Summary from chapter 1 to now: (in case you needed reminding, or for new readers who skipped ahead)

Allen is suspected of murdering a man outside of the poor section of town, called the quartered district. As a Noah (for this story, the Noah are an ethnic group), he has little help from the detectives, but has not yet been arrested. He hears voices- or one voice in particular. He has done preliminary searching with Kanda Yu, who went to Lavi for suggestions. Kanda and Allen have only just begun to work together, and Kanda is not yet sure what they're doing together, or what it means.

Chapter 7: Touring the Noah Quarter

(Allen)

"Kanda! Open up!"

It's only a matter of minutes before the door's open and my favorite grumpy doll glowers out at me.

"What do you want?" He gripes. It doesn't have anything to do with the time of day. I think he's just naturally a jerk.

"Are you working?" I ask politely, peering over his shoulder as Tim floats off my head—circles Kanda like a vulture and plops into his pony-tail. I think he's looking for soba-scraps or something.

Kanda's eye twitch is so pronounced I have only a second to wonder if his face is breaking. "Yes." He growls, tugging the golem out of his hair and thrusting it at me.

I have to laugh at that. "Come on. If you were working, you wouldn't be here." He snorts—nasty habit—but doesn't resist when I grab his hand.

"We're going to the Noah District, OK?" I smile at him as reassuringly as I can. "You can work with me better if you know where I'm coming from, don't you think?" My hands twist over his wrist, and I look past him to Tim.

It's nice to have him back. A friend in your corner is just what you need sometimes.

Kanda allows himself to be removed from the premises—but not before tucking knives into his boots and a weird little rope thing around his waist. I guess almost-bodyguards always go prepared.

"…do you always carry that much?" I ask, heading down the street. I only stop when I realize I can't hear his footsteps behind me. "'cause if you do, I'd like to see your luggage for—" He's giving me a look. "What?"

A derisive smile from him makes my blood boil. "…you dorealize the Noah District is in the opposite direction, don't you?"

I haven't been so annoyed since…I dunno when, but aaarg, he's barely said anything and—but maybe that's the problem.

Trying to look perfectly at ease, I spin about. It'd be easier to look better if he—

"Get your hands off your head." Kanda snaps. The amusement's gone from his expression, and he jerks his chin. "Are you trying to look like an idiot? It's only half working."

My hands on my hips now, I glower at him with all the Cross-inspired venom I Can muster. "It's called being natural,you know, and you're the one who looks—"

"You make it look like I'm leading you as a hostage at knifepoint."

I glower some more. "Well then, why don't we link arms and frolicthere, shall we?"

Looking incredulous, Kanda steers me by the shoulder to the edge of the path. He looks like he's really trying to stay out of the crowd, but… "Why is it you have a big white head?" He gripes. "We'll neverblend in…"

"You're the one with a black banner of hair, you know. And that scowl with that gait? You screamof night business." I snap back in as polite a tone as I can manage.

Tim flops on my head. I stop walking.

He believes me about as much as an Armageddon, I think. That while trying to choose between ignoring my taunt, and asking a question, and continuing the argument.

Aa, decisions.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a glimpse of unruly hair and clever eyes. It's my musician.

Yu is watching me intently. He doesn't let things go easily, now does he?

"What are you looking at?" I find myself asking. My suspicious nature shows through some of Mana's training even now.

"You."

That gives me pause. I close my eyes to cover some of it. "…yes, I realize. What in particular, or why?" I tug at my gloves a little.

With a shrug worthy of a vain prince, he retorts, "Trying to decide if you're just stupid, or what."

Settling for quarrels again, I see.The (not-)musician muses. His smile is wide and easy, like a certain lucky uncle I know.

"What do you mean by that?" I brush past Kanda, meaning for the bratty guy to follow after.

He does, but only after a fashion.

His words overlap with the musician, so I can't fully understand either.

—always—

"—not all there—"

-speaking but not really-

"—to me?"

I sigh. "Ne'r mind. Just…let's go." I do take his elbow, lead him out of the deserted side path and onto a road…losing myself and him in the crowd. It's not as hard as he thinks.

Oddly enough, the musician seems to keep ahead of us somehow.

