Nobody Odd here. I decided to write something that popped into my head and my girlfriend told me to write. I'm not sure if it is as amazing as she claims, but I am willing to try it out. Story Notes: AU, Rated T, stars Allen. Please, do enjoy. All titles of the chapters are based on Anais Mitchell's "Hadestown." It is the best album ever. Just saying.

Disclaimer: D. Gray-Man is Katsura Hoshino's. I cannot even fathom having the rights.

One: Wedding Song

Staring in the mirror, he couldn't take his eyes off the deformed, mangled arm strapped to his shoulder. Its many veins bulged with every breath he drew. The fingernails were black, as if coated with midnight's nail polish, but midnight had nothing to do with it. On the back of the mangled arm's hand stood out a cross embellishment, as if someone nailed it onto him awhile back. His teeth bit down on his lower lip as he stared at the black, glinting deformity. Every morning, he considered taking the scissors in his other hand and stabbing the arm until it fell off.

Every morning, he decided to hide it instead, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of white gloves, regardless if the sun was sweltering and the humidity threatened to melt his skin off.

That morning, however, he continued to stare at the arm, a cleaver in his other hand. He didn't want to look at it anymore. He didn't want it to control his life anymore. The cleaver's blade looked sharp enough, able to hack through flesh and bone. He bit his lip harder, nearly puncturing it. The blade quivered in his hand, as shaky as his breath. Trying to summon up his resolve, he pressed the blade against the junction of his shoulder and arm, feeling the cool metal send a shiver down his spine. He inhaled, then dropped the cleaver, which clattered into the sink.

The arm won again.

His body wracked as he covered his eyes with his hand, breaths becoming small hiccups and whimpers. His foster father, when he was alive, told him that the deformed arm was a gift, separating him out from other people with something special. Now, with him dead, he could only see it as grotesque as most people would see it. What was special about being warped? What was special about being something almost inhuman? He couldn't fight with a deformed arm.

He slapped himself, forcing the tears back. Men do not cry. He sniffed, faced the mirror one more time, then proceeded to brush his teeth. He didn't bother moving the cleaver first; every time he spit out the toothpaste, he imagined cursing himself for being such a coward.

With a swift rustle of clothes, he buttoned up his shirt, strapped on his gloves, pulled up his jeans and tied on his shoes. Regardless if he failed, he still had school to attend. He shoved his textbooks into his bag, alongside his finished homework, and put the bag onto the couch. Glancing over to the kitchen, his stomach growled, though his appetite, like most mornings, vanished like his resolve. Instead, he packed a larger lunch than normal, and decided to make up for it later.

He turned off the lights, fed the dog his foster father left him, then, with a heft of his bag, left the house, locking the door behind him. Rain greeted him by splashing onto his hair. Hurrying, he ran across the street and around the corner of the convenience store. He gave a quick "hello" to the owner, who was pulling his crates inside the building. He ignored the puddles that his boots collided against, soaking the hem of his jeans. The rain pelted harder just as he pushed open the double doors, stumbling inside.

"Allen!"

"You looked soaked, man."

He leaned against the wall, happy to be out of the rain. His two acquaintances, Lenalee Lee and Lavi, both approached him with curious eyes. Lenalee shrugged off her jacket and dried off his hair with a few quick scruffs. "Why didn't you take the bus?" she asked, tilting her head as her jacket withdrew. "It stops by your house, you know."

"Allen never takes the bus," Lavi explained with a wave of his hand. "Let it rain or snow, or even hail, and he'll still walk. I think it's 'cause he sleeps in late. Which reminds me." He reached into his back pocket and handed both Lenalee and Allen a paper. "We have a school meeting this morning, so classes are cut shorter. Awesome, huh? Who's skipping it with me?"

"Lavi!" Lenalee shook her head. "You're not supposed to skip out on school meetings. They're important!"

Allen glanced over the paper. "What is it about?"

"The newest drug on the market, I think." Lavi fiddled with his bandana, grin stretching out his face. "Stronger than bath salts, even. It's been hushed down in the news by the police 'cause it's so bad. The side-effects are apparently unreal, so the school's telling everyone about it so they can stay away from it."

"If it is hushed about," Allen said with a raise of his eyebrow, "then how do you know about it?"

