I would like to start off by saying that all opinions of Kanda Yuu are not my opinions. Just saying that now. Also, I would like to thank those who alerted, reviewed and / or put this story on their favorites. This pairing, obviously, is uncommon. Let's see how it turns out, shall we?

~O~

2. Kanda Yuu

Kanda Yuu refused to waste time.

Every morning, he awoke at five in the morning and enjoyed two cups of tea before doing anything else. Then, he proceeded to take a shower for no more than five minutes, dried himself off, took ten seconds to walk from the shower to his room, and changed into a black suit with a black tie, topped off with black shoes. He ate a piece of toast before reaching for his suitcase, prepared the previous day, and left his house for his two-mile walk towards his company.

When he arrived, every day at eight, he got his schedule from his best friend / worst enemy, Lavi Bookman. The report consisted of meetings, expected market swings, and anything else important pertaining to that specific day. Sometimes Kanda stopped and asked about the weather for the next day, considering how the idiot knew everything better than everyone, and typically he was right (once, however, when he had a headache, he predicted a sunny day for the next day. In truth, it hailed golf balls). Afterward, he secluded himself in his office and typed away at his typewriter or signed his signature for approvals or disapproval.

Lunch time went by quickly. He had a dish of soba noodles for lunch and finished it under ten minutes before going off to his first meeting. All meetings he held was inside the building. Leaving the building to the next in line, in other words, Lavi, was out of the question, especially since the crashing market didn't look promising. He only left once, and, though nothing bad happened, he decided that was the first and last time he took a road trip. No one could convince him otherwise.

After two meetings (talking to so many idiots in one day made him unable to deal with more than two, maybe three of the pointless gatherings), he finished up some reports, started on some new ones, got ideas from fellow co-workers, and dropped off the clipboard at Lavi's desk.

The clipboard symbolized Kanda's end for the day.

Then, he walked the two miles back home, ate dinner, took a bath for no more than half an hour, and started to get ready for the next day. Everything to his actions had purpose. He wanted nothing more than perfect harmony for each day, and wasting a second meant ruining a good day.

People accused him of insanity. Others said he was a workaholic.

Kanda, though, viewed himself smarter than anyone else.

After all, the only thing that mattered in the end was being on top.

~O~

October 27th, 1929.

Lavi stared at his superior with his wide, unblinking eye as the man paced in front of him, enraged. He didn't know what caused it. He didn't even see who that person was that dared to enter Kanda's office, nor did he hear what they talked about, but he never saw Kanda so angry in his life. Worse yet, he had devastating news to tell him that could throw Kanda into utter hatred for the rest of the day. Last time that happened, he found a glass of wine embedded in his right eye.

"Uh, Yuu?"

"Don't you dare."

The man continued to pace until he stopped in front of his desk, the refurnished wood a nice addition to the space. He slammed a fist onto the desk, the papers on top of the desk, and caused the pen on the stack to clatter onto the floor. "What," he muttered, "the hell? How is this happening? How is this happening now, of all times?" His permanent frown deepened as he turned to the redhead. "What do you want?"

He shuffled his feet—a habit of his when he became nervous. "Well, I came to tell you about something... not so good."

"Che." He picked up a glass of tea and took a sip, Lavi internally cringing and waiting for the shards to splatter all over his remaining eye. "Nothing about this day is good. What is it?"

"The market is going to crash to its lowest point in two days."

"How sure are you?"

"As positive as a lithium battery placed the right way inside a Rolex watch," he said. "It's pretty bad. Unemployment's gonna sky-rocket. We might have to cut some of our own staff just to stay out of the red area. Man, I can't believe we're gonna be in the red. We've never been there before."

"A lot of places haven't."

He sighed as he sat down in his chair, black like nearly everything else he owned. A groan escaped him while he sipped at his tea, his eyes squeezed shut. He had a headache already, and it wasn't even lunch time yet.

"Yuu... Are you okay?"

