content, author's note edited as of April 14, 2011; warning untouched.
Warning: It's depressing, and it may spoil some things.
He spent his waking hours in a daze, paying little attention to the day-to-day life at the Order. His focus was on not bumping into things, eyes trained on what little he could see beyond the red obscurities that danced in his vision.
Training provided momentary relief, when he donned the blindfold and plunged himself into momentary darkness. Then, all focus was on the target he couldn't see but only sense. Then, he was one with his sword, with no obscurities, no distractions, just the calm oblivion and the welcome feeling of Mugen slicing through whatever target. Sometimes, this strange repose lasted longer, when he would tire himself to the brink of exhaustion and his sleep would be untroubled. He paid little attention to the others – even Lavi couldn't annoy him for long – and while he knew they whispered to each other when his back was turned, they kept away.
Whatever moments of sleep he caught were brief and restless, and always fraught with terrible memories. Memories of Alma, especially. In his more lucid moments, he wondered if the reason he disliked Allen Walker so much was because the moyashi reminded him so much of the almost-friend he had had half his lifetime ago. But that was when he was lucid, which wasn't very often now.
The rest of the time he was somewhere between these two states, sitting by the foot of his bed with his head thrown back. During this time, the door to his room was locked and he would watch the light streaming into the room from his single window. When he did this, the clouds that always loomed in his sight seemed only to be a decorative pattern on the wall. He liked this state the most: It was something like meditation, only his mind wasn't calm, just subdued. Dazed, he thought, was probably the right word for it.
Then there would be a knock on his door, and he would rise. He would place the sword that had lain at his feet on this bed and answer it. He would talk to whoever it was, usually someone delivering a message from Komui, and he would do whatever he felt was necessary. And after, he would return to his little daydream state, maybe shut his eyes, and pretend for a few brief moments that none of it had ever happened.
Author's Note: Because Kanda makes everyone cry.