He slips into her room when a nurse's back is turned, quiet and nimble as a cat, the door shutting silently behind him. The room is all but noiseless, the stillness of this autumn afternoon broken only by the occasional beep from a heart monitor. In this room's single bed lies a sleeping girl, pale and still, looking so near death that the occasional beeps of life may come as a surprise to her unexpected visitor. But this girl, this dark-haired killer, still sleeps with the hope - or is it the risk? - of waking, still lives without moving from her nest of starched white sheets.

Kanone stands at the foot of Charlotte's bed and smiles grimly. This pose - dry lips pressed together, hands folded neatly behind his back - will become a signature of his in his later years, when he turns from the others and thinks of himself as a hunter instead of prey. But at this moment, his mind is troubled and loyalties strained, and his appearance at the end of a sleeping girl's bed remains a foreshadowing of his difficult future.

Ryouko and Rio have told him everything. And while he trains them to fight, to defend their lives, he still cannot help but look at this so-called "reluctant killer" and wonder if her thoughts, her intentions... perhaps they were truer than his. Perhaps... she was right.

He wonders if the Blade Children should be killed. He wonders, sometimes, what will happen if they do reach the age of 20, if the "switch" is flipped, if their murderous blood awakes and they lose all control of their bodies and minds. Are they bound to die? Or will they kill others? Will they purify the world, or simply lose their own lives in a hail of bullets?

He stands at Charlotte's bed and wonders what there is to dream about.

"Wake up," he murmurs, and feels it is futile. If she does return to life... what will there be for her to return to? What is there for any of them to find, if they continue this struggle? Will they live, or die? Will they find hope to defeat these internal demons, or are they bound to a fate that is irreversible and unrelenting?

Kanone feels, somehow, that if anyone is bound to understand his thoughts... it will be this girl. He craves, for a moment, to have her by his side. There is a painful loneliness that strikes him at times, and he feels that having this person beside him would somehow... perhaps... fill a little of that void. This girl who has killed, known the felt of blood on her hands; this girl who has experienced the same loss and prevailing sadness that accompanies existing as one of the "cursed children"...

"It's time to wake up, Charlotte."

But she does not stir, and he decides to leave. It is futile. He wonders, as he slips back into the hallway of the quiet hospital, if it is all futile.

Perhaps she should stay asleep.