Kanda's mouth was opened slightly and his eyes widened in mock surprise. Blood spilled for, pelting against his pale face and torso. Panicked whispers filled the air, and the hushed murmurs became screams of shock and desperation. Hands reached out, pulling him back. Are you alright? Did you get hurt?

Kanda stared indifferently at the bloodied body, pale and still as its blood spilled over the smoothly tiled floor. Its long golden hair were drenched in the coppery red liquid that gushed from its pale neck, and the woman beside him chuckled gleefully in silence as she slipped thick wads of money down the pockets of his tight leather pants. "You did perfectly," she whispered as she patted him on the top of his head, and then she laughed eerily underneath her breath. It's all mine now.

Kanda simply looked at the corpse. His hand then slipped down his pocket, fingering the heaviness of the money that weighed him down. He gave a curt nod to the woman, slipping past the frightened crowd as he retied his hair into the high ponytail he became accustomed to with the dark red ribbon.

It was a cold day. He wrapped his dark purple winter frock closer to him, and he blew his hot breath between his icy fingers. He had more than enough money to buy himself a pair of gloves, but something down in his gut wrenched. He felt a tinge of guilt as he fingered the little dagger hidden in his sleeve as he awkwardly carried the sword in the crook of his elbow. He adjusted it more comfortably. He needed some kind of belt to strap it to his back.

Kanda couldn't quite remember how old he is exactly – maybe around seven or eight, but he found out that he was really good at certain things: killing among one of the many. A thrill ran through him whenever he'd slip his hand down a man's pocket, reaching for the velvet bags or wallets, stuffed full with thin crisp bills and heavy coins; or whenever he slip past a crowd, his hands picking the silk scarves, hats, golden watches encrusted with diamonds, and strawberry-sized gems delicately. Kanda almost laughed at the thought of it. He had acquired quite a sum over the last year. But having money was troublesome. He had no idea where to keep it without losing it all in one night.

Some people, if they knew him just enough to get a sense of his personality and nothing else, would say he lost a majority of his innocence when he lost his mother.

But he really liked what he did, so whether or not what he did wrong right now wasn't too bad. People went easy on children anyways. No one would throw him in jail. He knew how he looked. Women gave little sighs whenever he approached them, purposefully or not, patting his head, wishing that he was around their age, for he would surely grow to be a handsome man.

"Old man," he had said softly. He entered the dusty, small shop as the little bells at the top of the door tinkled with the movement. He took care; making sure the blood was off his face. The old man was stooped over his counter, his nose buried between the pages of a thick book. Mr. Finnegan glanced up. His dark eyes were sunken deep into their sockets, but they were smiling.

Mr. Finnegan nodded in acknowledgement. Kanda emptied his pockets save for the money, slipping him the jewels and valuables he had stolen earlier during the day. Mr. Finnegan wiped his spectacles before gently dusting the gems, polishing them with admiration.

"I hope you're not going to get too stuck-up on me, child, what with all the high-society fools you've been hanging around with as of late," he had told Kanda as he filled the little cotton bag with bills and coins. Kanda shook his head reassuringly with a faint smile as he buried the bad along the folds of the linen wrapped around the sword.

Mr. Finnegan's granddaughter appeared; coughing as she clutched a thick cashmere shawl around her shoulders – nothing to Mr. Finnegan, was too good for his precious Ellie, his only family. She was a sickly child, and it always bothered Kanda that she could smile so brightly and innocently.

Her soft, white blond hair was cut away, leaving behind longish soft wisps that decorated her head and flew into her face. Despite her big, round watery blue eyes, he had never seen her cry, not once.

Ellie's smile widened as she caught sight of him, and she lifted her arms and wrapped them around him affectionately in a familial fashion. They felt thin, even through the wool gray frock she wore. She told him it was good seeing him and that he should come by more often.

"When I have more time," he had replied. She simply nodded in acceptance, and then she began chatting about what customers had walked into the store earlier in the day before him. She went into another fit of coughs; Mr. Finnegan leaned forward in concern, patting her back firmly. She waved him away, pulling out a wooden mouse from the folds of her skirt.

"I have a neat trick to show you," she said excitedly. "One of the customers that came in today taught me!" The old man sat him down on the tall pile of huge books – antiques, but the old man didn't mind.

Ellie began to sing, settling the mouse beside Kanda. Her voice was bell-like, high, and clear. It was a very soft sound as she vocalized gently. Watch the mouse, not her, Mr. Finnegan mouthed.

Kanda begun to feel stupid as he watched the mouse stare back at him as still and lifeless as it had been from the moment it was done carving. And then the wooden mouse did the most peculiar thing.

It moved.

Kanda watched in amazement as the mouse's nose twitched, and after a few seconds it ran up and down the counter before placing its tiny wooden palms on the side of his thigh. Ellie shifted her voice, and the mouse began to dance, swaying with dervish.

Her coughs interrupted her song, and Kanda watched with fascination as the mouse stiffened back in its natural pose. "How did you do that?"

"I don't know, that customer – an old painter – I met today said that I had a gift." Mr. Finnegan smiled proudly as he handed her a glass of water, which she thanked him gratefully. "Do you want to learn?" Kanda shook his head, declining.

Mr. Finnegan turned to him. "Won't you stay for dinner?"

000

Kanda clutched his head. His head pounded, throbbing with pain as he shifted on the bed, trying to get into a comfortable position. "No offense, but can you quit moaning? I know all that beers probably have gone to your head but some of us are trying to sleep here," one of his roommates said grumpily from across him.

Kanda bit down on his lower lip, burying his face into the soft pillow, willing his headache to go away. He wondered if the headache was really only from the alcohol or from the memory dream. More than likely, it was both. Only now, he really felt like he had little to show for it.

Mr. Finnegan.

Ellie.

Two names that danced in his mind before subsiding again, fading away from the snores of his roommates. Kanda sighed, turning on his side. It's not like he was in a rush to find out anything.

He lied back on his back, staring up at the mattress from above. He closed his eyes one more time, humming underneath his breath a familiar, yet foreign lullaby.

000

"Excuse me, have you seen this man?" Allen asked patiently, which Linali thought was amazing, considering this was probably the 11th time he had asked the same question to the same nearly deaf woman. Allen was about to give up after coming this far though. The hag held up a hand to her ear, confusion spreading all over her face.

Allen sighed deeply through his nose, borrowing pen from Lavi to scribble down words on the sketch of Kanda: Have you seen this man? "Oh… that's a him? I though he was a lass when I laid eyes on him – granted, a somewhat flattish lass, but still, a lass with a rather pretty face. "

"Yes, that would be Kanda." Girly face. He mused how Kanda was in denial about his facial features.

"I'm not sure if I'm right – I am an old woman, mind you," I believe we've established that, Allen thought dryly, "but I believe he went that away." A long, wrinkled finger trembled, pointing into the direction of the seaports.

"Thank you, dear lady," Allen said hurriedly as Lavi and Linali rushed behind him. Allen hoped this wouldn't come to a dead end.