This is just a short little installment, to try and fill in the gaps of what happened, which isn't entirely clear. Hopefully it'll be straightened out next chapter, but for now...
And thank you again and profusely to all who read and comment! It's the most obscure character in a dead fandom, but I'm glad somehow that Daisya still has some fans.
It — the Innocence that was their objective — was close enough for Kanda to taste.
Every minute more they spent here was too much, with just the two of them. They'd been sent out for reconnaissance and extermination, not to try and figure out whatever the hell was going on here. Figuring out the Innocence was for scholars. They were here to kill. It was all they were good for.
No, it was all he was good for. Daisya was long-range, and clever; he'd been the one to think about this place, try to figure out what was going on, noticing when and where the walls moved, hearing everything that Kanda never bothered to listen to. To think that the boy who'd never bothered to pay attention to where Kanda was hiding something, or when the akuma were right in front of him and bearing down, would end up with a brain that sparked like flint if only you just scraped it against something.
He could have a future, if he just reached out and took it.
A slight movement in the stone beneath him made him jump, brushing a hand against the wall, as a section started to crumble. There was a gap ahead that would need a leap, but it was far enough ahead to ignore right now.
Why didn't Daisya see it? He faced off with Lenalee for training, and even when she didn't hold back he sometimes matched her mind for mind. A fucking genius! It was bad enough that she couldn't see how strong she was sometimes, but Daisya didn't have a clue. Never thought about what it took to reach out a hand, or track down a source, or make the air seem lighter, easier to breathe. He'd just kept rushing back into the same situations, over and over again, and Kanda (or Marie, or Lenalee) had to keep saving the useless bastard, over and over again. Even since they'd — since he'd agreed to stop it, he still pushed on. Not as much, but in different ways. Wasting an exorcist that the Order couldn't spare.
And still he kept guessing. Closer and closer, changing the hair colour and the height and creeping too damn close to who Alma was. Until today.
Now, by chance or by design, he knew.
Kanda wasn't sure how serious he was, how much digging he'd been doing, how long they were both prepared to let this game play out, but if Daisya really meant what he'd said…
They could only hope he'd stopped being so stupid. That he'd learned not to throw his life away to take down one akuma, or find one piece of Innocence.
The kid with ragged hair, curved tattoos, a stocky build, and a broad smile had haunted him for as long as this body had been alive. But which one?
Which one was it?
A sharp clang shook him out of the train of thought that had circled him for years, and sharpened his attention towards the front. The tower—
Kanda heard only the tolling of the bell, and saw it silhouetted against the moon. He didn't hear, beneath the ringing, the grating of stone on stone, or a gasp behind him.
…
The next few seconds had passed either very quickly or very slowly. Darkness, thunder, pushing, breathless. The rush of air behind him as something dropped, within a few inches of him.
He was falling. Again. Someone had pushed him and he couldn't do anything again—
For a moment, he was running from the Asian Branch. No. No, he couldn't be. That was 'd escaped. Run, Yuu — NO!
Reflexes kicked in, jolting him back to the present in time to whip out Mugen, and plunge it sideways into mouldering stone. Steeled by magic, it dug into the wall, and slowed him down.
Something fell past him. Someone. Something and someone. And blood.
Lots of blood.
…
Daisya woke up to water trickling down the side of his neck.
The tree above him gave some protection from the rain, but leaves were as good as funnels in a downpour, he noticed, before a wave of pain hit him, and hit him hard.
He froze, wincing and trying to remember what the hell he'd done this time. Nothing.
Just as well. Oh, god it hurt…
Note by note, a melody filtered through the haze. Nothing special, just a little ditty to keep pace or pass the time. The singer's voice had a child-like quality to it. The singer's words did not.
He cleared his mind, trying to steady his breathing. Doing something stupid right now would get him a scolding from Marie and the old man at best, and at worst would get him an express ticket to see Isaac and Antonina and the others. Human, akuma, or whatever else this singer was, it wasn't going to be friendly to exorcists.
His breath was surprisingly easy to dampen. It almost like he wasn't breathing at all. Maybe Kanda's meditation practice had paid off, at last.
Footsteps approached, sinking in the muck, and a curious figure stopped across from him. Somehow, it felt like he was looking up and down at her at the same time. Weird.
"What happened to this one, I wonder?"
She crouched down, looking at him with the delicate pity of a butterfly collector, ready with the pin.
"Don't know, lero."
The second voice seemed to some from her side, though no other speaker was present.
"Hmm. Do you think he's really dead?"
"Probably, lero," the voice quavered, "Lady Road, it's just a human, and I think the Earl would like it if you got back soon–"
A quick gesture, followed by a whoosh and a shriek, silenced the voice as the stick-like figure stood bolt upright.
"Yeah, yeah," she sighed.
It was a girl that was standing there, no more than twelve years old, and swinging around a gaudy umbrella. She had turned to walk away.
As if to make sure, she looked back once, and Daisya's eyes finally cleared enough to see her face. On her forehead sat a crown-shaped scar.
Seeing nothing in his body, she looked up, into his eyes. For a moment, he could have sworn she saw him watching.
Then she turned back, and walked away.
Another sensation of agony hit, clouding his mind. God, not now, no—
A strangled noise escaped him, once she'd disappeared from view. Now, the pain was unbearable. He couldn't believe he hadn't been able to feel the scratch of bark and even the dull burning of his eyelids.
And the taste of the blood that coated his mouth, and spilled down his lips.