"No. No, I'm not okay." He placed the glass down after hearing a small crack. His strength often got the best of him when he got angry. "The company's going to get taken away from me, if I'm not careful. Someone's trying to buy us out."

"Now?" He shook his head. "That's impossible, and you know that. With the market in such a state, there's no way—"

"It's the perfect opportunity for bigger, vulture-like companies to take the little remains off a carcass of a smaller business. It's all about making money." He grimaced. "It's all about survival, too, at this rate. And we're not going to make it." He picked up his suitcase and shoved papers and crammed manilla folders into it. "I'm leaving tonight."

"You're what? Wait, on such a short notice? But—"

"If you want a job next week," he whispered harshly, grabbing the redhead by the collar, "I have to leave now. You're a genius, aren't you? You can handle it. Che." He let go of his accountant and hefted up his jacket.

"Who's trying to buy us?" Lavi asked when he managed to calm himself down.

"A car company."

"Wha? Why do they want an insurance company that's locally owned?"

"Money. Why else? I'll see you in a few days."

"Yuu."

The Japanese man stopped. "What?"

"...Take care, okay?"

"Che. What are you, my mother?"

He left his office and the redhead as he pulled out a full-round trip to New York. The trip took longer than by car because of all the stops and the slow pace the train had. Even cars were slow, and the downside to cars was gas. The things guzzled gas like a baby guzzled milk from his or her mother's breast. He never liked New York. They always won the damned World Series.

One of these days, the Red Soxs would win.

The stock market'll crash in two days, huh? He chuckled a little. Those bastards in New York, they won't even know what hit them. I'll make sure they stall their decision for a week so that their final death blow falls swiftly on their heads, and not mine.

~O~

New York City, New York.

A bustling metropolis of utter bullshit, as Kanda liked to say. The rivalry between Massachusetts and the infamous "Big Apple" ran deep for decades, possibly longer. What he hated most was the accents of New York. Why the hell would anyone brag about being from Brooklyn? Who the hell cared? No one, that's who, and New York exemplified that accent like a proud father exemplified his honor-roll student of a daughter to everyone he met.

New York City had massive amounts of people in it. Kanda hated people. Granted, Boston was not much better, but about a four-hour train ride could take any people from Boston to Portland, Maine, to hide away from the big city noises. New York had New Jersey, and New Jersey was the light at the end of the tunnel labeled "HELL" when you died. Nothing good south of Massachusetts was worth mentioning.

And the sidewalks of New York, chock-full of rude people who shoved one another! He couldn't stand such disrespect. Disrespectful people deserved a spot in Dante's Inferno, but that witty bastard would probably disagree with him. Perhaps, even, he might send Kanda down to the last circle of hell where Brutus resided for betraying a friend. He did, after all, make Lavi go blind in one eye. His reasoning was justified, though. No one called him by his first name when he realized that an idea he worked on for ages was doomed to be faulty forever.

No one else understood his logic.

No one ever did.

He glanced at his watch as he stepped out of his hotel the next morning. The overcast sky made for pleasant sight-seeing. He had about half an hour left before meeting with the Board of Executives, and the head of the car company, Malcolm C. Leverrier. He knew of his reputation, the way he manipulated other business's to do his whim, but he refused to allow Leverrier to hold any form of control over him.

He would keep his company until his own death.

He got a cup of coffee from a local business. The sign on the door said it was going out of business, a tale of every small business in the heart of every city. The government had to step in at some point, he figured, and President Coolidge was the one who had to do it, or whoever was running the country.

The front doors of the towering building beckoned him forward. He stared them down as he pushed his way through them, approaching the front desk. A young woman, possibly Chinese, looked up and smiled. Her blotchy eyes told him she either got in a fight or she got bad news, but she smiled at him nonetheless. For whatever reason, she looked awfully familiar. "Hello, can I be of service to you?"

"I am to meet Malcolm Leverrier at 8:30. Is he here?"

