Kanda Yuu (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sixillusions) wrote2024-05-27 11:16 pm
sixillusions) wrote2024-05-27 11:16 pm
[memshare] Friends part 2
((Note: I've linked several scenes from the manga here for context: clicking on them will show you the actual scenes!! Technically they're all optional except the very last one, but I've marked with asterisks the ones I'd highly recommend viewing.))
You don't realize what's happening until you're in his arms.
As you stir, bits and pieces come back to you. The hallucinations have gotten worse, and you've been struggling to stay conscious. You heard the researchers talking about you in hushed, grim tones, but you couldn't stay awake long enough to hear what they were saying. Something is wrong with you: something your regenerative powers can't fix.
(What you know intrinsically is this: No one else has woken up since you did, despite the way they slumber in their pools. The two of you are still put through rigorous, painful synchronization tests, forceful attempts to bind you to Innocence weapons so that you may fulfill your purpose and fight God's holy war. You cannot die, no matter how many times they kill you with these attempts. You have visions of flowers and a woman whose face you can't see: the last one hurt so badly, you passed out.
And... despite your best efforts, Alma has wormed his way into your heart, and you've learned what it feels like to smile, even though you go through hell every single day.)
You realize, as he jostles you with his frantic running, that he's saving you. Stupid, stubborn, loving Alma, your fellow monster--the only one who understands you, the one who taught you happiness, the only bright spot in this wretched, shitty place, is risking his safety for yours. Even as the guard's spell needles slam into your bodies, sending you sprawling across the floor, he tries, desperately, to save you. He smiles at you, that stupid, hateful, brilliant smile, and kicks you off a cliff with a prayer for luck.
As if you've ever been lucky.
You survive, because that's all this wretched, nigh-immortal body is good for. You hit the water, and it fucking hurts with the spell needle jammed into your shoulder, but you claw your way up the wall anyway, fueled by murderous, spiteful rage. You're dizzy with pain and confusion, and you scare the shit out of the two men on the other side of the wall, but you don't have the strength to explain. They pull the needle out on your gritted orders, and as you lose consciousness again, you recognize the scent of blood.
-
*When you wake again, it all makes sense.
You laugh, hysterical, because you must. You're too furious to do anything else. Of course the Order did this to you. You gave them one lifetime of service already: Why wouldn't they demand a second? The moment the Innocence resonated with you, you ceased to be anything but a weapon. They melted you down, reforged you, trying to milk your strength beyond the very last of what you had to offer--and you've failed them by remembering you were once human.
You're broken. So they discard you.
-
At least, they try. But it turns out they built you a little too well.
Most people, you think, would assume you lived through spite alone. You wouldn't bother to correct them. Spite, anger, and hatred fuel a lot of your decisions, and that was even more back then. When you regain consciousness yet again, you are incandescent with fury. But the truth is, you lived for love.
She is still nameless, faceless. Her words echo in your head and bury themselves in your chest, but you couldn't describe her voice even if you tried. And yet--she is the only proof you have that you were once human. The love you feel for her is the only thing the Order can't touch (and it is love, undeniably, you don't need Alma's stupid fucking books to know that).
They've taken so fucking much from you. You won't let them have this too. You won't let them have you.
-
You don't exactly have a plan, though.
Your Innocence finally, finally recognizes you--the exact flavor of your hatred, maybe, or the intensity of your longing for that woman. It makes you stronger than ever, not that inhuman strength's ever been an issue for you and Alma. You drag your battered, still bleeding body past the remnants of the door you break open, and you wander, listless and miserable. Now what? All you want is freedom, but despite it all, you don't want to slaughter your way out. You'll never forgive the researchers, the Order, but grief and misery have overtaken your rage for the moment. Your thoughts are still full of her: of who she might've been, and what they might've done to her, and whether or not she's fast asleep in the very same sort of pool you and Alma crawled out of. Can you find her? Would she recognize you? Would you recognize her?
Does it matter, now that you have him...?
As you walk, you stumble across another victim. Some poor soul, blind and half-dead, hooked up to a table. You bleed on him, on accident--and it turns out your blood is more potent than you thought, because it saves him, and. Well. What else can you do, but drag him out of there with you? If you're going to jailbreak, you might as well do what you can.
So you carry the man on your tiny back, and you listen to him admit that he's only calm because of your presence, and you realize--no, you admit, finally, if only to yourself, that Alma kept you sane. That you love him in ways you don't fully understand, even after the seven long months you've been alive.
