17/September/09 - 19/September/09

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Man. I do, however, own Micah Lenerd.

A/N: Okay, this'd be my first time writing -Man and, moreover, a Yullen Fanfiction, so don't be a total bitch if I did something wrong. This willeventually be Yullen, so don't say I didn't warn you. By Yullen, I mean Allen is the uke and Kanda is the seme, not vice versa.

Aijou Yaoi is my muse and editor(Or beta-reader, whichever you prefer to call her), by the way. Tell me if we missed anything while looking it over.

Procrastination : Prologue

"Kanda Yu, good morning," The black-haired man greeted him, a smile on his face that Kanda would, no doubt, wipe off by the time he left. It seemed easy for Komui to lose his smile when the Japanese samurai was in the room. "Now, onto business. . . You have another assignment."

Kanda glared, "Obviously. I'm not here for my fucking health."

Komui shrunk under the male's gaze for a few moments before regaining his lost composure, his face becoming serious. "I'm sure you're aware of the. . . experiments that our scientists have been partaking in." Kanda nodded, having heard about such an experiment, he'd never cared much to research this, but he just might have to, now. "Well, as it turns out, the most effective of the experiments managed to escape while they were doing some testing. Of course, we've sent several people after him, but they returned with various injuries." A smile spread across Komui's face, as if he were about to tell Kanda a grand bit of information, "So, we decided to send you on this assignment to drag our experiment back to us!"

"Forget it." Was Kanda's simple answer as he crossed his arms, "I'm not doing your dirty work. I do enough of it as it is."

Komui pouted lightly to hear Kanda's words, but didn't annoy him about it. No, he would harass him about it. "Please, Kanda? You're the only one who can do this for me!" Kanda glared, a twitch coming to his face as Komui continued, "Please? Please? Please? Please? Ple-"

"Gah! Fine!" Kanda half-yelled in obvious annoyance.

A smile came to the short-haired male's face, "Good. Now, the subject you're looking for is Allen Walker. He's not the brightest bulb in the box, so he should be fairly easy to convince. The others were just really bad at the persuasion part. 'Less persuasion, more dragging!' I told them, but they didn't take my advice." Komui shook his head in fake annoyance. It annoyed the hell out of Kanda when that guy got dramatic. He always looked like an idiot when he did.

"Allen Walker is our biggest success yet and it'd be a shame to let him run off," Komui began, "So I want you to bring him back here, alright, Kanda-san?"

Kanda glared as he nodded, "Are you not gonna tell me anything about the kid or why he's some huge success?" Kanda's question wasn't answered, in fact, when he asked, Komui began muttering about needing to go do something before making his way out of the office. Obviously, Komui didn't want him to know. Kanda sighed before trudging out of the office himself, to hunt for the Science Department's 'biggest success yet'.

* * *

Allen sighed as he made his way down the street, receiving stares that bordered just about every emotion he could name. Well, he'd stare, too, if saw a white-haired teenager wearing tattered clothes and looking like he just popped his head out of a war zone. Not to mention the tattoo over his left eye. Then again, from where he had come from, that wasn't too abnormal to see.

Quite a few other people in that laboratory had something very strange about them. A boy he'd met had an eye color that occurred out of nature - ruby red. Of course, she was, apparently, a failure and they'd 'gotten rid of her', as they had blatantly put it. His small, innocent mind could only imagine the tortures they had put the elder girl through. He felt more than a little sorry for her. The scientists in that lab could be very cruel when they wanted to be, it just depended what experiment you were.

Allen had been a very strange experiment; even Allen didn't know exactly what they'd done to him. They'd mixed his genes with some sort of. . . Monster. They'd described the beast to him, saying it, too, was once human.

What they'd shown to Allen had been anything but human.

Allen's frowned deepened simply from the thought of that poor thing. In appearance, the thing had been hideous, almost like a weapon, too. They'd had called the beast a 'Level 3'. He was assuming that the higher the level, the stronger and smarter it was, but that was just common sense. He couldn't imagine it being any other way, but he wasn't a. . . scientist, either, and he didn't want to be one. Ever. Atleast not one like the ones he'd had the misfortune of encountering.

He looked up as he heard a thud and the noise of something scattering across the ground. Judging by the sounds of multiple thumps that followed the thud, Allen guessed that someone had dropped fruits or something to that effect. Rounding the corner, he found he was correct, seeing a girl with pastel green hair moving to pick up apples and oranges and the like that had fallen to the ground. Judging by the scratch on her cheek, he'd say she tripped and had a painful meeting with the concrete. She was lucky it didn't bruise.

