I was oddly hungry the next morning, so I left for breakfast at the normal time – too early for much anyone else to be awake, but early enough for Allen to be present in a few minutes. The lights weren't on very brightly at this hour, although that gave me time to adjust to the day before it actually got here. I sat down peacefully at one of the far tables and fuzzily tried to remember what happened last night.

I still couldn't quite grasp my thoughts, so I rested my head on the table for a while. My ears drooped a little – all I could remember from the previous night was a bit of snow, ice, and some cold… not to mention –

I straightened my neck. The door whispered closed, nudged by a thin, gentle hand. The span of time it took Alma to blink and look at me felt like several minutes from how intensely I watched him.

I struggled to think of the right greeting, and realized I had done the same thing the night before. A bit flustered, I sat in silence.

"Hi again, Lucidia." Alma's soft smile made the rest of the room seem dark.

"Good morning, Alma," I finally stammered. Fortunately, I managed to compose myself a little more before Allen entered.

I gradually regained my ability to speak to Alma over the next few mornings. Each day when I arrived at the dining room he would be present, and not long after Allen would also appear. I never found out why Alma had been absent for several days before, but it didn't really matter what the reason was as long as he was still here now.

I sometimes met Alma in the hallways, too, at random intervals later in the day. These times I always stopped to at least exchange a few words; I concluded that, subconsciously, I valued any time I could see him or talk to him, since his presence was rather spontaneous and so I never knew when I might cross paths with him again. It took me a while to notice that he was only around when nobody much else was there.

I didn't bother counting the days, but at some point Allen came to breakfast several minutes later than usually. He approached Alma and me urgently, more so than on other days. I asked him what was wrong, and he replied that Chief Komui wanted to see us for a minute.

"Us?" I echoed. "As in… us three?"

"That was what he told me." Allen sounded equally perplexed.

Alma and I glanced at each other as though we were plotting something. A spark of anxiety flicked through his blue eyes – the idea of standing in front of Komui clearly wasn't an exciting one. I thought the same thing, mainly because I knew Komui could be a bit of a goof sometimes, but I couldn't be sure that Alma's reasoning was identical to mine. He was the first to stand up; I watched him carefully before following suit. My eyes had always been glued to his movements, not because I was trying to deduce anything about them, but because his motion seemed so different from that of everyone else. He carried himself confidently, but there was always a hint of instability in his posture. I couldn't quite think of why this might be so. At the time, I was unaware that I would soon get an opportunity to find out.

Komui turned out to be more serious than I had expected. The three of us present, accompanied by some Finder (I never paid much attention to them), were supposed to investigate again. The objective was similar to that of the expedition I had taken with Allen earlier, except thankfully it wasn't in the middle of the night. I was wondering why Komui had chosen us three, as in my opinion we were an odd team, but I didn't have the authority, let alone the confidence, to question him.

"And you will have to take the train on the way," Komui concluded, "so make sure you bring everything you might need."

"A train?" I repeated.

"Yes, a train." Komui appeared to wonder what was so surprising.

"Oh good." To be honest I was excited about riding a train – probably more so than I needed to be, but I didn't see anything bad coming from my being overenthusiastic.

Allen led me to what felt like a basement. When a bit of light returned, we were standing next to a deliberately carved underground waterway. I thought for a moment it might be a sewer, but the place was awfully clean, suggesting that it was used for transport more often than I had initially imagined.

With Timcanpy perched firmly on his shoulder, Allen stepped down into a long rowboat I hadn't noticed was there. "We'll head out as soon as Alma gets here."

"You mean now?"

I didn't even have to turn around to know that Alma had appeared behind me with a mischievous smile. I almost didn't bother to look back. At the last moment, I reconsidered, but by then his light footsteps had already landed in the boat.

When I finally did look at Alma, my ears went back for a moment. Had I not already known the answer, I would have asked why he was wearing a long, storm-gray cloak. I noticed how strange my perspective was; most people would wonder why their friends would go around wearing nothing, but here I was, perplexed by Alma suddenly concealing himself with a cloak. Everything logical was against me, so I kept my mouth shut. Still, I was a bit uncomfortable seeing Alma wear anything, as any other person might be uncomfortable seeing their friend without any clothes on. I decided to silence my brain before it could ramble any more.

I'm pretty sure I annoyed Allen on the train a little. I was very enthusiastic about sitting next to the window and watching the scenery, as though doing so would give me some important revelation on life.

