Word count: 3,572
The Quiet Earth
Chapter 2.1
The air settled around him, warm and humid.
He crouched low to the ground, feeling the staccato of his heartbeats as he panted lowly. In the distance he could hear a faint crackling and the faraway sounds of a commotion, varying in volume.
Leaves and branches pressed against his skin; a mixture of gentle brushes and rough strokes enveloping and digging lightly into him. Through the soft linen of his socks, the grittiness of soil crunched underfoot. He tried to stifle his ragged breathing as he hid from his pursuers.
A sense of déjà vu washed over him, an abstract reminder to recognise the situation.
It brought a question on the heels of this vague realisation – where was he? All around him loomed a complete absence of light, an impenetrable barrier between his eyes and surroundings. When he raised his hands to feel around for support, the darkness swallowed his fingers and held his trembling body close in a crude mockery of one.
A lump of fright formed in his throat, and he clenched his invisible hands into fists, the pressure of fingers and nails against his palms a forceful reassurance and prompt. Somehow, it seemed imperative to keep moving. To escape karma and retribution.
No longer did the cage of undergrowth contain him, allowing him to delve blindly into uncertainty. Grass slid beneath his soles, dewy and slick from night rain. Perhaps the unrelenting shadows were imposed by the burdened clouds above. Following this thought, he peered up at the immaterial ceiling of the heavens, only to be met with starless disappointment.
Might it be a lack of sight?
He carefully patted the fragile orbs beneath his eyelids to confirm its existence. They rolled smoothly beneath the pads of his fingers like marbles, if marbles were cushiony. At a loss, he rubbed his eyes and counted to seven.
When he re-opened them, a flood of sensations rushed in, making him stagger. The most intense of which was a blast of heat soaking into his bones. The vivid crimson of flames flickered, surrounding him.
Smoke, ash, the snap and sting of burning wood; all assembled the components of shock sizzling in his ears and nose. Fire raged everywhere he looked, licking at his body and searing his skin off in never-ending flashes of agony.
He opened his mouth to draw in a panicked breath but was promptly overwhelmed by harsh bouts of coughing. The thick air pressed down on every inch of him, acrid and suffocating. Scorch marks dredged the surrounding walls like stygian art composed of black chalk.
Everywhere hurt. Everything burned. His feet refused to flee.
Despair and desperation drenched him, turning his blood to ice even as his surroundings seemed to place him in the fiery depths of hell. He flinched as a burning rafter broke and crashed down near him. Shortly after was the deafening clatter of roof tiles following suit. His hands and knees thumped onto the tatami mat as he heaved and hacked away.
"Help—" He choked out, eyes aching and watering. "Mom... help..."
The only response was the soft snapping of fire that steadily grew closer, reaching out with its blistering fingers, forcing his body to curl inwards and away from searing whispers of pain.
Nobody was coming to save him. He didn't even know where he was. The knowledge rushed into his aching head with all the intensity of the conflagration around him, smothering his mind in a flurry of cinders and denial. Was he going to die?
I don't want to die. I don't want the volcano to eat me—
Someone cupped his chin and tilted his face up, and his eyes widened.
A face – or what remained of a face – gazed back at him. A parody of human visage, reduced to nothing but ashen bone peeking through bloody meat and black streaks of carbonised flesh. Liquefying flesh oozed down in slow, beige-coloured rivulets. Empty sockets like roadkill pecked clean by vultures.
It might have been smiling at him – a possibility that eluded itself for its lips had melted right off, revealing a full set of teeth down to its roots. Incisors and canines gleamed wetly, red and orange from blood and fire light. A permanent grin.
He physically recoiled from the sight of such visceral horror, but its fingers held fast. His breathing grew quicker and more laboured, his heart threatened to burst from its ribcage. Smog-laden coughs caught halfway up his throat as if terrified to breach the gap between him and this being.
" Yu... "
The being – thing finally spoke, haltingly. They – it sounded almost familiar, like a forgotten remnant of his past. Whoever – whatever it was, it knew his name, offered it up like a plea and condemnation all at once. The sudden shedding of teeth was distracting despite himself, sanguine rime tumbling to the floor as though displaced by the warmth of his name.
"All this for you..."
It leaned closer, and a miasma of copper and charcoal overwhelmed his senses. Its – breath ? smelled so cloyingly sweet that it tipped into putrid undertones, an odour so thick it seemed to slide down his throat. He squeezed his eyes tight, shuddering, trying to reach for the sword by his hip but it wasn't there.
A soft laugh fanned across his face like a lover's kiss.
