The Pigeon: Ch. 9, Part 2

I forced myself up the last few stairs with all of the speed possible. I was very tired from climbing that far at not much less than a full sprint, but I couldn’t let my lack of energy get to me now, because there was something a lot more important than that to which I had to attend.

By now the sky was completely black, and no stars shined; despite the weather earlier, clouds still crowded the space above, and refused to move past the horizon. The winter air was cold and threatened to drive me back inside, but I shook it off forcefully. Now wasn’t the time.

I searched with my eyes frantically, but even the moonlight was absent, and the roof of the tower was nothing more than a big black silhouette. Surely he had to be up here.

I shoved aside my useless sense of vision, closing my eyes and perking my ears. I couldn’t hear much, either, but my mental sense of touch was all I needed. Within moments I felt the presence on the other side of the roof, wilted away to only a fraction of what it had been before. But I knew just by the fact that I could sense it that it was what I had been looking for.

“Alma!”

I forced my legs the last twenty feet forward. He was little more than a lump on the ground; he was kneeling, with his torso utterly collapsed, leaving his head on the floor. Now that I was this close I could see the violent shudders wracking his body, and hear the terrible wailing of all of his sorrows that I had never even heard before. The image of what was in front of me sucked the last of the energy out of my legs, but I forced myself to stay on my feet, and I crouched instead of falling to my own knees.

“Alma, I –“

I gave up on words almost before I ever thought of them. I just wanted Alma to know I was here for him, and to stop crying. I rested my right hand tentatively on his shoulder, fearing that it would break if I did, and I almost started crying myself, for I could feel his sadness just by touching him.

I expected to remain there for several minutes at least, but I had barely stopped moving when Alma suddenly thrust his face into the crook between my neck and left shoulder. His hands were the only thing between his tears and my coat, and now I could feel his shivers even more acutely. But even as he cried, his body was warm just as a human’s would be. I was forced to sit wordlessly, grateful I could not see his eyes, for if I could I would surely begin crying myself.

I was too scared to raise my arms to comfort him, and only when I noticed the height and roundness of his shoulders above my own did I realize the true strength of his form – but now even his rugged back seemed fatally fragile.

“It’s okay, Alma.” My words felt empty and were more to console myself, but I would be content if, even just a little, they could ease the violence of his sorrows. “I’m here.”

It seemed like an eternity that I sat there quietly trying to calm him, and I thought for sure my heart would collapse from all of the tears it had received. Just as I began to fall myself, though, Alma took a long, deep breath that served to dissipate his worries as well as my own. His sobs faded and he drew away from me, returning most of his weight to his own body. After several seconds he lowered his hands from his face, and his eyes were still wet, though the rest of his expression had relaxed visibly. Alma stared at the floor for a while, and then glanced hesitantly at me.

“Let’s go, Alma.” I started to straighten my posture, and offered a hand. “Can you stand up?”

He took it silently, the blue in his eyes still tinged with trouble. His grip was weaker than it had been before, but a nervous sureness remained in it. He put his right foot forward and I helped him up. The sensation of standing turned the rest of the heaviness away from my insides, as did the sight of Alma returning to his own feet. For a moment he stumbled, and I worried that he might collapse again, but I held his hand tightly and his balance returned within an instant.

I started back for the stairs and he followed obediently, although he refused to let go of me (I didn’t mind this much). The journey down the staircase was slow and noiseless, but it held a calm understanding. Alma lingered close, and though he rarely looked at me, his presence was relaxed and practically motionless. Whatever had forced out his sadness before had now retreated to the back of his mind.

The walk was uninterrupted and we made it safely back to my room at a reasonable time. Outside the door on the floor was a black lump – Alma’s cloak, neatly folded and left by some anonymous entity. I picked it up discreetly and allowed Alma into the safety of the room first.

The night crept past painstakingly slowly. By the time we had returned it was late, and I was reluctant enough to sleep as it was. Alma took his normal place on the floor, but insisted on having either a hand or his head on the edge of the bed at all times. It was only his proximity that allowed me to sleep soundly; if tears began to waver in his presence, I would awake and reassure him softly before drifting off again. It was an odd, but not altogether unpleasant routine.

At some point I was no longer so tired, and I determined it must be time to get up by now. The color of the sky had failed to be a good source of judgment long ago. I made my way back to my feet carefully, and had to do so backwards to avoid falling onto Alma. At some point in the morning, he had folded his arms on top of the bed and rested his head on them, as though he wanted to sleep as well. But he was fully awake, for when I had my weight back on my feet he raised his neck quickly.

While I bustled about in the room, Alma rested a little bit more. He was evidently bored of just sitting there, though; within a minute or two he stood up and looked absently to the door.

“All right then.” I pulled my coat around my neck to block out the cold. “Are you ready to go?”

To my surprise, Alma hesitated, and then turned away. “I don’t know.”

“What?” I had already started for the door, so I had to backtrack when I heard this. “Why not?” It took me several moments to remember that the previous night had been unusually stressful.

“Well, I – “

“Don’t worry, Alma. Nothing’s changed.”

Pause.

“And besides, it’s not like you’re going alone.”

“…Okay.”

