#genericchristmascandy

Kanda sat in the center of his small apartment, deep in meditation. White noise played from his smartphone, one of the few things he could play that would drown out the city noise. Cars revved, beeped, and screeched. Trains and planes were almost always audible. This did not bother the young man, though. His meditation was something to be admired, though few would take the time to honor sitting on the floor in silence for hours at a time as a talent.

There was one person that could interrupt that tranquility, though, and he had just trotted through the kitchen door with a tennis ball clenched in his mouth. It was wet and gnarled from its frequent playing. This person- given the title person so that there could be some credit given to the living beings that crowded the city and world as a whole. This person was a dog, a large mutt that he’d taken in off the streets just a few weeks ago. In fact, the dog had been with him as long as he had been in the city.

“You.” Kanda opened his eyes as the dog dropped the tennis ball before him. “Do not interrupt me.” Kanda closed his eyes again and waited for the dog to move. Instead, he stood there. His fluffy tail wagged back and forth in a happy rhythm. He panted as if he had already been playing. Likely, that was exactly what the dog had been doing. The long-haired white and brown dog was always a burst of energy, rather like its previous owner. Idiotic street clown.

“Stop looking at me, dog. I am not going to throw the damn ball.” Kanda, of course, had not given the dog a name nor had he acknowledged the name that the street clown had given to him. It was a dog. His shiny food and water bowl and the degree of treat supplements might have suggested a different sentiment for the dog though.

The dog pushed his head between Kanda’s arm and his body, lifting his arm onto his back. Kanda grumbled something beneath his breath and tried once more to ignore the dog. The dog opened his mouth and started breathing heavy, as if the happiness of being close to Kanda was enough to make him pant with joy. After a few moments of this, Kanda rolled his eyes and began petting the dog.

“You are such a nuisance.” Kanda continued sitting for a while, bonding with the easily pleased creature. He rose to his feet and walked to the kitchen cabinet that held the dog food. It was breakfast time for everyone. Kanda reached over to the radio on the counter and flipped it on. Instead of music, am educational program played gently as Kanda filled the dog’s food dish.

The morning went by quietly. Kanda drank green tea with his rice and nori at the kotatsu. The dog ate fast and joined Kanda on the nearest pillow. The television was mounted on the wall, but Kanda never turned it on. Only the sound of traffic, radio, and the steady breathing of the dog complimented the comfortable morning.

—

Allen stepped out of the public bathroom, make-up done with a giant painted smile and a colorful face. He lived on the streets. Some played instruments, others danced, some just sat, Allen Walker, though, was the clown. That- during the day time at least- was where he made his money. After having had a piddly breakfast of stale bread and some questionable fruit, there was no doubt in his mind that today was the day to make some money. By lunch, he’d have enough to stuff himself.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Allen propped himself in the middle of a street corner, smiling brightly. “Tis the season to be jolly, but I’m bringing you the best gift of all.” People shoved past Allen, a few glanced over their shoulders to look. The small gaggle at the bus stop had decided that, until their bus showed up, watching the show was an alright alternative. “Smiles! Laughter! Delight!” Allen took a step back and held out his arms. Colorful balls rolled out of his sleeves and he began juggling.

The light turned to walk and the group of people began crossing the street. To show that there was no disruption in his routine, Allen shuffled backwards onto the sidewalk, spinning and tossing the balls high into the air. Without missing a beat, he dropped a suitcase from his costume and flipped it open. There was officially a collection box for any tips that might be coming in.

Allen kept his hands and arms fully covered and the scar on his face was covered with make-up. It kept him unrecognizable to anyone didn’t know him. It seemed like there was always some sort of trouble when someone could recognize him. Perhaps that was due to the debts… but that was another story.

A few children turned and tugged away from their parents to get a better look at the clown. Often, children who did this were met with warnings about not getting “too close to the lunatic” or “the bum” or “the drug addict” as people decided to label Allen. Some people had things, other people didn’t. Allen didn’t. He was homeless. It as just the way things were.

“Quit pulling at your leash.” A familiar voice caught Allen’s attention, almost making him drop a ball. It was the guy who had taken his dog, Jefferson.

“Look, bean sprout. If you can’t feed yourself, you can’t be taking care of this mangy monster.”

“I feed him every day. He eats better than I do! And my name isn’t bean sprout!”

“Tch. I can tell. I’m stuck walking through your creepy circus act every day.” Before Allen could say anything, the long-haired male went on. “I’ll buy him off you. Besides, if I see it wearing another stupid costume again, I’m going to be sick.”

“Jefferson and I are a pair.” Allen’s commitment to the statement was audibly faltering. What the man said was true. This was no life for a dog.

“Don’t make him suffer because you can’t get a decent job. Here. Take this. I’m taking the dog with me.” The man dropped a wad of bills near Allen’s make-shift bed and took Jefferson’s leash. Without another word, the man left.

