Wow… I'm really cranking them out… makes me proud… more writing in a couple weeks than… probably the last few months, maybe even last year (not including school stuff). Makes me kinda proud of how well I'm doing now and ashamed of how crappy I've been doing before. This is a little drabble-esque and it hasn't been beta'd… at all… so lemme know if you see anything wrong. On that note, still looking for a beta. If this is crap, I'm sorry, I felt like crap. As I phrased it to my friends, "I feel like someone bashed my brains with a locker door and now my brains have liquefied and are running out my nose like a waterfall". Seriously. All day I was wondering if it would be worth it to actually knock myself unconscious on one of the locker doors… it would end the constant feeling of my brain being one of those balloons used for balloon animals- being puffed up, stretched out, about to burst, and then somehow warped into an impossible (and painful) shape. When I wrote this it wasn't as bad. I'm actually amazed I could ramble on like usual without bursting a vessel in my head. I'll probably come back and edit later. So, since I really won't have the strength for an author's note at the end, review when you're done!

If there was one thing Kanda loved, it was the rain. The soft misty drizzle or the heavy storm could cause him to go out and gaze up. The drizzle so fine it became an indistinguishable mist seemed to him light and soft. Every step through it felt like a soft touch without the cloying personal warmth or pity of people. The rain would caress and care but would not pry or invade in one's emotions. The steady patter of regular rainfall, filled either with its subtle earthy scent or the gentle cleansing ambiance, would always be sufficient to wipe away Kanda's confusion or anger. One step into the rain and he would felt cleansed or in touch with the earth. Thunder storms would fill Kanda with a deep strength, an awe that few would believe the stoic samurai could feel. Each blast of lightning and the accompanying rumble of thunder showed that the earth could survive separately from the battle that dominated his life. Neither akuma nor human could rival nature's strength and Kanda respected that. Even Lavi, whose Innocence could somewhat control nature, could not completely harness that strength.

Allen was a snow person, even Kanda could see that. Yet Allen constantly reminded Kanda of the rain. There was the strong, hidden, almost peaceful, strength. There was the occasional quiet, understanding silence, accompanied by a soft touch before the boy retreated, unobtrusive when need be. There was that cleansing feeling. There was that feeling that Allen, with his almost naive ideals, could make even the most sinful pure, along with the pressing awareness that, like rain, though he could clean the world around him, he could not purify the imperfections and pollution within. Allen even had the slight smell of moist earth and wind and rain. So Kanda had trouble finding exactly why Allen was such a snow person.

Of course there was the obvious, snow's pure white- the same shade of his hair, the blue-gray shadows cast on snow matching his eyes, the purity and innocence.

Perhaps that was it. Allen always seemed haunted. Maybe no one else noticed; perhaps only Kanda could catch the fleeting glimpses of pain and darkness in the stormy blue-gray snow-shadow eyes. Perhaps the moyashi- a term Kanda now only used to bring an emotion other than pain or guilt to Allen's face- strove for the purity of snow.

Allen might never realize that he doesn't need to be perfect, pure, strong, to be loved. The stormy emotion and inner conflict would always bring emotion to Kanda's frozen heart. Being the one to show Kanda love and warmth was enough. Perhaps one day Allen's pain will prove too much for Kanda and he will tell Allen the truth- that he would always be there to lean on and that he needed Allen as much as Allen needed support. Perhaps. Then again, perhaps both pairs of eyes will glaze and fade before then. Perhaps darkness will overtake either or both of them. Perhaps their lives will become a twisted parody of what it was and is. Perhaps those emotions will be forever lost among the falling rain and swirling snow.