“What’s wrong?”

Alma exhaled slowly and leaned his back against the wall. His arms were folded casually in front of him, but his manner was anything but carefree. “I don’t belong here, Lucy.”

I opened my mouth to protest when I realized I had nothing to say. As much as I wanted this to be false, there was truth in it, and I couldn’t think of how to counter something like this. Not immediately, at least. I wished I was better with words.

“I can’t just wander around and act like I’m one of you anymore, because I’m not.” He kept his eyes fixedly on the floor.

“…Alma, that’s ridiculous. You’re just as good as any of the other exorcists here.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not letting Kanda convince you of anything, are you?”

“But he’s right!”

I stared dumbly. By now Alma had looked to me intently, and once I realized he was maintaining eye contact I averted my gaze.

“He’s right, Lucy. As much as you believe otherwise, I am an akuma, and I have hurt people in the past. I shouldn’t be here.”

“But Alma, you… That’s in the past, though, it doesn’t…” I sighed, wondering helplessly why Alma was so determined to make himself look bad. “Listen, even if that is true, you can’t just stay in this room forever. You’ll go crazy. Come outside with me.”


He gazed at me sorrowfully without answering.

“Alma, what happened to you?” I gave up standing near the door and approached him instead. “You used to be so bright and energetic. Nothing’s different now.”

“I just…”

Alma’s voice lowered. “I don’t like fighting, Lucy. I don’t like hurting people. Now I’ve done both. I shouldn’t be here – I should…”

I watched curiously as he turned his attention to the ceiling. “To be honest, I should be dead. I should have died a long time ago.”

For whatever weird reason, he smiled humorously. “But I guess I’m just too tough for that.”

I waited for a few seconds, but only silence followed.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, at least.”

Within a few minutes, I was able to convince him to follow me out without much more protest. However, he appeared startled when I produced his cloak from next to the door, and I remembered he hadn’t seen me pick it up.  Only now did he remember that he had forgotten it, and I had to explain to him that I found it sitting outside the room. Even I wondered who could have left it there, until I recalled that Allen had intervened. That was something I hadn’t told Alma, and perhaps it was better to keep it that way. I guessed that Alma hadn’t noticed Allen in the staircase, although supposedly the reverse had been true.

Allen was waiting outside my room when we exited; apparently it had gotten later in the morning than usual and we hadn’t come down for breakfast yet, so he wanted to make sure we were all right. I nodded wordlessly, and Alma agreed as well. Allen accepted this response readily, so I guessed that he wanted to forget about last night as much as either of us did.

We continued to the dining hall without incident. Though Alma’s previous energy had vanished, he seemed at least content. That was enough to make me happy as well. At least his fear of other exorcists had never really come back; he still followed me around faithfully, and was willing to engage in small conversations. He never allowed much distance between us, though, which made it somewhat harder to move up and down the stairs efficiently.

The day seemed just as normal as any, though it moved rather slowly. The routine was familiar and acceptable, even to Alma, although the intensity of the music in my mind wasn’t all that great today. I had trouble pulling the melodies out onto my instrument, but Alma didn’t seem to mind, for he was content with a few minutes in the day to relax with nobody much else around. As usual, he didn’t appear to be listening (which undoubtedly was false). He evidently enjoyed just perching on the bed, though, so I didn’t interrupt him.

We had missed the sunrise in the morning, but for some reason Alma never tried to show me that evening’s sunset. I assumed at first that he had forgotten, but doubt lingered in my mind when I started to remind him, so I shut my mouth. Perhaps he did remember and just didn’t want to see it tonight. He was probably still tired from yesterday, anyway…

The blackness sank into the sky soon enough, and a little while later we retreated to my room. An odd idea had sprung into my head, and Alma agreed that it was both strange but good. We managed to retrieve the unused pillows and sheets from his room without any incident, and within several minutes he had made his routine spot on the floor considerably more comfortable. “It’s like being in a cloud,” he murmured almost dreamily. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen him so happy with himself. Even though it probably wouldn’t bring his ability to sleep back, it was surely nice not have to sit on the hard floor for the entire night. I slept easily that night, simply from feeling Alma’s contentedness. It was oddly contagious.

The following morning was calm as well. Alma didn’t protest to going outside this time, and breakfast was enjoyable and full of casual conversation. Somehow later in the morning, though, Alma was reminded of the troublesome night again, and his cheerfulness descended back into a relaxed sorrow. I tried to comfort him again – an easier task when the pain from the experience wasn’t so fresh and acute. Still, my senses grew numb, and I couldn’t even remember most of the words I had offered until something made Alma laugh. It wasn’t a pleasant laugh like the one I remembered, though; it was dry, almost forced, with very little of the previous joy in it. I had to tell him to please stop, he was scaring me – and this didn’t help his mood at all. Somehow I did eventually convince him to continue following me around, and his contentedness returned at that point, but by then I had forgotten entirely what our conversation had been about.

