It's the war.

Kanda lifts the wooden blade in his hand up and readjusts his grip. "Ready?"

He isn't and will probably never be, but it's not like he can exactly admit to that either. So instead, he cocks his head, forges a sheepish grin, and loosely spins the hilt of his own wooden blade in his hand. "Aw, do we really have to do this, Yu? This isn't really my style, you know."

Kanda doesn't wait for long. Lavi already knows so much better than this, so he moves out of the way just in time to miss the sharp jut of the end of Kanda's makeshift sword.

Kanda closes his eyes briefly. There is an inch of irritation hanging off the edge of his words. "It's Kanda," he says. "Stop conveniently forgetting that."

"Yeah, yeah, gotcha," Lavi says breezily before taking another precautionary just-in-case step backwards. "But, honest, this really isn't my thing." Lavi gestures. "I mean, there's a reason why I use a hammer."

Kanda pauses for a moment and looks at Lavi with perfected nonchalance. "Cooperate properly. The more excuses you make, the longer this will take."

Lavi gapes. It is a perfect, practiced balance between carefree playfulness and mild outrage. He's getting Lavi down pretty well now. "Seriously? Do we really have to do this?"

This time, Kanda aims for Lavi's throat and stops just breaths away from touching the stretch of skin over his jugular vein. The sensation is thrilling and chilling all at once, and Lavi can see what it means to be alive. Kanda doesn't even have to say a thing.

Lavi backs up hastily. "Alright, alright, I gotcha. But go easy on me, yeah? I'm not nearly as good as you are at this."

Kanda doesn't say anything and just waits for Lavi to position himself properly.

Lavi's uneasy. "Hey, can you at least show that you've heard what I said, Yu—ah—Kanda?"

Kanda lets this one slide, somewhat. He lifts his blade and adjusts his stance. "Ready?"

He exaggerates a sigh. "As close as I'll ever get, anyway."

It's enough consent for Kanda. The swordsman moves in for the kill.

Lavi stumbles before catching his balance again. "Hey, uh actually—can you start a little slower?"

Kanda moves back again and readjusts his footwork. Lavi hadn't expected Kanda to say anything, but Kanda does. These days, it seems like people are surprising him more and more. He isn't sure how he should feel about it.

Kanda eyes the other Exorcist noncommittally. "There aren't any second chances in life."

There is a brief silence before Lavi grins, laughs, and makes a necessary joke out of the statement. "Damn, I really didn't take you for the type to spew out clichés."

Kanda just scoffs defensively. "It doesn't matter if it's a cliché. That doesn't really make it any less true."

Lavi pauses.

Kanda gestures to his wooden sword again, signaling that he's ready to move on with the training program. "Let's just get this over with," he says. "I have better things to do."

Lavi lifts his wooden sword up. "Yeah, yeah, I gotcha."

Breathes in slow.

This time, Lavi makes the first move.

He runs.

He runs straight for Kanda. He hadn't planned on thinking – honest, he would have loved to just not think for once in his life – but a series of images roll through his eyes anyway, like a sequence of some bad one color film.

Suppress. He sees the soldiers that have lived before him; the men who have sacrificed all they had for something they might have not even believed in. He can taste the salt of the tears of the ones who had to bear the bad news, and the taste of his own bitter disappointment. He can hear himself screaming, can feel the pressure on the toes and the balls of his feet, and can barely see anymore.

He remembers, once, too, he had gotten involved. It is another one of things he really should have known so much better than to do, but sometimes you just have to be human to remember that you are human. He remembers the embers of a fire that will never go down in common history and the peeled skin of a boy who hadn't existed and will never remember.

He remembers all the wars that have been fought, all the stupid conflicts that will never be resolved, and remembers where he is now.

And he thrusts the sword.

Cuts straight across the air.

Holds his breath.

He misses spectacularly, but Kanda considers him for a while anyway. "Well, your resolve isn't bad," he concedes.

"Resolve?" Lavi grins and scratches at the back of his head. "That's all you have to say, huh? Damn."

"Resolve can make up half the battle against akuma," he says unconvincingly.

The words sink. They're too optimistic, Lavi decides. This is probably Kanda's way of being nice. "What do you mean?"

Kanda closes his eyes. "You should already know," he says.

