It's hard to explain, the feeling one gets when tragedy is about to strike. A sort of numbness in your hands and feet. The tingling sensation on the back of your neck, so that whenever something made a sound you would shiver. The impression that something heavy is pressing down on your chest; right above your lungs, so it's hard to breath. The tragedy was coming.

A small town in England is where we start.

Snow fell.

It's cold…

No one was walking the streets.

…I'm lonely…

No one was there to comfort the child; a small boy, with messy auburn hair that was cut in a clean fashion. He was a sickly pale color, with dark, heavy bags under his eyes, marking his lack of sleep. He was dressed in a green quilted coat that was worn around the edges, with a few loose threads at the hems, but overall well taken care of. An old, dirty oven mitt covered his left hand. The poor thing was far too young-only ten- to be mourning the loss of a loved one.

Please… Help…

No one would here his call, no adult or child, no saint or sinner, no God.

But of course, He did.

"Good evening little one, you look sad."

A bulbous 'Man', large enough to look as though he were hiding another companion or two under his rather odd, pale yellow overcoat. A tall top hat rested on his head. He could only be described as demon. If his cracked, pale, purple skin, and his long pointed ears that protruded out as far as a foot away from his head wasn't enough to earn him the title, then his smile would. His teeth were far too big for him to be able to close his mouth, leaving them in a permanent smile from hell.

(Remember this, when the Devil comes,)

"Would you like me to bring your daddy back to life for you~?" The words dripped with sweetness, glazing over the ominous idea.

(It's best not to listen. Because,)

"I simply need you to call for him, since you have such a special bond~."

(Though he may be telling the truth,)

"Wouldn't it be great if you could see him again~?"

"H-He'll come back" The trembling voice of the boy, slathered in hope and disbelief.

*O*O*

'NO! Don't listen to him!'

*O*O*

"Of course! Come, let's call him back from your detestable God~!" A skeleton, constructed of metal and despair, rose from the earth. Still and lifeless.

"But can he, I mean, will he hear me call him?"

*O*O*

'You have your life! Be happy with that!'

*O*O*

"Now, raise your voice and call out to the one you love back from the other world."

*O*O*

'Don't dwell on the past! Move on!'

*O*O*

(The truth can be a very, very ugly thing.)

"MANA!" The small boy cried, under the pretenses that this act would bring back his 'Father'.

And it did.

"A-Allen?" The thing-it was no human, not anymore-wearily spoke the name of his son. The one who had brought him back to life, as monster, but back to life nonetheless.

"Mana?" Oh how happy the boy sounded. His lost father, the only one in the whole world who wouldn't look at him with disgust, the only one in the whole world who would treat him like a human being, the only one in the world that actually cared about him, was right in front of him. Sure, the metal skeleton that stood before him looked terrifying, but hearing Mana's voice coming from it made it okay. It didn't matter what he looked like, it was still Mana. Though how Mana felt about this was a little bit…

Unexpected.

"How could you, Allen" It's voice trembled with despair, but it grew. "How dare you!" The dare was proof of the anger that he felt. "HOW DARE YOU TURN ME INTO A DEMON!" How tragic.

"M-Mana?" The boy, Allen, was confused. Why was Mana mad at him? Did he not like that his peace had been disturbed?

"I CURSE YOU! I CURSE YOU ALLEN" The long, sharp, blade that replaced the arms of the skeleton cut one long slash down the left side of 'Allen's' face.

The small boy stumbled back, tripped, and fell on his back.

That's when He let out a chuckle. And spoke,

"Oh young Allen, your all mine now~. Mana Walker, I command you to kill the boy and to wear his body! ~"

"I curse you, ALLEN!"

A mad father, held and imprisoned against his will.

A sad son, with nothing left to live for.

Or so he thought.

'Fight back!'

'Huh?'

The limp, useless left arm that had always been part of 'Allen' suddenly changed.

A flash of bright light. The boy was being dragged by a force he couldn't control.

'Live!'

"RUN! RUN MANA! FATHER!"

"Allen, please, destroy me. Destroy me!

"FATHER! FATHER!"

"I-I love you, Allen." He stuttered the words, the words he hadn't dared to say to anyone for a very long time. And then he crumbled away into ash.

He had disappeared in the commotion of the father and son's 'reunion', leaving the boy alone once again.

Or maybe not.

'Hey, you.'

'…'

'That man, do you hate him?'

'…'

'You know, it's rude to not respond when a person's talking to you. I thought Mana taught you that.' The voice snapped impatiently, sounding very aggravated by his 'companion's' lack of an answer.

'…You…'

'?'

'You… know M-Mana?' The words came out slow and he stuttered them.

'Mm, Yeah, I do. So, do you hate him?' His voice had softened very slightly hinting at nostalgia.

'Mana?'

'No! The Earl!' The voice snapped again, losing its softness.

'Who?'

'The Fat man.'

Normally this may have enticed a snicker from the young boy, but trauma simply wouldn't allow that. 'Oh.'

'Well, do you?'

The tangible speaker didn't answer immediately, supposedly lost in a torrent of thoughts. But,

'Yes.' The reply was firm, contrasting with the rest of the conversation.

'Heh. Well if that's the case, welcome to the club.'

'Who are you?'

The voice idled, as if deciding how detailed his answer.

'I am somewhat of a kindred spirit. Someone I cared about was turned into a demon by that man too.'

'I meant your name.'

'I've gone by many things, but I prefer Neah.'

"Neah…" The boy said the name with somewhat skeptic tone.

"Yes?" Came the lilting reply, eerily enough from the boy's own mouth.

'H-h-h-o-?"

'I share a body with you, so it's only natural I can use your vocal cords too. Duh.'

'B-b-b-but!'

'Ah~ No But's! It's actually really simple, so technically I wouldn't have that much trouble taking over your whole body~!' The boy's face stretched into a smile, much to his own horror.

'The thing is that isn't much fun, and by the sound of it you just might hate the Earl as much as I do. Well, do you?'

'I-I hate him…' It wasn't a question, but not a reply either.

'Enough to kill him?'

There wasn't a reply.

'I see… Well then, I guess that I'll just be-'

'How?' He interrupted firmly.

'Hm?'

'How do you plan to kill him?'

'Painfully, of course. What, do you want to help?'

'…'

A sigh, 'Come now, I don't have all day.'

'…Yes.'

This caught Neah off-guard, but only for a few seconds. 'Well then, we should get going.' He paused for a moment, then asked, 'Hey, what do I call you?'

The boy didn't answer at first, letting an overbearing silence drag out, until…

…

"You may call me as you see fit, because no matter what name you pick I will consider myself a fool."

The boy's words rung out into the world, filling something in the universe that had been empty before.

Neah, who was rather amused by the reply, answered after a brief pause. 'Well then, Fool, it'll be a pleasure working with you.'

*O*O*

A small boy stood up from the grave he had been leaning against. Dry blood caked the left side of his face, his clothes had become wet from sitting in the snow, and his white hair was disheveled and dirty.

His eyes, one a vibrant gold, the other a dull silver, darted from side to side. After reassuring that the empty street was indeed empty, he disappeared into the snow.

A/N: Yay! My first fic on this site! I hope you enjoy this, I've been working on it for a while. *Sigh*It was way too rushed at the end, and I was hoping it would be longer too. Oh well. I didn't have a Beta-Writer, so I'm sorry if there's some mistakes. If you find any, please point them out in a review! Critiques, Comments, Questions, Flames, and Death threats are all welcomed!

Oyasumi~!

Hika-Chan.