Title: Stray

Chapter: Four

Fandom: -man
Rating: T
Pairing: Kanda x Allen

A/N: Nrr. Welcome to chapter four~.

Due to popular demand, starting next chapter, the installments of Stray will be longer and, hopefully, better and more enjoyable for you to read. So look forward to that, ne?

Now, onto the usual warnings:

This is AU. Don't like, don't read.

This is also shounen-ai. Again, don't read if you don't like.

This chapter also contains some violence. And that was totally not a spoiler right there.

Just so you can fill your thoughts with unicorns and butterflies and rainbows before venturing forth.

And with that in mind,

Enjoy~

xxxxx

And so, life went on.

Kanda continued to volunteer at the soup kitchen well into December, his temper still terrible, and Allen remained a faithful patron who still sat in that desolate corner that had by now been unofficially reserved for him. But during the past few days Kanda had noticed both subtle and not-so-subtle changes in the boy's behavior. When he would walk into the kitchen on those snowy mornings, his eyes now glittered like little jewels in the morning light and he would flash a small smile in Kanda's direction (which earned the white-haired boy a poisoned glare) before settling himself in line behind the other tramps. His eyes still had that spark to them when it was his turn to be served, and he would softly say "Good morning," as Kanda ladled out his portion of soup. And the long-haired man would always reply "Che," and move on to the next customer. And while Allen was still reclusive little idiot who refused to eat more than a spoonful of his food, the kid was appearing less like a robotic doll each day. Well, at least, when he was around Kanda.

"Y'know, I've been wondering."

The eighth day found the two of them once again standing by the table Allen would always seat himself at, the boy sitting on the table with his legs crossed while Kanda sat backward on the bench, his arms folded and his eyes warily regarding the boy who had changed so suddenly in the space of a day. It was after sundown, and the other volunteers had given Kanda the task of locking up, so the long-hired man could remain at the kitchen for as long as he pleased. Normally, the man was eager to get the hell away from the one place he had found that he despised most in the world, but today there was a white-haired little bean sprout who seemed determined to yap at him until his ears fell off.

"Che."

Allen took that as permission to continue. "…what's your name?"

Kanda coughed and turned slightly so that he was now properly facing the boy sitting cross-legged on the table. "…you don't even know my name."

"Well, no, you never told me."

"…idiot bean sprout."

Allen scowled and leaned forward a bit. "Well, it's not my fault you never tell me anything."

The long haired man just rolled his eyes and replied, "…Kanda."

"…what?"

"That's my name, idiot. You asked."

The white haired boy blinked. "Oh….Kanda?"

At the sound of his name, Kanda twitched. "What?"

"Oh. Nothing. I just wanted to say your name."

After a few more minutes of bantering, Kanda grew sick of Allen's questions and threw him out before locking up the kitchen for the night and bolting down the street before the white-haired boy could say a word. But Allen was in a happier mood that night than he'd been in a while – he now knew Kanda's name.

---

"Kanda, Kanda!"

It was now the end of the tenth day and Allen was calling Kanda's name excitedly as the man appeared from behind the counter and prepared to lock up for the day, as usual. Kanda shot a glare at the boy but didn't reply, instead seating himself as he usually did nowadays pulled out today's newspaper. "What."

"I was checking the city notice board today, Kanda, and there was a poster there!"

The long haired man rolled his eyes and snorted. "That's what the notice board is for, idiot bean sprout."

Allen huffed at the insult but instead of retaliating continued on with his story. "Yes, Kanda I know that, but this was a poster advertising a circus! "He gave a little wiggle of joy at the mere thought of it, plopping down beside Kanda to stare at the man through his metallic eyes.

Kanda snorted once more and lazily flipped a page in the paper. "And why should I care about circuses? They're smelly, noisy and annoying."

"Because they're fun!" Allen cried, waving his arms in the air for emphasis. "They're full of animals and acrobats and magic and wonder and lots and lots of other really cool stuff! Well, at least," Allen said, a crestfallen tone sneaking it's way into his voice, "that's what I've heard."