He does, kind of. Bookman had explained all the technicalities behind akuma to him when he first learned about the Order. Bookman had been very particular about them.

It had just been so wrong.

"Akuma are indirect byproducts of sadness and mourning," Bookman had taught him. "Take note of this. In this world, it is possible for tragedies to be orchestrated. It might even be easy to do. The Millennium Earl can take the grief of people and create it into something far worse by manipulating it. This end result is what we call an 'akuma'."

And.

"It is possibly one of the greatest human tragedies out there."

And so the cycle of grief continues.

Kanda takes both of the wooden swords in hand and motions to head back. "Even if your Innocence doesn't take the form of a katana, it never hurts to practice. The best thing you can do is understand and trust your Innocence. Learn how to use your Innocence in as many ways as possible."

There is a long pause. There is something heavy in the air, and after a while, Lavi looks back at Kanda.

Kanda turns to leave with a last bit of advice. "Don't half-ass this."

Dead air.

"People's lives are at stake here."

"You sure you want to know?"

He arches an eyebrow. "Well, yeah. Now you make it sound really interesting or something."

She pauses before laughing. "Actually no, it's not. Honest. That's why I felt like I should warn you before I start."

He laughs an easy laugh too. "Just go for it."

"My story, huh?" Elaine sighs and looks up at the infinite side of the sky. "Well... I guess the easiest way to say it is that I have a painfully, painfully normal life. Nothing ever happens around me and it's boring."

The complaint is thoroughly trivial and whiny, and Lavi bites down his lower lip from retorting. That would be out of character, he decides.

"...Or so I'd like to say."

Lavi blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Just kidding." She smiles sheepishly. "Well, that was pretty lame, huh? Maybe I'll tell you some other time, actually."

She switches on a new tangent, kind of. It will take him much longer to realize that the indirect question she poses is one that she actually needs answered, and no one ever will before time's up and it's already too late.

But as for now, "But there's probably a lot of things I would've changed, I think."

"What do you mean?"

"Ever wanted to relive a moment and change something from happening? Or the other way around too works, I guess."

He considers it for a while. "I think everyone's had a moment like that at least once at some point in their lives," he says carefully without betraying his own confessions. He wipes them blank and crumples them in his fist. The worst thing he could do is say something that'll sum the lack of worth to his existence.

"Yeah. That's what I thought."

He turns and yawns and she gets up to leave for the day.

Later, he thinks about it again and touches through the archive of his memories. Ever wanted to relive a moment?

No, he decides. No. He wouldn't want to relive a thing, he thinks. Not the moment he had accepted Bookman's proposition, nor the first time he'd been out of town, nor his first war. He wouldn't relive the time he'd punched both his ears with bitter silver – and all that blood – the time he nearly drowned before he learned how to swim, or his first death. None of that.

Except.

What if you could live twice?

This and now.

Komui takes a seat at the table Lavi is at.

Lavi swallows down the remaining mush of his breakfast before looking up and grinning cheerfully. "What's up?"

His smile fades fast. The typical cheerful demeanor emulated from the European branch director is gone, and all that's left is a flicker of the gaunt face of someone's who's seen too much and knows how much more despair is to come.

Lavi drops his voice, "Anything new on the battlefront?"

Komui presses at his temples. "No, no, nothing major happened... well, yet anyway." He looks up and offers a grim smile. "It seems like the Earl is building up his army more... enthusiastically than usual though." A slight pause. "I suspect that things will only get harder from here."

His throat suddenly feels thicker, despite everything. "Oh."

Komui's tone gets immediately lighter and breezier. "Well, well, don't worry about that! Anyway, I just dropped by to make sure that Bookman talks to you today."

Lavi blinks. Bookman always talks to him. "About what?"

Pause. "Well, it's Bookman's conversation," he says. Komui looks up again when he sees Kanda passing by. "Kanda! Want to join us for breakfast today?"

Kanda scoffs without even really sparing a glance. "Pass. Don't you have work to do anyway?"

Komui smiles to himself before getting up and excusing himself. "Well, that's Kanda for you." He picks up his tray. "I'll see you around, then, Lavi."

"Yeah."

After Komui leaves, Bookman comes.

Lavi yawns, "Morning, gramps. The weather really sucks today."

Bookman just sighs. "Good morning to you too, Lavi."

