HI! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray-man. I also do not own 'Tsunaida te ni kiss wo' by Sanae Kobayashi.

Everything in this story is also a work of fiction, and so it does not have any correlation with with real people, places, or etc.

"Looks like there's going to be a Carnival coming soon." Mana said, looking at a leaflet stuck on the alleyway.

"Hmn," I answered half heartedly. Mana looked at me, and then sighed as he kept on walking.

Plit. Pitter-patter pit. The rain drizzled on top of us as we walked towards where Mana had said there would be free things. Splish. Splish. I kicked at the puddles on the ground with my shoes as I walked, thinking. It reminded me of when Mana and I had come out of Aunt's house after Uncle had drunken himself silly again. I was nine then, and was beaten often, so I could only remember gaps of it, but the conversation was still clear. I had asked Mana why Mother died, why she wasn't there anymore. Aunt had said that we were bad; that God felt pity for Mother that she had to be with us that he took her away. I'd argued with her, saying that God wouldn't do that, because God knew Mother loved us. Aunt hit me then. When I had asked, Mana had told me she had lied, looking grim.

"Where are we going?" I distinctly remember asking, because I remembered Mana's reply.

"Somewhere where you aren't ever going to get hurt by anyone." His face was cold, and his eyes wild. When Mother had read me a book when I was very little, there was an expression I didn't understand. The expression was "as cold as death", and it described a person's expression as such. Mother had explained that a dead person's body was cold, very cold, and so death was also very cold. At that moment, when I saw Mana's face, I knew what it meant that a person's gaze is "as cold as death". Mana's eyes seemed like it wanted to hurt someone, and I remember it had scared me. I'd remembered this when I found Mana after he had been beaten up by the vender. Mana had been so cold then, I was really scared.

"How about Mana?" I had asked while Mana remained silent. I had asked that because when Aunt had been in one of her better moods, she had told me that Mana had grown up too quickly for a child, closing his feelings too much. To the seven year old me, I had thought it unfair if I was happy and Mana was not. That was when I still called Mother 'Mama'. I grew up since then.

"Hey, look. We're here." Mana pointed to the boxes filled with old toys and books as we rounded a small, broken streetlamp. The objects inside the boxes were very old and worn. I looked up at him apprehensively.

"Go on, come on, take some of it." He said. "No one's ever probably going to use these again anyway." I rummage through it, and I find a book, a book that reminded me of home. When Mother been alive, she had owned a house, a ghost of a house that I barely remember, and there had been a book like this. Mana said that I didn't remember much about mother because I had been young when she died, but I was four then. In my foggy mire of memories, something about this book, with its weird squiggles and signs, its diagram of boxes that that are black and white arranged together in a row with words I can barely spell out, something was nostalgic. Images, mere pictures of slices of forgotten time, seemed to come from this book. A woman in a white dress−was it Mother?− was laughing−people dancing−people crying−

"I want this." I said, grasping the tattered book and hugging it to myself. My brother looked at me oddly.

"What, does it look interesting? It's a book on musical notes, you know." I nodded. He sighed.

"Fine. Well, it might be nostalgic to you since Mother played the piano when she was alive." I blinked. I had no recollection of that, but I nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want anything else?" Mana asked worriedly.

"Yup. What about Mana?" I looked up at him questioningly. Mana rarely ever took anything for himself. He noticed my concern.

"Well, there's a book and a few pens in here. I'll teach you how to read and write with those. Mother would have wanted you to know how, and these blankets… maybe they'll be useful. 'Kay then, let's go." He said bluntly, taking those items. In silence we returned to our shelter underneath the bridge, waiting until the thunderstorm ended.

"What do these dots mean?" I asked, mystified as I flipped through the pages, pointing at the different dots on five lines. Mana leaned closer.

"They're different notes."

"Notes?"

"Yeah, you know, like A and E." Mana bent his voice up and down, so that his voce became higher, then lower. I didn't understand.