It was strange seeing him again, but he had Jefferson with him. Allen smiled and tried to keep his focus on the routine. There was a crowd. But he wanted to say hello to Jefferson. And maybe to thank the jerk who had given him a better home. One of them was off the streets. Allen was glad it was Jefferson.

“If you’re a clown, tell a joke!” Someone shouted.

“Throw a pie in your face!”

“Ride a unicycle!”

The crowd was a bit rowdier than usual. It was Christmas Eve after all. More people were out than was typical.

“I may not have that, but I have plenty of tricks for you!” Allen pulled a deck of cards from behind a pedestrian’s ear, earning a strange look from the pedestrian who decided this was their time to start walking away. Allen glanced around for a second. It looked like the man and his dog had left too. It figured. He’d seen the same set f tricks and heard the same row of jokes dozens of times before. He walked that way to get to work. He worked at a church.

People passed in and out of the performance. Some would drop some change into the open suitcase. Most would avert their eyes and leave after they realized that Allen was not some under cover TV performer and no camera crew would show up to put them all on some grand television program. All the same, Allen’s lunch fund was growing. Prideful or pathetic, it didn’t matter. He had to find some way to get through the days.

—

The kid was out there on the streets again doing the same silly routine. This irked Kanda. Why wasn’t the idiot doing something better? What was the full story there?

“Tch. Like I care.” He muttered to himself and walked by. The elderly were coming in for a grief lecture that morning. The dog, according to his boss and priest, would be a good “therapeutic tool” for any that got too emotional.

Since childhood, Kanda and Alma had been dragged to church after church. The two grew up in the same orphanage and the woman in charge believed the two boys had “incredible destinies” with the church. The woman claimed that there was some sort of power that lay dormant, a power only God could waken. The boys hated it, but in the end, it gave them jobs. Alma was a different story, but Kanda was able to keep a roof over his head an food in the fridge.

Today was going to be busy. It was Christmas Eve. All the religious folk and all the religious-on-the-holidays folks would be stopping in for prayer, for mass, for confession. It was going to be a long day.

He dropped the dog off with the women in charge of the grief workshop, whatever that was, and kep on his way to the back office.

“Father.” Kanda crossed himself and abdicated when he came across the priest.

“Ah! Yu. Welcome, my son. Please, have a seat! If you would like to sit by the fire, be my guest. It’s a cold one today. There will be rain and snow all through the day. Tonight is supposed to drop below freezing.”

“Thank you.” With terse but proper manners, Kanda lowered himself onto a chair and waited for the elder man to speak again.

Below freezing. That kid is going to be frozen by morning.

With dull interest, Kanda listened to his duties for the day, accepted a cup of tea, and was eventually granted leave to begin on the various tasks.

Whatever power it was that should be coming from the church Kanda felt nothing of it. Task after task but never any power. He had long since given up hope on it. It was probably just some mind game to convince kids to groom themselves for the jobs the orphanage was supposed to supply workers to.

A strong snout to the arm pulled Kanda from his concentration on the paperwork before him.

“You’re back. Ugh. You’re wet.” The elderly had probably cried all over him. How disgusting. “I suppose it’s time to take you on a walk.” With ease, Kanda rose from his chair and took the handle of the leash and walked to the door.

“Leaving so soon?” The priest asked, suddenly in the hallway.

“The dog needs to be walked. I’m taking him home after that.” Kanda answered.

“The weather is getting rather harsh outside, you might want to stay the night. We have food and beds.” The priest would often offer these things. It was uncomfortable.

“If that’s the case, I won’t return after bringing the dog home. I’ve completed the set tasks for today. You and the others should be fine without me.”

“I do insist you stay. We have lodgings for your dog as well.” The priest followed him down the hall.

“No thank you. Merry Christmas, Father.” Kanda pushed open the church doors and pretended not to notice the storm outside.

“Yu…” But the door shut off and muted what the man had left to say.

—

“What’s wrong with your face?”

“Oh my lord. Look at his arm!”

As the rain picked up, the makeup melted off turning Allen into the freakshow that he really was.

“Is his hair white?”

“This guy is fucking crazy.”

“These are just birth marks. Please don’t pay them any mind.”

“So did you cram that cross into your hand when you were tripping?”

“I’m so sick of the druggies walking the streets. There are children around!”

Allen had led the people inside of his lofty shelter when the rain became too much. In an unfortunate turn of events, all his disguises had been washed away. The people he had taken in had turned against him. Despite the storm, people left faster than they came. Hurt by the cruelty, Allen retreated to his bed.

“So much for lunch.” Allen walked back outside for the suitcase to count his earnings.

“Hey, freak.” A voice from behind Allen cut through the loud of the storm. Allen turned and saw a gun pointed directly at his face. “If there isn’t fifty dollars or more in here, I’m going to put a hole in your skull.”

“I am not afraid of you.” Allen said, speaking calmly and rising to his feet. The intruder took the opportunity to crack the gun upside Allen’s head, stunning him for a moment. Blood blinded his left eye.

