisya.

…

Miserere mei

…

It was hard to know if he had ever been young or would ever be old, but now Kanda felt too young, and powerless.

…

Agnus Dei

…

Now, he realized, that he did have a family, and that somehow they had been with him from the beginning, good and bad.

…

Odi te

…

But there and then, with Daisya lifeless and the rest of them so far away, he had been alone.

…

Dona mihi pacem

…

He didn't wake up, really, but some bolt of panic threw him into consciousness. At any rate, Kanda's eyes opened.

It was no surprise that Daisya was still out cold, in the pale light, or that he'd nearly fallen off the seat. He tossed and turned even like this, without someone to kick him into submission.

Slowly, hands light so he didn't wake his partner and start of the usual stream of complaining, he pulled Daisya back up, and after a moment's thought pulled the bandages back and off his face where they'd grown loose. He'd probably been too lazy to change them since Kanda had done it. Though why that dumbass kept on wearing them now, he didn't know. The burns had finished healing a few months after he'd got them.

He remembered some snippets of words they'd passed between them one morning.

Probably too vain to take them off, then. Or he thought they looked interesting. Typical Daisya. He didn't even have to get half the scars, in the first place.

He's going to die, Kanda thought, if he keeps this up. He was always going to die. Idiot.

He traced the markings down his cheeks.

I should've left him.

I should have fucking killed him, before something like this happened.

It took some time before he breathed out, hands shaking. Then, as if to remind himself of something, he pushed up his sleeve, and looked at the scars beneath, running up his arm where he'd needed blood, and needed it now.

You always had to pay, sooner or later, for what you got.

If he continued to save Daisya, would he be alive to find that person?

Would it even matter?

Something broke in him, and made a disgusting noise.

The sound of crying.

…

Asleep or awake, Kanda was in some other world. No way in hell he'd break down like this, not in front of him of all people. Not unless either of them wanted a fight on so little sleep.

For a while, Daisya stayed still and watched, considering his options. The easiest one would be to just go back to sleep, pretending nothing had happened.

Have I ever seen Kanda like this?

Alternately, he could just move to the other bench, and use the windowsill as a pillow. Not quite as comfy, but still better than a tongue-lashing.

What happened? Did something go down while I was knocked out?

Running into the hallway would have been a good idea too, but it was too narrow to set up camp, so he'd have to stand until he got the all-clear.

Kanda's not supposed to be sad. I mean, of course he probably is, sometimes, but — he's not supposed to be hurt, he's not supposed to get killed, he's not supposed to cry. This isn't how it should be.

He could also…

It looks painful.

He dragged a hand across his eyes, and swallowed hard, wishing the pills would kick in faster.

Who was he kidding.

It feels so painful.

Pushing Kanda's arms away, he sat up.

"Hey, Kanda."

His partner seemed to be moving through treacle, turning his head towards him and staring him through, but maybe he was still half-asleep, because his eyelids had slipped down a bit underneath the long lashes. At any rate, he wasn't glaring.

"You okay?"

Yeah, it was a stupid question, but it was the only one he could ask.

"Figure it out," said Kanda quietly.

"You haven't called me an idiot, yet, so something must be wrong." Daisya forced a grin.

"Shut up."

"Or maybe I'm wrong—"

As quickly and sharply he moved in combat, Kanda had wrapped his arms around him.

"I told you to shut up," he croaked. His voice was raw.

Daisya complied for once, and sat still, waiting for this to pass.

There was something, something here. Something more that he'd remembered, while he slept, that Kanda had once told him.

A lie, of course, but he'd thought it was truth at the time.

…

Training days were all different, otherwise Daisya would have slacked off earlier, to make Kanda come and drag him in. Sometimes he'd just do the usual exercise of hitting targets with a football — it barely counted as work, even — and other times he'd be running laps around headquarters with Lenalee until his legs broke down and he started coughing up something disgusting. Less often, he'd play scales with Marie, seeing how finely he could tune the Charity Bell to background noise or the Noël Organum, to up the synch capacity and the force of the sound wave.

