Disclaimer: I make no claim to -Man, its characters or setting and other affiliated things; this is a work of fanfiction for non-profit

And No Man Shall Touch Her…

Feneris

Chapter 1: The Piano

Once upon a time, there was a woman whose beauty and purity were unmatched anywhere. It was said that anyone who meet her were so inspired, that they always walked away a better person than they were before. Many compared her to an angel and proclaimed she must have been blessed by God himself. Her heart was free of hate, and she wished nothing but kindness to all creation.

It is truly sad that such people, who show the greatest of kindness, often are victims of the greatest of tragedies.

A demon came one day, drawn; as such creatures are, by her purity. The demon fell in love with her, and strove for her affections. However, she already had a lover, and felt no love for the fiend. When the demon learned of this, his jealousy and anger ignited, and he swore that if he could not have her, then no man would ever touch her again.

So, he cursed her and her entire lineage, and when the woman next saw her lover, her touch burned him to ash. From that point on, no male could so much as brush by her in the hall without suffering terrible harm. Even her own kin was no spared the effects, as even her little brother was unable to hold her hand without his skin sizzling at the touch.

The women died as a hermit, having isolated herself from others in order to avoid harming them with her curse. But, the demon's cruelty knew no bounds, and ten years past before the curse as heard from again.

The woman's brother grew up, met a girl, and got married. His arms burned and blackened when he attempted to hold his newborn daughter. So, the curse lived, carried by the brother's sons and past on to their daughters in turn.

For over five hundred years, the women of that family have all died alone. Either they shunned from society due to the curse's effect, or they have deliberately isolated themselves to avoid hurting those they love.

Thus, great tragedy fell on one least deserving of it, and a whole lineage has suffered for the envy of a single demon.

Sunshine had blessed the town that day, a welcome break from the rain that had poured down for the last week. Lenalee Lee carefully avoided puddles that lingered on the road as she made her way down the street towards a small antique shop on the main street. A small bell chimed as she pushed open the door. There was an alarmed cry and the sound of a plate breaking. A gaunt woman in a black dress rushed to the front of the store.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry! I'll be there in a second!" She wailed. "Oh! How are you doing Lenalee?"

"I'm doing fine Miranda," Lenalee smiled. "How has things been for you?"

"…" Miranda went silent. "You haven't heard have you? Oh, I should have just kept my mouth shut!"

"What happened?" Lenalee asked in alarm.

"A man and his wife came in here the other day," Miranda explained. "They wanted to look at jewelry. So I showed them what I had, a ruby necklace caught her eye and she wanted to try it on." She suddenly burst into tears. "It's all my fault! The moment she slipped it around her neck it started to strangle her! I should have known that necklace was cursed! Now everyone thinks my entire inventory consists of dangerous artifacts!"

"It's not your fault Miranda!" Lenalee reassured her. "You had no way of knowing that there was anything dangerous about it."

"But I should have!" She cried. "No one's going to come here now! I'm ruined!"

"You are not ruined. People have been shopping here for generations and this is the first time anything bad has happened to anyone. This will all blow over. In fact, hire someone to go through everything and check for curses. That will reassure everyone that your stock is safe."

"You really think so?" Miranda asked, wiping some tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't get so worked up like this." She smiled dryly. "So, are you going to that party that Lord Eastwith is holding?" Lenalee's face dropped suddenly. "Ack! I'm sorry, I'm Sorry!"

"It's okay," Lenalee murmured.

"No, no, I really should have known better this time!" Miranda pleaded. "About your curse and…"

"You said you had something you wanted to show me." Lenalee interrupted.

"Ah, yes of course! I forgot," Miranda answered, gladly changing the subject. She waved Lenalee over to the back room of the store. "I got this in yesterday." A wool blanket was draped over a large piece of furniture in the center of the room. Miranda reached over and pulled it off, revealing a finely crafted ebony piano. "I heard you wanted to learn how to play," she explained. "I just had it tuned. It works perfectly fine. I was told the color of the keys were just superficial." She added, pointing to the inverted colours of the keys.

"It's beautiful," Lenalee breathed, running her hands along the wood.

"You can have it," Miranda said quickly. "Think of it as a gift!"

"But…"

"I don't have any room for it," she explained. "It'd be better off in your home than collecting dust in here. I'll even have it delivered!"

"Thank you Miranda," Lenalee smiled. "If you want you can come over tonight. Komui says he's on the verge of turning lead into gold."

"Again? Oh dear… Should I bring the first aid kit as well?"

xXx

Komui looked over his friend's burnt hands. "I've seen worse Reever. What happened anyway?"

"Lenalee was getting out of the carriage and her skirt got caught in the door. I tried to catch her. It's been so long, I'd sort of forgotten about the curse."

"You never forget anything," Komui remarked dryly.

"Okay, so I knew damn well what would happen," Reever spat. "What would you have me do? Let her fall?"

The alchemist sighed. "Lenalee hates it when people get hurt because of her. She won't go to balls because she can never dance with anyone without them getting burnt." He produced some salve and a roll of gauze. "She's going to be beating herself up for this."

"You any closer to finding a way to lift it?" Reever inquired.

"No. I don't even have a clue where to start," Komui admitted. "Five hundred years and all my family has is a diary with the name "Lord Medon" circled, and countless burnt hands." He began wrapping the gauze around Reever's hands. "I've read every book in our damned library, and still nothing! Only half-baked theories, superstitious nonsense, and worthless rituals!" Komui took a deep breath and tied the last of the bandages. "What brought you here today anyway?"

"Well, I know you've been looking for a piano teacher for Lenalee right?" Komui nodded. "Well, I met this kid. He was playing at a hotel in Liverpool. Best music I have ever heard! I talked to him and mentioned you were looking for a teacher. He said he was interested and I told him I would talk to you about it. He's good, really good, I was watching him play and his fingers didn't slip once."

Komui raised any eyebrow. "If he is good as you say, why was he playing in a hotel, instead of at the theaters?"

"I asked the same thing," Reever answered. "So I checked out some of the places he worked before. None of them had anything bad to say about him, and he apparently has a really strong sense of morals, so nothing to worry about there. Anyway, he has this deformed left arm, and it scares away all the potential patrons. There is nothing wrong with it, but the skin is blood-red and the finger nails are black as coal. If you want I can give him a call and you can meet him yourself."

"That won't be necessary. I trust you judgment Reever." Komui assured him. "I know you wouldn't recommend some sleazy lowlife to teach my precious sister, not that he could really do anything anyway."

Reever grinned bitterly. "I supposed that's one good thing about that damned curse."

"Give him a call and tell him he's hired," Komui told him. "Who should I be on the lookout for?"

"His name is Allen Walker," Reever said. "You can't miss him. He's the only adolescent with stark white hair."

Authors Note: Well there goes me giving up attempted epics… although I do have at least some semblance of a plan for this one…

So again, I ask my readers… How did I do? Did the writing bore you? Was it too descriptive or not descriptive enough? Did I use too much dialogue? Was the idea unoriginal or unappealing?