In fact, the rest of the day was normal enough that I forgot most of those details as well. Most of Alma’s comfort returned at night when we retreated to my room to sleep, and he was able to settle back into his “cloud.” It was interesting to notice how much happiness something as simple as a bed gave him, when I had never considered sleeping outside of one before. It was just a reflection of how much we people take for granted, really…

Alma was anxious that morning, as though he had somewhere important to go. I asked him what was wrong before retreating to a corner, and when I came back he was even more nervous. He stood near the bed with his arms alternately at ease and folded in front of him, as though he couldn’t decide which position he preferred.

“I need your help with something,” he blurted.

I paused and flicked my ears inquisitively. “What’s that?”

“Just follow me, I think… I think you were right.”

“Right about what?” Now I tilted my head a little bit too, as I tended to do when I was confused…

“About what you told me yesterday.”

“Yesterday? What did I say?”

Alma blinked his wide eyes and then whirled around with a moan of frustration. “Never mind. Just come with me.”

I was still perplexed about what Alma meant, but he seldom asked me to follow him instead of the other way around, so I trailed him obediently. He wound the cloak about his shoulders hastily and continued out to the staircase shrouded in black. That big cloak always made me nervous, but I never bothered to mention it, since he did tend to take it with him everywhere that wasn’t my room.

Alma led me calmly but quickly to the stairs, and I promptly forgot whether we had climbed or descended – but it didn’t really matter, since we ended up in a place that was largely unfamiliar to me. I had only been here once in my memory, and that had been when I first got to the Black Order. That was an unbelievably long time ago, wasn’t it?

“What do you want me to do?” I asked carefully. “I can’t talk to Komui. He’s crazy sometimes.”

“I know.” Alma’s voice was strong and even. “But I need you here with me, or I’ll get too scared.”

Given Alma’s normally bashful disposition, this made sense to me, but I nodded silently in case additional words would have some adverse effect.

He took a deep breath, turned around and opened the big doors leading to the even bigger, circular room. Books were stacked in shelves on both curves (but none really looked like they were in use), which met at a cluttered-looking desk at the back. Sure enough, at the desk Chief Komui sat dutifully. He only just looked up when we entered, but did a double take as Alma closed the door respectfully.

“Alma?” Komui’s voice enunciating the name sounded strange. “This is a surprise. What brings you here?”

He turned around slowly. Alma’s stance was straighter than I had remembered seeing it recently, although at the same time I hadn’t noticed him slouching, either. He had mentioned being scared, but his blue eyes were hard and focused, and he didn’t look the least bit nervous to me.

“I have a proposal to make,” he told Komui purposefully, keeping the cloak clutched around his torso.

“A proposal?” The Chief tilted his head to one side slightly, and my ears flexed in amusement. “Should I be worried?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” I felt Alma withdraw just a little bit. “I just… want to –“ He started to trail off, but shut himself up once he noticed his voice was losing volume, and then started over.

“Please let me become an exorcist.”

I was surprised at this, but Komui was evidently more so. Now that I thought about it, I might have mentioned something like this during our odd conversation, but I hadn’t remembered at the time. Komui, however, proceeded to stare blankly for a couple of seconds.

“Excuse me?”

“I said I would like to be an exorcist.” Alma stepped forward.

There was another long pause, and Komui folded his hands in front of his face idly. His expression was still rather shocked, but at least there was thought behind it now.

“I… don’t even know if that’s possible,” Komui stammered slowly, his eyes fixating somewhere on his desk. “After all, that’s the last request I would have expected to hear from you.”

“Why not?” Alma seemed ready to run forward and smack his hands down on the desk, but he kept his bare feet planted. “It’s true, though, I really… I want to be able to help instead of sit around like an idiot all of the time.”

“Well… I would have to think about that,” the Chief responded again, his voice equally careful. “Given the circumstances, I’ll have to see if the higher-ups approve before I can do anything…”

Alma’s mouth straightened. Something about the way that had been worded irritated him. “All right, I guess that’s only reasonable. But you’ll try to convince them, right?”

Komui met Alma’s gaze evenly. “I’ll do what I can. I don’t have much to go off of… although Allen did report excellent behavior on your most recent mission.”

“Ah –“

Now it was Alma’s turn to be startled, although this definitely wasn’t unpleasant news. He stared for a moment, and then nodded quickly once he had regained his composure. “All right. Thanks either way.” He gave a timid but decent bow and then spun around, mentally dragging me out of the room with him. I tried to give Komui some acknowledgement before I was hurried outside, but this was rather difficult.

Alma shut the door carefully and then let out the breath I assume he had been holding.

I perked my ears. “How was that?”

Alma continued to stare at the door. “Better than I expected it to go.”

“I didn’t even do anything but stand there.” One of my ears proceeded to tilt precariously to one side.

“You helped, though.” He glanced down to me and smiled gently. “If I was alone in that room I would have turned around and left a long time ago.”

“…Okay.” It was nice to be a positive influence, even if I did so just standing there.

Alma was calm after that, and we had a chance to make our way back downstairs. In that business I had completely forgotten about breakfast, and now I was hungrier than I was normally in the morning. Fortunately, even by the time we arrived at the dining hall, Allen, Lavi and a few others still lingered and were continuing previous conversation. I apologized for my delay and continued to get food, although my friends all insisted it was okay (apparently I made up for it by getting up early the rest of the time anyway).