DISCLAIMER: I MAKE NO CLAIM TO OWNING D. GRAY MAN. IT IS THE PROPERTY OF ONE WHO IS NOT ME AND THIS IS DONE PURELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT. NO MONEY IS BEING MADE FROM THIS SO NO SUING.
NOTES: Not a happy fun time type of fic. This is a take on the darker side of what the Exorcist who live in the Order may have been subjected to. AKA my take on life there after the revelations that Rinali brought forth in the late 90s chapters.
The air was filled with that scent again. It was blood and a heady perfume that was likened to temple incense that was used in the smaller almost forgotten holy buildings. Temples that his master gravitated towards in pursuit of artistic inspiration he claimed.
That smell almost taste had been a comfort to him as a child when he was old enough and competent with Mugen to not get in the way too much on missions. Invoking images of him following on wobbly, coltish legs that had not fully grown into their potential in height and making seem to be made of joints and bones over skin. He had also been getting used to the slightly trailing tail of hair that his master had put up for him when he had stopped caring about keeping it sheared close to his head for practicality.
The smell of blood, that you could not help but take notice of as it invaded your mind with each breath you were forced to take of the air tainted and saturated with it, was familiar also. Invoking another side of emotions and memories. Of battles and being alert. The subtle shade of fear from when he had been younger and thrown into battle as a trial by fire to figure out what would work best with his innocent. The many failed weapons breaking and unleashing rebounds into his frame as the Akuma he had been trying to fight bore down on him. His Innocence or Master saving him from being killed at the last moment.
The reason why he had begun to hate the man that had found him on the side of the road and offered him something to call home. Orders were meant to be carried out at all costs even if it meant death. He had learned that they would not hesitate to get rid of him if he proved to be useless. His Innocence going back to Hebraska until someone else came about that could use it. The drive to become stronger so he could stay and be useful.
He hated the man he called Master for acting so cheerful and uncaring of what could happen if the ire of the darker side of the Organization were to fall upon him. The Black Order was composed of humans and as such was not perfect in any way. The ones who ran everything from behind large wooden desks and shadows were far too remove to see them as people anymore. They were just weapons that they would dispose of if they proved to be more bothersome alive then dead.
He had never feared death itself. For he would have never invoked Shouka against Skin. He feared being useless and weak to the only thing he could recall as ever being home. He feared the ripping of his Innocence from him and sent back to Hebraska leaving him as nothing more then a broken doll that could barely function on its own. He feared becoming like some of the Finders. Finders that had been Exorcist at one point only to be deemed useless in the handling of their Innocence. Who could do nothing more then throw themselves at the enemy with the snap of the Shadowed ones in the Order's fingers. Things Rinali had feared at one point as well, before they had given her Komui like a child who needed a security blanket.
The smell of blood and Incense invoking a maelstrom of reasons why death did not scare him as the chains digging into his chest, biting into lungs and devouring his heart as his Life scrambled to keep them going. Melting and fusing skin to muscles, muscles to nerves, pain to pain.
He didn't care about dying. He cared more about what would happen if he did go back as a failure.