me: says I'm going to update more often
also me: vanishes from the face of the earth for three weeks
But aaaah you guys thanks so much for the comments and compliments! You're getting me far too used to them. I also don't really love OCs, so there won't really be much more of them, but I needed Antonina as an example to refer to later in the story, so I'm so glad it wasn't too much of an unpleasant detour.
Anyhow, this is just another filler chapter to try and explore more of our two main characters' personalities, because I can't get a grip on Kanda to save my life and it's a constant struggle for me to keep Daisya in the sweet spot between 'entirely 100% canon traits and no more' and 'not canon at all but reasonable extrapolation from canon evidence'. For now I'm just going with what would happen if he'd been overjoyed by finding such a non-boring life after a tedious childhood, but also retained the more self-absorbed/lonely traits that he had when he was a narcissistic jerk of a child. Thank you all for reading, whether you comment or not, and have a wonderful rest of summer!
Kanda almost lazily folded Daisya's wrist over on itself, and pushed until he heard the slap on the padded mat. It echoed around the empty dojo.
Hmm. Daisya had lasted pretty long that time. Maybe he was getting better.
"That was pathetic," he declared, stepping back, "Do it again."
"Aw, come on!"
Daisya pulled himself back up into a defensive stance, interlacing his fingers and pushing them out before bringing his hands back into position.
"That screwed up my wrist a bit, I think."
Or maybe not.
"Should've given up earlier," Kanda shot back.
They settled back into a comfortable rhythm, shifting their weight from one foot to another, setting up to move as soon as the other attacked. Hand-to-hand combat was harder than it looked, and over in a few seconds. Daisya needed to learn that there weren't going to be any second chances in a real fight.
"Maybe, but it didn't hurt too much earlier, actually. Were you going easy that time, or what?"
"You were the one going easy. Just shut up, and actually try this time."
"You sure you want me to?"
…
Kanda seemed to have decided that Daisya was ready to demonstrate some of his hard-won skills, but so far each match had ended with Kanda's fingers on a pressure point and Daisya at his mercy. Bo-ring.
Daisya didn't really see the point in martial arts. If you were going to be in a real fight, it was stupid to take ten seconds to get into a good stance, and follow all the rules. Why did Kanda like 'em so much? Even Lenalee was more exciting, because she never bothered with rules about what you can use to hit what. She'd tried to bite him, in one match. All that soft-voiced sweetness was a big fat red herring to distract you from the vicious little brat in the dojo every morning. Why couldn't Kanda manage that level of interesting this time? Normally he was a pretty safe bet when Daisya was bored.
Well, Daisya thought, aching in a dozen places, he was going to show Kanda that the rules were made to be broken.
…
Daisya was playing too much by the books, thought Kanda. He was trying to fight like someone who actually knew what he was doing, and it made Kanda angry. He'd be useless the moment some guy with a problem walked up to him. No one liked exorcists, not even other exorcists. They had too much to answer for.
Kanda let himself take a few deep breaths. Somehow, the healing that had kept him alive at the Asian Branch kept him from needing as much air. It was only after a while that he started to tire.
No one else was in the dojo as he and Daisya watched each other, ready to latch on to any hint of movement in the other. For a while, he'd been looking for an unconventional opponent, after he and Lenalee and Marie had gotten used to each other, but this one was just the same. And yet here they were.
It wasn't like there was anything better to do. Daisya at least shut up when you fought him.
Kanda spoke.
…
"Go."
Daisya punched out with his left hand, and stepped forward fluidly with his right foot to bring up his left knee, timing it so that his second attack hit as Kanda blocked his first.
But, as always, Kanda had anticipated it, kicking out his left foot to knock Daisya off balance. He attempted to double the damage with a right hook, but Daisya had already planted his foot and shifted his stance, so that he was able to spin sideways, aiming an elbow at Kanda's ribs.
Kanda kicked out again, but Daisya was quicker this time, and spun around to aim a fist at the base of Kanda's skull as he lunged forward.
From there it went into a brawl. What Daisya lacked in strength, he made up for in sheer creativity of technique. Most of it consisted of trying to run around the opponent instead of facing off, and using the arsenal of knees, elbows, occasionally heads instead of the more traditional fists and feet. Instead of waiting to execute a textbook move, he lashed out at every opportunity, not bothering to distinguish between feints and accidents. He grabbed at Kanda's hair, and tried to pull him down when he was thrown to the ground. It was thoughtless, blind, and animal, but somehow his instincts were as good as Kanda's. It wasn't good, it wasn't elegant, it wasn't skilled, but it was something new.
…
Now, this was something new. Kanda took every blow hungrily, and countered them at lightning speed. Daisya was focusing on speed as opposed to brutality. Hah, he'd have thought as much. He was going easy before. He was going to pay for that.
…
At long last, Kanda threw Daisya down, and caught his breath.
"Your strikes are weak."
"Yeah, yeah," Daisya panted, "Could ya let me up, now?"
Kanda removed the foot from his back, and pulled him to his feet.
"You were going easy on me before, idiot."
