Jordanna Morgan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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fan_flashworks2020-04-10 01:01 pm
jordannamorgan) wrote in fan_flashworks2020-04-10 01:01 pm
Entry tags:
Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress: Fic: Care
Title: Care
Author:jordannamorgan
Fandom: Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress
Characters: Kajika and Ikoma.
Setting: The evening after episode four.
Rating: G.
Length: 1,674 words.
Summary: When there is finally a moment’s peace, Kajika tends to the little things.
Notes: Also for “Grooming” atgenprompt_bingo.
As the weight of a small body shifted against her thigh, Kajika blinked her eyes open, to realize with faint chagrin that she had dozed off where she sat.
In the next instant, that first moment of drowsy bemusement was swept away by a hyper-alert frisson of caution. After all the fear and chaos of the last two days—the fall of Aragane Station, the unrest caused on the train by the presence of the Kabaneri, and at last the deadly Kabane attack in the mountains that nearly doomed them all—it was only natural to come awake wondering what could be wrong now. Yet as Kajika glanced around to see the orphans sleeping peacefully beside her on the bunk, she began to relax, assured that the remaining survivors of Aragane really were safe for the moment.
Thanks to the Kabaneri.
Her eyes wandered farther. Mumei was curled up on the opposite side of the pile of children, with only a bit of her mop of brown hair poking out above the cape she’d drawn over herself. Across the compartment, Takumi lay sprawled and lightly snoring as well; but Ikoma was still awake, sitting cross-legged on the deck beside his best friend’s bunk.
The sight of him lifted most of the remaining weight from Kajika’s heart. She wasn’t sure whether he was entirely okay just yet; having gone from socially-outcast steamsmith to unjustly-feared “monster” to accepted hero in little more than a day, he couldn’t have begun to have time to process all the change and trauma he had endured. However, all that mattered right now was that he too was safe and free. He and Mumei would not be abandoned or locked away again merely because they were different—because that difference was the strength that had enabled them to save the Kotetsujo.
At the moment Ikoma’s attention was focused on a sheaf of mismatched papers that lay spread across his lap. Kajika recognized them as the last remainder of his research, the weapons designs and Kabane-biology notes he had toiled over for five years… and very nearly lost. When he fled his house for the Kotetsujo, fresh off his first fight with a Kabane and his desperate attempt to save himself from its bite, he was in too much of a daze to even feel the changes in his body—much less think about taking anything with him but his newly-proven piercing gun. Instead it was Takumi who somehow had the presence of mind to snatch up every scattered page he saw on their way out the door. He’d been carrying them tucked away under his belt the whole time, until he was finally able to return them to Ikoma earlier that day.
Ikoma was overjoyed to learn that something of his work was saved, and Kajika could understand why. His very survival, and his early successes in battle with the weapon he had created, were proof that he was right all along—and more importantly, that he truly did have a new hope to offer humanity. The greatest possibilities for defeating the Kabane did not lie in the physical abilities he had gained, but in the brilliant mind he’d always had. Having at least some of his old notes meant he would not have to reassemble his information from square one again.
Silently watching him, Kajika felt her glad smile begin to tighten into a frown of thoughtfulness. Ikoma looked… well, at least better than he had before his trek across the train roof that morning. He’d finally gotten the chance to clean himself up properly, and the wounds this had revealed beneath layers of blood and grime were almost fully healed already. She did wish that getting some of his terrible new nourishment in him would do more for his color; but with his starvation sated at last, his hands were as steady as they used to be back in Aragane Station’s train yard, and there was a much healthier brightness behind the eerie scarlet sheen of his eyes.
Her lips quirked as she saw that Ikoma’s right hand was raised to his temple, fingers idly tugging at the thick forelock that had mysteriously turned snow-white in his change. The way he was playing with it seemed a little… distracted. She had noticed that even the rest of his hair was a bit lighter in color and looked rougher now, but with the chance to finally study him at length, she could make out the lumpiness of mats and snarls in it. He had washed it along with the rest of him, but any efforts he made to comb and straighten it after his windy train-roof excursion had clearly been less than successful.
