Because I love the four of them as bonded by circumstance and fate. Do not be afraid of Lenalee.
Cruz de Cuatro
Kanda was, predictably, not very fond of sentimentality.
There was a small candleholder on the table, lit so as to diffuse the gloomy glow of his lotus flower. The night was oppressively dark, but Kanda had one of the windows unlatched, so that the whistle of a breeze disturbed the muted silence of the room.
Kanda himself sat on his bed, his Exorcist's jacket removed and strewn over the back of a chair. Mugen lay not more than a few feet away on a silken pillow, the one luxury he'd allowed the most honored item in his life. His forever-straight shoulders had the slightest curve of fatigue to them, lusciously long legs resting on a bar on the chair. He pushed a strand of onyx-black hair from his face, staring at the book resting on the palm of his hand.
Brilliantly and fiery red, a color that could only be achieved by the expert dyers in Morocco. The cover nearly glowed with the intensity of its hue, the binding sown with an equally mesmerizing shade of emerald, which adorned the edges of the cover as well. With slow, pensive movements, he unclasped the lock of the journal and flipped through the taupe-colored pages, which skimmed past his fingertips in a feathery flutter. His dark eyes did nothing more than stare out of a blank visage, belied only by the slight purse of his lips.
There was sudden knock on the door, absorbed by the dust on his walls, and Kanda started, nearly dropping the journal in his haste to stand and quickly drop it on the table, adopting a scowling, menacing stance before he grunted permission.
The door creaked open and a pair of heavy-lidded gray eyes peeked in, "Hey, Kanda. Can I sleep here tonight? It's too far to go to my room, and I'm about to drop dead."
He scowled fiercely at Allen, but his abrupt turning away to push the chair back into the table was tacit authorization, and the younger boy smiled and made his way inside, already in nothing more than a tank top and thin sleeping pants.
Kanda frowned as another visitor was revealed at his door.
"I just wanted to say goodnight to you and Allen," Lenalee said, stepping inside and holding up a paper bag in the air, "And Komui wanted me to drop off your new gloves—they just finished them."
Kanda nodded, watching disdainfully Allen's disregard of their conversation for the task of climbing into Kanda's bed and burrowing under the covers. Lenalee caught his glance and smiled.
"He just got back today, don't yell at him," she said lightly, laughing at the scowl on his face, which remained there as the prideful substitute to a verbal acknowledgment of her words, "I'll just put these up in your drawers," she continued, removing the gloves from their bag and heading to the closet in the corner of the room. She opened the doors and opened the second drawer, where all his hair ribbons, gloves and socks were stored, and carefully folded them inside. Her eyes gave a critical once-over to the clothes hanging on the hooks.
"Are you sure you don't need new shirts for winter? You've grown this year, they're probably too short for you now," she said, her glance jumping between him and the sleeves of the shirts in mental measurement.
"Probably," he agreed. She always knew when to get him new clothes; Kanda himself had never bothered to keep up with his growing frame.
"I'll get on that tomorrow," she said, hair breezing behind her as she swept up to Kanda and pecked his cheek, "Good night."
"Good night."
"Good night, Allen," she called out to the lump on the bed, who attempted to hum something in reply, sleepy eyes opening slightly in farewell. She laughed slightly and turned around, and it was then she noticed the journal, "Is that yours?"
He supposed the curiosity was due. He had never been a writer, so an item like that in his room was a question waiting to be asked. He shrugged, planning to stay silent, but on second thought, opened his mouth.
"No."
Leenale tiled her head to the side, flipping through the pages as Kanda had earlier done, "Then whose is it? It's empty."
There was a rustle of cloth from Kanda's bed, and then a sleepy murmur, "Looks like Lavi's hair…"
Kanda blushed slightly and turned away from the understanding that dawned on her face with an excited 'oh!'.
"So is it for him?" Kanda nodded slightly, and she smiled appreciatively, running her fingers over the leather cover, "It's beautiful. I'm sure he'll love it. When are you going to give it to him?"
Kanda bristled and sat on his bed, carefully so as not to jar the half-sleeping body in it, "I don't know. Why don't you give it to him?"
Leenale shook her head, and sat down on the chair in front of him, "Kanda, it's your present. Lavi would love to get something from you," she grinned in amused toleration of Kanda's reluctance, "So, how are you planning on giving it to him, then?"