"Che. Exactly. They're annoying."

Allen sulked in silence and Kanda couldn't help but smirk as he flipped another page in his paper.

---

The next day, Kanda noticed that Allen wasn't there.

He was halfway through pouring soup for a short, odorous hobo when a small, nagging thought in the back of his mind forced him to glance up and not see that head of white hair that had usually walked through the door by now. A twinge of annoyance snaked its way through Kanda's body and he nearly splattered the next person in line with boiling liquid before he realized what he was doing. Scolding himself for letting his concentration wander so much, he continued performing his duty, even though his thoughts were now constantly being interrupted by the grinning face of a certain annoying little white-haired brat.

The morning agonizingly ticked by, every second feeling like days to Kanda as he kept looking up ,then down again, then up once more a few seconds later, dark-blue eyes scanning the kitchen for the familiar head of snowy hair that had neglected to arrive. A combination of anger, annoyance and worry whirled around in his head until he thought it would explode in a mess of homicidal rage if it weren't for, at long last, his eyes catching sight of the Cursed Boy nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to clear the remaining distance between him and the long line of hungry tramps. Allen tilted his head to the side so he could spot Kanda's scowling face through the glass window and he smiled that small smile of his and the long-haired man snorted, then continued on his work, now slightly less angry and not nearly homicidal anymore.

By the time it was Allen's turn to obtain his meal, the sun had already begun its slow dip beneath the horizon. Kanda noticed that Allen looked, if possible, even thinner and scrawnier than the previous days, and he had a dull blue and purple bruise adorning his left cheek.

"…you're late."

Allen couldn't help it; he laughed. "I didn't know I was on a schedule."

Kanda ignored this and instead scrutinized the wound on the white-haired boy's face. It was quite large, about the size of a tennis ball, but this wasn't what caught Kanda's attention. Maybe it was because he hadn't bothered to look closely at Allen's face before, but now that he did, Kanda could see that the boy's left eye was completely obscured by bandages. Part of his newly-acquired bruise disappeared beneath the dressing, and the beginnings of a distinct, deep red scar was also visible directly beneath the beginning of the bandages. Kanda wondered why he had never noticed before – was he really that oblivious?

'Arsonists set their house on fire, no idea who they are or what their motive was – Allen barely survived as it is, his left eye and arm are pretty messed up.'

Kanda could now see what Lavi had meant – well, except for Allen's left arm, which was always covered by the sleeve of his coat and his left hand by a thin, white glove. Was the damage from the fire so terrible that the boy found the need to take such drastic measures to hide it? Kanda felt another pang of an unknown emotion jolt his heart and he viciously beat it down before asking, "What the fuck did you do to yourself, stupid bean sprout?"

"It's Allen, not bean sprout! And I'm not stupid either! And, to answer your question, I just fell down!" The heated retort caused Kanda to tch loudly and shake his head.

"…you fell."

The white haired boy seemed offended by that comment. "I'm serious! I'm really clumsy and I was walking down the street and tripped down the stairs and yeah…I got hurt. So what?"

The long haired man rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just shut up and go eat your soup.

Allen gladly did so, but as he walked away he rewound the conversation in his head until a wide grin swept the usual pale mask from his face. For a teeny, tiny moment, Allen was sure that Kanda had been worried about him.

---

Unfortunately, the good things in Allen's life didn't seem to last long.

The next day dawned in a similar way to the previous – the white haired boy did not show up at his usual time, but Kanda wasn't nearly as worried as before. The stupid brat was probably off tripping down more stairs like yesterday and would arrive eventually. But even that thought couldn't douse the small flicker of worry that pricked the man's mind. Especially when noontime had passed and there was still no sign of the Cursed Boy anywhere. And by evening, when the other tramps had slowly begun to depart and the bean sprout had not yet arrived, the tiny flicker began to flare in a roar of jumbled emotions that a now aggravated Kanda couldn't place.

Allen was always there.

Except today.

Why wasn't he here?

Was he sick of coming here?