My travel companions were silent. Again, I wondered what had possessed Komui to choose us three to go on any sort of mission: an expert exorcist, a simple human, and an akuma who was afraid of fighting. I wondered whether Komui was aware that Alma disliked conflict.

I turned my eyes away from the window. Allen appeared to be asleep; the Finder had evidently wandered off somewhere else; Alma was sitting alone opposite me, the long cloak completely hiding his body below his neck. His head drooped forward a little and his eyes were closed, but his expression wasn't soft enough for him to be sleeping. He looked terrible isolated resting there by himself.

I hadn't noticed before that the blue stripes on Alma's face started from his eyelids.

Forgetting the exciting world outside the train, I crossed noiselessly to the opposite seat and positioned myself next to Alma. Within moments his sky-blue eyes opened and turned gently to me.

"Can I sit here?" I asked quietly. "You look lonely sitting all the way over here."

"Sure." Alma's response was delayed, but he smiled softly. He was about to add on, but clearly decided against saying anything else.

"Do you sleep, Alma?" The question was unexpected, but I had been meaning to ask for a while; now seemed like a better time than any other.

He hesitated, and then shook his head slowly. "I can rest, or be unconscious, but nothing in between. No, I don't sleep."

So I don't have to worry about waking you up.

I waited a minute or so until the topic had left his mind. Then I started to wonder how close he would let me sit to him. Eventually I decided that I didn't need to furtively scoot over; just keeping him company was enough.

"Thanks, Lucidia." Something told me Alma had decided to voice something that had been on his mind since I sat down. "You're a nice girl."

I suddenly remembered the evening we had spent together several days ago. Alma had said the exact same thing then.

"Will you pet me again?" The sensation of his hand on my ears was my strongest memory from that meeting – even stronger than that of our hands together.

He didn't answer, but slowly extended his right hand from the gray mass of the cloak. I took that as a yes.

I closed my eyes and let his fingers run through the soft black fur on my ears. They flattened contentedly against my head, and I noticed myself leaning gradually towards Alma so that his stroke would be firmer. I briefly opened one eye to check my surroundings. Allen was still napping, and the Finder was still nowhere to be seen, so I let Alma pet my ears for a little while longer.

I almost didn't realize how silent it was with my ears pressed against my skull most of the time, but once I did I felt the need to say something. "I love you, Alma."

"I know."

Eventually his hand left my ears, but I couldn't tell when; I hadn't been keeping track of the time. Instinctively, I looked outside – the landscape was beginning to slow down a little. Either that or I was falling asleep.

"Are we almost there?" I inquired, somewhat dreamily. My ears still felt fuzzy where Alma had stroked them.

"I think so." His voice was still oddly quiet, as though he was nervous that someone would hear him.

The train ride was over rather quickly. It was awkward for me to watch Alma stand up when I could only see his head; I was so used to being able to watch his arms and legs and tail and everything move, too, that there was something unsettling about just looking at a gray blob with a head attached.

Now that we were actually at our destination I was beginning to get nervous. Was our task dangerous? Were we going to come across any violent akuma? Would we find Innocence? I somehow hoped we wouldn't split up, because the thought of being relatively alone in the middle of an unfamiliar place – even with Alma – was scary.

My ears stayed down as I looked around outside. There were few trees, and the land was rather flat, apart from a tall hill in the distance. Somewhere nearby there was a forest, although it was hard to imagine many plants in a place like this. There was no saying that we were going to stay in this vicinity, though. To be honest, I liked the idea of going hiking.

The sun was still in the sky, so our group decided to go for a walk to get a starting point. We were heading away from the train station, so the landscape was all but devoid of people. It seemed as though we had landed in the middle of nowhere. Of course, I tried to stay closest to Alma. I could tell he still walked confidently; I tried to imagine how he would be moving under the big cloak. With my ears pointed downward I could hear his light footsteps on the loose ground. I wondered whether it was necessary for him to consciously hide his tail; would the movement of the cloak conceal it anyway?

"You okay, Lucidia?" Alma's voice startled me a little - I had been listening so closely to his walking that I had forgotten that there was any other noise.

"I'm a little nervous," I answered, keeping my eyes on the ground. "We've come a long way, and there's not really anything here…"

"Komui wouldn't send us here for no reason," Allen responded carefully. "There has to be Innocence or something like that nearby."