Today, he traded punches, kicks, and blocks with Kanda, practicing two or three variations of a move over and over until he started getting bored and Kanda gave up, and moved into free fighting. They wouldn't leave until Kanda had seen him use some set number of moves with some amount of competency, so it kept Daisya on his toes. Sometimes literally, when he worked the dances of his childhood and that Tiedoll had taught him into the steps. Hah, one day, one glorious day, he'd slipped past Kanda's punch, grabbed the outstretched wrist, and braced his arm on Kanda's waist to pull him up and around in a glorious leap. Of course, he'd gotten quickly thrown when he tried to finish it with a twirl, but for a moment they'd been dancing.

Not that he didn't find the time to do it most days, in his room or with Isaac or Jeanne, but with Kanda it was that much more of a victory.

But enough of that. He should be concentrating.

This session involved some more complex block-throw combinations, with entire sections of a match as the technique instead of just one or two moves. Daisya loved it. One you knew the steps, you could just do it that much more fluidly, moving around to Kanda's deft counters.

And finally, at the end of the session, throwing him down on to the mat in a surprise attack. Take that!

"Ha! Ha ha!"

Kanda just glared at him, but he was more miffed than truly angry, and Daisya was willing to be that he was more than a little amused.

"What."

"Just wait 'till I tell everyone I beat Kanda in sparring."

Daisya savoured the words on his tongue, before remembering to get Kanda in a pressure-point hold.

"We weren't sparring," said Kanda flatly. Yep, definitely trying to seem angry. There wasn't any venom in it. But what was that he was saying? Not sparring? Daisya'd be damned if he couldn't beat Kanda after two. Entire. Years.

"What? Then what were you doing?"

"I was drilling you. You're too lazy to work unless you're trying to beat someone."

The smug bastard—

Kanda moved fast as a snake, cutting off Daisya mid-thought. Somehow, he kicked him off balance, then flipped around and, lying underneath him, knocked his balance off. Before Daisya could react, he spun the two of them around, ending up kneeling over Daisya, left arm on his shoulder and right holding his wrist down to the ground.

"See."

Even lying down, paralyzed and looking into Kanda's eyes, a thrill ran up his spine. Not the comfortable fire of victory, but something sharper. The need to win. To beat Kanda at his own game, even if he had to spent the next year fighting him.

Kanda was better than him by miles; still, he had to say what he was thinking right now.

"But I was fighting you!"

Kanda paused, still holding him down, and smirked. It was something he'd been doing more and more often over the months, Daisya noticed — not smiling, thank God, but the self-satisfied twist of the lips that was one of his own favourites.

"No, dumbass. You're not ready for the real stuff yet."

"Tell that to me when I kick your fucking face in for going easy on me," Daisya shot back, returning the grin.

"Don't make me laugh."

"Hey, I'm not joking."

It couldn't be more obvious that he was. Kanda shot him a quick look of disdain before stepping off and helping him back to his feet.

"You're an idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You could never hurt me."

…

It occurred to Daisya only now, leaning into Kanda's hunched and empty frame, hollowed out from exhaustion, that he could hurt Kanda.

Before he could follow that train of thought, he realized Kanda was talking. To him.

"What?"

"I said, you're a dumbass."

People don't love people like us. That was a good old solid fact, one he could rely on. Parents, siblings, schoomates, they knew the drill. Honestly, he didn't need to know what Kanda had said before.

They'd had this conversation a few times too many.

"I know, I know," he sighed, "You're not going to save me next time—"

"No."

Kanda's grip grew tighter.

"You know save you next time," he said, voice still scratched, like a recording on a gramophone. "It's no fucking use saying I won't."

Daisya could feel his head lift from his shoulder, though he still couldn't see his face. His expression could have been sleepy, or stone-like, but Daisya had known him for too long not to know that his eyes would be sharp, and hard as flint.

"I'm going to save you next time, and the time after that, and after that."

Slowly, Daisya exhaled, keeping himself in check. It was hard.

"I know."

People may not love people like him, and Kanda least of all, but Daisya knew he was too duty-bound to just let him die.

Some time passed before Kanda broke the silence.