The bell rang as Lavi just smiled. He was weary of that "because-I-know-everything" smile. His acquaintance was always getting into trouble, be it with knowing too much or purposely setting out to say something upsetting. Once, as he recalled, while in the middle of an English test, Lavi rose his hand in the middle of it and had a question that often merited a death warrant:

"Sir, it's been bugging me, but what does the word friend mean?"

He got suspended for a week. Allen never expected to see Lavi back in school, but sure enough, he returned with a wide grin, along with that devilish twinkle in his eye. He couldn't fathom asking about old words, words once used in the past as casually as the word "war," yet Lavi could ask anything without hesitation. So if it made him nervous when he saw that glint in Lavi's eye, knowing something that nobody else knew, he knew he was justified.

"Lenalee," he murmured, "are we really going to skip out on the assembly with him?"

She shook her head. "I know I'm not, and I doubt he's being serious. Skipping something as important as this is just asking for an expulsion, if not worse. Remember what happened to Suman Dark? The government turned him into a test experiment for betraying the war's cause, and he died in the midst of it. I don't want that to happen to me, and I doubt Lavi will let that happen either."

She led him to the auditorium, pushing through the swarm of students filing in through the checkpoint. Allen pulled out his student ID for the guard, and they allowed him entry. Guards stood by every window, guns strapped to their bodies, eyes covered by masks. That was his future, just like everyone else within the building, besides the retired-military teachers. No name, no identity; just another number with a full range of weapons hanging off of him. Maybe then he could stop hiding his deformity, because no one would care.

Lenalee patted the chair next to her, motioning for him to sit down. He looked around the auditorium for familiar red hair, wondering if he truly did skip, but he spotted Lavi chatting with an older man in the corner of the room. Sighing, he relaxed in his seat, waiting for the speakers to get up to the podium. The old man Lavi spoke to approached the microphone, standing on the pedestal. Even from sitting close to the back, he could see the scars on the old man's face, hidden by some dabs of make-up. The old man tapped the microphone, glancing about the many faces staring at him.

"Good morning, future soldiers," he began, then paused, continuing upon looking at the guards by the windows, "present soldiers," then paused once more, eyes landing on some teachers, "and past soldiers. My fellow comrades, there is a new destructive force that the enemy has snuck through into our country. It's threatening everyone, young and old, and could tear our effort apart, despite its small size. I ask of you, all of you, to pay close attention for the knowledge I am about to bestow upon you."

Whispers started up, classmate upon classmate giving one another furrowed glances of confusion. Lenalee spun one of her pigtails around her fingers, distracting Allen from paying attention, though she looked nervous. "What is it?" he whispered.

"I think Lavi was right," she said, shaking her head. "It must be a new drug that the Millennium Earl manufactured to tear us apart. How awful. We're already losing bad enough as is."

Allen started to reassure her somehow, to tell her that they would win, not the Earl, but the old man started to speak again. "It's smaller than your average pill, about the size of a child's fingernail, and is ingested. It's color is often red, but also comes in dark blue or black. Inside the capsule is a liquid, which devastates the mind. Common side-effects of someone ingesting this drug is giddiness, elevated heart rate, clammy hands, decreased judgment. In higher doses, it causes the addict to become attached to people, clingy, even. Users enjoy touching other people," a gasp went through the crowd, "and could even procreate for pleasure."

Eyes widened, gasps became drawn out, and cries to burn it, to kill every addict of the newfound drug within the country. Lavi sat down next to Lenalee in the midst of the outburst, grinning at the both of them. "See?" he said, shrugging. "I was right. Of course, they're not telling us everything, but from what the old guy's saying, it sounds like a new weapon of the Earl. That guy will do anything to make us lose."

Lenalee's face turned pale. "Will it really tear the country apart?"

"Can't say. They haven't seen many cases of it yet. But from what they know, it's possible that the drug will seep into everyone, becoming a contagious feeling, and distract us completely from the war, leaving us wide open for enemy attack." Lavi's face became serious, grin dropping into a frown. "Hate to say it, but something that small could kill us all."

Allen looked around at his other classmates. Some were becoming hysterical, others appeared solemn. The old man tapped the microphone, creating a loud screech going through the room. A few remained unfazed by the sound—the teachers and the guards—but all of the students clasped their hands over their ears. Silence followed; no one dared to move. The old man's eyes narrowed. "There is nothing to fear, future comrades," he said, tone flat, "because we are not going to allow another creation of the Millennium Earl to destroy us all. Though we are down now, we can rise up from our defeats and use a newfound morale to finally end this two-hundred year war.