"How do you do that?" I ask at last, when we're onto a garden path. It used to be rubble, Road told me, but some of the cousins (who others call the apostles) 'prettied it up' with all sorts of flowering plants. Every season has some splay of color added here, and images from myths and history were mixed and tiled in with the bricks. It's a charming path.

Nevertheless, as a result, only Noah or friends of the People usually travel here.

Kanda is lookingat me again. I suppose I said that last one aloud.

I'm where you are, Allen Walker. He replies softly. Nostalgic, that voice. I smile at him, still trying to remember his name.

"Whose name?" Yu's calling in my ear. Firm, but not loud.

Speaking to yourself.the figure offers.

"Just talking to myself." I respond, taking my eyes from him.

Trying for a new approach, I wave Tim into sight and shove him toward the man. "Fly a while, will you?" I tease. Give me something he can see…something I can 'look at.'

Nea.

I stop. "What?"

My name is Nea, Allen.His smile is soft, and his eyes shift from golden to silver.

"Look at this," I say abruptly, causing every head to turn. I drop down, resting my hands on my knees.

Obligingly, Yu follows suit.

"It's the laughing moon…" I explain cheerfully. "A sign of the Dark One—the god of death and rebirth." I glance at Kanda slyly, watching his eyes widen. As I thought.

Still looking for that someone, isn't he?

"A few feet further down, you can see the morning sun—goddess of the sun, obviously. In charge of life and birth mostly, but both deities have a score of other things too…"

Kanda's breath is in his throat. Belatedly, he breathes. "That sign—"

I nod. "Seen it before?"

He shakes his head, but then nods. No longer trying to make quarrels.

"Hm." I muse, wondering how that could be. "Duality is a large part of the faith…" I continue. "So you'll see two complementary parts, further divided into contrasting—sometimes contradictory pieces."

Kanda nods, as though that makes some kind of sense. Sometimes, I think it doesn't.

I stand up. "Nea…" I say into the wind. "…you're familiar." The words I can't keep bottled up.

Kanda graciously ignores me, walking down the path. A few meters past the sun, he finds something.

The stigmata. Nea's smile is triumphant now. The mark of the blessed.

I pull at my gloves, loosening them as I walk. "Blessed…" I repeat.

Murmuring to himself, Kanda notes, "Stigmata? I thought that was a Christian thing."

Nea looks at him with an unreadable expression. I note Tim's anxious flapping, though, and it seems a little…chilly on afterthought.

I swallow. "Some of the terminology's the same…I don't know why." I continue with the explanation he hasn't asked for. "There are traditionally said to be thirteen apostles—but only the Moon's side has been active in centuries."

He nods slowly, and his hands unclench. "…is there anything I need to know? For not insulting people." His scowl is so pronounced it's funny.

I laugh. "Um?" I give it a thought.

No innocence.Nea says cryptically.

"Don't stare…and be polite to anyone who looks older than you…since they're a lotolder than you." I turn to Nea. "And be nice."

Kanda snorts but agrees stoically. I can see him out of the corner of my eye. He catches my hand. "OK." But he lets go just as quickly.

Boys' and girls' voices carry through the trees. We're almost home.

I turn and smile at Yu.

(Kanda)

The place isn't what I expected. The buildings may be well built, but they're…old. And too poor for repairs, it seems. There's dust and fading that a wash of water couldn't help. It'll look old either way.

Oddly enough, there's greenery everywhere—it's got that weird green smell, and a heavy undercurrent of water.

"This is the church to the moon." Allen's saying. "Let's go in, shall we?"

He takes my hand again—and the soft, warm touch of skin makes me stop to look. He's removed his gloves. I don't know what I was expecting, but it's not what I see.

His left hand is shockingly white, and a wine-colored birthmark on the back draws the eye. It's very regular—like a cross that's fading in and out of focus. Black lines connect the delicate bones of his wrist, leading up and under his shirt. I don't know if that's a design or something religious, but only the birthmark looks natural.

I can't help but stare.

Allen's smile freezes, and he begins to withdraw. Self-conscious, I guess.

I grab his hand by the fingers, pulling him back. It could have been a dance, but that stupid kid knows some tricks of his own. He tucks his elbow into my side and is aiming a low kick at my shins.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in a church, bean sprout!" My voice rings out louder than I anticipated. "I was just going to say that you took off your gloves." I mumble, pulling out of reach.