I should probably have a little more confidence. It wasn't as though Allen was inexperienced with akuma attacks, so I didn't have anything to worry about, right? I couldn't fight, but the others could. I had no clue how Alma would react in a conflict; the only quarrel in which I had seen him participate was the fight with Kanda, and he had barely even reacted. I looked up at Alma. He still appeared sure of himself, and it wasn't as though I didn't trust him, but I still couldn't help worrying just a little.

"Are there any akuma around?" Alma suddenly asked, with a deliberate glance to Allen. I thought it a weird question from him, since he himself was an akuma, although I couldn't say that for an akuma he was terribly normal.

"Not close to us, as far as I can tell," Allen replied promptly. He kept his head straight forward, as though he flat-out refused to look at Alma.

How long had we been walking, anyway? I had lost track of the time staring at the ground and listening to Alma's feet. The angle of the sun had definitely changed, but I couldn't tell by how much. Good thing I wasn't in charge here, or I would get us all lost.

When I finally looked up I noticed there were more trees now. A lot of them were evergreens, although I had no clue why. Alma's blue eyes were focused straight ahead, as though he had a target in the distance towards which he was headed. His steps still sounded strong and deliberate, but his face looked different somehow, almost as if his confidence was faltering.

"I don't know," Alma suddenly piped up, his gait slowing. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Now Allen stopped too. He looked back at Alma, but I couldn't tell what he was thinking; he didn't have the same markings that made every subtle change in Alma's expression obvious. "All right. What's wrong?"

This time I was sure his pointed ears swiveled back a little. "Look around. There's something a little off about this place." I imagined Alma's tail swinging close to the ground and tapping it every so often with anxiety.

Allen did as he was told, almost turning in a full circle. He moved cautiously, but never hesitated. "Maybe, but I don't see anything in particular."

"There's something here." Alma's lips were parted. I could almost feel his breathing, as though he was running and somebody was chasing him. He reminded me of a cat opening its jaws to taste the air, to search for a fox that has invaded its territory.

I pricked my ears carefully. I couldn't hear anything approaching, but there was a strange sound in the air, as if a machine was running somewhere far away.

"I hear a funny noise." I didn't know whether I was speaking to Alma or Allen; the latter seemed more puzzled, more clueless, as though his senses were dulled.

Alma breathed to say something else, but before he could speak he was interrupted by a loud boom that flattened my ears against my head. Suddenly dust completely blocked my vision and glued my feet to the ground. I was paralyzed until my senses returned with the next bang – then I realized I was in danger. I still couldn't make out my surroundings, and I didn't know which way to turn or run. I wanted to call out for Alma, but I couldn't decide whether it was better to stay silent or to chance detection by whatever was making the noise. I tried reaching out with one hand, but Alma wasn't standing where he had been previously.

My vision refused to return. Continuous thudding noises kept my surroundings obscured, so I helplessly stayed put and swiveled my ears in circles, trying to pick up a sound other than that of dull booming. Whatever was generating the noise didn't appear to be moving any closer to me, but there was still nothing productive I could do.

I counted the seconds I stood there, a nauseous feeling slowly creeping up on me. I suddenly wondered whether anybody would still be nearby when the smoke cleared.

My mind reached the number twenty just as the banging skipped its regular interval. I listened harder; silence was beginning to descend around me, bringing the dust down with it. As outlines of the landscape reappeared, I realized my environment was not at all what it had been a minute before. Had I run somewhere without noticing? No, I was sure my feet had stayed where they were. Then how was the land around me suddenly so bare, when just minutes before it had been dotted with trees?

As I feared, I could see neither Allen nor Alma, even when I spun in a full circle. I listened as hard as I could, but my ears stayed pressed back and I couldn't pick up any noise other than the occasional gust of wind.

"Alma!" When I cried his name I felt tears rise to my eyes. I was alone, and the most I could do was hope that the others were alive somewhere far away from here.

I repeated his name, spinning myself in circles. I was too scared to move more than a couple of steps, thinking that if I did I would promptly get myself lost. Again I called, but there was no answer.

Then I heard footsteps, and my heart jumped. For a split second I had thought Alma had heard me, but I realized that the steps were too hard and fast to be his. I hadn't heard him run before, but I imagined that if he did he would have soft and nimble footfalls like a rabbit would.

I whirled around and suddenly Allen was in front of me. He had rushed at me so fast that he had practically knocked me over, but fortunately I reacted quick enough to avoid falling straight to the ground.