"That said, for the sake of our country, for the sake of our future generations, if you see anyone, regardless of who they are, abusing this curse from the Millennium Earl, you must report it to an officer, or a commander, but it is best for a general to be informed. The sooner we can eliminate those who decided to commit treason against us, the sooner we can kill the Earl.

"I thank you for your attention today. If anyone has questions, ask me, or your teachers. Now, disperse to your classes; your country, your race, is counting on you."

x~X~x

He didn't know how long the war was. Two, maybe three, hundred years. The human race kept dying off, no matter how hard they pursued in beating the Earl and his massive army. The walls built up high came crashing down with a simple barrage of, as the textbooks say, "Hell's demons." He never saw one of these demons before, and he was afraid to ask what fighting one was like. To keep up, the government mandated that everyone growing up will be trained at an early age to become a soldier. Since parents became too attached to their cannon fodder, everyone had to be raised by adoptive parents, who taught the children the ropes.

Later, foster parents became foster parents by the draw of a number. Egg and sperm donors were chosen this way, too. No one knew the parents of any soldier. It didn't matter, in the long run. The average lifespan of a soldier, despite all the training, was twenty-one. If a soldier was lucky, getting through the twenty years of required service, then he or she could pursue in becoming a teacher, or a supplier of the army, or raise a new soldier. Those who had a disability became trained in the sciences, aiding the government in the creation of new weapons. Everyone had a role, and no one could disobey without paying a penalty, such as being subjected to experimentation.

Everything was to defeat the "Hell's demons" leader, the Millennium Earl, who apparently lived since Noah's flood in the Old Testament of some book he never bothered to read.

He watched Lenalee fire several rounds of her shotgun into the target, one bullet hitting where the head would be, a few in the shoulders, and one in the stomach. She pulled the noise-canceling earmuffs off her head and turned towards him. "You want to shoot a few rounds?"

"No, thank you."

Her pigtails tilted with her head. "Is something the matter, Allen? Normally, you would shoot with me. But you've been spacing out all afternoon. Have you eaten anything? To stay strong, you need to eat."

"I know." He gripped his deformed arm. "I know. I'm just not hungry."

She stared at him for awhile, gun resting by her side, then put on the earmuffs again and continued to shoot. The doors to the practice room slid open, and Lavi stepped into the room, chewing on an energy bar. Allen waved, and he waved back, grinning. He glanced over to Lenalee, then snuck up behind her before Allen could warn him, covering her eyes as she fired another round.

"Gah!" She dropped the gun, making it discharge as she slammed an elbow against Lavi's stomach. He coughed, but grabbed her forearm in the process, trying to make her stop. Instead, it provoked her further. She twisted her arm back, then grasped her assailant by his shoulder while swiftly kicking both shins. He toppled onto the floor, letting out a grunt, as she grabbed the gun and pressed the barrel against his chin, finger wrapped around the trigger.

"Shit, Lenalee! It's just me!" He rose his hands in surrender. "It's me!"

She stared at him, finger twitching around the trigger, then sighed, putting on the safety before standing up. Allen sighed in relief, only to be shocked again when she used the gun as a bludgeoning tool to hit Lavi repeatedly on the shoulder. "How" whack "many" thud "times" double-whack "have I told you" double-thud "not to do that!" She huffed as she left him to groan after her assault. Allen blinked. He never saw Lenalee react so strongly to Lavi's troublesome antics. She placed the gun on the rack before jabbing a finger at the redhead. "I could've shot you on accident! That's dangerous!"

"Hey, I said sorry. Right, Allen?"

"Do not get me involved in this." He almost cracked a smile at Lavi's pout. "Where have you been, anyway? You are much later getting here than normal."

"Oh, yeah . . ." Lavi glanced about, eyes not landing on anything in particular. "Well, you know how I turn eighteen in August? The teachers think I'll be ready to become a full-blown soldier by then, and want to ship me to the battlegrounds. I was with them, discussing the options."

"That's wonderful!" Lenalee smiled. "You'll be the youngest soldier ever! Everyone has to be nineteen before they get their license. You should be proud, Lavi!"

