He wonders if there's a time when every inhabitant of the city is asleep- every little citizen drifting off in unison. He wonders whether it would be peaceful or unsettling or both- without a single soul stirring, the night would be oh so silent. Of course, there's always someone awake, but wouldn't it be a sight to behold?
Sleep, unfortunately for Kano, isn't something he really has the luxury to enjoy.
Sleep means dreams, and dreams, more often than not, mean memories. Which isn't inherently a bad thing- memories are bits and pieces of the past, images and sounds of moments once lived and really, what good is living without memories? But for him, not all memories are things to be treasured.
Dreams used to be place of solace, a welcome relief from the results of that hidden flask in the back of the cabinet (he thought maybe he should be ashamed- good children don't desire something other than the life their parents provide for them, right?).
He would dream of smiles- smiling children, a smiling mother, a smile- a genuine smile- of his own. He would dream of the world, of all the little places he'd never heard of, of all the undiscovered hills and valleys, and he would dream of a house made of gold instead of tired cracking wood.
Sleep of course would be followed by another day- sometimes filled with a monster in the place of a mother, other times with a mom who would make him breakfast and patch up his injuries (injuries of his own fault of course- a trip down the stairs or a fall from a tree, anything other than the doings of the kind, kind person repairing the damage); until one day he fell into a sleep he thought would last forever, the screams of his mom and blurry figured robber the last things he'd experienced, and when he 'woke up' he found he never wanted to sleep again.
He was tired for a long time after that.
Alone in that room, the three little monsters of 107 hardly slept at all. Kido would wake with yells of fire. Seto would cry himself into consciousness. Kano was the quiet one, the strong one. His sobs were silent and his fears were unspoken- he didn't have the heart to wake anyone and force his dreams onto the others.
His dreams softened greatly when Ayano came into their lives.
She was a beacon of happiness in his little world, a light that reached unknown places. She would wake him from his nightmares and whisper words of comfort in his ear, hold him until he fell asleep in embrace so different from the one he used to know (when the monster was gone and his mom returned she would apologize for it's misdoings, rock his sore body and cry into his shoulder and promise it wouldn't happen again). Sleep was comforting, relaxing, and despite the few bumps along the way, he loved almost every minute of it.
And then Ayano was gone. She'd disappeared from their lives as quickly as she'd appeared. He had watched her disappear, seen her last smile and her last tears and his yells had gone unheeded.
He saw her smiles in his dreams and he felt the guilt suffocate him awake.
Sleep is something foreign to him now- he avoids it as much as he can, fills the late hours of the night and early hours of the morning with long walks and small adventures, anything to distract him from anxiety growing in his chest and the way his eyelids feel like lead.
Chill night air keeps him alert, and false smiles keep him alive.
His boots carry a rhythm echoing down the empty street and he wonders how much longer he can last before he has to close his eyes again.