"Lucidia." Allen spoke quickly, and he was out of breath; he had been in a hurry for longer than a few seconds. "Good, I found you."

Timcanpy fluttered swiftly behind him, circling a little bit anxiously on long, glittering wings.

"Where is Alma?" Allen asked urgently.

"I don't know!" Now I was beginning to cry of fright. "He was here, but he disappeared when I couldn't see…"

"Don't worry." Allen was trying to calm me down, but he couldn't keep his voice even. "We'll find him. We're not in any more immediate danger. I found what I needed to, so we should get out of here as quickly as possible."

"Innocence?" I inquired quietly.

Allen put a finger slowly to his lips, so I shut my mouth. "Go ahead, Tim," he told his golem, and Timcanpy flitted hurriedly forward – evidently he, too, wanted to leave this place.

I gradually convinced my ears to stand up, but all I could hear were Allen's footsteps and Timcanpy's fluttering wings. I was afraid to call out again for some reason, as though if I did so Allen might leave me behind.

Allen slowly picked up the pace. We were walking for a long time – what felt like hours, but I couldn't be sure – and I couldn't even tell whether we were traveling in a straight line. Timcanpy's glimmer ahead was hopeful, but I still felt a little sick.

Timcanpy suddenly disappeared from view. I panicked a bit, as Allen was now running. I didn't have the energy to keep up with him. I tried to jog a little, but my legs were out of motivation.

Unexpectedly Allen stopped and stood. When I caught up with him, Alma was lying at his feet, as though he had been tossed there carelessly by something much bigger. My heart skipped two beats. "Is he dead?"

"No, just exhausted. He won't die." Allen's tone was more soothing and relaxed now. I didn't know what to think of Allen's calmness, since I didn't know what to think of myself, either.

I sank to my knees next to Alma. His face was turned downwards into the dust. Without thinking I gently brushed his hair aside – it was softer than it looked – and almost jumped to my feet when I noticed he was looking at me. Had he been able to see me? His eyes were half-closed and half-focused, as though he was about to fall asleep. His neck was twisted at an awkward angle; I imagined it was painful for him to turn his face up like that.

He didn't speak for a while. After silently debating with myself, I decided to turn him over and let his head rest against my arm. His eyes didn't move from mine the whole time, so it was no wonder I felt as though I was being watched very closely.

I swept his hair aside again, and he suddenly asked, "Don't you remember me?"

I hesitated. His voice was quiet, as if it hurt for him to use it, but serious and deliberate. The question was honest, and I couldn't think of what would make him want to voice it.

"Of course I do," I replied. I realized my voice was faltering as well. I felt my hand move to his face and stroke it gently, even though I hadn't told it to. His skin was smooth and flawless, as though nothing and nobody had ever touched it before.

A weak smile glimmered in his cerulean eyes. I had never gotten this close a look at them. I couldn't even begin to count all of the blues; his slit, catlike pupils had frightened me at first, but by now I was used to their feline appearance.

"Good," he murmured. His eyes closed slowly, not as if he was dying, but as though he wanted to take a nap. He rested his head softly against my arm as though he really had fallen asleep. The stripes settled on his face until he was almost perfectly still. Only the gentle whisper of his breathing suggested that he was still alive.

Alma's face was so peaceful that my heart refused to beat any further. I felt like crying, but I couldn't draw the breath to.

"Lucidia." Allen's voice startled me but at least I could breathe again. "Let's go. Can you carry him?"

I almost said no; I couldn't lift much weight at all, but I was reluctant to move more than a few inches from Alma very quickly.

I recalled the night Alma had carried me to the roof. Could I do the same for him now? I slid my right arm under his knees and hesitated briefly; his strange, knobby legs were unfamiliar to my hand. I allowed my other hand to fall to his shoulders, and I almost dropped him; Alma's back was sharp where his spine and shoulder blades protruded. I thought for a moment I might be holding a skeleton. I forced my arms to support him before I ran my eyes down his form. I had noticed before that he was thin, but now he seemed smaller than I had acknowledged. Apart from some muscle near his shoulders, Alma's arms were little more than skin and bone. His hands didn't even look connected to his wrists; I felt as though I could pull one right off if I wanted to. I could clearly see where his last two ribs met his skin, not far from where a pair of purple stripes encircled his ribcage and flowed around his torso to the base of his tail.

