Underneath

Chapitre One

Light

-Gasps- It's my very first D.Gray-man story and I am psyched! I'm half-way through volume eleven (the whole Noah arc just makes me wanna cry) and I was just ready to write a story for this series. Hope this ends up well…

Note: It's kinda like, really rare to find Kanda x Allen stories here… I usually find Kanda x Rabi or Rabi x Allen. So anyway, this story is Kanda x Allen, so those who don't support that pairing… well, go away.

Another Note: The random gibberish in the story is actually… well, a language. Let's just say I mixed a bunch of letters together so you can vaguely get the idea of what the word actually is in English.

Disclaimer: D.Gray-man belongs to Katsura Hoshino and boy is she lucky. She, right? Hoshino is a she? I don't know; Wikipedia is confusing!

Summary: Underneath the ground we stand thrives a civilization unknown to man, where creatures – half beast, half human. Among them is a young boy who got lost in the twisting labyrinth, eventually leading him to a single door that opens up to Earth's surface. There, he meets an older teenager, reluctantly bringing him into shelter. The boy who once lived underground learns of new things that the world above has always used, and with that, love.

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Leather-clad feet hurriedly skittered their way through the twisting and turning maze of never-ending tales, engraved and drawn on the dirt walls. The air was damp and musty, more than it was a few days ago, and it wasn't helping the situation at all. Constant throbbing, faraway echoes, the occasional sharp shoot of pain near the temple; those didn't help either.

Finally those rapid footsteps came to an abrupt stop, and all that could be heard that lone moment was heavy pants and the squeaks of shrews scampering around in the dark corners, scavenging for anything edible. As the breathing became slower and much quieter, the footsteps started again, this time heavy and desperate. Legs pedaled themselves as fast as they could, while arms swung front and back, head whipping side to side.

He felt like he was running away, not running back.

There was a shout as suddenly the footsteps were replaced with a tremendous thud and complete darkness. Growling, the person who was running sat on his behind, rubbing his bruised forehead with an agitated frown etched on his face. Running in the dark never really was his thing but, to smash right into a wall, he thought with a tint of discontent, was awfully pathetic. Jumping back up to his feet with a grunt, he staggered forward before dashing far ahead to wherever his feet lead him.

He was, indeed, lost.

And after hours and hours, if not maybe a day, of running in perhaps even circles through the maze they called their home he gave up and collapsed right onto the ground, knees first, and sighed as his head came in contact with the surprisingly soft dirt. He really didn't know how he got lost, why he did, and what he had to do to get out.

Pounding his fists against the ground, he started a rhythm as he caught his breath once more, the muffled bangs creating a soothing beat to his ears. Back in the centre of the maze where his clan was, kids would pound on the ground repeatedly in case they were lost, and those who had the keenest ears would come to where they were and bring them back to the village. Of course, those with the keenest ears could not hear his beating from a distance away, and his attempts were clearly futile.

Groaning, the boy rolled onto his back and glared at the dirt brown ceiling that seemed to be slowly caving in on him, and winced once in a while as specks of earth fell on his face like rain. His lifted one finger and seemingly traced the endless scribbles and lines that were drawn with ink on the walls, each bull or human in a loin cloth telling something of the past. Of course, the whole human in a loin cloth wasn't exactly precise, for his people never went up to the surface since millenniums ago.

A faint creak caught the boy's attention and he sat upwards almost instantly. Poking out from under his mop of white hair was a pair of horns right above where his ears were, and the sensitive ears twitched. Using the walls as a support, he stood up all the while moaning, his eyes darting to and fro, searching for the creaking noises. The creaking was replaced with shuffling, and then indistinct chatter.

Now that was a first, he thought with mild amusement and soon set off southwards where the talking was the loudest. His anxiousness got to the better of him and he ended up dashing as fast as his leather-clad feet could take him; not much to his surprise, he ended up in a dome like room where tales and myths circled him, never-ending, and a small ray of light flooded in from the very top. The drawings didn't reach up to there and he suspected that his ancestors didn't have the stamina to climb up all the way up.

Curious and anxiousness still high, he made way for the peak by climbing the rocky walls, foot jammed in a hold there, fingers clutching and grasping for a certain jut in the right position. Tongue sticking out, he heaved himself upward slowly, slowly, until he felt the dirt beneath his left foot giving out on him. He gasped, quickly shifting his foot closer to his side, relieved to find that it was firm. Continuing on, the boy hissed as he scraped his finger and ended up with a large, gushing cut; but he ignored it and smiled proudly to himself when he realized that he was almost half way there.

