Things Fearful to Name [Closed | Backdated]
Characters: kandescence and firstinall
Location: Death City park and environs.
Rating: PG
Time: Early morning, backdated to August 18th.
Description: There are few people in this world or his own who Kanda would trust to know his feelings. The day after his fight with Heine, he is badly in need of one.
Death City was a different place without a weapon. Kanda had now experienced it both ways, and the difference was acute.
More than that, the difference was miserable. It wasn't the same as the mornings when he'd deliberately taken himself out to train alone, leaving Heine undisturbed and without coffee to rouse him while the swordsman pushed his body to the limit testing his endurance and his control.
Those training sessions had always come with the knowledge of his partner in the back of his mind, the shape of his movements molded to the weight and memory of Heine's weapon form in his hands. Then, he had been training with Heine even if he was not physically there with him at all.
But that's not what this was. Not after the morning of the day before. Not after the words they had spoken, the way that Heine had left.
In place of a memory's presence, Kanda now felt only emptiness and loss and a dull chaotic ache of anger. He didn't even know who he was angry at, though presumably it must be Heine.
He kept training because it was what he did. What he had always done. Because if he didn't keep training, he wouldn't know what to do. But the truth was that he didn't even know if he had a partner anymore.
And the only thing he could think to do about it at the moment was to train harder: he'd run laps around the circumference of the city, sprinted up and down stairways, made an obstacle course out of buildings and cobbled alleyways. He ended in the park, so winded he could barely stand, and blindfolded himself to do katas with the heavy wooden suburito he'd found months ago in the Shibusen gym. Back before he'd known Heine was a weapon at all. (He tried not to think about it now.)
He chose a telephone pole for his target, situated on a grassy patch not far from one of the park paths, and let the low chock chock reverberate through him as each of his strikes hit. But even that was not enough to quell and focus the restless yammering inside of him, and he was only too ready to rip the blindfold off when he suddenly realized (far later than he would usually have done) that there was someone in the vicinity easily near enough to be watching him.
Location: Death City park and environs.
Rating: PG
Time: Early morning, backdated to August 18th.
Description: There are few people in this world or his own who Kanda would trust to know his feelings. The day after his fight with Heine, he is badly in need of one.
Death City was a different place without a weapon. Kanda had now experienced it both ways, and the difference was acute.
More than that, the difference was miserable. It wasn't the same as the mornings when he'd deliberately taken himself out to train alone, leaving Heine undisturbed and without coffee to rouse him while the swordsman pushed his body to the limit testing his endurance and his control.
Those training sessions had always come with the knowledge of his partner in the back of his mind, the shape of his movements molded to the weight and memory of Heine's weapon form in his hands. Then, he had been training with Heine even if he was not physically there with him at all.
But that's not what this was. Not after the morning of the day before. Not after the words they had spoken, the way that Heine had left.
In place of a memory's presence, Kanda now felt only emptiness and loss and a dull chaotic ache of anger. He didn't even know who he was angry at, though presumably it must be Heine.
He kept training because it was what he did. What he had always done. Because if he didn't keep training, he wouldn't know what to do. But the truth was that he didn't even know if he had a partner anymore.
And the only thing he could think to do about it at the moment was to train harder: he'd run laps around the circumference of the city, sprinted up and down stairways, made an obstacle course out of buildings and cobbled alleyways. He ended in the park, so winded he could barely stand, and blindfolded himself to do katas with the heavy wooden suburito he'd found months ago in the Shibusen gym. Back before he'd known Heine was a weapon at all. (He tried not to think about it now.)
He chose a telephone pole for his target, situated on a grassy patch not far from one of the park paths, and let the low chock chock reverberate through him as each of his strikes hit. But even that was not enough to quell and focus the restless yammering inside of him, and he was only too ready to rip the blindfold off when he suddenly realized (far later than he would usually have done) that there was someone in the vicinity easily near enough to be watching him.