"You loved me... you loved me not... you loved me..."
It might have attempted to tilt its head, he could hardly care for in the next moment, its skull lurched right off its spine. Clattering to the floor, bumping into his knees. He screamed and almost flung himself back into the fire.
"I do," he found himself babbling. Coughing. "I do, I do. I love you."
"Loved me not... Not. Not. Not."
Its chilling judgment leaked from its vacant maw, twisting like maggots. He could clearly see exposed gums charred black, shiny in the firelight. Tongue bitten raw. The chanted words dug for home into his brain, implanting screams in his crumbling ears like tinnitus.
It seemed futile to seek shelter within the abandoned shrine of one's faith, but reason was as foreign a concept as salvation was holy in the halls of purgatory.
"I love you... please," he whispered, voice weak and hoarse, unable to listen further.
In a sudden, swift movement it grabbed his neck and hurled him back. His eyes flew open as he was sent crashing into blackened walls, sinking him deeper into the inferno. He scrambled for purchase, trying to extricate himself, as everything faded into white-hot torment. Through the flames rising above and around him like a feverish prelude to an all-consuming tsunami, he dimly saw a young boy in a torn and dirtied kimono.
" All this for you! " Someone – the boy? – shrieked.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" He sobbed, feeling like a lost, weak child again. Apologising wholly to be absolved of unknown blame. Wishing wretchedly for the reassuring embrace of his parents. But he was alone, and only the flames leaned in to catch his evaporating tears.
Kanda sat up in blind terror.
Eyes wide open yet shadows again assailed him on all sides. Nothing but darkness and fire. A doomed child with the surroundings burning and crashing down around him—
No.
He forced himself to breathe deeply for some moments, trying to recalibrate himself. Falling back on usual breathing techniques, he scanned his environment.
A sliver of moonlight illuminated what appeared to be the foot of a bed and a wardrobe. His fingers rested on soft sheets and his legs were tangled up in a material he gradually recognised as his blankets. Locks of long hair clung to his shoulders and back from perspiration. When he wiped his cheeks, his fingers came off partially wet, and he failed to differentiate the tears from sweat.
"Fucking nightmare," he muttered, pushing his dampened fringe back.
In the beginning, Kanda had suffered variations of that horrifying nightmare daily. For months. Every time he closed his eyes, it thrust him back into that withering hell. Of pain, fear, guilt and loss. It grew easier as time went on, but years later it insisted on the occasional resurfacing.
At times it felt impossibly real. The infernal monstrosity followed his dream-self back into wakefulness, rendering him disoriented and stricken. For the next few minutes during that time, its dreadful face stared back at him from behind his eyelids whenever he blinked, and his nerves tingled from phantom burns.
Kanda reached over to the nightstand, feeling for the table lamp and when he did, pulled at its cord. Its dim light blinked into existence, catching the reflective surface of the small wooden clock next to it, where its little hands read the time as: 04:22.
It was earlier than he expected, for his routine ordinarily had him waking up at five in the morning. He contemplated getting more sleep but decided in the end that, being as dishevelled as he was from sweat, it wasn't worth the discomfort. A quick shower, on the other hand, sounded very agreeable right now. Being early to a location also meant a higher chance at uninterrupted solitude – which counted as a perfect scenario in his books.
He knuckled the sleep from his eyes, then retrieved a towel and a fresh set of his usual attire – a simple navy tank top with a medium turtleneck, and fitting, black wool leggings.
When he opened his room door, the winter morning instantly clawed his skin, raising rows of goosebumps along the exposed parts of his body. Fortunately, the trip downstairs was short enough to survive.
He quietly pushed past the stairwell doors into the heated lobby, and from there he proceeded straight to the communal bathroom. Much to his relief, he found it completely unoccupied.
After his shower, he returned to his dorm to allow his hair time to dry. He sat in front of his 'electric desk fan' – a new-fangled contraption that Komui was suspiciously enthusiastic about giving to him. When he found out how useful it was, he shrugged and accepted it.
He patted his dark, waist-length hair with a towel until it was merely damp and no longer dripping wet, then slowly ran a comb through it while the fan blew cool air, hastening the process.
Jerry wouldn't be in the cafeteria till six, so Kanda headed back downstairs to prepare his own breakfast in the communal kitchen. The amenity was spacious enough to accommodate up to six hungry cooks at a time. It was regularly used, although residents usually opted for the convenience of free meals at the cafeteria.