The simple idea of him reaching up to a place where his ancestors had never reached before was stuck in his mind and his goal to reach that peak blocked everything out. He didn't pay attention to the bruises and cuts forming on his ankles and hands.

The boy didn't even realize the pounding of feet against dirt, getting louder and louder, and then the shouts of their native language echoing in the dome-like room.

"Dancht! Dancht, ciferda!"

He was too caught up in that ray of light that he couldn't feel the unusual heat shining down on him, almost burning his pale, touchy skin. Reaching up higher as he got to that point, he squinted just a bit to get a look-see through the small crack, and gasped at what he saw. Eager once again, he ripped away at the crack, pushing away dirt and mud to enlarge the hole even more. The shouts from below became frantic now, and the pounding seemed endless.

"Na, g'orct hrenk!"

The pounding of the kin and the tip of their spears continuously jabbing into the solid earth beneath them.

The pounding of his rapid heart as the shining light became brighter and brighter as the dirt crumbled away like sand.

He heard one last "Na!" before the burnished light flooded into the room completely, stinging all of their eyes, their eyes watering due to the bright and immense amount sunlight. But that didn't stop him. He crawled through the whole, wiggling, both arms through the hole as one swung in the empty air, one kicking at the dirt wall. And then, with all the strength he could muster, he kicked off with his heel and squirmed through the hole, gasping for fresh air as he freed his body.

The boy tried looking beneath him, but he saw nothing but green, waxy, pointy edges that stuck out from the earth in different directions. He was confused.

Hadn't he just dug a hole through the peak of the dome to here?

Speaking of which, he thought to himself as his eyes darted from the waxy material to the blue – was it blue, he questioned himself, for he rarely saw the colour – vacant space above him, where was he? Just as he was about to stand up, he smelled something. Was it his little brother's broth burning? He reminded himself that he was not in his land underneath and then the honking, the stomping, and the whispers took over his senses.

The chattering he heard from below.

So many new sounds, the smells, the feeling, the colours; they got to him so quickly that the boy fell back onto the waxy, green material, body completely giving out to the new sensations.

London, he concluded bitterly with a puff of hot air, was not the best place to visit during the winter. Why not Bermuda or the Bahamas? Surely they would be warm and allow him to bask himself in sunlight to his heart's content. But no; his sick aunt had to live in London, England, and his mother dearest nearly had a heart attack when hearing so, so the family of two – his mother and he – quickly gathered their belongings and got a flight from New York to London. That was a day ago and already he felt bored.

Kicking a random pebble on the cobblestone road, the boy jammed his gloved hands into his grey trench coat, trying hard, but failing, to block out the noises outside. The sub-zero air wasn't helping his already icy cold attitude; all could tell that the boy was in a bad mood since his dark eyes always seemed to exude hatred anywhere, any time. As he reached one of the few parks around town, he settled down on a bench and propped his legs upward, knees drawn close to his chest, and wrapped his arms securely around them. It was awkward to be in that position in the middle of the park and, indeed, it made him look cowardly, but he did it for the extra warmth from his legs. Either way, if he caught someone staring, he would growl and send them off with that venomous shiver running up and down their spines.

As he examined the small pebbles scattered along the wide field of empty space and several trees planted in random spots, he saw a bunny frantically hopping away from the direction he was facing and, second after second, the wide beady eyes seemed to enlarge second after second. He frowned, knowing and fully aware that for animals to act so nervously, it meant that something unexpected would happen.

He thought, with a sigh, that he should get out before some massive earthquake started in London; better safe than sorry, he always said. Getting killed by a sudden earthquake wasn't exactly how he imagined his death.

Well, the boy bitterly thought, maybe if I die just now, I don't have to listen to mother's constant wailing in her room.

The boy stretched out his legs and stood up, slightly unbalanced, and gazed up at the clear winter sky. And then he reflected of the past, wondering why his mother cried everyday. The first reason that popped up to his mind was because his aunt, her closest sister, was ill, but then there was another basis for her constant crying.

Is it still because father left?

He grimaced instantly and, with a deep growl, he kicked the ground beneath his feet, such ferocity and strength in that action that he dug a deep hole with just his heel into the solid earth. Even skirting across the thought of his father and how he was doing always did this to him, but he knew that his mother was suffering more than he was on the inside. She always smiled and sent him off to school with a positive attitude, but he knew that when she was alone, she would lock herself in her own room and cry her heart out.

And he hated it.

He hated being weak, he hated the fact that he couldn't protect his mother, albeit he knew that preventing a sickness without certain medical care was near impossible for him.

Oh great, he grimaced, first I think an earthquake's going to hit the city, and now I reminisce for no reason? Great, just great.