A hand grasped him on the shoulder from behind, a tall man standing behind him. Kanda blinked once as the girl behind the counter shrunk a little. Standing behind the man were several others, all dressed in sharp suits that put Kanda to shame. He stood his ground, however, as the man began to spoke, a wry smile on his face.

"I am Leverrier," he said. "And I take it that you are Kanda Yuu, correct? Please, follow me to my office. We have a great deal to talk about. Ah, Lenalee." He smiled at her. The smile made him want to punch the scary fucker into the sun. "About the reports... Could you re-do them? They lack sufficient detail about section six. Thank you. This way, Sir Kanda."

He eyed the girl who sat behind the front counter as he got pushed towards the stairs. She looked back at him with pleading eyes, as if asking him to help her. He continued to stare at her until he walked up the stairs, following the lead of Leverrier and leading the way for his four other associates. They reached, after several flights, the twelfth floor, where only a long hallway carpeted with red awaited them. The doors swung open by two attendants dressed in white, bowing as Leverrier walked by.

Kanda didn't like the situation at all.

"Sit down, if you may." Leverrier sat behind one of five large desks in front of windows that domed up to the ceiling. He spotted a pigeon flying overhead, one of its feathers snapping off and falling onto the slick glass. It slid down the side until the wind picked it up, whisking it away. He focused his attention back onto his hosts as he sat down, prepared for anything. None of them looked pleasant, nor did they look willing to compromise.

"Would you like anything to drink? We have a vast array of tea you could enjoy. Oh! I just happened to make yesterday a pineapple upside-down cake. Would you like a taste?"

"No, thank you."

He shook his head. "Shame, you're really missing out."

Kanda stared at him as a folder thudded onto the table. Some papers nearly escaped, but the weight of the entire stack kept it together. "What's this?"

"I've been keeping track," he replied with a devilish smile, "of your company's assets. You aren't doing so well right now, are you? People are trying to collect as much money as they can from insurance companies like you, from banks and private funds. Well, you're running out of money to pay back to people, aren't you? Houses are foreclosing, and you, you're caught in the middle of it. How much longer do you think you'll last without help, hm? A week? Three? Maybe a month? No longer than two months, I think."

"And what makes you think that?"

"Well, people aren't getting any richer. Who do you think they'll turn to to take out their life insurance? Their parents? Their children? No, they'll be looking to you, my friend. And when you let them down, no one will think twice of returning. What are you going to do when that happens?"

Kanda said nothing. He couldn't determine if the question was rhetorical or not. Deep down, he had no idea what he could do. They were falling into the red, falling like a piano dropped by a crane, doomed to fall upon the little kid playing hopscotch all by himself. He cleared his throat. "I'll see what happens, then start from there. That's what we do."

Leverrier laughed. Chills shuddered up his spine as he gripped the edge of his chair, knuckles turning white from the amount of pressure applied. Something about the man made him feel powerless to stop him, no matter what he did. He wondered if it was the sharply-pressed suit or the bad hair cut. Perhaps, though, it was the amount of affluence the man had, and the way he waved it around like a witch's wand, cursing people wherever he went. "You'll just go from there!" he repeated, wiping a small tear from his eye. "That's the best joke I've heard yet! You couldn't possibly survive."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" He didn't want to ask, but he didn't want to hear Leverrier mock him at every opportunity, either.

He stabbed a fork into his cake and chewed thoughtfully. Obviously, he had a plan in his head, but thinking made for innocence. Already having a plan made someone suspicious. He swallowed. "Well," he said, "if I were you, I'd make a temporary contract with another company."

"Temporary."

"Oh, yes. They exist now." He pushed his plate aside, and one of the associates picked it up and left the room. "I'd strike a contract up with a well-off company who's still in the black. For example, we are in the black right now. If you strike up a contract with us, we will maintain your possession of your company until you don't need help anymore. However, it is expected you help us back if we need help. Tit for tat." The creepy smile forged on his face again. "What do you say?"