Recreating his favourite soba dish posed no difficulty. Jerry knew how much he loved his handmade soba noodles and generously prepared a fresh batch for him every night, storing them in the refrigerator for the next day. All he had to do was cook them in boiling water.
He took a serving out and did just that.
In the meantime, he sliced and sautéed his favourite vegetables – pumpkin, lotus root, and a unique green pepper from Easfrija – with tofu. Along with the mix, he threw in a sprinkle of salt, pepper and a generous handful of finely chopped spring onions. The oil popped and sparked as it worked the ingredients with heat, releasing a fragrant and refreshing scent that rolled over him like a soothing wave.
Soba noodles were something he ate daily for almost every meal, much to the curiosity and amazement of the other cadets. It didn't have to be said that none of them ever figured out how he managed to avoid getting bored of it or why he wouldn't try something else – he would simply glare and ignore them.
The fancy owl clock in the lobby announced the time with six loud hoots.
By then, Kanda had finished eating and cleaning up. He exited the kitchen, armed with two steaming mugs of aromatic green tea. Then he settled down to wait in a settee in the far east corner, waist-length hair loose around his shoulders but almost dry.
Being up that early in the morning meant the lobby was empty save for him. All lights were off except for the small, dim one above the main doors. If he strained his ears a little, he could hear a quiet, rhythmic tick-tock from behind the reception disk.
Since the holidays began, things had lapsed into a slow and quiet pace as some recruits travelled home to visit family, while those who remained took advantage of their newfound freedom to luxuriate in late mornings and lazy afternoons.
As the cadets were currently in the midst of the holidays, there wasn't a need to rush for classes or military training – or anywhere, really. Two years of relentless training amongst other sweaty bodies made these extra moments of tranquillity indispensable to him. If he had his way, he would have his own little island to live on; private and peaceful, without annoying football freaks or raggedy redheads to ruin his day.
He sipped at his tea indulgently, staring out the lobby's large, fogged-up windows, watching the day rise. The sun lurked above the horizon. Hidden behind trees and walls, but potent enough to spin visible swathes of amber and honey through the base of an inky-blue sky.
The field outside gradually lightened, though most of the well-kept grass remained under shadows. Silhouettes of birds occasionally swung by; distorted against countless trails of condensation on the glass, their incessant chirping warbling through.
Nature... serene and uncomplicated. Attributes he always held close to his heart. Cradled in tranquillity, his nightmare took a much-needed step back.
From behind came light footsteps on wood.
"Yu? Is that you?"
Kanda turned his head to see a young woman walking over, palm pressed to her mouth as she yawned. He gave the other mug a tiny push in her direction.
"Good morning. Did you make too much tea again?" Lenalee teased. She was humouring him, and they both knew it.
"Mhm."
Lenalee smiled fondly and took her place next to him on the settee, their knees almost touching. "Then I shall help finish it."
She tapped her finger against the side of the mug a few times and found its temperature acceptable. The first few mouthfuls trailed warmly down her throat, and she sighed as the heat spread from her chest and stomach, chasing away the chill.
"Ah... it's nice to have someone make drinks for me too."
Her eyes brightened at the scenery that had captured Kanda's attention just so. She leaned back to accompany his admiration of the view, cupping the mug of liquid warmth in her hands. They shared a comfortable silence, broken only by the random bird and soft sipping of tea.
"I was thinking... moments like this are worth waking earlier for."
At first Kanda had little doubt those words referred to the gorgeous morning outside. But then Lenalee shifted closer, bumping their knees gently together. He repressed a flinch. When he looked over, her face was tilted slightly in his direction, dark brown eyes intent. The absence of light threw her features into partial shadow, but the spark of concern shone through.
He snorted. "I'm fine, Lena. I'm not twelve anymore."
"Neither am I, Yu. So you should stop pretending around me."
He stiffened, fingers unconsciously tightening around his mug as he stared into her knowing eyes. A smattering of ugly emotions tore his eyes away. He hated how his voice still sounded strained even as he fought to keep it neutral. "Was there... screaming?"
Lenalee's gaze softened. She took one hand off her mug to wave it in the direction of the communal bathrooms. "No, there wasn't. I heard the pipes, and the only one mad enough to shower at four-thirty in the morning is probably you."
"..."
The sky drifted further into visibility. Gaining light and sharpening shadows.
"How bad was it?" Lenalee asked.
Sunlight illuminated the misty edges of the windows in muted gold. The warm, welcoming colour reminded Kanda of lazy evenings in his family's embrace. Moments of safety and contentment.
"...Not more than usual," he eventually responded.