Kajika’s smile returned. Carefully she eased little Sayo’s head off her lap. She slipped from her bunk, and fished underneath it for the comb she had been using on the orphans’ hair—more because they had needed the comfort of such a soothing physical contact than actual grooming. Then she quietly moved toward Ikoma.
Deep in his reading, Ikoma didn’t react to her approach for a moment. If the quickness of his eyes was anything like Mumei’s now, surely he detected her movements, but he must have thought she had some other action in mind. Only when she knelt beside him did he turn with a small start, blinking curiously behind his glasses. His hand was still fisted into his hair.
“Let me help you with that,” she said softly and warmly, holding up the comb.
His reaction broke her heart just a little. Red-brown eyes widened into a startled stare at her hands, his indrawn breath hitching with some unidentifiable emotion. He was looking at her as if she had just reached out to pet a coiled serpent.
“Kajika…”
The tiny quiver in his voice nearly shattered her composure. As it was, she had to swallow hard and blink rapidly, reaching out to grip his shoulder firmly with her free hand. His entire thin frame twitched at the contact, but he did not attempt to pull away. His pale skin was warmer than any healthy human would feel; but with him, it was no fever. She realized it was due to the unnaturally hot blood that circulated from his iron-caged heart.
That heart was still Ikoma’s, all the same.
“It’s okay,” she told him gently, her lips turning up in a faintly pained smile. “I could never be scared to touch you, Ikoma. You’re still just you.”
She saw the moisture that rose at the corners of his eyes, and kindly pretended not to, as he bowed his head and shifted slightly to give her better access to his hair
Kajika had cut Ikoma’s hair before, when he was human. Steamsmiths in general tended not to be very good at self-care, and Ikoma was even worse, so fixated on his work that he barely even ate. When his dirty-blond locks would get so shaggy that her neat sensibilities couldn’t stand the sight of it anymore, she would sit him down and trim it back into decent shape. She was used to finding stray mats of machine grease or flecks of rust in it; but while it was rather neglected and had certainly never been silky, it was always soft enough in itself.
Now, though, she discovered the washing-out of its colors was not the only change to his hair. It had become more coarse and wiry than she could ever remember it feeling, the ends of it sticking up stubbornly even in places where it had not been snarled by the wind on top of the train. Little wonder it looked so much more ragged than it had before his transformation. The way it was now, it was sure to tangle all the more easily.
Mumei’s hair wasn’t like that. But then, her skin wasn’t quite as pale either, and the visible vein-trails running over it seemed to be fewer and less prominent than Ikoma’s. However she became a Kabaneri, it must have been somehow easier on her body than his own dire improvisation.
Poor Ikoma.
…It would be alright, though. Kajika would just have to make more sure than ever that he looked after himself—and even do it for him if she had to.
If he was going to take care of everyone on the Kotetsujo in ways they couldn’t do for themselves, he deserved no less in turn. And not just by way of being provided with blood. He also needed the simple, ordinary care he had never thought to properly give himself.
Gently and diligently, being mindful not to pull or cause pain, Kajika worked her comb through the knots in Ikoma’s hair until she had dispensed with every one. After she was finished with those more challenging efforts, she went on to smooth his hair as best she could, stroking and slicking the rough strands until they even recovered a bit of shine.
When she was done, she wrapped her arms around Ikoma’s shoulders from behind, giving him a quick firm hug that squeezed a faint noise of surprise out of him. “You should get some rest now, okay?”
Still mostly turned away from her, the Kabaneri ducked his head almost bashfully. His fingers barely touched the slim forearm that was pressed over his collarbone, as if the contact itself was a whispered thank-you. “…Yeah.”
Kajika let go and returned to her bunk then. As she gingerly resettled herself, sleepy children shifted and snuggled around her like iron filings drawn to a magnet. She made sure to look over each of them before she laid back, and only then darted another glance at Ikoma. He had crawled up into his own bunk, and was not looking in her direction, but she could see the soft smile on his lips as he ran his fingers through his now-glossy forelock.