Was he sick of the food? Or maybe something else?

Was he sick of Kanda?

This last thought blared like a siren as the long-haired man rushed out from behind the counter of the soup kitchen and yanked his coat from the hanger by the door. The bean sprout would have hell to pay if Kanda found his moseying around somewhere, not knowing how much his absence had affected Kanda. This was all the stupid bean sprout's fault – it was his fault for being so helpless, his fault for always being there, his fault for causing Kanda's emotions to jumble up in such a mess.

He tossed his keys in the face of another volunteer and shot a hurried, "I'm leaving early, lock up," to her before bolting out the door and leaving the few remaining persons a the kitchen blinking owlishly at his fast retreating back.

---

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

He stopped, hearing rough voices and fast footsteps approaching from behind. He cast his eyes back to see a gang of men rushing at him – he could see his own dull eyes reflected in their angry ones in the split-second before hands grabbed him by the shoulders and rammed him against the alley wall. The cold edges of the brick dug through his coat into the soft flesh of his back and he could almost feel the poisoned looks the men were giving him; angry, accusing looks that, deep down, he knew he deserved.

"Fucking kid! You think you can just strut around like you actually mean something? Like you aren't a piece of disgusting shit? Answer me, boy!"

He didn't. He never did.

A fist connected with his already maimed cheekbone and he barely registered the pain beating through his skull as another clenched hand drilled into his abdomen and he fell sideways to the ground, feeling a warm liquid bubble up in the back of his throat. He was used to the taste of blood by now. He was kicked and shoved and kicked around some more, a new, colorful collection of cuts and bruises quickly being acquired due to the constant beating. A moment of calm gave him a moment to gasp for air before a strong hand lifted him up by the collar of his shirt and the back of his skull made contact with the stone behind him – stars merrily danced before his eyes and he could no longer register the cold touch of blood trickling down the back of his neck.

Mana.

"You little shit! Say something!"

I'm sorry, Mana.

Images flashed through his mind as he felt himself loose grip on his consciousness, a whirling orchestra of noises and emotions and sights and thoughts running rampant in his tortured mind. The small part of his brain that was still aware of his surrounds quivered as wiry fingers wrapped themselves around his throat, locking his breath in his chest, draining his life through rough, cold hands.

I can't hold you first in my heart anymore, Mana.

The thoughts of the previous week and a half shone like welcome beacons and he lost himself, reliving the past nine days in every detail he could remember. Back to the firs day, in which he had looked up into storm, dark blue eyes for the first time and had felt his heart skip a beat at the snarling voice that accompanied them. And the face that belonged to that man, an angry face with angry eyes and a barbed tongue that made the small part of him that was still him shine through like no one but Mana had ever done before.

I couldn't save you back then. And now I'm…replacing you, almost.

Darkness was beginning to creep at the corners of his mind, wrapping tendrils around everything that he held dear – himself, his memories, everything was slowly being eaten but the suffocating black. He held on, he fought, he tried to draw strength from the thought of the man that had saved him from himself, but to no avail.

I'm the worst, aren't I?

Vaguely, he wondered if the man would miss him. Would anyone miss him? A sad, fait smile touched his lips before being taken, like everything else, by the evaporating darkness.

I'm so sorry, Mana.

His last thoughts were a jumped mess of words, feelings, memories, wishes, dreams—

'Che, idiot bean sprout.'

He couldn't help but chuckle weakly. His last thought…an insult.

I'm sorry, Mana...Kanda...

Please forgive me.

xxxxx

A/N: Aaaand there we have it, the finale of chapter four! It was short as well, I'm sorry, I hope you enjoyed it anyway – I was on fire at during the last scene, seriously, I think I may be a sadist at heart or something. Anyway.

Today's my birthday! I'm glad I could submit this chapter on the day I turn 15. That makes me happy. For some reason.

Anyway!

I hope you enjoyed another segment of my craptastic writing. The next chapter should be up by December 12, so please, if you feel like it, look forward to it.

So, until chapter five,

27

(I swear I'll start making the chapters longer…)