Again without thinking, I stood up and brought Alma with me. He felt lighter than was physically possible.

My ears pressed against my head. Here I was, responsible for Alma's life; a simple human like me holding an akuma, the most dangerous of all existing creatures. I felt terribly small, and I couldn't stop my legs from shaking.

Alma's head rested contentedly near my shoulder. I studied his face, which again resulted in my breath catching in my throat. I realized it might be a while before I could speak to him again. Then I told myself that there was no need to speak – he already knew most everything I needed to tell him.

I noticed how close together our faces were – somehow the lack of distance hadn't been obvious until just now. It was comforting for Alma's presence to be so steady and sure. I wondered whether he would let me this close if he was awake enough to have a part in the decision. For a fleeting moment I wondered how close I could get to him. In the next moment, the thought seemed stupid. It was in that next moment, however, that I kissed Alma softly. I had the rest of the walk back to think about what I had done.

I didn't think much at all, though. It was almost as though I had been sleepwalking; I remembered nothing of the journey until we were suddenly in a room I assumed we had visited that morning. It was dark outside – the only light came from a tall, brave candle that seemed determined to illuminate the whole space by itself. I was perched at the foot of a bed on which Alma was lying peacefully unconscious. The only other bed in the room was empty. The Finder had disappeared again, and Allen was standing in the opposite corner looking rather spaced out.

I sat in silence trying to remember anything about the walk back, but my brain was hopelessly muddled. I busied myself with ensuring that Alma wasn't lying on his tail or cutting off its circulation, though after a few seconds I just had to accept that I was too sleepy to do anything useful.

"Allen," I piped up, "has Alma always been this thin? He's wasted." I had to consciously tell myself not to reach for his hand and make sure it was still attached.

I could feel tension in the air; I guessed Allen had looked around to confirm that the Finder wasn't here before answering. "He never got much for sustenance when he was young. Even after the Millenium Earl got a hold of him, he was probably only just kept alive for the nine years he was asleep. He hasn't eaten anymore, anyway, since he is an akuma."

Nine years? I echoed silently. That was an awfully long time... I didn't know what to think about such a span of time – it was farther back than a majority of what I could remember.

"But Lucidia," Allen started again, "that was something that surprised me a little – that you care for Alma even though you know he's an akuma. Why do you feel that way, even with that knowledge?"

I finally looked at Allen, unsure of how to respond. I barely even considered why Allen was asking such a question. "Well, I guess it is strange, but it doesn't really matter to me. He doesn't act like one at all. He really isn't an akuma – not on the inside, I mean. He doesn't think that way."

On the outside, he is an akuma, I reminded myself. At first the thought made me feel sick again, but the sensation faded quickly. What if Alma had been a human on the outside, too? After a few moments I realized the idea was, of all things, frightening. I almost shivered trying to imagine a world where Alma was painted in dull human grays, a world where he had no tail or ears to speak of. I had to force any further thoughts out of my mind. I concluded, as outlandish as it was, that I would rather Alma be an akuma than a human. He seemed to have purer heart than most humans – more of a desire to protect what was important to him because he was aware of how easily he could lose it. And another trait that, to tell the truth, had been a major answer to Allen's question, but one I was too nervous to begin to speak to anybody about other than Alma himself. At least to me, Alma was very beautiful, more than any other human or akuma that ever lived. I always got a nauseous feeling when I reminded myself of that, as though it was the wrong thing to think, but it was really the first thing I always came up with when I thought of Alma.

I didn't realize that I had fallen asleep until I awoke sideways on the bed. The first thing I noticed was that my neck hurt because of my awkward position. The next was that Alma was gone.

By now I had learned not to panic whenever he vanished spontaneously. Alma didn't sleep, so he had no reason to hang around in here if he was awake and nobody else was. I started to make myself more comfortable in the bed when I heard his voice mumble my name. I sat up promptly, thinking I was imagining things – he sounded as though he was right on top of me. I quickly noticed that he was simply standing in the doorway, his tail swishing silently in the darkness.

I approached him as quietly as I could, trying not to wake whoever else was asleep. "Is something the matter?"

"Come with me." He stepped backwards into the total darkness – I didn't even hesitate to follow.

Alma led me outside. The sky was still a deep, dusky blue; expanding splotches of gray explained why no stars were visible.

Alma leaned thoughtfully against the wall. "Sorry for waking you up like that. I just get lonely at night."