With a warm feeling that had nothing to do with the little bodies cuddling around her, Kajika smiled too, and closed her eyes.
2020 Jordanna Morgan
Author:
jordannamorganFandom: Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress
Characters: Kajika and Ikoma.
Setting: The evening after episode four.
Rating: G.
Length: 1,674 words.
Summary: When there is finally a moment’s peace, Kajika tends to the little things.
Notes: Also for “Grooming” at
genprompt_bingo.As the weight of a small body shifted against her thigh, Kajika blinked her eyes open, to realize with faint chagrin that she had dozed off where she sat.
In the next instant, that first moment of drowsy bemusement was swept away by a hyper-alert frisson of caution. After all the fear and chaos of the last two days—the fall of Aragane Station, the unrest caused on the train by the presence of the Kabaneri, and at last the deadly Kabane attack in the mountains that nearly doomed them all—it was only natural to come awake wondering what could be wrong now. Yet as Kajika glanced around to see the orphans sleeping peacefully beside her on the bunk, she began to relax, assured that the remaining survivors of Aragane really were safe for the moment.
Thanks to the Kabaneri.
Her eyes wandered farther. Mumei was curled up on the opposite side of the pile of children, with only a bit of her mop of brown hair poking out above the cape she’d drawn over herself. Across the compartment, Takumi lay sprawled and lightly snoring as well; but Ikoma was still awake, sitting cross-legged on the deck beside his best friend’s bunk.
The sight of him lifted most of the remaining weight from Kajika’s heart. She wasn’t sure whether he was entirely okay just yet; having gone from socially-outcast steamsmith to unjustly-feared “monster” to accepted hero in little more than a day, he couldn’t have begun to have time to process all the change and trauma he had endured. However, all that mattered right now was that he too was safe and free. He and Mumei would not be abandoned or locked away again merely because they were different—because that difference was the strength that had enabled them to save the Kotetsujo.
At the moment Ikoma’s attention was focused on a sheaf of mismatched papers that lay spread across his lap. Kajika recognized them as the last remainder of his research, the weapons designs and Kabane-biology notes he had toiled over for five years… and very nearly lost. When he fled his house for the Kotetsujo, fresh off his first fight with a Kabane and his desperate attempt to save himself from its bite, he was in too much of a daze to even feel the changes in his body—much less think about taking anything with him but his newly-proven piercing gun. Instead it was Takumi who somehow had the presence of mind to snatch up every scattered page he saw on their way out the door. He’d been carrying them tucked away under his belt the whole time, until he was finally able to return them to Ikoma earlier that day.
Ikoma was overjoyed to learn that something of his work was saved, and Kajika could understand why. His very survival, and his early successes in battle with the weapon he had created, were proof that he was right all along—and more importantly, that he truly did have a new hope to offer humanity. The greatest possibilities for defeating the Kabane did not lie in the physical abilities he had gained, but in the brilliant mind he’d always had. Having at least some of his old notes meant he would not have to reassemble his information from square one again.
Silently watching him, Kajika felt her glad smile begin to tighten into a frown of thoughtfulness. Ikoma looked… well, at least better than he had before his trek across the train roof that morning. He’d finally gotten the chance to clean himself up properly, and the wounds this had revealed beneath layers of blood and grime were almost fully healed already. She did wish that getting some of his terrible new nourishment in him would do more for his color; but with his starvation sated at last, his hands were as steady as they used to be back in Aragane Station’s train yard, and there was a much healthier brightness behind the eerie scarlet sheen of his eyes.
Her lips quirked as she saw that Ikoma’s right hand was raised to his temple, fingers idly tugging at the thick forelock that had mysteriously turned snow-white in his change. The way he was playing with it seemed a little… distracted. She had noticed that even the rest of his hair was a bit lighter in color and looked rougher now, but with the chance to finally study him at length, she could make out the lumpiness of mats and snarls in it. He had washed it along with the rest of him, but any efforts he made to comb and straighten it after his windy train-roof excursion had clearly been less than successful.