His frown grew deeper as, while walking down the cobblestone path that carved through the park, the temperature seemed to fall step after step. The fact that his nose and his ears and the tip of his fingers were tinted pink didn't bother him; it was the fact that he was being affected by this cold that did. Shivering once – he couldn't help it; the scarf that was tightly secured around his neck wasn't really covering much skin – the boy made way for some bus stop; he really didn't know if there was such a thing as a bus stop, since he walked to the park and not by vehicle. When he spotted the large, red bus, he dashed towards it, just fast enough so he wouldn't trip over the ridiculously long scarf.

He tied it five times around his neck, but it was still too long.

Getting on the trolley bus, he quickly rubbed and blew hot puffs of hair onto his frail hands, hoping he wouldn't freeze to death on his ride home. As he found a spot he heard coughing down the small aisle, and when he glanced that way, he saw an old man, shaking, climbing onto the trolley bus with great trouble; without the help of his wooden cane, he was bound to fall off the trolley and land right on the street road, helpless.

Sighing, the boy's 'good man' instinct kicked in and when the elder came along, he took a step back from the leather-clad seat and stretched his arms before him as if he was some steward on a plane, showing passengers where their seats were. The old man looked appalled and, with many thanks, he sat down on the seat with a sigh. Glancing at the boy, he flashed an almost toothless smile, rummaging through his back pocket for several moments all the while. He was on the verge of turning around and searching for another seat, but the man tapped him on the shoulder before he could do so and, as appreciation, slipped several wads of euro into his pale hands.

The boy stood dumbstruck as the elder chuckled and faced the window to take a wonderful view of London.

"Oh… Thank you," he said and quickly added, "very much, sir."

Circling around, the boy spotted yet another seat way in the back and cursed his so called 'good man instinct' for letting him lose a valuable window seat. Yet, he sighed, maybe he could use the euro for his own use next time around town.

Sitting down on the seat comfortably, the boy propped his legs back up to his chest and, though it failed, he tried his best to ignore the chattering and cooing of the women sitting in the seats from the opposite side of the aisle. They were whispering something like

"Look at that adorable boy!" or "My, he's cute."

Trying not to ignore the women in a rude way by scoffing at them and telling them to shut up, the boy simply turned his head to the side and played with his tress, long and silky, to distract himself the entire ride. His actions, to his displeasure, just made the women chatter louder and quicker than before. Sighing, he pulled at the rubber band which held the strands of raven hair together in a single bind. Perhaps if he covered his face with his dark hair, the women would get the idea that he didn't want to be spoken to?

Darn it, he groaned inwardly, where's a hooded jacket when you need one?

Almost gracefully his hair flowed past his shoulder, literally embracing his figure and showing the fine lines of his broad shoulder and slim neck. He swore he heard the women and another girl shriek in a shrill voice farther down the aisle, and quickly regretted letting his hair go loose for the instant his placed his hands on his lap, women from all sides leaned forward and asked him endless questions, touching the silky raven strands or the awkward frilly hem beneath the trench coat's sleeve's end.

Glancing past the sudden sea of women, he caught sight of the rather large apartment his aunt was residing in and, with a gentle push, waded through the sea of women until he reached the front of the bus, out of breath. He gave the driver a look and a glance over his shoulder, and immediately the man got his idea, coming at a hasty stop for the kid to jump off. He waved at the man as a thank you and, without looking behind him, ran along the sidewalk to the apartment complex, long strands of hair blowing in the air behind him.

He ignored the "Farewell, pretty boy!" from the women and continued walking, breath slowing, head throbbing. Never had he met such an annoying group in his life; he wondered how those boy band groups could stand fan girls and their screaming at a concert. Shivering, he decided not to ponder on that thought much longer.

Instead of going back home, the boy turned a curb and ran into a smaller park, one that resembled a large garden of flowers and trees, much greener than the last. The teenager spotted a plastic chair in the far corner of the park and, with no complaints, sat down on it, searching for the right position. Once he found it, he curled his body in a small ball again, enjoying the silence of the fall-turning-winter day. Closing his eyes, he heard nothing but soft winds and clattering from another apartment nearest the garden. He noted that it was his neighbour's, a family he didn't meet and didn't want to meet the day he came to London. Of course, his mother literally barged in and greeted them with a happy smile but he ditched the little group meeting and went straight back to his room.

Perhaps the family had a kid, preferably his age, one that enjoyed silence, ballad and art. Then he heard rock music blasting from a pair of speakers in the apartment complex and, when he snapped his eyes open in alarm, saw a head of red nodding his head up and down, singing loudly along with the song. Not to mention, he sang off key.

