MUGEN

for all his claims of having a sharp memory when it comes to recalling peculiar people, this one utterly escapes him. kanda knew this guy, perhaps even talked to him at some point in the past ( a memory only noteworthy for the green-haired monster he associates with the stranger ), but he cannot put a name to the face; a face he found an eyesore for all its similarities with a certain beansprout.

        “ i remember that shitty hair too... was it terumi? tanuki? ” he whispers furiously to himself, face twisting and twisting until it transforms into sheer disgust. what the hell was it?

with a click of his tongue and a nagging feeling that he will not get some sleep tonight unless he solves this certain mystery, kanda yuu marches onward and halts before the little squirt. might as well get on with it.

        “ oi. who the hell are you? ”

kanda wonders if she remains in the city still. he had not checked his phone to see if her name is still among the hundreds saved in his contacts, nor bothered to go out of his way and visit her place of residence. does she still work at that flower shop? still failed miserably at cooking even the most basic of meals? still alive and breathing and bathed in kindness? like the butterflies that she loves most, her presence flutters ceaselessly in his mind.

he had been so preoccupied that he almost missed his destination if not for the whistling of wind that became so familiar to him. really now? he knew he was gone for a long time, but it still irked him to find someone else at the spot he once claimed as his. and so with a frown on his face, kanda yuu makes his way to the clearing bathed in the selfsame moonlight with the intent to beat the trespasser to submission, but that intent evaporates to nothing at the sight of her.

her swings remain strong and true as it has always been since the day they first met, here at the same spot, stuck at the same position. but for all the likeness it had to that day, many things have already changed: this world, the people, them.

kanda unsheathes mugen in a second and blocks the flow of her kata, blade clashing against blade as their eyes meet after so long spent away from one another, and for a moment, kanda was at a loss. what was he to say now? he simply acted on impulse and found himself trapped with barely anything to say. left no other option, kanda says the first thing that appeared in his mind.

        “ sloppy. ”

kanda takes a minute to compose himself, eyes sweeping over the buildings that lay broken and swallowed by age and fauna. they bear writings and symbols he was not familiar with, and he doesn’t find it in himself to care. a dead civilization will not bring him any closer to the goal he seeks, and what answers they may offer would be beyond his expertise, deciphering codes and meanings not being one of his skillsets. perhaps if the bookman and the rabbit were here... but that was neither here or there.

seeing no other reason to remain, kanda turns to head towards wherever his feet may take him, but the sight of a familiar face freezes him in place. they were not acquainted by any means, and what little he knew of the man were simply hearsay and stories: that he is as cold-blooded as the abominations he had slain mere moments ago; that this man, bearing the face of a god, cares little for humanity and their foolishness. 

at least that, they can agree upon.

still, kanda rests his hand on mugen’s hilt. even without seeing the man’s capabilities in person, he feels enough of the power emanating from him to know kanda will not live if this silver-haired swordsman deigns to waste his breath on him. 

        “ ...you’re a familiar face. i see not everyone i recognize has disappeared from the city that last time i’ve been here. ”  

they would remain unaware of the holy war that is being fought to secure the peace of a people lazy with their faith, their very own crusaders dying for their cause repeatedly like the cycles of a clock. the bell would toll at six and twelve and what would be a call for the faithful would be the coming of corpses of unsung heroes for the church and the underlying demise written with their deaths.

and as the bell continues to ring and echo in the wake of the world’s slumber, a lone crusader walks alone among the rubble the previous night’s battle left, a hand pressed against his side to keep the blood from spilling any more than it already had.

last night’s battle was an ambush, and he nor the inspector anticipated such an attack after the chase earlier that morning. angels clad in men’s skin attacked and humans of ashen color and stigmata upon their foreheads slithered away to aim for their lone target. eliminating the foot soldiers wasn’t such a huge deal if not for their numbers, but kanda yuu has not been called one of the order’s strongest if he can’t even rip their wings with the ease of a hunter, and in no time he started the chase for the noah. 

he can’t say the same for the unfortunate crow, however. the last he remembered, the blond was fending off two level fours. kanda didn’t have time to watch over him; his duty lies in protecting allen walker, not howard link. 

cruel, but when has anything ever been?

but knowing how the inspector’s survival would ease the guilt pressing the beansprout and rid himself of another death he considers his to bear, kanda has to go back and check.

