A/N: It's kinda sad that there isn't very much Klavipollo, so I'mma here to change that! Honestly, though I do really like the concept of this story, I think I'm gonna deliver it like poo. Since I'm so on-the-fence about this story, reviews would be GREATLY (ever so greatly!) appreciated.

Full Summary: Civil, simple and truth. Three words that Klavier lives by. In the aftermath of his brother's death, these three objectives, as well as the young blonde's sanity, will have been tested to limits far beyond anything he has ever experienced. In the center of it all? A certain feather-headed attorney. SPOILERS to the entire AJ series, especially the ending. Reviewers are saints. Rated M for yaoi, slash, possible gore, rape. Eventual KlaviPollo, other pairings that I won't reveal... ;P

Prologue: A New Life

July 27, 2027—12:04AM

Calling out in the distance was a young owl, distraught as the unforgiving rain began to pound harder upon the dark trees just beyond the cascade-kissed windows. This was the very first sound that the man was capable of hearing in a long time. His cerulean eyes danced from the confides of the dreaming darkness to the uncertainty of the subsistent light, a familiar ringing sound shrieking in his exhausted mind. How could he forget it? He caused that eerie sound only moments ago. He took the moment to look himself over; was his shirt fixed right? His jacket? Perhaps his hair or his shoes? He'd have to get used to them. Certainly he felt… different, but that was to be expected. Everything about him was relied solely on feeling alone, as the room fell into the abyss of the sleeping night; the room cried out to the lightning just outside, bleeding the contents within the velvety-violet walls briefly in a white light, revealing all that had happened only moments ago.

The young man groaned; his room was a disgusting mess, but he had only himself to blame, didn't he? The ivory moon just outside was condemned to the shadows of the blackened clouds as they furiously down-poured upon the innocence of the land. The young male tensed his right hand; it was odd, being ambidextrous, and it was an even stranger feeling having this newly-mastered hand streaming in blood. He groaned once more; such bloodstains would be a nuisance to remove from the hardwood floor if he so happened to let it set. He removed himself from the cryptically disastrous room to fetch a dampened paper towel. The stubborn disarray could be cleaned at a later time.

As he mopped up the drying blood and mended his room slightly, he attempted to readjust himself, examining further parts of his bodily functions—certain gaits, different facial gestures, and even the flexes on his hand. Once he began his flexes, he then realized, after having forgotten, that his hand was sobbing blood. His lip and eyebrow twitched distastefully, and he removed himself from the now-partially-clean room once more. Suffice it to say, he knew his way around the mischievous ebony pathway. Lord be damned if he had forgotten his way in his own house. After completing his task, he found himself short of breath. If it was that again… The young man was given no other choice than to relax himself on his couch as that settled itself back down, the crippling pain nearly felling the man as a ghastly chill crept along his spine. How annoying. He finally thought he had ridden himself of it, but alas, all good things must heave a hefty price tag. He could only wish that it would settle soon; the poor hardwood could only bear so much dried blood on itself, and it certainly isn't capable of cleaning itself. The young man felt he had to force it; he took control of his solicitous willpower and forced that back within the deepest confides of his body, never to be seen again, if one was to hope for the best. As he returned to his destroyed room once more, the young man found himself with a partial of virtually everything: a partially-healed hand, a partially-cluttered mess of a room, a partially-spotless floor, a partially-lit house… and, to ice the partial cake, a partially-owned body.

As he replaced the clutter to its original neat state, it was as if a video recording was playing in reverse, the eerie shriek a constant reminder to the body-snatcher of what he had done. "I hope you don't mind," He found himself muttering, as if to that. "Well, I suppose it is I who must mind now," He chuckled darkly. "As the problems that were left are now on this body." The desperate cry… the spilling gash along his right hand… the horror plastered on those brilliant cerulean eyes… How could he forget?

A/N: And there's your itty-bitty prologue. It was kinda forced, really, 'cause I didn't want to deliver my story just the way it was. Cripe, I have no idea what I'm gonna do with this story.

Alright, alright. I KNOW THIS CHAPTER'S NOT SUPPOSED TO MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes, I get it. Just… try to remember this chapter and the minimal contents that you were able to recieve (I'll even list what happened if I must) and the situation (the settings and stuff) and the date. It'll be important later on and no, it isn't supposed to make much more sense than that.