"Yureru kodou ga boku wo shibaritsukeru, kimi no kakera ga fukai yami ni ochita…"

The boy groaned and covered his ears, kicking himself for actually thinking that. This kid was, so far, completely different than he was. Drawing his knees closer to his chest, he tried blocking out the horrid singing of the redhead, but failed miserably when the kid turned the volume up, blasting it at the max, and began jumping up and down in his room, a comb in hand.

"Kimi no, kimi dake no kuchibiru ni sotto furetai!"

A single thought ran through his head as he stood up and, that thought was,

Please, shut up.

He stood up from his chair rather crankily and stretched his limbs, yawning quietly as small rays of sunshine beat down on his still shining hair. Finding his hair rather distracting, he pulled it up and bound it up with a rubber band and pulled, hoping no loose strands were falling. He frowned his usual frown and jogged a few laps around the garden, bored out of his mind, just to relieve some previous stress. Picking up a flower, he found that it was his mother's favourite, and stuffed it in the trench coat's pocket for later use. Since there was nothing else to do, the boy made way back to his apartment; down through the garden, down the sidewalk, turning on another curb, running past the neighbour's loud complex, and then to his aunt's.

While walking – more like trudging, but he was still going to the same place anyway – he realized that almost every apartment complex had a garden on either side of it, with flowers flourishing and birds twittering. It was supposed to help his cranky mood, the cheery scenery, but it just wasn't working that day, and all he focused on was cement path leading to the apartment complex they were living in.

Until he saw a figure, a completely different species, lying on the garden opposite of his apartment. His eyes widened when he spotted ivory horns, and the most unusual snow white hair. Then the clothes – he thought the creature was from the Stone Age with those clothes on – made of what seemed like extremely hard leather, barely covering the creature's body. He frowned; it didn't seem like it just dropped from the sky and landed there unconscious.

Perhaps, he thought, there's a secret behind that thing? Maybe I should…

"Kanda! Kanda Yuu!" Said boy glanced upward and saw his mother waving down from the second floor, smiling cheerfully. "Welcome back, honey!" He grinned a small grin and walked up the front steps, casting a curious glance at the still figure on the garden.

Or perhaps, Kanda thought, the neighbour will find it and take it home? Speaking of which, is that a boy?

"Kanda, come in; it is cold outside! I don't want you getting sick like Auntie Fumi did!" That was his mother all right, worrying her head off over her son, even though he knew that he was perfectly immune to most sicknesses.

"Yes, mother," he replied in his casual voice, earning a "Good boy" from his mother. Reaching out to twist the doorknob, he turned around once more to see if the creature was moving by any chance. Seeing it remain perfectly still, Kanda walked into the spacious apartment with a sigh. Of course, he himself wanted to examine the species and figure out where it came from, but he didn't have the time; his mother just cooked up miso soup, and he didn't want to turn down such a warm broth on a bitter day.

As he closed the door, he swore he heard a loud groan from across the street, but he ignored it, shaking his head and pulling off his trench coat and shaking it off in case something was on it.

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Eww… That seemed relatively bad, seeing that I spent at least three days (I'm a slacker; can't help it!) on it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it since… I said before… this is my first D.Gray-man story. I hope it turned out well for you guys. -Cringe- Why do I think that Kanda seemed a bit… off-character? Hmm. And it was a bit too short. Sorry about that. Hee. -sigh-

Haha; yes, the 'redhead' (anyone should know who he is) was singing a Gackt song. Metamorphoze, it's called. The lyrics were saying:

Yureru kodou ga boku wo shibaritsukeru, kimi no kakera ga fukai yami ni ochita…

-The wavering vibrations tied me down, as the fragments of you fell into the deep darkness…

Kimi no, kimi dake no kuchibiru ni sotto furetai…

-I want to softly touch your lips, only yours…

Uhh, yeah; I thought the redhead would love rock songs, so I'm like "Hey wait a minute! I think almost all BL lovers like Gackt!" So I picked a song from one of his albums. Yeah. It's pretty good. I mean, I listened to it but… I guess his type of music just isn't my type? I'm more like Kanda. -grin-

And also, the creatures (y'know, those related to that white haired beast) were saying... Literally:

"Down, down child! No, get over here! No!" Yadda yadda. Not too confusing, really.

Ah well, hope you enjoyed; you can review if you want. I just really want to see if I get any hits. -frown- If I don't get any hits, I'll just cry on my birthday. -sniff- (The day I finished this was: 3/16/07 9:47 AM.)

So… yeah! Thanks for reading. I'll have the next chapitre up… some day.

-Muffinizer, pya