DISCLAIMER: D. Gray-man belongs to Katsura Hoshino, TV Tokyo, Funimation and TMS, (As far as I know that's all of them) and seeing as my name is moontoga29, I do not own D. Gray-man, making this story solely for entertainment purposes.
A/N: Hello again to everyone, I've only got a few things to say for this story. First of all that I love this story, it was short and sweet and really freaking depressing to write. But I love it. Secondly, this story is full of irony. Why? Because I really like irony, probably the main reason why I wrote this. But yeah, there is dramatic, verbal and even some situational irony in there and it's basically just me playing around with it. If you get it, congrats to you. Which reminds me, if you understand what is meant by the last few lines I will love you forever.
WARNINGS: There CHARACTER DEATH, which, by the way, I am kicking myself over so you don't have to kick me for it. I don't like killing characters and I won't do it unless the plot calls for it, so no worries.
Because of above warning, this story is probably rather DEPRESSING for Allen lover's (LIKE ME) to read. I actually died a little inside while writing this, to feel some of Allen's pain.
This is also a relatively new story, not my first and probably not my best so be forewarned of the POSSIBLE SUCKAGE.
And that's it. I'm surprised too. No swearing, yaoi, mature subjects, nothing. It's a weird feeling.
Also, a note to do with upcoming stories, on my profile I have stated some multi-chapter stories, BUT for the next few months I will most likely only be writing one-shots with or without epilogues, depending if inspiration strikes. For example, I got an idea for a second chapter of 'Kanda Yu: (Cock)Blocked' so I've been working on that. Furthermore, I miss Allen and my last two stories haven't given him sufficient screen time, so expect some Allen-centric stories.
And without further ado, Kanda Yu.
Irony, Idiots and Illusions
Kanda Yu was a born warrior, a samurai, convinced since childhood that compassion had no place on the battlefield. Compassion was a weakness, a hindrance that was potentially as crippling to a warrior as love.
That's why Kanda refused to care, lest he forsake all the blood and sweat he'd shed to get to where he was. That's why he refused to care when his gaze landed on the pale body of Allen Walker.
The boy sat slumped against a tree, looking to the world that he was just exhausted from battle. It was unfortunate that the illusion had to be disrupted by the angry red liquid smearing the boy's face, pouring down his chest, and pooling, seeping into the grass beneath him. The boy would stay there as a pale stain against the all-encompassing colour.
Keep on walking.
The far-off voice of some kid echoed in Kanda's mind.
How strange that he would hear Allen's mantra now, when the boy could no longer move forward. A string of memories swam across Kanda's vision. Images of the boy's smiling face as he recited those empty words over and over,
Keep moving forward. It will be alright. We'll all be smiling in the end.
As if they were some sort of charm.
As if those stupid words had the power to keep him smiling.
It was funny, in a dark sort of way; Allen proved himself to be an idiotic beansprout until the very end.
Kanda didn't care. He'd always known the boy was a beansprout. He never thought the boy's bright-eyed optimism was refreshing. He wouldn't miss the moron spouting that stupid mantra to him every time things started to look bad.
Still watching the breathless body, Kanda couldn't bring himself to give a damn about the dead teenager. People die. That's how life works. It was the nature of this war, of all wars. Warriors can't afford to break down whenever someone dies. Compassion, remorse and pause for the dead were hindrances in battle that could get a warrior killed for his soft-headedness.
Kanda refused to be so stupid. He refused to be like the beansprout.
The boy did manage to be of some use before he became utterly worthless. Though their bodies did not accompany the beansprout's in the clearing, he had defeated the Millennium Earl along with the Noah Clan before he decided that one specific tree seemed like a nice place to pour his heart out.
There was only that one bleeding heart, that one clown beloved by God, that one body to show for millenniums of bloodshed and tragedy.
Still, it had been a war, and their enemy had been defeated, having turned to a mist of Dark Matter that disappeared on the wind the moment Allen and the Earl stabbed each other.
The moments before that bleeding heart stopped.
Kanda didn't care. It didn't matter to him that the beansprout had died because of this war. He never stopped to mourn for the dead. He wouldn't shed a single tear, or waste a second thought over a mere corpse.
The samurai glared again at the pathetic shadow of the boy from those images. Lazing there, upsetting Kanda's victory, the body begged to be detested. Kanda knew he wouldn't feel any sympathy for the boy who was stupid enough to be killed. The way he couldn't bear to look upon the pitiful carcass confirmed his disgust.
The way his hands shook as he sheathed the now Innocence-less Mugen was proof enough of his undying abhorrence for the boy.
Kanda stood tall in the cold clearing. His throat suddenly went dry and burned with the want to scream at the beansprout for his never ceasing worthlessness. Yet only one word could escape from his constricted throat,
"Idiot."
The single utterance resounded through the clearing, tone cold as the chill that carried it.
Kanda tossed a final look at the beansprout. This was the last time he would ever have to see the annoying boy. The way his usually disinterested eyes filled with emotion as he gazed upon the boy's remains was but a testament to their passionate hatred for one another.
The way his chest clenched when he tore his eyes from the beansprout showed his delight at not having to look upon the cursed boy's scarred face ever again.
Kanda turned from the corpse with all his usual grace and aloofness, the very picture of a composed and dispassionate samurai. Coat billowing behind him as he exited the clearing, Kanda's face would not be marred by something as foolish as sadness.
The way his feet dragged as he left was due to the sheer fatigue he felt from the battle.
It made no difference whether he stayed or left, Allen would still be dead.
He wouldn't feel compassion; the beansprout's death wouldn't mean a thing to him.
Kanda didn't care.
He didn't want to race back to the clearing. He didn't want to drop to his knees and cradle Allen's stained body close to him, didn't want to beg forgiveness or cry over the loss of a stupid boy. He didn't want to leave bare the real meaning behind his words.
He didn't.
The urge was simply an effect of the illusion the clearing had cast over him.
Maybe it was the effect of an Innocence fragment.
The irony was lost on Kanda.
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed that, I actually like this more than 'Kanda Yu: (Cock)Blocked', though I do love that story.
Reviews are to me as sunlight is to flowers, necessary for our growth. Please allow me to photosynthesize!
An unhello to you all! ~ moontoga29