"Don't apologize," I told him automatically. "I don't mind staying awake for your sake."

No response. The silence was only occasionally broken by the quiet swish of Alma's tail curving near the ground.

"This place -" he began quietly, "I've almost been here before. The place where I fought with Yu… was a lot like this. I know I'm not there, because that place is very far from here, but I still don't like the feeling of being here." He carefully inspected his feet. "That's why I stopped us yesterday."

"That's not good." That was the only response I could find. It wasn't exactly the most assuring, either.

"I just wish none of that ever happened. I never wanted to be an akuma, I never wanted to fight Yu, and I never wanted to kill all of those exorcists or hurt anybody. I wish I could have stayed dead when Yu killed me."

"Don't say that," I protested. His eyes were closed now – I was afraid he was going to start crying again. "This is going to sound really strange, Alma, but I'm glad you're an akuma."

He looked toward me, evidently startled. "Why?"

"Humans are boring," I replied. "In fact, just recently I was trying to think of what it would like if you were a human, and… I got really scared." My eyes started to fall, but I forced them to stay on his face. "I don't want you to change, Alma. Please stay how you are. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad I met you."

Alma's blue gaze moved away. "You're the only one who thinks that way, aren't you? Yu isn't even my friend anymore."

I felt my ears tilt to one side before I could find out what they were trying to say. "So? Just me is enough, isn't it? I really don't want you to leave, Alma. Please don't think like that."

"I guess so." Alma turned himself away from me – the scale on his shoulder almost smacked me in the face. "You are persistent. You refuse to ignore me, even though you know I could be dangerous to you."

"Allen said the same thing," I told him evenly. "I know you wouldn't hurt me, Alma. You wouldn't hurt anybody. You already said yourself you don't want to kill anyone. You have a good heart. You don't even act like an akuma, so it doesn't matter whether you are one or not."

A little bit of the sadness left his eyes. "I guess it doesn't. I'm still different from everybody else, though. A lot of people back at the Black Order avoid me. Only a few of them like Allen and Yu know who I am, because they were there and they somehow survived. I haven't told anybody else about me, but they're only more afraid of me because they don't know what to think."

He suddenly looked back at me. "You weren't afraid of me when you first met me, Lucidia. Why were you different?"

I shrugged casually. "Because I liked you when I first met you. Plus, I've learned a lot previously not to be scared of people until you have a good reason." I smiled mischievously. "To me, you just weren't all that intimidating. I can't certainly say the same for anyone else, though."

Alma began to smile, too. "That's good thinking. Maybe it doesn't matter what anybody else thinks after all." Now he faced me again, as if there was something he wanted to show me. "I never thought that anybody like you might… show up and care for me like that. I thought I was done for."

"It's okay. You're just fine how you are."

Suddenly he was stroking my ears again. "Thanks, Lucidia. You always cheer me up. You're always there for me when I need you. You're a nice girl."

I needed somewhere to lean, and the wall was too cold and hard for me. I wasn't sure if Alma would let me put weight on him, but there was only one way to find out. I slowly let my head rest just below his shoulder – it would be too much of a stretch to reach any higher. He didn't seem to respond – he kept petting my ears as he had been for the last few seconds.

Before now I wasn't aware that Alma smelled like anything in particular. My sense of smell was average, so I didn't think about it much, although when I was this close to Alma I was suddenly aware of an enveloping sweet scent I couldn't describe with words.

"Why are you always sad at night?" I asked his shoulder. "Whenever we talk during the day, you're always so cheerful and happy, but then whenever we meet up at night you're always telling me about your past and how sad it makes you. It makes me sad too, Alma."

There was no answer for a while. I closed my eyes and let his fingers run through the fur on my ears.

"I guess it's because there's nobody else around at night," he finally replied. "You're the only one I can talk to at hours like that, so I feel like I can say more. It's the only time I really ever get to tell anyone about things that make me sad." There was a short pause, and I didn't have to look to know that he had smiled playfully. "Maybe we akuma are nocturnal, too, so we get really emotional at night." His grip was fast and mischievous for a second, and I laughed silently in response.

Eventually his hand stopped moving and just rested there on my head. I thought maybe we could stand there forever, close, not really caring about anything that was around us. There were a lot of stupid questions running through my head; I almost voiced some of them, but I didn't want to force Alma to feel an emotion he didn't want to feel. I told myself that if he wanted to return my feelings, he would do so when the right time came, just as I had that night when Kanda had threatened to kill him.