He stared at the stack of of papers and flipped through them. Indeed, they were detailed reports of his company and the assets it had. In the back, however, it had a report on him. He pulled it out of the stack and frowned. "How did you get all this information?"

"Easy." He smiled. "We asked people."

"Which people?" He paused. "What was his or her name?"

"People."

Kanda frowned as he read through the report. The details within, only one or two people knew, and the information on his abusive side—wait. He read the detail again and his eyebrows furrowed. One person knew of his abusive self, the demon he often hid away. Why would Lavi tell anyone about that, unless of course he got blackmailed. But, how? Lavi manipulated people on a regular basis, that's why Kanda kept him, and he never got manipulated himself. He had no weakness, not one he could think of off the top of his head. His mind reeled, trying not to show his conflicting thoughts inside his brain, until it landed on the girl behind the desk.

"Yeah, I got a new girlfriend. She's really cute. Her name's Lenalee Lee." He grinned. "Don't give me that look, Yuu. This time, I think I'm really in love. See?" He showed a picture of the girl. "Isn't she adorable? Chinese, I think, but it doesn't matter. I'll bring her up sometime!"

"...Shit," he muttered.

"What did you say?" Leverrier raised one of his slanted eyebrows.

"Nothing." He put his file back in the folder, eying it. "Nothing at all."

A paper replaced the folder, one with three empty lines at the bottom. He looked at the large letters at the top of the sheet—"CONTRACT."

"If you wish," Leverrier said, "sign at those three spaces."

A pen plopped onto the sheet. Kanda watched it roll towards him before it came to a stop near the edge of the desk. He did this on purpose. He put the folder to show his capabilities. He even managed to get Lavi to talk using a girl. This man was a blackmailer.

He picked up the pen, paused, then slammed it down onto the table, rising from his chair quick enough to topple it over. He stared his host directly in the eye, glaring, as the paper crumpled underneath his hand. "I think," he said, "we're done talking. Thanks for wasting my time."

Leverrier spat on his face, causing Kanda to reel back and glare. He knew not to hit him, or do anything, because then they had something against him. He picked up his suitcase off the floor and turned his back on him. "Che."

"You'll be back," Leverrier called after him, but Kanda didn't look back.

~O~

October 29th, 1929.

As Lavi predicted, the stock market crashed. Kanda didn't pay attention to that as he awaited a train that evening. He decided to go to a more rural route back to Boston. He had enough of New York City and the blackmailing bastards of companies controlling everything. He needed to talk to Lavi. No wonder he was so worried whenever he approached his desk. He wondered if he broke up with the girl named Lenalee. Probably not.

The train arrived, and a small crowd pushed through to board it. He got shoved into the back of the crowd, much to his hatred. Perhaps disrespect was everywhere in New York. He never wanted to come back. He handed his ticket to the conductor and got it hole-punched as he walked through the narrow halls of the locomotive. People crowded the first-class, so he seized the first seat he saw open. It resided between two walls to give privacy. Sitting in the other seat, however, was a dirty-looking girl whose blonde hair sprawled everywhere.

He frowned. Just his luck to sit next to a runaway.

He placed his suitcase underneath his chair, groaning to himself. Some trip that was, nearly getting trapped into a contract. The girl sitting beside him hugged herself and cried, cried quietly. His frown deepened. Just his luck to sit next to the wuss of a runaway.

The train pulled away from the station as it rained buckets. He watched out the window the darkened scenery rush by, his own reflection staring back at him from the lights inside the train. Rain raced down the glass. He looked away after awhile, tired.

The girl continued to cry.

Just his luck to sit next to a whiny, probably loveless and immigrated, probably poor and jobless, probably pathetic and needy, wuss of a runaway.

A runaway that would change his life forever, unbeknownst to him.

~O~

End of chapter 2. Thank you for reading it. If you would like, leave a review, alert, favorite, whatever suits your fancy, and that includes none of the above. After all, this is just an odd love story. Right? Heh... —Mr. Meenor