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Lenalee could taste Mugen in her mouth. It made her think of lightning. It hurt.
She could smell the Akuma, too, a harsh acrid smell like gunpowder and sour milk. There were thirty-seven of them: twenty-three foot soldiers, eleven level-twos, and three humanoid generals who obviously had enough self-awareness and enough power to cow their armies into submission.
Kanda was very, very strong, and Lenalee could certainly hold her own, but that many Akuma meant certain death, pride notwithstanding.
And so, they were crouched behind a rock and shielded by bushes, and Kanda had his sword-sweaty hand clamped viciously over her mouth. His free arm was wrapped around her chest and arms, stilling her trembling so she couldn't give them away. He never said a word, but when he was this close listening to his heartbeat was as good as being psychic. However fast it sped was how close the danger was.
Right now, it was hardly even beating at all; it was vibrating so quickly it was nearly impossible to distinguish individual beats. Lenalee wanted to faint, but refused to let herself. She could not be a burden to him, not when he'd finally consented to go on a mission with her alone. It was a major accomplishment, and she couldn't bungle it now.
His hand tightened, and she could feel a tremor running through him over and over again.
Why weren't the Akuma leaving? Could they sense that something was wrong?
If Kanda held on any tighter, her ribs and jaw were going to crack. There would definitely be bruises at the very least.
The moment teetered on the edge of eternity — Will they leave? Will they find us? — then toppled over the edge into blood.
"Behind that rock," one of the generals — a female with beautiful Nordic blonde hair — directed a cluster of base-level Akuma. "Something's off."
Kanda's hand fell away from her mouth almost gently, so slowly it was just like dreaming but without the morning to look forward to.
"Don't die," he said shortly, and then dragged her to her feet. The hand that had been on her mouth returned to Mugen's hilt, drawing it in one smooth motion that spoke of years of rigorous daily practice.
Lenalee felt her own Innocence rage to life, felt her calves and thighs light up as though they were trying to contain a thunderstorm within their veins. Her Innocence wanted to fight, even if it was a losing battle.
The general laughed, high and cold. "I thought so. A pair of blackbirds flushed from the underbrush, ripe for the pie."
Kanda snorted and ignored her as though she were a common foot soldier in the ranks of the Order, turning instead to Lenalee. "Whatever you do, don't call me back," he said indifferently.
"Be quiet," she told him, not meeting his eyes for fear of tears distorting her vision. "I never said you could die in the first place. If you die, I'll get my brother to come after you and make you sorry."
He laughed, just a little, and pushed her away. "See you on the other side, then," he said wryly, and launched himself at the Norse beauty with Mugen blazing in his grip.
Lenalee began her death dance.
Ashes, ashes, we all—
x
The sky was streaked with red.
Sailor's warning, she thought through a veil of blood-pain and death-haze. Better stay home today.
"Are you alive?"
There was a hand on her back. She knew it was only a gentle touch because he hadn't enough vitality left to shake her roughly, but she wouldn't have minded that anyway. Either meant that he was still alive too.
"I think so," she whispered, not daring to turn over for fear of losing herself through the tear in her soft belly.
"Good. At least you can follow orders."
She wanted to laugh, but that was risky and painful too.
The air was clogged with the ashes of ghosts, so much so that the sun was only a thin bright point in a searing sky.
"The Akuma?"
"All gone."
"Thank God," she murmured, and meant it.
Kanda snorted. "Better to thank Mugen, and your legs."
"Same thing," she rasped hoarsely, ignoring the cold silence that followed. Unconsciousness called. She resisted long enough to push herself labouriously backward until her back nestled into his ragged torso, then gave in and let the soft darkness blindfold her.
She'd always thought her last dawn would be prettier.
x
"If you die, I will assign both of you to guard missions for the next ten years."
Lenalee wanted to open her eyes, but the light was too bright. Instead, she reached out blindly in search of the voice.
A pair of warm, trembling hands encased hers and held on tightly. She knew those hands. Now she wanted to smile, but her face wouldn't work. Why did everything hurt so much?
"She isn't going to die, you idiot, shut up," another familiar voice croaked from behind the owner of the hands. "Neither am I."
"He's right," Lenalee managed to whisper through a throat that felt like a wasteland of stone and knives. "We'll be all right. Just let us sleep for a while."
Komui's hand, still trembling, pressed against her forehead for a moment, then cupped her cheek tenderly. "I'll be outside if you need me. Sleep well, Lenalee. ...Kanda." Then he stood and walked out. The door clicked softly shut behind him.
Silence descended, for all of a minute.
"I'm cold," Lenalee whispered. "It's so cold in here."
It took Kanda a while to reply, as though he hadn't realized at first that she'd meant it as a question. "No, it isn't. You've just lost a lot of blood. You'll be fine, go to sleep."
She shook her head painfully even though it was probable he couldn't see. "I can't. It's cold."
He sighed, long and long-suffering.
She recognized it for the permission it was, and began the slow and painstaking process of crossing the three steps between her bed and his. It took nearly five minutes and there were tears standing in her eyes by the end, but it was worth it to feel his even breathing against the nape of her neck and bask in the warmth that still radiated from him even though he had to have been as grievously injured as she was.
"Go to sleep," he murmured into her hair, his lips so close to her neck that she could feel them moving.
She reached down to find the hand that had come to rest around her waist and clasped it between both of her own. His fingers tightened slightly against hers — another unspoken form of permission.
Her eyes drifted shut. On the backs of her eyelids, she could see another dawn breaking, golden and amethyst, clean and bright. The taste of sword faded from her tongue.
"I will if you will," she murmured just before falling off the precipice into dreamless slumber.
It was worth all the pain to feel his smile bend against the nape of her neck. "Good night, Lenalee," she heard as she fell.
And then, again, there was silence... but this time, it had no teeth.
Morning had come.
X