From the corner of his eye, Kanda saw Lenalee nod in understanding and slowly reach out. This time he allowed her to take his hand and squeeze gently. He closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth emanating from her palm; a familiar gesture in their shared past.
Slender fingers guarded his, soft yet firm, grounding him to the present with the unspoken words: You're here and you're okay .
They continued their reposeful companionship for some minutes as they finished their tea. Kanda's eyes fluttered open as Lenalee carefully untangled their fingers, only to run them through his loose hair, admiring its sable smoothness.
"I love your hair," she sighed. "I remember how you kept it shoulder-length when we were younger. My adorable little Yu."
An uncharacteristic blush was surely rising in Kanda's cheeks, and swiftly he turned his head away. "...I'm not a kid anymore."
His tone bordered on petulant, contrasting his assertion, but he made no move to stop the fingers extracting the silk hair-tie from where it circled his wrist.
Lenalee rose and moved behind the settee. Gathering his hair together, she carefully pulled them into the high, elegant ponytail that Kanda sported since his mid-teenage years. The red silk contrasted nicely against ebony hair. He waited in resignation as she fluffed his fringe and combed through the tangles.
"There," she said in satisfaction, stepping back to admire her work. Dawn light bathed Kanda in marigold, causing the edges of his dark hair and figure to glow silver.
On her way back to her seat, she circled him. Noting the sharp features presently unmarred by tension or hostility – emotions that Kanda readily displayed in front of those unfortunate enough to warrant it. Deep ocean eyes reflected her stare.
A deceptively neutral tone questioned, "What?"
"Nothing. You're just so... pretty," Lenalee replied honestly and hid a pleased grin as Kanda's face adopted a tinge of pink for the second time.
Underneath all that doom and gloom, her childhood friend proved to be as adorable as ever. Reminding herself of his ego, she stamped out the urge to pinch his cheeks the way she used to when they were kids. Kanda would probably let her get away with doing so, but perhaps it was best not to push it.
But two blushes from Yu within minutes? Straight out of a fantasy. Lavi would be so jealous, and she was going to tell him all about it.
"You've been spending too much time with that pervert beansprout," Kanda drawled.
It was such a transparent attempt to cover up his shyness, yet Lenalee couldn't help blushing as well. "Have not!"
Kanda smirked, but thankfully decided to spare her. "Be careful Komui doesn't bury him in the ground. Wouldn't be difficult with that short-stack."
"Brother is overprotective, but he wouldn't go that far."
"That remains to be seen."
She sat back down next to him with a sigh. "Well, that's also true of Uncle Tiedoll, isn't it? Will you tell him?"
Kanda tensed up, as she expected. "...There's nothing to tell him."
This time Lenalee did pinch his cheek, but in a reprimanding manner. "What do you think of me, Yu? I've seen the way Lavi looks at you... and the way you tolerate him. Stop pretending around me," she reminded.
A rare look of conflicted emotions crossed his face, but he had lapsed into that stubborn silence again – a habit of his that surfaced whenever he was confronted with a situation he couldn't glare or fight his way out of.
"We can find peace despite our past, Yu," Lenalee touched his fingers tenderly and was relieved when he didn't pull away. "I know it's... difficult. But I believe that time will let us find a way to be okay. Even if it's in a different way – that's okay too."
A minute trudged by in silence. She breathed shallowly, anxious, until Kanda met her eyes and gifted her the tiniest smile. Then he looked down at their joined hands and smirked slightly. "You think Komui will find this okay?"
She scoffed. "Brother probably thinks you're aro-ace at this point." At his confused look, she clarified, "Aromantic asexual. Meaning you feel little or no romantic or sexual attraction to others."
Kanda tilted his head. "What's the difference?"
She stared, momentarily dumbstruck. I guess he really still is my little Yu.
"Don't mind it," she said hastily. "Either way, brother knows we're practically siblings."
"It doesn't matter what anyone thinks of me." Kanda turned his nose up almost arrogantly. "They can do nothing to me."
A quick pinch to his cheek immediately dismantled this claim, prompting him to finally scowl at her. He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a ' che ' and got to his feet.
Lenalee watched, thinking that only Kanda could make a simple action like that look so graceful, no doubt from all that training since his childhood years.
"Meditation time?" She smiled up at him. "I'll clear the mugs – I need to make breakfast too, anyways."
She accepted his murmured 'thank you' with another smile, before picking up their mugs and strolling to the kitchen.
Pausing at the door, she glanced back to see Kanda still standing where she left him. He had resumed looking out the windows, a burnished statue under the rising sun.