Thin gossamer curtains shimmer against the gray winter sky, drawing my eye. The church is lit entirely by the windows, which oddly only seem to enhance the darkness in the corners and around the altar.

Allen watches me look around, his expression blank. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, and looks away to a point just to his side. He flinches, and ducks his head. Like someone was talking to him. Like he heard someone tell him to behave…

Allen chews his lip, and slowly approaches the altar. He lifts his chin a bit, and takes a deep breath, his chest swelling with air. The soft, crooning noise that comes out of him is almost eerie, so soft and gentle it echoes. Slowly, it rises in volume, and drifts into an almost absent minded aria.

I watch him close his eyes, sway and sing.

Behind me, the door opens, and a ray of daylight precedes quiet footsteps. A tall man with the same shape of eyes looks on. His hair, wispy, faintly curled as Allen's (except it is a less conspicuous shade. It's a sensible black) looks similar, too.

"Ya. You a friend of Allen's then?" he smiles crookedly, glancing at me before turning his gaze back to Allen.

I shrug. "I suppose..." I offer. Since he seems content to watch Allen, I decide to move over to a pew to wait. I shift in my chair awkwardly, trying to dispel the sense that as a non-worshiper, I shouldn't be here.

Allen opens his eyes, having apparently finished the song. "Hello Tyki." He doesn't sound surprised at all. "You don't have a shadow today."

The things that come out of this guy's mouth…I don't know what he means at all.

Tyki smiles like a conman. His sharp eyes crinkle just a bit, and his white teeth shine. "so, what have you brought us?" He jerks his thumb at me, and I don't think he's joking.

"He wants to know about the Noah," Allen says glibly.

The golem jitters a little like it's laughing. It's got a point. Ididn't ask. He volunteered me.

Not missing a beat, Tyki laughs too, grabbing at his stomach like Allen's told the best joke, completely overdoing it. "Really? Kandadid?"

I don't remember introducing myself. Has the beansprout been talking about me?

Nodding sagely, Allen inclines his chin—the damn liar—and clasps his hands behind his back. "We're going to be working together."

Now that's just too much. "They didn't say that." I snap. "Lenalee only said that I'm supposed to keep an eye out—"

"—and I told you, doesn't that sound like a good partnership? You can scare people with your grumpy stare and I'll charm them—"

"—with what? Your golden golem?"

"—with my silver tongue," he finishes smoothly.

Tyki only smirks. "You saying you aren't?" His mouth moves carefully. "Partners?"

Ignoring that, I gesture toward the building. "Shouldn't we give greeting to the god?"

Allen's brow crinkles. "I already did, but you're welcome to in whatever fashion you think is appropriate." He says in a tone he probably means to be magnanimous.

Tyki continues with his haughty, amused expression. "I don't Nea would care too much if you chanted a bit of a sutra and meditated." His smile grows. "Just remember—"

"—Nea?" Allen interrupts. His face gone slack with what looks like shock.

NowTyki's look is careful. Guarded. "Yes, boy?" strange he should call him that. Annoyance. Or maybe worry. I don't know quite what to call that look.

"You said Neawouldn't mind." He insists.

"The Keeper, then. Or the Time Eater." His eyes flick toward me. "The Millennium Earl is another of his titles, but he doesn't much care for it. Used mostly before the current incarnation took…office. So to speak."

I blink twice. "Your god is…was a person? Or a vessel?"

Tyki shrugs. "You could say that…生き神," ikigami, living god*"is more apt, I think." His gaze is trained on Allen.

With a baffled (and baffling) expression, Allen turns on Tyki. "Nea is another name for the Destroyer of Time?" he grabs Tyki's shoulder, as though he could get confirmation by shaking it out of his relative.

"Of course, Allen. In a way. But also...not." He cocks his head to considerate, but muses aloud, "I thought all you young folk were taught ithat/i story. Though I suppose it might be different for you…growing up as you did…" He considers the problem. "You…seem alarmed."

"…didn't tellme…." Allen says to no one. Again. His eyes are fixed on an empty space barely an inch from Tim, but still.

"Is he…" I steal a glance at Tyki, and then the arch. "…talking to someone?"

Tyki nods slightly, his golden-brown eyes glittering.

