Chapter Text
(One year ago)
My knees ache from pressing against the cool floor. Time has passed. How much? No fucking idea.
The moon has shifted past the highest point in the sky, now fully visible through the large window. It must be late. Or early. I have been on my knees, sitting by the mirror for hours, a pool of bandages at my ankles. My eyelids are heavy. I want to sleep. The stranger in the mirror won't let me. So I sink further to the ground, curling up on my side, hoping the floor and the blue moonlight will swallow me up and take me away from wherever I am now. The room is too big, too empty. There are a few scuffs and scratches on the walls, a dent in the door, a tiny crack in the mirror. Both the room and my mind are devoid of what gives them meaning, only little dents proving that there was anything there at all. I want to remember everything. And I don't.
tap tap tap I open my eyes, expecting daylight; morning. The sky is still pitch black. My face shifts towards the door, cheek pressing against something cold. That's right. I fell asleep on the ground.
Did I hear right? Did someone knock on the door?
click the door opens. I lay still, curled in a fetal position, weak, useless.
Lindow doesn't say a word. He simply lifts me gently. It's warm. I want to sleep again.
Through my half-closed eyes, I watch his dog tags clink against each other, the sound soft and metallic, a strange combination.
"You know, sleeping on the ground isn't something you do while recovering from several stab wounds," he breaks the silence. I blink, bringing the silence back.
He places me on the bed, pulling the blankets up to cover me. I never bothered to change clothes, but the shapeless garments are comfortable. My aching legs welcome the feeling of the mattress. It's still cold. Ridiculous that I still need to be babied like this.
I pry my eyes open to look at him. Even in the darkness I can see his face; it's neutral.
He scoops up the bandages on the ground, glancing back at me.
"Wanna replace these?" He asks. I think, shake my head. Lindow shrugs, tossing the slightly bloody fabric in the can. He leaves as quietly as he came.
The days pass silently. I always wake up to the sound of clinking metal as Lindow enters. He shows me around and introduces me to someone or other until I'm too tired to keep going. I've met his older sister, and this one black-haired girl (I think there's something going on with them considering how much they fuss over each other) And then I return to my empty little room and sleep. Sometimes he gets called out for a "mission" to who knows where, and I wander the halls, face covered. Every day, my legs last longer, and after about a week I can keep up with Lindow, easy.
"What's that?" I ask like a little kid, pointing to his right wrist, where the unnecessarily large scrap of metal wraps around it. He laughs.
"This? Ah, I don't know what it's called. It connects me to my God Arc. Every God Eater has one." There's those words again. God Eater. The name sounds a little pretentious.
Lindow takes note of my confusion and leads us down the hall. "I'll show you."
The usual bustle of doctors, staff, and workers dies down as we travel up several floors, through various hallways. Casual chatter is replaced by the sound of fast, heavy footsteps and urgent conversations. A group staggers/jogs by in a messy single-file line, some more heavily bandaged than others. Some greet Lindow. Some give me a curious glance. They turn down the hall and disappear.
**back to present
The clock has just about strike twelve when I leave my room. At nearly the same time, I hear a click of a closing door from right next to me. A shoulder bumps into me. Soma wears a slightly drowsy expression, probably the same as mine.
I turn my head away, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Soma snorts, and we make our way to the mess hall without another word. I suppose sleeping late and waking late is a habit of ours. Thank hell it's Saturday.
Dozens of others have come in for lunch, so it doesn't look strange when we walk in around the same time. We grab trays and find an empty table. The food is okay.
Neither of us pay any mind to the few looks we get from others. I've learned to ignore them ever since our fourth or fifth lunch together, ever since Soma noticed my uncomfortable mood and muttered "it's normal," from across the table. Of course it would be normal. Soma, with his curse and bad attitude, and me with the scars showing up out of nowhere, it would be weird if people didn't avoid this depressing table. But hell, it's been a year. They should learn to get used to it.
Lindow is out on a mission, probably. We finish our lunch and go separate ways.
(back to one year ago lol)
Soma, I think his name was, I think. The sight in front of me draws only one word from my brain. Incredible.
The window looking into the virtual training room is probably tediously cleaned, almost invisible. The white-haired boy in the room below wields an unreasonably large blade with chunky metal attachments at the hilt. Lindow explains that it's just a practice arc. Still, it must weigh at least fifty pounds, and almost the size of the user himself. He swings it like it's nothing, like he's done it a million times. I wouldn't be surprised if he had.
From the distant vantage point of the control room, I can still make out him cracking his knuckles. He rolls his neck. Apparently that was just a warm up.
Someone presses a button on the control panel, and I freeze. The ground is swept with a dusty yellow color, rocks and abandoned buildings grow out of the ground. Those monsters, those things begin to appear, snarling and snapping menacingly. Five surround him.
My heart thumps in my ears. Technology sure is advanced up here, I think. That's right, it's just a simulation. Not real. Not real.
Those monsters, the Aragami, they're in front of you.
Soma's practice arc swings with ease. He closes the distance between one of them, shoulders pulling back, the blade slicing through flesh.
The cries of dozes of people. Can you hear them? They're calling for you.
The first one falls, soon disappearing in a cloud of pixels. The dark-skinned boy is already taking down the next, steps light as air. His face shows not an ounce of strain.
Why didn't you save them?
His coat flutters as he passes, having already killed three.
They needed you.
His eyes glance towards the window.
Why. Didn't. You. Save. Them?
A buzzer goes off. Soma looks down, at his torso, where the claw of the Aragami has "pierced" through him. The lights click on with a boom, and the simulation ends.
A curvy black-haired woman--Lindow's sister, if I remember correctly--struts towards him with a clip board. I look away, hands shaking. I will my heart to slow down or shut up, just a little.
"Sorry about that," I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. Lindow watches my fumbling fingers. "Must have been a shock to see Aragami again so soon." Oh. That's what he thinks.
There's a locked door in my head. The key is a brilliant golden color, floating just too high for me to reach, even if I jump.
"Lets go. I heard lunch is porkchops over rice." He gives me an easy smile on the way out. The walk is filled with his usual blabbering about unimportant things that he doesn't expect me to remember, but I do anyways. The hallways are filled with people who know him, who wave and greet him. The way people treat him must mean he's someone very important. Someone people respect. It's almost blinding how much he shines compared to everyone else, especially me. What a socialite (sarcastically.)
The thump of my heart is almost unbearably loud. What will he say if I tell him?
As we near the mess hall, I make up my mind.
"Lindow." I call, trying to project my voice a little louder than normal. He stops.
"I want to be one."
He doesn't turn around. I can tell what he's thinking.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
He pauses.
"The stars that burn bright die fast, Azrail." He says my name with caution.
I can't see his face, but my gut tells me he's smiling. He's probably smiling.
"Yeah."