Colloquial Texts, a d.gray-man fanfic

Disclaimer: "D.Gray-Man" and all characters belong to Hoshino Katsura and affiliates.

Author's Note: My 2nd D.Gray-Man fanfic. ;) This time, it's about a little comic moment between Rabi and The Bookman. Sorry for making Rabi a little bit stupid, here. :P Hope you like it and will kindly leave an R&R! Thanks:)

P.S. Note that the village name used here is fake and not based on any kind of whatsoever fact… And yeah, I'm not even sure what year the story took place (the manga and anime only said that the setting was in the imaginary late 19th century), so I made it up. And I don't think Bookmen write journals, actually… I think they just memorize all those history and all… Hm… yep, this fanfic will never make it to the official prints… -.-;

P.S.S. This fic was started way before the recent chapters. So please forgive any dissimilarity or errors regarding Rabi and his ability as a Bookman. Sankyuu. ;)

Japanese Vocabularies:

- Sonna: Something like "how could you!" or "such an awful thing!".

- Yosh: Something like "yep!" or "yeah!" or "right!".

-- COLLOQUIAL TEXTS --

A red-haired boy with a scarf donned around his neck was seen rummaging through piles of thick, old books — obviously looking for something. His brows furrowed and a scowl soon crept upon his lips for he still couldn't find what he was searching for. /Not this, not this, not even this!/ Rabi thought frantically as he threw more and more books around, not caring of what The Bookman would say about it.

/It is all Gramps' fault!/ The boy grumbled aloud in his head. /If he would just allow me to write normally, this would never have happened!/

-- FLASHBACK --

Rabi had just come back from a mission in Northern Europe with Allen and Kanda. After having a quick patch of some wounds and a hot shower, he went to the library, flopped onto his chair and opened a thick, leather-bound book — a journal book that he used to practice becoming a Bookman. He took a quill pen out from the drawer and wrote an entry:

October 15th, 1897

"Today had been yet anotther tiring mission. Like always, Yuu-chan and Allen couldn't stop qouarrelling all the way to Village Borden where the innocence was suspected too be. Oh, we went there by train, btw, and arrived after approximately 2 hours of jurney. Boy, was the sight damn awful! Akumas were everywhere! And we were soon attacked by a level-3 akuma. After a cool and great combination of me, Allen, and Yuu-chan's power, we maneiged to win and retrieved the innocence that was loccated in a legendery lake there. The end!"

The 18-year-old exorcist sighed in satisfaction as he lifted the book slightly and examined what he had written. /Am I talented or what?/ He thought and smiled proudly. Without him knowing it, however, The Bookman appeared behind him and peered at the entry Rabi just wrote. A sudden rage soon emerged from his black-rimmed eyes as he lifted one hand and then smacked his apprentice hard on the head — he might as well hit him with a sledgehammer…

"OUCH! What did you do that for, Panda Gramps?!" WHACK! The Bookman's apprentice got another hit. "I told you to stop calling me that, you insolent child!" the old man barked. "But you hit me FIRST! What's with you??" sulked Rabi as he rubbed an area of his head. "I had to discipline you! What kind of a journal entry did you just write, you despicable boy?? Such an entry is a disgrace to all previous Bookmen!"

The red-haired boy blinked and asked with innocence in his tone of voice, "Huh? What do you mean?" The Bookman's eye twitched and Rabi was soon found sprawled on the floor with a big bump on his head... "You little fool! Look at your writings! It is subjective, not detailed, full of technical errors, and written in a non-standard language! What did you think you were writing?! Your personal diary??" The Bookman hollered as he shoved the book to his pupil.

Rabi took his journal and reluctantly reread it. "Geez, what's wrong with a little errors and slang, Gramps? Personally, I think there's nothing wrong with my ent—" WHACK! The just-about-to-stand-up boy was back to the floor as another thick book found its way to his face. "Rewrite your entry…" the old master ordered slowly, "… and this time, use PROPER language!!" he shouted as he banged the library door shut.

"Sonna! That's so cruel, Gramps!" the young student cried out to his teacher. But then, silence was the only thing that greeted back to him. "Oh, great… so I have to rewrite everything all over again — in that old-fashioned, stoic language to boot!!" he complained to himself. "Now, where's that 'Old-English Writing Guide'…" the boy muttered as he made a bee-line to a pile of books…

-- END OF FLASHBACK --

Rabi was digging the umpteenth pile of manuscripts, hardbacks, and leather-bounds when he noted a familiar brown volume beneath. Grinning victoriously, he grabbed at the old tome and blew the dusty cover to unveil the title. His grin widened, and his good eye sparkled with a certain dose of triumph when he realized that he had found the book he had been looking for hours. "Finally!! Now, to the rewriting process!" Rabi announced loudly in a heroic manner.

