They were all dolls, used for nothing more than their creator's enjoyment. It was sickening, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't fight the urge to return to get praised, rewarded for another job well done.
It all changed when he came. He brought my carefully created reality crashing to the ground. He was the first human who wasn't to be killed, who served a purpose to the Creator. He was unique in every way from his snow-white hair to the red scar on the right side of his face, but more importantly in the way that he breathed and moved without someone to pull his strings. He was enviable, and Kanda hated him for his freedom.
All the smiles he gave and the determination he had to win, they were all so full of hope that it made Kanda cry on the inside about what he'd become, what'd he'd done. Even that damn rabbit cried at the boy's actions.
That damn hope, no one had any left. They knew that to hope was to dream of freedom, something that they never could or would have.
The worst part was how he reacted to our actions, our pained tears. Those startling twilight eyes would glisten with tears of their own, the liquid escaping and rolling down pale cheeks. It was like looking into shattered mirrors when the boy cried. And it hurt[how it hurt! to watch the boy cry. It hurt more than knowing that they could never be free.
To Kanda it hurt more than anything else, it hurt so much that he made it his vow, his reason for living his false life, to protect the boy. Protect him from the harsh reality of what they all really were, to fight the tears that fell from his twilight eyes.
If protecting him meant destroying his image in that pure mind then so be it. Even if it made him hate his very own existence, even if it killed him a little more inside every time the boy would glare at him, called him a heartless bastard. He would persevere if only to protect the small innocent boy who had unknowingly stumbled into their world of marionettes.