I was aware of a loud rattling noise that seemed to be reverberating from all around me. I opened my eyes and turned my head so I could see out to the horizon; rain had begun to fall sometime recently, and now it was dropping onto every available inch of ground. The roof's edge above Alma and me protection from the drizzle, but if I stepped out any farther I would get wet very quickly.

"Should we go inside?" I murmured. I didn't really care if we did stay out here, but I was starting to get sleepy again.

"Not yet," Alma replied, his voice equally hushed. "It hasn't rained for a long time." He extended one hand until the droplets fell loosely onto his palm. His wrist appeared hollow; the veins connecting to his arm were clearly visible beneath his violet skin, and the edges of the bone protruded from each side like little mountains.

I leaned back into Alma's warmth. Right now I had no desire to get wet. I wanted to sleep, too, but there wasn't any way I was going to leave him out here in the dismal weather. "Let's go back."

"Okay." He hesitated a little, but in the end he relented and followed me closely back to the room.

Eventually I did manage to sleep that night. Alma lingered near the bed until my eyes closed for good, so I didn't get to see whether he went back outside. He was standing in the nearest corner when I awoke as though he had been waiting for me to return from somewhere very far away. Allen and the Finder were already up. Alma seemed wary of them for some reason.

Our little group went outside for a bit before we had to leave. The rain had stopped since last night, but the earth was still a little damp and clouds remained in the sky, as if they were afraid to leave something behind. Allen and the finder stepped out further to stretch and look around; I hung back until Alma was close enough that I could feel his presence.

A light tapping sounded from somewhere above me. I looked up – perched on the roof a few feet above our heads was a pair of crows. One was sitting rather nonchalantly and surveying its surroundings, occasionally pausing to itch a feather somewhere. The other was strutting back and forth along the edge of the roof as though it was considering jumping off but never quite had the courage to do so. The two seemed to completely ignore each other, but at the same time they acted like friends and subconsciously refused to stray too far from one another. The strutting crow would always stop at some invisible, preset boundary and turn back to its companion before it could wander off.

"More crows," I mumbled fondly. The birds now reminded me of the evening I had spent with Alma a while ago. It seemed like I was recalling that time a lot lately, but I wasn't sure why. Somehow, even though I had only met him a few weeks ago at the longest, he had already given me so much for which I was grateful.

By now Alma was watching the crows too – silently, but thoughtfully. I turned from them and glanced at Allen. He almost seemed to have forgotten us; he was looking out at the landscape and evidently had no interest in birds. Timcanpy stuck firmly to his shoulder – I guessed that the golem was probably afraid of crows, since knowing the birds they would probably snatch him up and eat him or stare at him for a while before letting him go.

Only a few more seconds passed in silence before the feathers fluttered behind me and the crows darted overhead, their path set for some far-off horizon.

Then suddenly Alma was in front of me, grinning brightly. His posture was straight and confident, but he was clearly excited. "Let's see where they're going!"

I glanced down. At about my shoulder height Alma's hand was extended invitingly. I barely thought before I set my fingertips on his, and then we were off.

Initially I had trouble keeping up with his pace, but after a few longer strides I managed to match it. I heard Allen call after us, although the wind was too loud in my ears for me to hear what he was saying. We ran for a while, the whole time keeping our eyes on the birds flying not far above us. They still easily outsped us, but it was thrilling to see how close we could get to soaring ourselves. Alma gripped my hand tightly the whole time.

Eventually my heart was pounding harder than it had in a while. That was when Alma stopped and just flopped onto his back, his sky-blue eyes glued to the retreating black forms of the crows. He was still smiling, and the last twelve inches of his tail were swishing back and forth faster than I had seen them move before. His chest rose and fell with his quick breath, but this time it didn't seem so close to breaking.

I watched the crows disappear into the gray horizon before sitting down next to Alma. By then my heartbeat had slowed to a normal pace. "I guess we'll never find out."

"But we got close, didn't we?" His eyes had moved to the light, fluffy clouds directly overhead. "That has to count for something."

"It was fun. It's been a while since I've run that fast."

Alma rolled to his feet and stood up. "We should probably be getting back. Allen is going to be mad at us for running off like that." Again, he held out his hand, I rose to my feet, took it promptly, and we were off.