but life never gives blessings that easily; this he knows upon seeing a body turned to the side, blond hair painted red as blood pools beneath his head.

kanda approaches the inspector in a run.

from the looks of it, it hasn’t been long since link suffered the fatal blow to the head; there’s a chance to bring him back to life if kanda would be quick about it. and so he turns the inspector carefully on his back.

kanda had dealt with death far more than any normal nineteen-year-old would have, and yet the paper white of a dying man’s skin never stopped making his stomach churn. kanda moves his hand atop the man’s chest to check his respiration and heartbeat and he feels death rattling beneath his ribs. howard link is dying, this kanda knows with certainty.

but kanda had managed to bring back a dying man years back; what’s stopping him from doing it now?

he swiftly unsheathes mugen and runs it clean in a diagonal line across his palm, letting the blood pour forth from the wound as he pulls link’s chin down to force the blood down his throat. 

          “ tch, stay awake, dammit! ” a hard slap on the cheek; the inspector’s eyelids are closing. “ i’m not gonna have you die on the beansprout a second time. ”

frantic, frantic; his heart beats erratically beneath his wrists. kanda knows his blood is not as potent as it had been when he revived marie, but it could at least be enough to close the wound and give him enough time to call a doctor.

...right?

a hand stills in the wake of the inspector’s words; words that, had kanda not been a witness to the smile that bloomed forth from the ashes of link’s lost purpose, would be ignored in favor of matters with more importance. but as it stands, that very sight had tilted his perception and his hand falls from its hold on the doorknob, turning away from the door to face link once more.

he’s bedridden, naturally; the wounds he’d taken from the noah were inflicted to cause death. and he would have been dead hours ago had kanda not saved him. that very thought haunts him as much as that genuine smile. kanda would gladly watch lveille’s dogs die one after another, but his body moved on its own and he’s sharing his blood with the dying man before he could process the reason behind his actions.

      they are similar. 

      kanda and link are both slaves of the church.

this has been made clear from their brief discussion at the alleyway before the noah had attacked. they are both chained to the order since childhood, men turned into weapons by choice for a purpose they will chase to the ends of their lives. they are living for someone else, fighting for someone else. that knowledge spurned him into action and now this heretic sees him more than a mere exorcist. his invitation alone is a proof of that.

          “ don’t get friendly with me. i didn’t save you out of good will. ”

they both knows it’s a lie, but damned he will be before those words would roll out of his own mouth. “ you will do your job and protect the beansprout like you’ve always been doing, but the moment i sense anything off with you, you’ll find your head rolling on the ground before you can blink. ”

kanda turns his back on the inspector once more and pushes the door open, one foot already out of the room as he addresses him one last time.

NEVER  does  he  feel  more  at  home  than  he  does  right  here.  he’s  used  the  excuse  that  yuu’s  WARM  so  many  times  before,  though  even  when  they’re  both  shivering  can  kanda  melt  him  to  the  core.  this  indulgence  is  addicting,  physical  affection  INEVITABLE.  from  here,  alma  can  feel  his  heartbeat  ——-  steady  like  a  lullaby,  the  very  foundation  of  his  world  ;  some  say  a  soul  resides  within  the  heart.  he  believes  it.

           ❛  but  you’re  so  comfy ,  ❜   comes  sleepy  murmur,  eyes  steadfastly  closed. 

fingers  skim  the  length  of  partner’s  forearm,  tracing  sleepy  patterns  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.  they’re  alone  here,  protected  from  the  weight  of  the  world.  moments  like  these  has  him  wondering  how  he  ever  SURVIVED  those  first  seven  months  without  him.  this  is  divine.  this  is  home.   (  ——  i  love  you,  yuu.  )

           ❛  won’t  you  come  read  with  me  tonight ?  ❜   

@lotusword     cont.

his touch is soft, light; a dream that is settling in just beyond his reach. alma’s fingers dance across his palm and the aimless, shapeless swirls feel like a language only they can understand, for it is their souls that are intertwined through years of longing and love. it is a place no one is privy to, a fate that no one can break. they will stay together for as long as his soul remains bound to this body. kanda breathes in and captures alma’s hand in his.

    home.

 ah, but of course a home is never perfect. nothing can be seamless; nothing can be flawless. the same can be said of his relationship with alma.