Allen stops mid-sentence, his attention refocusing. "I didn't tell you his name." He sounds uncertain, unbalanced. "I didn't tell you Kanda's name. Is Kanda Yu in the history?"

Tyki's hand goes to his chest, as though remembering—what. An old wound? iA sword in his chest?I frown, wondering at the sudden almost-memory. I feel the blood drain from my face. Just like my memories with Alma.

More memories than my short life as a doll should allow.

"—you can request a ceremony to make sure. But he looks and acts the same."

"What do you mean?" I hiss, my eyes narrow and my knives already in my hands. "I look and act like who?"

Tyki frowns, his face stony.

If not for my engineered faster-than-human reflexes, I would have an elbow in the gut and a pinched nerve in my arms from Allen. But I am a doll, and I was already on guard.

"Stupid Kanda!" He surges toward me again. "Knives, knives!" Allen waves his hands empathetically, and then grabs onto my arm. "Noweapons in a church." He says slowly, enunciating each syllable.

I grit my teeth, but put them away.

"You were and are Kanda Yu. Then, you and Allen were exorcists. Thirteen Noah apostles—and another, including the previous Allen—were aligned at one point or another with the Millennium Earl, the ancient and corrupt god of the moon. With considerable effort and great human cost, and Noah cost too, that dark, demon possessed era ended." Tyki says it effortlessly, as though past lives and past names mean as little as hometowns (and yet as much as human history). He doesn't take any of my—or Allen's—concerns seriously.

I take a deep breath. Hold it. Count.

Beginning the question is not easy. "You're telling me that iwe,/i" I gesture widely to include Allen, "are reincarnates of god killers?"
Tyki laughs. "We prefer to think of it as…a revolution. For the Noah, and humans too."

Great. No wonder I was born a doll.

I wait for more explanation. When none is forthcoming, I look to Allen. "…whatever. Exorcists or god killers. It makes no difference to me."

Allen looks a little disturbed. He shakes his head tightly, but then sighs. "Greetings." He says firmly. When I don't immediate understand, he elaborates. "To the god…Nea. Lest you provoke…hard feelings."

I have a bad feeling about this.

Not knowing if I should take Tyki and his earlier advice at face value or not, I walk toward the archway, bow once, and clap my hands as if I were at a shinto shrine.* In my best polite, Kyoto-tradition, I say, "I humbly speak before the God of the Moon and Keeping. Thank you for the opportunity to listen."

Both Tyki andWalker look astounded. They exchange looks.

"…didn't know he could be polite." Tyki says simply.

Allen laughs.

I try to ignore them, but feel a twitch come over my eye. But I hold my temper…at least until out of the Noah's sacred space. "This place is old…" I say instead.

Allen nods, his attention more-or-less back on the topic at hand. "Yes. It's as old as the Noah section…" he glances up. "Cross told me it was part of a treaty…to keep the Noah here. And part of politics to lock them—us—up." He shifts from one foot to the other. "The Noah who weren't involved in the war took in the apostles…and began to rebuild Japan."

"The roots aren't here then…"

Tyki eyes me, and his expression isn't nearly as easy-going as it could have been. "If they're anywhere." He looks wilder, more of a playboy than an uncle, and he knows it. I don't understand him at all. "But a ipeople/i can adapt."

I look away from the man. Seeing him smirk like that, like he knows anything more than I do, is maddening. It makes me want to leap up in the air, knives slashing or sword swinging, and pin him to the ground with cold metal blades.

But I don't. Allen likes the man. Maybe.

The bean sprout is smiling at me. It's almost like he's falling asleep again…his brain's probably focusing on something else, but he's not paying attention to anything around him.

I wonder what it's like…to hear the voice of a ghost. Or a god.

Is it like having memories? Like mymemories?

If it is…we're more similar than I thought. Maybe too similar.

"Come on then. You wanted to show me something else?"

But Allen is singing a song again, and waves the question off with one hand. Not the marked hand, but…

It's hard to see him as a murderer. And I don't know what Lenalee was thinking, inviting him to work with me.

…I guess I have to wait and see. With us working and Lavi keeping an ear out, things have got to turn up.

Author's note:
This story seems to be…wearing me thin. I'm doing my best to finish, but any words you can toss my way would help.