Katya Edition: Second Edition

Forty Third Corpse: A Younger Brother's Place

"I couldn't tell you."

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Forty-Third Corpse | A Younger Brother's Place

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[Z-Day+19 | May.03 | 11:35Hrs]

My eyes twitched uncontrollably as I tried to ignore Mia's giggling while she stood behind Yamada, adjusting his posture and causing the delicate boy to snort with laughter caused by his stimulated tickle spots. His face was always bright red in her presence and she always looked happy when she was teaching him how to use an arrow and bow. Turns out Mia had basic self-defense training, and she took archery. So, it turned from Thomson and I teaching everyone to Thomson, Mia and me teaching Remi, Dante and Yamada respectively.

Mia wasn't as versed in martial arts as Thomson and me, but I guess that worked out in everyone's favor since her pupil was one who was martially challenged. But still...

Did they have they make people's teeth ache like this?! What the hell was with this sweet atmosphere?!

Dante coughed lightly, drawing my eyes back to him. His light brown eyes seemed to glow in the bright morning sun, clearly revealing the laughter within. "Um, you're...grinding your teeth again..." He murmured softly. He coughed at the end and covered his mouth, but I could still see the corners of his lips curling up at the corners. I rolled my eyes but couldn't get annoyed at him. He was much more open to me now than the day we first made it to the amusement park and when he wasn't with Remi, he was with me so you could say he grew on me a bit.

Dante was fragile, but not in a baby bird way like Yamada. He was more like an abused...puppy. Yamada was fragile because he hadn't grown up yet. Dante was fragile because he'd grown up too soon. It made their vulnerability totally different in nature and as such needed different approaches. I could be rough with Yamada because it helped him grow, but I needed to be careful with Dante so he could realize that I was trustworthy. It was a...different feeling, but not unfamiliar. There was someone else who was similar to that before—me.

"You're surprisingly fixated on the striking arts I show you," I commented on my observation over the past few days.

He tugged on a few loose strands of hair near his nape, lowering his eyes from mine. "I don't have the technical know-how for anything else," he pointed out, "I figured if I needed to learn anything, it might as well be the thing that causes the most damage, right?"

"Depends on who you ask but striking isn't always the thing that causes the most damage. A well-placed hold and the right kind of pressure could dislocate a shoulder and trust me—those hurt like a bitch," I said with a wry smile, touching my own shoulder in an unconscious gesture.

Dante's eyes zeroed in on my unintentional action before flickering to my face. His expression suddenly became complicated and I noticed his fists clenching and unclenching several times before he finally spoke again, his words so soft, they could get lost on the wind, "So...which one...makes you...feel the most secure?"

My eyes flashed and my grip on my shoulder momentarily became tighter before I let my hand drop to my side, limply swaying. I lowered my eyes from his expectant, almost desperate glance and said softly, "Keep working on your kicks, punches and blocks, and you'll get there eventually."

"Okay," he said softly, sounding determined. I turned away from him, heaving a silent sigh. I really couldn't bear to tell him that I'd only started feeling secure after realizing that I had the capability to take someone's life before they could place me in any kind of danger. Dante needed to feel safe, not become a murderer.