"Like letters of the alphabet?"

"...yeah, something like that." Mana looked tired as he took off his coat, which was torn at places and sat on it. His gaunt face lolled, resting on his shoulder, eyes open, keeping watch. He looked over to me, who had been staring.

"Hey, you need to get some sleep." He took the coat and covered it over my head. It was slightly damp, but it was warm. I nodded, but under cover of the coat I watched my brother for a while. His shirt was off, like it always was when it was raining to let it dry, and he sat in fetal position, his elbows resting on his knees. His face was unreadable as it glared out into the rain, eyes staring far, far away.

"Hey, Mana." I said after a while. He turned his head and sighed.

"What, you still weren't asleep yet?"

"Mana, what's a piano?" He blinked.

"You don't remember?" He asked. I shook my head.

"It's like a horn, or flute, but bigger, and costs more." I nodded.

"Was there one when Mother was alive?" Mana's eyes seemed nostalgic, reminiscing.

"Yup," He said. "It was a grand white piano." Had I seen it before?

"Hey Mana, when did Mother die?"

"...when you were four. Then Aunt and Uncle took us in." Was there one there?

"Was it at Aunt's place?" Mana's eyes darkened, looking far away.

"No, because Aunt and Uncle sold it off."

"...I see. Did Mother play the piano?" I asked. I didn't quite understand why, but this piano object intrigued me.

"Of course, I told you she did. Anyway, she wouldn't be able to teach it to me if she couldn't play, now could she?" He looked at me oddly. "She used to sing, too. When we were little she'd sing us lullabies so that we'd fall asleep." Lullabies... It seemed nice. There was a silence.

"Mana?" I broke through the silence that Mana had created once more as he was recalling memories.

"What?"

"Sing me one." Mana blinked.

"Sing what?" I stifled a giggle at Mana's baffled voice.

"One of Mother's lullabies." I could imagine Mana's usually sullen face turning into a scowl. I smiled.

"No." He answered in a final way.

"Come on, Mana. Please?"

"No."

"Don't be a meanie!"

"No. You're ten years old! You're too old for lullabies." Mana said shortly.

"Don't make excuses! Just because you were born two years earlier, you were able to hear Mother's lullabies! I wasn't!" I retaliated. I supposed that that was a rather insensitive way to put it, but I was curious. Plus I didn't think before I spoke. I heard Mana sigh, overcome with guilt.

"Fine. But I can't sing a tune to save my life. You know that. So I'm only going to say the words, got it?" Mana sounded flustered.

"That's fine with me!" I said serenely. The image of Mana singing was rather amusing.

"If I remember it right, it was like this;

And then the little boy fell asleep

Among the ashes in the flames shining

First one, then two

A floating being, a beloved face

The thousands of dreams that trickle to earth

That night when the silver eyes tremble

The shining you was born

Across millions of years

However many prayers are returned to earth

I will continue to pray

That this child may know love

A kiss to the held hand."

There was a silence after Mana finished.

"It's a good poem...lullaby...thing." I said, yawning. "It made me sleepy." I heard Mana chuckle. I was half asleep when Mana spoke.

"Here, tomorrow night, let's go look at one." My eyes opened, slightly.

"What?" I replied sleepily.

"A piano." I didn't question why.

"..where?"

"There's a piano at that chapel church thing."

"...Really?"

"Yup."

"O-kay." I could no longer keep my eyes open, and I drifted off to sleep as I tried to ignore the rumblings of my stomach.

Note: Forte Piano is the original name for the piano. In music, forte tells the musician to play loudly, and piano tells the musician to play softly. The harpischord, which came before the piano, was popular during the Baroque era, but unlike the piano, it could only play in one dynamic (volume of sound or note) so it couldn't become louder or softer. Hence, when the piano was introduced it was called Forte Piano, or Piano Forte, due to its ability to let its notes become softer or louder.

Thank you for reading. It still has some ways to go until the action, but what do you think? I appreciate any feedback-!