"My song is a prayer…" said a soft voice, a dreamy, hazy muffle making the whispered, dark words even more eerie. "The melody is a power…" The voice said again, this time the pitch rose, into one of sorrow and pain. Something seemed to be scaring this voice. "Pray hark to my song of battle." The voice said. Muffled footsteps suddenly filled the air. The voice huffed loudly, and was gone.

"Pray answer and follow my will, my will…" said a new voice. This one sounded younger, but it still had the tone… a tone of impending death. No more muffled footsteps of the other voice could be heard. A blur of yellow shot up. "I shall never die!" It screamed, panic, death, and yet, defiance, edged into the cry.

"NO! No!" yelled a different voice. It was deeper than the last two, a male's, crying out in desperation. A quick streak of silver, loud footsteps, a flash of sudden green, and a sickly gush of red filled the man's ears and eyes. All of it was bright, distorted, and hazy…

The man's eyes snapped open suddenly. The voices were gone, and he felt a sickly pit form in his stomach. It was dark now, stars over-head, cold, clear, and real. Nothing was as bright anymore… But everything still had a sleepy blur to it. The man looked around. He was on a dusty, old street in the middle of an abandoned town. He felt a hand on his chest, pinning him down. He looked up; it was a black gloved hand. A boy stood above him, holding him down

"It's me, it's Len," Said the boy. "It was a dream, Kaito, nothing less."

Kaito panted hard, still reeling from his dream. It wasn't really a dream, but Len, being so young, did not need to know. "I'm sorry, Len…"

Len lifted his hand off off kaito's chest, and for the first time, he noticed a sore spot. Len sighed. "No problem. But I have to say, you are one loud sleeper. I had to hold you down to keep you from hurting yourself... or me for that matter."

Kaito breathed hard; slightly embarrassed that he had to be held down in his sleep. And by a kid, no less. One that was six years younger than him. Kaito sighed."I was having that nightmare again." He said. "The one about Miku, and R-." His voice caught on itself, making the last word come out a sharp gag. He brushed off his blue hair and stared at Len, blushing.

Len's eyes turned mournful. "I know who," he said solemnly, lifting up his black gloved hand, unpinning Kaito. "You were sleep-mumbling… Very loudly at that." Len looked around quickly, his blonde hair shaking wildly. "But we can't linger here much longer." He said harshly. "If it's true what you said a few hours ago, we must go, master my already be dead, and if that's true, we would have failed."

Kaito stood up, nodded in agreement, brushed off his long, white and blue coat, and, along with Len, suddenly vanished away, leaving only swirling dust behind.

The two suddenly appeared on a high wall, miles away from where they just were moments ago. Stretched out below was a beautiful, green yard, shimmering in the light of the full moon. A gentle breeze stirred the many exotic flowers in the elaborate, traditional Japanese garden. The only noise was wind and a gently jiggling wind chime. Kaito looked around the courtyard below. Nothing stirred except for the plants.

Kaito thumbed at his sword scabbard as he looked around. "I guess he's not here yet, " he murmured quietly, half to himself.

Len nodded. "Yes," he said, and then he paused. "Wait, Kaito, who exactly is he?" When Kaito didn't answer, Len sighed. "Kaito, I greatly envy you… I envy you for know who really killed Miku, and whom really destroyed my sister for life. Kaito, it might not seem like it now, but you're very lucky to know these things. You lucky to know how hold a grudge against, even though it is against our code… I wish that I was you."

Kaito didn't look up. "Yea," he breathed in response. "Lucky." The two boys looked at each other slowly, nodded, and descended with absolute silence into the green grass and bushes below. But, if, in that small instance, had Len looked closely at Kaito's face, he would have seen the grief, sorrow and pain of really knowing who etched into his brow.

TO BE CONTINUED…