"I guess you did keep your promise."

For once, Daisya drew a blank. He'd made so many joking and serious ones over the years that it was hard to remember which was which.

"What promise?"

"Alma. You fucking figured out who Alma was."

Kanda's hold on him weakened, but he didn't draw away. A rickety cart going over ruts with a jolt, off in the forest. He'd said he'd be too proud to die if Kanda gave him a challenge, but really he'd just wanted to know. Know who it was that made Kanda freeze the first night they'd been in real danger, in the fire. Alma, who Kanda hated more than anything else.

And to tell the truth, Daisya still didn't have a clue who Alma was. Just a kid, who'd been Kanda's friend, and who'd tried to kill him.

"Kinda. You know me, I can do anything."

"Except just do your job and not die."

That's also what the conversation had been about, when Kanda had cussed him out for enjoying himself, instead of working for the Order like a mindless machine. If he'd been so angry about that, why hadn't he just, maybe, gone and told four-eyes? Turned him over to the Director for a talking-to? There were half a dozen easier ways to do it, without blaming him for trying to save his life, even now, even after all this. He'd thought they'd sorted it out just days ago, but no.

People don't love people like us. Antonina had said it like a secret, something that would save him one day, but he still couldn't figure out what it meant. Did it mean exorcists? Dancers? People who never shut up when they were supposed to? People so covered in scars they were nothing but a broken reminder of what went wrong?

Kanda couldn't leave well enough alone.

"That's what it was about?" He couldn't help but snap. "Your stupid hang ups over the Order? It has nothing to do with me, what they do. Which you still haven't told me, if that's even the reason you care."

The sound of laboured breath and creaking steel kept it from being a silence. Then, a sigh.

"I'm right, you don't have to tell me."

"Shut up."

"So why the hell have you been lying about it?" Daisya let the words out through a set jaw. "Why can't you just say—"

Now his words were torn and ragged at the edges, almost ready to crack, but Kanda saved him from having to finish.

"I don't want you to die."

It was the softest he'd heard Kanda speak, muffled by the loose fabric of his cloak. It was the closest to the truth he'd ever gotten.

"I tried to make you stop your fucked-up sense of fun," he said, voice now louder and more raw, "And you didn't listen to me."

Daisya felt the need to laugh. They'd known each other for a year or so at the time, but Kanda had still thought that would work? That he'd actually pay attention?

"When did I ever listen to you?"

A sharp hiss told him he'd hit a nerve, as Kanda's fingers tightened on him.

"Shut up! You should've fucking left me! Gone and bitched to that four-eyed bastard, and stopped trying to save me."

He was out of breath by the end of it, Daisya heard, and a shuddering noise told him he was right. Good. It was about time Kanda felt everything he'd put up with.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I should have. You'd just keep griping and deflecting and giving the same old damn lies whenever I really tried to talk to you about this stuff. Alma, dying, anything!"

He still held on to Kanda, but now the words were tumbling out beyond his control, putting something into speech that he'd barely realized himself.

"Daisya—"

"I mean, maybe I was just curious at first, but you know I make stupid decisions, so why did you never think it was because we were friends? Why did you just keep shutting me down? Maybe I just wanted to know how you—"

"Daisya."

Kanda pulled away, and looked him in the tear-stained eye.

"What," he said flatly, his own voice now cracked.

"I know."

Words he'd never thought about, but wanted to hear.

It had been two years since they'd met, but Kanda was the winter snows he'd dreamed about as a child, the rough outer sea and the world beyond his reach. He'd longed to know him for longer than that.

Why did we have to do this for so long?

I'm sorry. That was what it meant.

And then something hot burned in Daisya, stinging all the way up his throat and over his face.

"Yeah."

The tears dripped on to his cloak, and then on to Kanda's shoulder as he moved to catch him.

"Yeah, you'd better!"

It would have been a shout if he'd had enough breath in his lungs, but a whisper was the best he could do.

"You'd better be fucking sorry, after all the shit we've been through."

It was Kanda, now, who held him silently, until the tears stopped.

And for a while after.