The eye-patched boy quickly heaved the heavy book with both hands and half-dragged it to the table where his journal book was located. He dropped the weighty artifact with a loud thump, causing dust to fly around the room — it must have been a very burdensome book, for the wooden table creaked aloud in protest from its weight...

But Rabi, who wanted to finish rewriting his sentences as soon as possible, ignored the inhuman complaint and unceremoniously opened the book to some random pages instead — scanning them for the information needed.

After just a few minutes, Rabi finished his little research. He then slammed the book shut and dropped it onto the floor in a careless manner (it seemed like a certain exorcist had forgotten that maintaining the condition of old books was also one of the many jobs of a Bookman…). "Right! I know how to do it already!" the optimistic teen smirked. "Yosh! Let's begin!" he stated to the empty room and started writing…

Hours flew by — yet, the young apprentice didn't seem to be anywhere near the finishing line. And so, just when the first ray of light penetrated the stained glass of the vast library, Rabi finally dropped his pen and gave a long, relieved sigh.

"At last… it's done…" he grinned, pleased with himself. His left eye sagged from tiredness as a black shadow made its way to paint under his previously healthy organ. He gently rubbed his wrist, relieving the sore caused by his past grueling activity.

Before the red-haired teen had a further chance to take a rest and alleviate his battered body, the front door suddenly opened and revealed The Bookman. "Well then," the old man began. "Have you finished what I've told you to do?"

Rabi flashed a toothy smirk. "But of course, Gramps! What, you can't believe I'll be able to finish it in a night?" the student asked in an arrogant manner. The Bookman gave a silent groan and shook his head. "I can't believe I have such a stupid student who thinks big of himself just because he managed to do something he should be able to do hours ago…"

"Aw, don't be like that, Gramps! I've worked hard on this, you know?" Rabi complained before his frown abruptly turned into a bright smile. "It really turns out to be a blast! I'm sure you're going to be gawking in awe from this masterpiece of mine!" he continued with a sparkle that shone his eye once more.

"Whatever…" dismissed the old teacher. He then hopped to the nearest sofa and sat cross-legged. "Read it, then, I'll just do the spelling checks later…" The Bookman ordered, making a lazy gesture with his hand.

"Right," the teen replied shortly as he took his huge journal book and some other thick leather-bounds. That raised the old man's eyebrow slightly. Surely he didn't need those books, he thought. But then again, he just let it be and waited patiently. But it seemed as if Rabi was testing his teacher's patience, for he began stacking those old books to form piles and piles of said artifacts. 1 row, 2 rows — he continued until there were no less than 12 rows of them.

"Child…" the old man eventually asked, patience and toleration wearing off. "What in the world are you going to do with those things…?" he queried in a calm tone that suddenly made Rabi's heart skipped a beat. "Uh… stage?" the teen half-stated, half-asked while smiling in a nervous manner.

The Bookman — face not showing emotion — slowly leaned forward and looked into Rabi's good eye. "Kid, if you dare use those valuable recordings as some kind of a rug to your filthy feet, then I'm afraid you will be spending your next few weeks rewriting my own journal… I do have an unexpected urge to get an extra copy of it."

Rabi instantly paled and put the books aside. "Sure, yeah, no stage — no problem, better this way!" he blurted out with overreacted gestures, his trademark smiles (if slightly tensed) never leaving his lips. He proceeded to opening his journal to a particular page and took a deep breath. "Here I go!" he declared enthusiastically and began reading.

What The Bookman witnessed for the next couples of minutes was indeed astonishing — he couldn't even utter a single word as he listened to his student reading his more refined texts. Unfortunately, rather than a good astonishment, the old man felt like he was facing a terrible nightmare… Said nightmare began when the red-haired teen raised his hand in an epic manner and opened his mouth. "'Ye Fated Journey of Ye Brave Apostles'," he began and continued reading the following weird passages in all sorts of awkward tones, positions, and body languages:

"T'was a dark and ominous night,

The thunders stroke loud,

And rain shalt there be!

3 brave lads,

In cloaks they were clad,

Arrived with all their might!

To Borden they go!

Fear grasped not their souls!

Lo and behold!

Thou shalt witness,

Their fight with thy foes!

Art there daemons to pounce?

Art there daemons to bound?

Let they accomplish it be!

For apostles they were,

And exorcists they're referred.

With innocence they conquer!

Look how they triumph!

Foes scattered beneath,

While innocence they retrieved!

And thus end their tale,

By history we will tell,

Of the apostles that never fail!

THE END!"

And as the magic word had been said, Rabi finished his supposed journal entry and sighed loudly in contentment. The young man turned to look at his teacher and, without noticing the dark and threatening aura swirling behind The Bookman, obliviously gave a wide grin and asked in a casual manner, "So, how is it?"

Rabi was never again seen for the next 3 weeks.

-- THE END --

15/10/06-30/12/06