"Hey, you gotta admit that was pretty smart, 'cause that meant you wouldn't be going full strength on me."
"It was still stupid, because you were annoying me."
Daisya laughed, and raised his arms disarmingly. "I don't think I can avoid annoying you, ya know?"
Kanda shrugged, taking out his ponytail to retie it, if it could even be called that after the fight.
"Hell if I know. I'm not going to be wasting much more time on you."
The Faces of the Kanda wasn't a book Daisya was ready to write, but he was fairly sure that he'd seen Kanda smirking a moment or so ago, which was probably a good sign. A grin appeared on Daisya's face, accenting the flush of exertion.
"Yeah!"
Daisya pulled a celebratory fist down through the air, and Kanda rolled his eyes.
"That doesn't mean you're good at it."
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
Drunk on opiates and adrenaline, Daisya threw his arms around Kanda's neck in a hug.
"But I still did it!"
Kanda tried to kick his feet out from under him, but Daisya sidestepped.
"See? Am I right?"
Daisya's intoxicated smile was at odds with the marks on his face.
Kanda had no choice but to scowl.
"Tch."
…
The night is another country. Its people are all very nice, very much like us, nothing against them at all, but they just aren't quite normal. Something takes hold of them that makes them behave very differently from what is good and proper. Not that there's anything wrong with that; so long as they're not doing anyone any harm, that's what I say.
…
Yuu — Kanda — walked hesitantly, like a deer about to bolt. It had been a long time, in his short life, since he had seen this place.
Not long enough.
The hallway stretched on, and he could name everyone's rooms. Edgar, Twi, himself and—
The blue half-light of evening was the only thing illuminating this part of the Asian Branch, stretching on into infinity. It had only been a year or so, but already it seemed like forever. He didn't have years of childhood to remember and dream about, like Marie and Lenalee, or to complain about, like Daisya. Yuu, or Kanda, or whoever he'd been in that time before, didn't have much to his name. A field, sunlight, darkness, and a sense of someone were all he had left from one life.
In this life, what he had to fall back on was the Asian Branch. He wasn't sure if it was something to hold close or something to throw to the ground and burn, here and now.
Chipped flagstones. Doors upon doors. The same vaulting hallways and high, arched windows as the European Branch, but so, so different.
Alma was here.
Without seeing it, Yuu knew it. He might not have been sure of his own name, but the self that existed here was certain. Behind him, closing in, was a laughing, crying child with one grotesque wing.
No no no no nononononono
His feet stood heavy, still on the cold stones. The light, just enough to make shadows move in the corner of his eye, seemed sticky and stagnant, clinging to his skin.
Now, floating above his body, he saw Alma limping towards him, footsteps black with blood—
Marie.
Somewhere here, Marie was hurt. He'd save Marie. He'd save them both. He could still get out. He had to. He had to go get Marie.
He could barely see, in the darkness, could barely hear, couldn't feel anything except the knowledge that Alma was there and coming closer.
Run run run run run run
Alma walked slowly towards him, even as he tried to force his leaden legs to move. This body belonged to one Yuu Kanda — the one in the dream, who would not obey the one watching.
"Hey, Yuu!"
The words, crackling at the edges, broke the silence, slipping like ice down the back of Kanda's neck.
Finally, he managed to take a step. Here, he decided, he was Kanda. Tiedoll's apprentice, alongside Marie and now Daisya. Just one foot in front of the other, just that was what he needed. He needed to run.
Now.
He didn't know what would happen if Alma caught up. He'd always woken up before then.
But somehow the air turned to treacle, and trapped him, moving far too slowly to ever escape, or find Marie.
The air in his lungs was starting to freeze up; his muscles were burning, but he couldn't go anywhere. He couldn't move, not really, and he couldn't see Alma. He just knew that he was right behind him, meandering and still catching up.
Not again
"Come on, Yuu!"
No
He could feel Alma's breath on the back of his neck, and his own hurried, arrhythmic pulse.
Marie—help—help me
"Yuu, I'll be so bored without you."
Kanda whipped backwards, and stared into a smiling face, with two marks curving down its cheeks.
…
Kanda's feet landed softly on the stones. Even in the pitch dark, he could find his way. The iron railing was ice cold against his clammy hands.
The circle staircase was an old familiar friend, one that he'd visited at night when only the crickets were awake. He ran up the stairs, breath shallow, and past the doors. Lenalee. Isaac. Daisya. Jeanne. Kiki. 'Dris. Helle. No one, not anymore. Marie.
It was a wonder he got any sleep at all, with his hearing.
Kanda came to a halt, planting bare feet firmly on the stone. His right hand made a fist around two corners of the sheet he'd pulled around his shoulders as a cloak, to keep off the chill. Wordlessly, he knocked twice.
No one had complained about getting woken up yet, but he still kept quiet. Better to examine the door for a minute.
There was one knothole, too high for him to reach, that you could look through. Chances are, Marie had blocked it up. Down here, the door was more worn, and marked with bootprints. During the day, Kanda didn't have as much subtlety.
When it opened, the door distinctly made no sound. Marie knew the true value of silence. The lack of a squeak was more noticeable in the Order than a loud one.