Lavi looks up. "Anything new?" A slight pause. He gestures. "I mean, other than... you know."

Bookman primly sets his tray down and neatly seats himself across from his apprentice. "Something like that," he says.

Lavi chews at the cut of apple he'd just popped in his mouth. "What is it?"

"We have a new assignment."

Swallows. "Yeah, okay." And considers it for a while. "Where? When?"

Bookman eyes the other Exorcist. "This time though," he starts, "remember that you're a Bookman first."

Lavi blinks. "And by that, you mean...?"

"Role confusion," Bookman explains. "You're always a Bookman when you're an Exorcist, but you're not always an Exorcist when you're a Bookman."

Lavi's mouth tips up. "You'd think I know that better than anything else." He waves it off. "I wouldn't worry about it."

Bookman eyes him again. "If you say so then."

Another slight pause before Lavi picks at it again. "So what's this one about?"

"The Noah."

Lavi pauses.

Bookman sets down his cup of tea and watches the heat from the hot liquid curl for a while. "I've told you about them before, Lavi, but the context may have changed, so I'll tell you again. There's a group of people called the Noah," he says, folding his hands together. "People who adopt human characteristics and are said to have stigmata cut across their foreheads. Historically, the disciples of Noah fought the first users of Innocence in what culminated in the first destruction of the world—remember the story of the Great Flood?"

Lavi nods.

"Now, in this war, Lavi, they hold the cards."

Pause. "What do you mean?"

"They're the ones with the ability to command akuma. There's a man who's willing to talk to us about what he knows." Bookman pauses. "Remember what I said about testimonies?"

"Always take 'em with a grain of salt, 'cause you can never trust anyone to know the truth, whatever it may be." He thumbs at his head wrap. "And that's why there's gotta be Bookmen out there, to keep the unrecorded record straight and all."

"Good."

And decisive.

"We'll leave in a week."

There are things that some people will just never understand.

It's not really like it's their fault, he supposes. It's just that, in this hell of a world, there are all sorts of different circumstances and different experiences assigned to different people. Some people are just born luckier than others. It can't be helped.

Then again, maybe it doesn't matter much to begin with. 'Cause in the end, you either die, or you die trying. Death is still the only end result there is out there for all people.

Which reminds him.

He turns to face her, breaks the easy silence they'd been sitting in. "Oh yeah, I've been wondering about this for a while, but..." The words are actually more difficult than he'd imagine, but he spits them out anyway. "Why did you say that you thought I was going to kill myself?"

A pause.

The subject matter still seems a bit too heavy, he realizes, so he tacks on breezily, "I mean, it's kind of depressing for someone to hear that, you know what I mean?"

Elaine cringes. "Oh, I'm sorry... yeah, that was pretty rude of me. Sorry."

He grins easily. "Stop apologizing, it's fine, really. I just wanna know... well, you know." He trails off delicately and briefly wonders if he really wants to know the answer to that one.

"Oh." She thinks about it for a while. "How should I say this... um, there was a point in my life where I, uh, kind of looked like you did the first time I met you."

He looks up.

"Well, I don't want to go into the details and all, but you know, in the end, it kind of felt like too many things were going on at once, and for a while, I thought about... yeah. You know. Giving it all up."

He waits for it to sink in and blinks. "Wait, you?"

"Yeah." She looks up and offers an awkward half-smile. "Seems strange, huh?"

"Huh."

In all honesty, she'd looked something like the last person he'd expected to consider suicide. But he already knows better than to take things at face value.

Lavi grins. "Oh, well, seems like things were looking up for you, huh? Well, that's good."

She laughs. "Thanks, I guess." She glances back at him. "What about you then?"

"Hm?"

"Not to intrude or anything, but—are you feeling... better now? Than when we first met, I guess."

He winks. "What do you think?"

The corners of her mouth tip up. "You seem like you're in pretty good spirits I guess," Elaine concedes, "if you're up and flirting already."

He's in a talking mood today, he realizes. He scratches his head and thinks about it for a while. "Well, to be honest, I guess you could say that I was... reborn the day after we met. So kind of."

She blinks. "Uh—"

He realizes what his wording sounds like and hastily corrects himself. "Oh no, not like that, I mean. Uh, I kind of meant that in a serious way, really. I'm not that cheesy. Honest."