Allen watched as the redhead's smile failed to match her enthusiasm. "Yeah," he said. She continued to congratulate him, though Allen doubted Lavi really wanted to fight. He was too much of a lighthearted person, too smart to be wasted in a war. But the government didn't make any exceptions. He wondered, in the back of his head, if they would allow him in with his problem. His thoughts didn't wander far as Lavi sat next to him, followed by Lenalee.

"Putting that aside," he said, "you know that assembly earlier? With that drug?"

She shuddered, as if it were terrible to even mention it. "The Earl is truly evil," she said, eyes downcast. "How did he even think of that?"

"I don't know. Forget that for now. After the assembly, I was talking to the old guy. The drug has a secret name, a name derived originally from Latin, which eventually evolved to an Indo-European word with a root shared by Sanskrit, which means it came from a Germanic language . . ." He paused. "Whoops, sorry, I was getting into way too many logistics there. Anyway, in Old English, it was called lufu, but the current translation is, get this, 'Love.'"

Silence followed. Lenalee coughed a little. "Which means . . . what exactly?"

"I do not understand, either." Lavi looked at Allen with an exasperated expression. "Not everyone is a genius, Lavi. We do not know what that word means, so could you stop keeping us in the dark?"

Groaning, the redhead hoisted his bag and dumped out its contents. Old books spilled out onto the floor, pages revealing strange characters and old words. He picked up one of the books, which had a picture of planet Earth on the cover. Splitting the covers apart, Lavi rifled through the pages, fingers trailing down the ink. "Love," he murmured, "love, love . . . ah! Here it is: 'Love. Noun. 1.) An intense feeling of affection. a.) a deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone. b.) a great interest and pleasure in something. Verb form: feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone or something. . .'"

Lenalee swatted the book out of his hands. Allen and Lavi both blinked, startled by her sudden attack. She picked it up off the floor and took it into the shooting range. With a cover of earmuffs, with the gun's safety off, she shot the book three times before coming back out. "I," she said, tossing the destroyed book onto the floor, "will not hear anymore of the Earl's tricks stuffed into propaganda. The drug, the word, it makes no difference to me. If it will stop us from winning the war, then I want nothing to do with it!"

She put the gun back, then, with her face hidden from view, fled from the training room. Allen started to say something, but Lavi shook his head, grabbing his shoulder to stop him from following her. "I pushed too hard," he said, sighing. "It's strange, really, to be trained to fear the words we created, claiming them to be the Earl's weapon. There has to be a reason why they call it 'love.' At least, that's what I think."

He stood up, and, giving a wave to Allen, followed her out of the room. He stayed behind, gaze steady at the door, until it shifted towards the now-damaged book. The bullets punctured through the planet, making the covers bleed in paper and ink. He opened the book, letting the bullets clink onto the floor, as he looked up the bizarre word one more time. Even with three shots embedded in the book, the word remained there, clear as day: "Love."

Was it really a word the Earl crafted? It sounded so innocent. He sounded it out, murmuring it repeatedly, letting the 'l' roll off his tongue, followed by the other three letters. Was he breaking the rules? Gasping, he closed the book and tossed it aside, thankful that he was wearing gloves to hide his fingerprints. The last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble.

He discarded the book into the trash before leaving the shooting range. He didn't bother to look for Lenalee or Lavi to say goodbye; they were probably fighting, as they usually did, because of whatever Lavi did. His bag slung over his shoulder as he walked the same path as he did that morning, only with the sun beating down his back. His stomach growled again, telling him he forgot to eat lunch. He shoved his hands in his pockets to ignore the hungry lion within.

Then he pulled his hands out, surprised that something was in there. Confused, he looked at a metallic foil, enshrouding four tablets. His face paled upon recognition of the letters on the pills, beaming in bright red. Shaking, he shoved them back into his pocket, looking around to see if anyone saw, but no one else was on the street. Only the sunset-bathed trees were his witnesses as he quickly walked home. The 'o' was omitted, but it still rang clear to what it was, and how much trouble he would be in if anyone found out:

"LVE"

~X~

I'll answer this question ahead of time. Yes, Lavi has two eyes. There is a good reason for this. Aside from that, I do hope you'll continue to read, as I will continue to write. If you're so inclined, please leave a review; anything to make me write better would be great. See you next time! {Nobody Odd}