Even in the dark, Kanda looked up silently into Marie's blank eyes. He didn't need to say anything. His breathing spoke for him.
He had been here, on the doorstep, looking into the room, many times before. He knew it like his own. A rudimentary phonograph, in the corner. A bed. A bag. Not much else. Marie had liked to read before, Tiedoll had told him, but now that wasn't an option.
Marie stepped aside, letting Kanda in, and quietly closed the door. The slight change in his expression, from calm to worried, was almost unnoticeable in the dark. He watched Kanda drag a straw pallet from under the room's solitary bunk, as well as a few blankets from the pile of spares. Marie had had a few more in the pile since about a year ago, when he'd pointed out that he'd grown up in a much hotter climate.
Most people believed him. They wouldn't know he'd grown up in Austria.
Kanda threw the pallet down behind the door, and curled up on it in a nest of sheets.
"'Night, Marie."
"Good night, Kanda."
Marie had left his family behind long ago, and had not looked back.
Not often. Loath as he was to admit it, he had to be an exorcist. He couldn't go back to a normal life, not after losing his team. Nor could the other. He doubted that any of them could live without the constant rush; it was as addictive as any drug.
But sometimes, he wished that he could take Kanda and the others away, to a place where nothing could ever find them, or hurt them, ever again.
"Hey—"
He tensed as something clamped around his ribcage. He hadn't noticed the sound of Kanda's feet, or the wet edge to his breaths.
"—Marie."
"Yes, Kanda?"
The child sniffed, and exhaled to steady himself. Marie would call it a hug, but Kanda held on like a drowning man clinging to a raft.
"I'm not going to let you die."
The words hit like bullets. No child should ever say that. Not like this, knowing that death really could come tomorrow.
He had never asked Kanda about what had happened at the Asian Branch, before they met. He knew enough. He knew he had been close to death.
Not just close to death, but willing to die.
He knelt down, and hugged Kanda around his narrow shoulders. For all his strength, he was still just eleven.
"Don't worry, Kanda. I won't die. I promise."
…
There were days when the rain came down slowly, as if the sky had been hung out to drip and dry. Then there were the normal rainy days, when someone had turned on the celestial shower. Less often, rain squalls came through, wringing out the rags and dumping a few buckets before sweeping off to some other place.
And then there were the storms.
Two or three of the five layers of clothing Daisya had on were already soaked through. This rain was coming down thick and fast, cycling through lighter and heavier stages, as if it could barely keep up with itself and had to stop for breath.
Each drop struck hard enough to bruise bare skin, or so it seemed, puddling water on the ground before it could drain away. You could see a thick skin of it, splashing up where the new drops fell. Sometimes, the wind would gust hard enough to make ripples on the surface; sometimes, it would even blow the water over the edge of the puddle. The slurry had already worked its way into Daisya's boots, slowly filling them with mud.
He stood alone on a patch of tamped-down dirt, a training field out the back of the building that was headquarters, under what should have been a pitch black sky. As far as he knew, everyone else was either working, fast asleep, or pulling their pillows down over their ears to muffle the sound of rain.
They just didn't get it.
Lightning struck, outlining the stark silhouettes of spruce and oak. Reflected in Daisya's wide eyes, the world turned white.
This was when you could feel alive. Dreary grey skies, unforgiving cloudless blue — they chased each other, day after day, sucking out every ounce of energy you had left. Nothing, nothing, nothing. It'd make some healthy young guy want to slit his wrists, it was so boring.
Thunder cracked, as if the very mountains had split. Heavier than basalt scraping lead, it crushed the pounding rain beneath it.
Daisya smiled in bliss, listening to the sound crash down.
This wasn't boring. Not at all.
Without really knowing why, he reached up to grab a drop. He spotted one, made sure to snap his hand shut around it just at the right moment, and closed his fingers around it.
Somehow, it sliced between them.
The sight of the raindrop escaping, only to crash to the ground a moment later, was a funny sight. Why not just take the easy way out, and die in the hand rather than on the ground? Why go to all that trouble?
Because it's exciting, that's why.
Laughing, he spun around, arms outstretched like a kid discovering snow for the first time.
He loved the rain. It chilled him to the bone, sliced and hit, and ended up getting him a talking-to, nine times out of ten. Too wet. Shoes ruined. Out of the house past midnight, young rascal. But hey, back home it didn't rain very often. It was worth it.
Lightning, again, and the crack of splitting wood. Daisya could see the wood sending up smoke as the wind whipped the trees into a frenzy.
He loved the rain. It made him feel alive.
And to rain so heavily, with lightning and thunder and all the trappings of a good thunderstorm, he almost felt like it loved him too.
Something in his chest hurt for just a moment.
Probably the reason I've unfortunately neglected Marie is that if I think about his and Kanda's relationship for more than about ten seconds, I get really sad. Marie for best older brother and Kanda for not the worst younger brother 2k16.
You know, I'd sort of like Kanda to die before the end of the manga, just because he'd finally be at peace, but for Marie's sake alone I also want him to be alive and happy.