"Oh." A thought occurs to her, and then a cut of eager anticipation. "Wait, when you say reborn—"

Stops.

He looks up. "What?"

Tentative. "When you say reborn, do you mean that... spiritually? I mean, were you, um, rescued?"

He blinks. "Um."

"Okay never mind, don't answer that. That was stupid. And personal." Elaine smiles sheepishly again. "I mean, it doesn't really matter whether you were or weren't. I'm just glad that you look more genuinely cheerful now. That's really good," she ends lamely. "Yeah."

Lavi can feel the corners of his mouth tipping up again. There really are all types of people in this world. Some are more naïve than others. Some know less than others. And maybe it's better for some people to never get involved in this hell of a world. Some things are more heartbreaking to witness than others.

So instead.

"Thanks," he says breezily.

"For what?"

He thinks about it for a while and waves a hand languidly. "For caring, I guess."

Real time.

The count today almost hits 300. The death toll. Three hundred. Everybody knows, of course, but no one says a thing. It's easier that way, somewhat. More appropriate.

It's the war again.

It's always the goddamn war.

The news is making itself around headquarters right about now, he guesses. There is the sound of Lenalee choking back her tears again, that knowing, closed-off look in Bookman's eyes – and Kanda's too – the palpable tension in the air, and he excuses himself, buries his head, closes his eyes, and escapes the present.

Anything.

Reprise.

Elaine looks like she gets it, somewhat. In her own way, he figures.

She turns and tells him, "You know what my pastor once said during service? 'If you were to describe God in one word, it would have to be war'."

Lavi stills. Of all things...

That goddamn war again.

"That was the strangest thing I've ever heard, honest. I thought of salvation, mercy, grace, love, and you know, stuff like that. But war? Really? That was just..." She stops and smiles. "But I kind of get it now, though."

Hollow. "Why war?"

She reflects for a while before forming her words together. "God has plans," she says carefully. "His actions, his words, his goals—I mean, the trials He puts us through really do feel like war, and they completely test our faith, and sometimes, it gets hard to remember that this is His love and His desire to watch us mature and find the light in even our worst situations."

A slight pause.

And then, faith. "But God knows what He's doing, right? It's kind of like that one verse in Jeremiah, you know? When Jeremiah sends that letter to the exiles in Babylon, and he reminds those in suffering of God's intentions, that God has His designs, that He's still there."

It takes him a while, but he knows the one she's talking about.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Jeremiah 29:11.

"Ah, I got a bit off-tangent there. But um, anyway, I guess what I meant to say is that we're constantly facing our own wars, and honestly, sometimes the best we can do is to continue to have faith in Him, you know? I think, in a sense, war brings us closer to God—reminds us that He is here, that He'll listen to our stories, you know what I mean?" Elaine scratches at the back of her neck. "Er, well, I hope that at least kind of made sense."

He... kind of gets it, but it still kind of bothers him. "Where did your faith come from?"

She blinks. "What do you mean?"

He gestures kind of uncomfortably. Faith has never been his best discipline. "I mean, I don't know the details or anything, but it kind of sounds like you've been through quite a bit. And if God put you through so much, then shouldn't it actually be harder to—"

She breaks him off with a smile that he can't even touch.

He stops. His mouth feels dry.

"Because," she says, "Because even when no one's there, God's still listening."

Bookman is grim.

"Deak," he says, "I'm going to tell you something you're not going to want to hear."

And later, he changes his mind again, 'cause he's feeling far more desperate and on edge, and pathetic too, and Bookman really hadn't spared any of the details this time, as expected, but still.

He puts a hand to his forehead.

Bookman had been right.

This is just fucked-up.

"You believe in God, right?"

She doesn't even have to stop to think about this one. He had already known this much—this much she had already made herself pretty clear on. He doesn't even know how far he'll want to push this, but.

Her answer reflects. "Yes."

"And people? Do you believe in people?"

This time, a slight pause and caught off-guard, but still, "Uh well, yeah, I guess so."

His fingers are itching, begging to confess to—anything. Anything. It doesn't even matter anymore. He's practically on the brink of—he presses a hand to his temples again, and his mouth is starting to taste like the bitter bones of copper too. "Has anyone ever told you about man-made demons?"