Chapter Text
The thing was, Kanda usually worked to keep people out.
He’d seen some of the worst of humanity, but there was always a parade of nosy idiots with bleeding hearts who showed him kindness he didn’t want or deserve. He’d never had to reach out for help or affection. It was always just sitting there, waiting for him to not be such a brat about it.
Even in this life, the Kanda family had shown stunning patience with a child who didn’t know how to be a child.
He’d left Japan as soon as he could. There were too many half memories there, memories of a person Kanda didn’t even know the name of. Transposed over the shining, plastic modern world, there was a world of dirt and wood and cloth, a world crumbling under the control of the Earl. He missed a Japan he couldn’t even remember, one that had never existed in this world.
He wound up in Singapore, mostly because he didn’t want to learn another language, and got work as a line cook. Kitchens were loud and busy and, after he threatened a coworker with a knife, he decided working as a cook was not his future.
Somehow, probably with secret help of some busybody ex-exorcist, he got work in the botanical gardens.They were less tourist ridden than the Gardens by the Bay. There was always an annoying scattering of biologists around, but that left plenty of weeding and hauling for dropouts like Kanda. It was… well, he contracted through some shit company that mostly preyed on immigrants, so the pay wasn’t great, but it was good. He liked working with his hands. He liked the quiet parts of the garden.
He stayed away from Swan Lake, where he could see the water lilies blooming in every season, pink lotuses choking the surface of the water. It usually wasn’t hard. There wasn’t much work there since most of the foliage grew wild.
So, of course, it had to be there that he saw Alma.
Some event had come through and dumped trash along all the paths. Kanda was out with a trash bag and a stick, checking the bushes for discarded cups, and there was Alma.
He barely noticed it, at first. He saw them, every version of them, everywhere. She’d be standing at the crosswalk outside the bus window, dressed in full exorcist gear. He’d be sitting in Kanda’s kitchen at 4 AM, ten years old and bleeding. When he saw them by the lake, he didn’t think twice about it. Employers didn’t want to hear that you hallucinated.
It wasn’t until he turned back to his work that he realized it didn’t fit. He always saw them as they’d been. He didn’t recognize everything She wore, nightdresses and simple clothes out of uniform, but they all seemed like things she probably had worn. He knew Alma’s outfits. There were their outfits from the lab, his preserved and akuma forms, and, when Kanda’s mind felt extra cruel, Alma dressed like an exorcist or in casual clothes of the period. The Almas that could have been, had they been allowed to grow up.
He turned to look again. Alma wore a light linen tunic, perfect for a humid spring day, and was holding a sleek, modern camera.
More damningly, they weren’t alone. Alma was chatting with the couple they were photographing. Alma would laugh and gesture and the couple would adjust their pose. Alma looked happy, but of course they were. There was Alma, in the sunlight where they belonged, free of bad memories.
Seeming to sense Kanda’s gaze, they glanced over, smiled without a shadow of recognition, and returned to their task.
Kanda had no idea what to do next.
Alma wouldn’t know him. In all the nights he’d thought about seeing Alma again, he’d known that. The only exorcists who remembered were those who’d made it to the end of the war. There was a Kevin Yeeger happily teaching primary school in Denmark and a Daisya Berry in Greece. Daisya did salvage diving and played soccer on the weekends. Neither of them had shown the slightest hint of recognition towards their fellow exorcists, and good for them.
He hadn’t fully processed what it meant. Alma was right here, and, if Kanda did nothing, they’d just walk away and never think about Kanda again.
He had to do something. He had to say something.
Kanda wanted to run up, grab Alma by the shoulders, and scream. ‘ You should know me. I know you. I spent a lifetime looking for you.’
He also sorta wanted to say ‘ Why’d you do that to your hair? It looks dumb.’ Which was true. It was cut too short.
The correct thing to say was definitely somewhere between those.
He couldn’t ask for help. The useless lumps who claimed to be his friends would just laugh at him, and then he’d have to kill them, and Tiedoll would be very sad.
Maybe Allen would have some painfully smooth line that worked if you were Allen Walker and had a mouth that wouldn’t melt butter. Lenalee might have something, but… the person she wanted to see most wasn’t an exorcist. Cross and Bookman and Tiedoll were all here, Komui would never appear. He didn’t want to bother her with this.
Tiedoll himself would be worse. He’d send some insufferable emoji and then write a painfully sincere message about how wonderful it was that he’d found Alma. ‘ Speak from the heart ’ Tiedoll would say.
Kanda’s heart said ‘ Why the fuck do you get to forget when I’m still seeing flowers on my damn kitchen floor? You’re the one who’s good at this. You’re the one who loved me again when I tried to push you away. Why do I have to be the one who remembers? ’ His heart said ‘ How could you try and self-destruct, you selfish bastard? How could you decide I’d love you any less once I knew? ’
These were not good opening lines to flirt with a stranger. Kanda knew that much.
Alma was getting closer. Kanda could hear them talking to the couple and promising the photos would be ready in a month. The couple dispatched, Alma began taking a few shots of the lake.
They were close enough to talk to.
Kanda scrambled for something, anything.
I love you, i love you, i love you.
“Your hair’s too short. It looks stupid.”
Alma turned. There was still a scar across their nose. Their front teeth were a little crooked and there were freckles across their collarbone.
They tugged on a strand of hair and laughed. Memory didn’t do them justice. It never did. It felt like his heart was cut free and flipping around in his chest. It felt like the sun had risen for the first time and promptly punched a hole right through his gut.
“Right? My boss said it was too long, but it’s better long, I think. I wasn’t given curls just so I could chop them all off, but you know how it is.” They turned back to the water. “This garden’s beautiful. Do you work here?”
Kanda stood in his work uniform, holding a bag of trash, trying to figure out a response that wasn’t ‘obviously, idiot’ or ‘please marry me’.
“Yeah, stupid question,” Alma admitted. “It must be a nice place to work. I love doing shoots here.”
“Yes.” Do you want to see the orchid garden? Do you want to go to my favorite restaurant a block from here? Do you want to die hand-in-hand this time?
“Well, have a good afternoon!” Alma said, and then they were gone.
Kanda blinked, stood for a long while, then went back to searching for trash.