"I think Kanda has a problem," Allen said gravely as he set his numerous plates of heavenly ambrosia on the table.

"Are you talking about him being insomniac?" Lavi asked, slurping up his carrot soup.

"He's insomniac?" Linali questioned, blinking bewilderedly.

"No, nothing to do with his lack of sleep." Allen recalled Kanda screaming that he didn't want his help, but if his suspicions were correct, then wouldn't he actually be doing Kanda a favor if he just mentioned the scars to someone? "I think Kanda's cutting himself," he said softly.

"I know Kanda's not exactly the greatest of guys, but he's not depressed," Linali said. "If this is true, then the situation must be pretty serious. What are your thoughts on it, Lavi?"

Lavi weighed his options. To tell or not to tell. To get chewed out by Allen or not. To get kicked by Linali repeatedly in the head or not. Yup. To tell it was. Sorry Yuu, he apologized inwardly. "…I guess I did see him cutting himself once." Linali leaned forward with a horrified kind of interest and Allen frowned, but it held some smugness to it. "We were on a mission – something to do with keeping icy he said – and that he could think more clearly that way." Lavi paused. "There are times when I don't see him eat either."

"Is he trying to kill himself?" Allen hissed.

"Kanda's really proud though… I can't see him as anorexic, or as a cutter." Linali thought as she caught a few loose strands of her short unkempt hair in a twirl around her finger. "At least, not without a good reason."

"Guys, I really think we should get some help for Kanda."

"Allen, we're not professionals… except for Lavi. You're kind of questionable, being Bookman's apprentice and all." Lavi nodded as they finished the rest of their lunch. Allen frowned.

"We haven't solved the problem yet," he pointed out. Linali nodded.

"Yes Allen, but we can't just confront him. I mean, what if he really is a cutter? He might end up purposely killing himself the second you try something like that."

"Has anyone but me just noticed that Kanda hasn't come down for breakfast and lunch?" Lavi piped up, suddenly remembering that little detail that seemed just a little bit more hazardous from the depressing subject Allen had chosen to bring up as dinner conversation. Linali and Allen glanced at each other, their eyes mirroring the horror they felt.

Lavi sighed as he ran beside them, rushing up the stairs as Linali activated her Dark Boots. The next thing he and Allen knew, Kanda's poor door laid on the floor in smithereens, flying about in the air.

They paled.

Allen choked back a fearful gasp.

The shattered window was open. Wind blew fitfully, tumbling along in the room.

The room, stripped bare, was empty.

Kanda was gone.

000

Ink spilled across the sky, lightened in some areas by water droplets. The world seemed to be colored in black and white, but to him, it was always the same dark and light tones. He could barely distinguish the colors around him as he gazed out at the horizon and the ghostly apparitions of the villagers meandered around him.

Kanda smiled as a warm hard, a lady's hand, much larger than his curled around him, and through the blurs, he could see a bright smile aimed at him. She spoke, her voice soft and low as she crooned his name, rocking their clasped hands back and forth as they walked, and she whispered, "My baby, my baby," over and over again. There was certain desperation in her voice – and maybe fear.

The woman picked him up, clutching him against her warm, shuddering chest as she broke into a run. He was cradled alongside with a sheathed katana, a little less than twice his size. He could hear the ragged breathing of the woman as she ran down the mountain, not once looking back.

So he looked back for her.

Metal monster, he thought.

It flew close, but it always remained at a distance, but it seemed determined to follow, cutting through the cold air as swiftly and effortlessly as wind. Its cold eyes fixed on him, and if he listened closely he could hear something – someone – weeping. The monster, maybe?

Kanda cringed as its screeching laughter echoed around him, mocking the woman, jeering. It only urged the woman to speed faster. He could hear the wild pounding of her heart, trying to beat its way out of her chest. Her dark eyes lightened as the town at the end of the mountain came into view, the soft glow of fires through the wooden windows lighting the town.

The woman's grip around him tightened around him and the blade. He squirmed, feeling the sword's hard surface digging into his soft flesh. Her hand ruffled his hair, nervously and comfortingly, to serve as a temporary consolation, as if to say: Bear with it. We're almost there. But where was she taking him?

She finally set him down; exhausted from her continuous run, but it didn't stop her from urging him to run. She paled as she saw the monster bearing down on them. She scrambled, pushing him forward to the loud clatter of whistles cutting through the twilight air.

Hurry, hurry, she seemed to whisper. A train was beginning to run, the smoke beginning to rise in the air and the wheels turned.

The woman ran, dragging his hand behind her harshly, causing him to wince. She cried out, and was pulled onto the last car of the train off the iron train tracks. He couldn't keep up. His legs gave out. He fell, face first into the snow with the sword lying still next to him. The woman screamed, tears running down her cheeks as she reached out for him over the ledge.

000

Kanda's eyes fluttered open. The train was pulling to a stop, forcing him out of his sleep, forcing the dream of a memory to fade back out of the consciousness and into the cobwebby recesses of his mind.

But a little snippet remained behind – that woman's face. Nothing else. Her face was somewhat similar to his, but with a softer, kinder quality. She was much paler than he was, though.

The whistle shrieked. The passengers around him shuffled, gathering their possessions. His exorcist jacket had been replaced with a blood red, long overcoat that trailed somewhere down to his ankles. It was warm, but it did nothing to ease the sharp pangs of hunger down in his stomach. Mugen was wrapped to avoid any hassling; and the few clothes he possessed and the lotus with its hourglass cage was buried deep in the small leather suitcase he took with him.

He stepped onto the platform, the wind chilling him. He untied the hair tie, deciding to wear his hair down and wrapped the light blue scarf around his neck tighter.

Kanda plunged his hand into the deep pocket of his overcoat, pulling out the map of the town. There should be hotel around here somewhere.

The town was like any other town he had visited on missions, save for the more famous places such as London or Paris, but there was a freedom he couldn't remember ever feeling ever since how he mysteriously entered the Black Order.

He was thankful that his knee-high leather boots were waterproof. There had be at least three inches of snow blanketing the ground. The wind blew, biting into him as it blew him forward.