"Leave it in his room," Kanda muttered, eyes firmly focused on the journal, and not on Leenale's laughing eyes.
"Just like that?" she chuckled, "No card, no nothing?"
"…on't be supid, K'nda..."
"Shut up, moyashi," Kanda snapped, and jostled the lump behind him with his elbow, producing a sleepy complaint, and turned back to scowl at Leenale, "I'm not doing something so damn girly."
Leenale bit her lip in thought, "Well, then, how are you going to let him know it was from you?"
"Does he have to know?" Kanda mumbled.
"Yes," Leenale said firmly, "It's only right. I suppose," she added, "that it doesn't have to be a card. But we need something that makes it undeniably yours."
Kanda yelped as something pulled his hair, and suddenly his ribbon was loose and all his hair cascaded about his face, "Allen!"
Leenale blinked, "Oh, that's it. Allen, you're brilliant even when half-asleep. Kanda, your hair," she pulled at her own ponytails wistfully, "Mine isn't nearly as pretty or long as yours. Or dark," she stood up eagerly, "Oh, I have a perfect idea."
-0-o-0-o-
"I'll take it from your side-bangs, just a couple strands," she said, sliding her fingertips along his jaw to brush against his scalp, silk black strands gliding through her fingers, "It won't be noticeable, and they're the perfect length."
The snip-snip of the scissors was short and deadly, and it only took two careful strokes from each side of his face to gather a single lock about the width of his pinkie. Kanda watched the way she worked, standing above him and gently turning his head one way, then the other, cool hands cupping his face. Allen's hand had tangled itself in the black waterfall down his back; Kanda could feel the tug on his scalp when he tried to pull away.
"You'll braid it," she said, once she presented the lock to him and sat next to him, "and use these two clips," she removed two silver clasps from her hair, bangs sweeping forward to tickler her cheekbones. Her side was pressed against his arm, warm, and her lips were small and inviting; he gave in and leaned over to brush his lips over hers, tugging at her lower lip with his teeth. She laughed and broke away, eyes fond and loving, as they had been since she was young.
"I used to be jealous of your hair, when I was little," she recalled, and twirled a finger in the strands tumbling over his bare shoulders, "I suppose I still am. Considering you wash it with soap and still get this silky texture out of it."
He said nothing, watching her with dark eyes, and then looked down at the lock of hair in his hands.
"He comes home tomorrow," she said, her relief and excitement at a mission completed without fault or injury evident in the triumph of her tone. Even nearly asleep and nestled in the covers of Kanda's bed, strands of black hair loosely wrapped around his hand, Allen's lips tugged into a smile.
"Yes," Kanda murmured, and deeply entrenched in the depths of his voice there was a husky thread of emotion.
The clock hanging from Kanda's otherwise bare walls rang out echoingly, and Lenalee sighed and shook her head, "I have to go; Komui'll be wanting another cup of coffee about now…"
She smiled and leaned down, kissing first Allen, who hummed in contentment, and then Kanda, who took the opportunity to mouth a word against her delicate lips.
"You're welcome," she answered softly, her hand lingering in his dark tresses, and then withdrawing. The door clicked shut, closing off her swaying figure into the hallways, and Kanda sighed and lied down, holding up his lock of hair above him and contemplating the whole idea.
"He'll love't…" Allen murmured against the crook of his neck, accommodating himself to Kanda's body.
Kanda sighed and dug a distracted hand underneath Allen, cocooning his small figure against him as he reached out with his other hand to place the lock of hair above the fiery red leather of the journal. He turned back on his side, facing Allen, and pulled the covers over both of them, settling into the warmth emanating from Allen's body. Only once he was almost asleep, with his face hidden amongst Allen's hair, did he allow the merest hint of a pleased smile to show on his face.
-0-o-0-o-
When Lavi opened the door to his room, his eyes alighted immediately on the one anomaly—a red journal on his desk. He traced his hands on the leather, noting it was just a nearly the same hue as his hair, and clicked the latch open. The pages immediately parted to the spot where a bookmark had been neatly placed, and Lavi's eyes widened as he recognized whose hair had been used to weave the delicately braided placeholder. And when he flipped through the pages admiringly, his quick eye did not miss the elegantly penned calligraphy on the corner of the last page: 神田ユウ
If not obvious, that is Kanda's full name in Japanese. Review, please.