I think that this is the shortest installment yet for my Yullen week oneshots; I wanted to do a more introspective piece from Kanda's point of view. Not too sure how well I managed it - I'll let you guys be the judge of that, I suppose! Not to mention I got a little bit stuck with this prompt; it surprised me, actually, because when I first read and thought about the prompts, I thought that this would be one of the easiest to do. Well, whatever. On with the Yullen, I guess.

Disclaimer: ch'yeah, no.

Day six, prompt six: war (and there're also hints of sacrifice - two prompts in one!)

They (that was, the Exorcists) were not unused to fighting – they were all perfectly prepared to fight and die for the sake of their God. At least, that was what they all believed; when it came down to it, in the midst of a fight, God was the last thing on their minds. They worried about their lives, about their friends, and the Akuma. Religion and faith held no place on a battlefield.

Kanda understood that better than anyone. He didn't put his faith in someone he couldn't see, didn't like to so blindly turn himself over to an all-powerful being whose existence he wasn't sure he believed in. He may work for the Church, but he'd never been to a single fucking service in his life, and he wasn't too sure why he was starting now – it definitely had nothing to do with the brat or the fact that he had been sent out on a solo mission without even his stalker for company.

In Kanda's opinion, that most likely meant that they weren't expecting him to come back, and fuck it all if that didn't make his chest burn.

He understood that in war, there couldn't be victory without sacrifices, no matter which side you fought for. Something like that had never really troubled him, though the brat had torn himself up about it every time he couldn't save one of those precious souls. Yet now, thinking that the moyashi – his moyashi – might become the sacrifice he had so proudly claimed to be on their first mission just... ripped him apart from the inside out.

So there he was, sitting in a fucking freezing church with his hands clasped together in some semblance of prayer. He refused to close his eyes because he wasn't going to be caught off guard by anything, be it Akuma, the usagi or one of the chief's fucked-up robots.

It was draughty in the church, and Kanda shivered, wishing for a thicker jumper, or his long uniform coat. He hated it in the church – it was so big and imposing, it almost managed to make him feel intimidated. That in itself was enough of a reason to hate it, but there were more. He hated the way it always smelled musty and empty, no matter how many people there were in there; the way the high vaulted ceiling and stained glass windows portrayed a Heaven that wouldn't open its gates to someone like him, soldier of God or no. Maybe it was because it reminded him of the fucking hypocrites he was working for, or maybe it was because there was a certain moyashi who spent half of his time in there, praying to a God who had given him the shittiest deal of all.

Kanda felt the smallest of grimaces settle onto his face at the thought – who knew what sort of Hell the kid had been through, and still faced. There was the entire debacle with the Fourteenth Noah that meant he had now been branded a potential traitor, losing his Innocence and getting it back, being apprenticed to Cross (Kanda had only met the bastard a couple of times, and that was enough for him).

Allen was the Destroyer of Time; their saviour, the boy who would finally kill the Millennium Earl once and for all. It was a heavy title to bear, and Kanda's shoulders slumped just thinking about it. He couldn't imagine what that sort of responsibility had done to a fifteen year old boy who should still be in school, living with his parents.

The war had taken even that from him, it seemed. He could remember, on one of their countless missions together, the moyashi confiding in him, how he had been left by his parents at a young age to fend for himself on the streets, all because of his arm, his deformity (Kanda could remember being shocked by the venom in his voice as he spoke that word, and wanted to reassure the boy though he had no idea how to go about such a thing). How determined he had then been to never place his trust in another human being. It had seemed impossible to Kanda, incomprehensible even, that such a paranoid and distrustful young boy had grown to be the smiling, caring Exorcist that everyone loved. He had asked about it, casually, not wanting to tip the boy off to his growing curiosity. Allen had seen through it, he was sure, but he also kept up the act with an easy shrug and a faraway smile.

'I met Mana, and he taught me how to live again, how to keep walking,' the sprout had said, and Kanda still doesn't understand it, even to this day. Keep walking? How could they keep walking when everything and everyone conspired to knock them back? How were they supposed to remember how to live when all around them was death?

That mission was also memorable for another reason – it was the first time he had kissed the moyashi. Or at least, he assumed that it counted as a kiss; alright, so the sprout had been fast asleep at the time, and maybe it had only lasted a few seconds because Kanda was worried that he might wake the moyashi up if it was any longer. He wasn't quite sure why the urge to kiss the sprout was so strong – perhaps it was because he had finally started to open and be honest with his comrade, rather than brushing everything off with that stupid fake smile.

It was the first time Kanda had kissed Allen, but it wasn't the last – a couple of times had been accidental (and he used the term very loosely, as he was sure that Lavi had somehow been involved).

Well, either way, the moyashi was still oblivious; it was a wonder to him how someone so attentive to the feelings of others managed to be so blind. He had considered going to Lavi or Lenalee for advice, when he realised that that might cause more problems than it solved.

Kanda sat back in the pew, resting his head against the carved wooden headrest and stared up at the ceiling. His thoughts wandered, to places that were inappropriate in almost any situation, never mind a church. Then again, Kanda had never much cared for propriety or anything – and when it came to the moyashi, all rules were void anyway. A sigh escaped his lips and he considered for the thousandth time going to Komui to ask when the moyashi would be back. The stupid scientist probably wouldn't give him a straight answer, but Reever or someone else halfway sane might be there to answer his question.

Kanda stood slowly and stretched, wincing as his joint popped. His legs had gone numb from sitting on the hard wooden pews for too long and he could feel a headache building behind his eyes – he was probably dedicating far too much thought to the subject of the moyashi, but he just couldn't help himself. The beansprout was interesting.

Glancing around to make sure that there was no one else in the church to see him, Kanda walked to the side of the room where there was a tall stand stacked with candles, just waiting to be lit. He picked one up that hadn't already been used and touched it to the lit candle until a single, wavering flame caught, lighting up his face from beneath. He shut his eyes, lips moving in silent prayer, fingers gripping the candle so hard it was a miracle the wax didn't snap in half.

Let the moyashi come home. This war has claimed too many lives already.