Kajika’s smile returned. Carefully she eased little Sayo’s head off her lap. She slipped from her bunk, and fished underneath it for the comb she had been using on the orphans’ hair—more because they had needed the comfort of such a soothing physical contact than actual grooming. Then she quietly moved toward Ikoma.
Deep in his reading, Ikoma didn’t react to her approach for a moment. If the quickness of his eyes was anything like Mumei’s now, surely he detected her movements, but he must have thought she had some other action in mind. Only when she knelt beside him did he turn with a small start, blinking curiously behind his glasses. His hand was still fisted into his hair.
“Let me help you with that,” she said softly and warmly, holding up the comb.
His reaction broke her heart just a little. Red-brown eyes widened into a startled stare at her hands, his indrawn breath hitching with some unidentifiable emotion. He was looking at her as if she had just reached out to pet a coiled serpent.
“Kajika…”
The tiny quiver in his voice nearly shattered her composure. As it was, she had to swallow hard and blink rapidly, reaching out to grip his shoulder firmly with her free hand. His entire thin frame twitched at the contact, but he did not attempt to pull away. His pale skin was warmer than any healthy human would feel; but with him, it was no fever. She realized it was due to the unnaturally hot blood that circulated from his iron-caged heart.
That heart was still Ikoma’s, all the same.
“It’s okay,” she told him gently, her lips turning up in a faintly pained smile. “I could never be scared to touch you, Ikoma. You’re still just you.”
She saw the moisture that rose at the corners of his eyes, and kindly pretended not to, as he bowed his head and shifted slightly to give her better access to his hair
Kajika had cut Ikoma’s hair before, when he was human. Steamsmiths in general tended not to be very good at self-care, and Ikoma was even worse, so fixated on his work that he barely even ate. When his dirty-blond locks would get so shaggy that her neat sensibilities couldn’t stand the sight of it anymore, she would sit him down and trim it back into decent shape. She was used to finding stray mats of machine grease or flecks of rust in it; but while it was rather neglected and had certainly never been silky, it was always soft enough in itself.
Now, though, she discovered the washing-out of its colors was not the only change to his hair. It had become more coarse and wiry than she could ever remember it feeling, the ends of it sticking up stubbornly even in places where it had not been snarled by the wind on top of the train. Little wonder it looked so much more ragged than it had before his transformation. The way it was now, it was sure to tangle all the more easily.
Mumei’s hair wasn’t like that. But then, her skin wasn’t quite as pale either, and the visible vein-trails running over it seemed to be fewer and less prominent than Ikoma’s. However she became a Kabaneri, it must have been somehow easier on her body than his own dire improvisation.
Poor Ikoma.
…It would be alright, though. Kajika would just have to make more sure than ever that he looked after himself—and even do it for him if she had to.
If he was going to take care of everyone on the Kotetsujo in ways they couldn’t do for themselves, he deserved no less in turn. And not just by way of being provided with blood. He also needed the simple, ordinary care he had never thought to properly give himself.
Gently and diligently, being mindful not to pull or cause pain, Kajika worked her comb through the knots in Ikoma’s hair until she had dispensed with every one. After she was finished with those more challenging efforts, she went on to smooth his hair as best she could, stroking and slicking the rough strands until they even recovered a bit of shine.
When she was done, she wrapped her arms around Ikoma’s shoulders from behind, giving him a quick firm hug that squeezed a faint noise of surprise out of him. “You should get some rest now, okay?”
Still mostly turned away from her, the Kabaneri ducked his head almost bashfully. His fingers barely touched the slim forearm that was pressed over his collarbone, as if the contact itself was a whispered thank-you. “…Yeah.”
Kajika let go and returned to her bunk then. As she gingerly resettled herself, sleepy children shifted and snuggled around her like iron filings drawn to a magnet. She made sure to look over each of them before she laid back, and only then darted another glance at Ikoma. He had crawled up into his own bunk, and was not looking in her direction, but she could see the soft smile on his lips as he ran his fingers through his now-glossy forelock.
With a warm feeling that had nothing to do with the little bodies cuddling around her, Kajika smiled too, and closed her eyes.
2020 Jordanna Morgan