You'll be alright, both of you. You don't need to get revenge on the Order, even if you would feel nothing but satisfaction if the whole place burned to the ground. All you need is each other.
*Then you find him. And it all goes so terribly, terribly wrong.
You don't realize what's happening until you're in his arms.
As you stir, bits and pieces come back to you. The hallucinations have gotten worse, and you've been struggling to stay conscious. You heard the researchers talking about you in hushed, grim tones, but you couldn't stay awake long enough to hear what they were saying. Something is wrong with you: something your regenerative powers can't fix.
(What you know intrinsically is this: No one else has woken up since you did, despite the way they slumber in their pools. The two of you are still put through rigorous, painful synchronization tests, forceful attempts to bind you to Innocence weapons so that you may fulfill your purpose and fight God's holy war. You cannot die, no matter how many times they kill you with these attempts. You have visions of flowers and a woman whose face you can't see: the last one hurt so badly, you passed out.
And... despite your best efforts, Alma has wormed his way into your heart, and you've learned what it feels like to smile, even though you go through hell every single day.)
You realize, as he jostles you with his frantic running, that he's saving you. Stupid, stubborn, loving Alma, your fellow monster--the only one who understands you, the one who taught you happiness, the only bright spot in this wretched, shitty place, is risking his safety for yours. Even as the guard's spell needles slam into your bodies, sending you sprawling across the floor, he tries, desperately, to save you. He smiles at you, that stupid, hateful, brilliant smile, and kicks you off a cliff with a prayer for luck.
As if you've ever been lucky.
You survive, because that's all this wretched, nigh-immortal body is good for. You hit the water, and it fucking hurts with the spell needle jammed into your shoulder, but you claw your way up the wall anyway, fueled by murderous, spiteful rage. You're dizzy with pain and confusion, and you scare the shit out of the two men on the other side of the wall, but you don't have the strength to explain. They pull the needle out on your gritted orders, and as you lose consciousness again, you recognize the scent of blood.
-
*When you wake again, it all makes sense.
You laugh, hysterical, because you must. You're too furious to do anything else. Of course the Order did this to you. You gave them one lifetime of service already: Why wouldn't they demand a second? The moment the Innocence resonated with you, you ceased to be anything but a weapon. They melted you down, reforged you, trying to milk your strength beyond the very last of what you had to offer--and you've failed them by remembering you were once human.
You're broken. So they discard you.
-
At least, they try. But it turns out they built you a little too well.
Most people, you think, would assume you lived through spite alone. You wouldn't bother to correct them. Spite, anger, and hatred fuel a lot of your decisions, and that was even more back then. When you regain consciousness yet again, you are incandescent with fury. But the truth is, you lived for love.
She is still nameless, faceless. Her words echo in your head and bury themselves in your chest, but you couldn't describe her voice even if you tried. And yet--she is the only proof you have that you were once human. The love you feel for her is the only thing the Order can't touch (and it is love, undeniably, you don't need Alma's stupid fucking books to know that).
They've taken so fucking much from you. You won't let them have this too. You won't let them have you.
-
You don't exactly have a plan, though.
Your Innocence finally, finally recognizes you--the exact flavor of your hatred, maybe, or the intensity of your longing for that woman. It makes you stronger than ever, not that inhuman strength's ever been an issue for you and Alma. You drag your battered, still bleeding body past the remnants of the door you break open, and you wander, listless and miserable. Now what? All you want is freedom, but despite it all, you don't want to slaughter your way out. You'll never forgive the researchers, the Order, but grief and misery have overtaken your rage for the moment. Your thoughts are still full of her: of who she might've been, and what they might've done to her, and whether or not she's fast asleep in the very same sort of pool you and Alma crawled out of. Can you find her? Would she recognize you? Would you recognize her?
Does it matter, now that you have him...?
As you walk, you stumble across another victim. Some poor soul, blind and half-dead, hooked up to a table. You bleed on him, on accident--and it turns out your blood is more potent than you thought, because it saves him, and. Well. What else can you do, but drag him out of there with you? If you're going to jailbreak, you might as well do what you can.
So you carry the man on your tiny back, and you listen to him admit that he's only calm because of your presence, and you realize--no, you admit, finally, if only to yourself, that Alma kept you sane. That you love him in ways you don't fully understand, even after the seven long months you've been alive.
You'll be alright, both of you. You don't need to get revenge on the Order, even if you would feel nothing but satisfaction if the whole place burned to the ground. All you need is each other.
*Then you find him. And it all goes so terribly, terribly wrong.