“Count the money. Fast.” The man grabbed Allen by his shirt and shoved him toward the suitcase. Allen promptly lifted the suitcase and rammed its full weight into the man’s head before he reached for the gun. If you lived on the streets, you either knew how to fight or you had a crew that did.

Dollar bills and coins clattered to the floor.

“You’re going to regret that, boy.” The man regained his balance and took a shot. Allen dropped to the ground, narrowly avoiding the bullet. He rolled and jumped back to his feet. The man aimed his gun again and shot, grazing Allen’s already deformed arm. Allen cringed and reached for his arm and the gun clicked to indicate it was ready for its next shot. Before he did anything, though, the gun dropped to the ground. The man soon followed.

“What?” Allen grabbed the gun from the man’s hand and backed off as he began to rise again.

“You piece of shit,” he growled, holding the back of his head.

“As if that bean sprout could do that.” Kanda stepped out of the shadows, a pipe in hand. “You want me to finish you off now, or should I let you run away like the coward you are?” The dog growled at his side.

“I’ll kill you both.” The man threatened, brandishing a knife and walking unsteadily toward Kanda.

“You are not in any position to talk.” Allen held the gun, ready to shoot. The man glanced at Allen, seeing the gun. “You should leave.”

“I’m coming back with ten guys and we will string your corpses up by your testicles. Don’t think this is over. Don’t even think it’s over!” The man shouted and raced from the run down building. After the two caught their breath, Allen bowed his head.

“Thank you.”

“Next time, just give them the money, idiot bean sprout. He was ten times bigger than you.”

“I had him.” Allen shot back. A flash of white blinded him. His head throbbed and the light grew brighter.”

“Bean sprout?” Those were the last words Allen heard until he opened his eyes again. He was lying on hardwood flooring staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Everything seemed to run slowly in his head.

“Hmph?” Allen sat up and was met with a surge of pain. A warm tongue licked his neck and face. “Jefferson?” He blinked a few times and realized he was no longer in his squatter’s house. And his clothes were dry.

“Oh good. You’re finally awake.”

—

A gunshot caught Kanda’s attention. The dog’s fur bristled and he bared his fangs. It looked like the two were on the same page. The two ran to the building and heard a second shot go off. By the time they got inside, the clown boy was standing with blood dripping down his face and holding an injured arm. The other man was in better condition, but his nose was clearly broken. More than that, he had the gun pointed at the boy. Kanda grabbed a pipe and swung straight downward onto the man’s skull.

The injured other took notice of Kanda then and hopped back in to action. By the time the man had turned his attention to Kanda, the bean sprout had the gun aimed and ready to kill. After a few pathetic threats, the attacker left.

“Thank you.”

“Next time, just give them the money, idiot bean sprout. He was ten times bigger than you.”

“I had him.” The boy said and wobbled, eyes rolling up to the back of his skull.

“Bean sprout?” Kanda made it to the boy before he fell face-first onto the ground. “Can you hear me?” Kanda turned Allen around in his arms, cradling his head in one hand. “Bean sprout?” But he was completely unresponsive. With the chance that the man from earlier might return with backup, there was really only one option. To leave. For some reason, though, he could not bring himself to leave the homeless clown boy there.

Carefully, he guided himself through the back alleys until he was back at his apartment. The dog, soaked, stayed in toe the whole time.

When inside, Kanda put the dog in the bathroom and lay Allen down on the floor. Blood and water mixed on the hardwood beneath him. First, Kanda changed his own clothes and took his shoes off. After that, he tended to the still unconscious Allen. As he slipped a dry shirt over his thin body, Allen began to mumble.

“Kanda. We met before.” Allen’s head rested on Kanda’s shoulder. “We fought… the Millennium Earl. Black order.”

“Sure we did, idiot.” Kanda lifted Allen and brought him to the bathroom. Ignoring the smell of wet dog, he dug through his medicine cabinet until he’d found bandages and antiseptic.

“Mugen.” Allen muttered. The name filled Kanda with recognition.

“Mugen?” Kanda repeated, dressing the wound on Allen’s head first.

“Your Innocence. We were a team.” Again, Allen fell silent. Despite Kanda’s questioning, the boy did not speak another word. Kanda took the futon from the closet and rolled it out on the ground. When he turned around, Allen was struggling to sit up and the dog was licking him like he was trying to help a hurt puppy. Kanda rolled his eyes and lifted Allen once more so that he could place him on the futon. It seemed Allen was awake.

“What were you talking about? What is Mugen? What is the Black Order?”

“Huh?” Allen was dumbfounded by the question.

“You don’t remember what you told me?” Kanda asked, exasperated.

“No. I do not know what you are talking about.” Allen cringed and reached a hand to his head. Likely, he’d suffered a concussion from the blow to the head. Kanda placed a hand over Allen’s and Allen shut his eyes.

“We were a team.” Kanda stated, staring carefully at the boy before him.