Being the person he was, he found himself involuntarily moving over to help the girl, starting with picking up the fruit and placing it back in the bag she'd carried them in. She looked up as he did so, eyes a bit on the wide side when she saw him. His white hair probably startled her. A smile creased her face a moment later.

"Thanks," She began, accepting the hand that was suddenly offered to her to help her up, but once she was standing, she seemed to get distracted by something. "A-Are you alright?" She questioned, looking over him and his tattered clothes, eyeing the bandage that wrapped around his left arm, as if she'd just had an epiphany. "You look like you got beat up!"

Allen blinked at her, not able to do anything but. He really couldn't respond to that, because he knew that, with the tattered clothes and the scratches dotting his skin, he did look like he'd been in a fight, even if it was a minor one.

"C'mon, spill it. What happened?" Her question went unanswered for a few moments, as Allen knew telling her the story would only lead her to believe he was crazy. However, when he had finally prepared a suitable lie and was ready to tell it, she continued, "Well, we'll just have to fix you right up, won't we?" Hoisting the bag of fruit up into her arms, her free hand seating itself at her hip. "C'mon, buddy. . ." She muttered as she snatched the male's hand and began dragging him away.

Allen could only imagine what was going through this girl's mind. She obviously didn't think he was some sort of criminal, or she wouldn't have grabbed his hand and begun dragging him to wherever she was dragging him. The duo received stares as they made their way down the street; the reasons were very oblivious, too. Who wouldn't stare at the duo, honestly? The female was dashing down the road carrying a bag of fruit in a teal-colored, spaghetti-strapped dress with purple ribbons, dragging a white-haired male in tattered clothes that looked to be more of an elderly ruffian.

Staring was perfectly acceptable in Allen's opinion.

A serious expression was ridden across the girl's face, even as they entered a cheery-looking bookstore that was brimming with people of all sizes, ages, and genders. "Grandpa!" She yelled, nearly knocking over several females in the process, as she approached an elder who was gray-haired and half-bald, bearing a set of pale, ice blue eyes. The man, Allen noted, was likely going blind.

"Grandpa! Look at this guy! He's torn to shreds!" The girl's hysterical shout seemed to chase off several of the customers who'd been lurking about. The elderly man at the register seemed to twitch and, as the girl stopped abruptly before him, she looked a tad bit frightened.

Even Allen found himself a bit frightened as the kind-looking old man began speaking, "He looks to be in one piece to me, Micah!" His angered voice didn't do much for the population inside their little shop and those who'd taken up temporary residence departed rather quickly. "Micah, look at 'im! He's just got a couple of scratches!"

The girl, Micah, looked at him, as if trying to find what her grandfather was talking about before speaking, "But grandpa, he's got a strange scar over his eye and his arm is covered with bandages! How is that 'just' a couple of scratches!?"

The elderly man blinked at him and Allen summed up that he was taking in his appearance. When a few minutes passed by, he spoke, "So he does. . . Hey there, sonny, what happened to your arm?"

Allen, again, found he didn't know the answer to that question. Looking at their faces, he could tell they wanted answers and despite the fact that the three of them were the only ones left there, he felt like he was about to rehearse his entire life to thousands of people. Then again, what he could remember of his entire life consisted of being locked up in a laboratory.

No one really wanted to tell someone they'd been abducted by a scientist and couldn't remember anything before that time because they were put through experiments that caused so much mental trauma that it left most past memories cut off from them. He wasn't about to, either. Allen was deep in thought at this point, but still noticed the curious and serious gazes of Micah and her grandfather. So, he said the first words that came to mind.

"I can't remember."

He wasn't expecting to get such a rile out of the duo, either. Well, the old man was rather calm, but Micah was not. "What?! Y-You poor thing! Hey, Grandpa, can he stay with us? Just 'til he can get back on his feet!" Micah's claim didn't go unnoticed by Allen, even though it was said in a hushed whisper, and Allen didn't understand. He already was on his feet, wasn't he? He glanced down at his feet, as if to check if they were still firmly planted on the ground. They were, so what was she talking about?

"Fine, fine. Go introduce him to your grandmother while I try to get my customers back." The old man turned back to the register, obviously a tad bit annoyed that the girl had scared off all of the patrons. She nodded brightly as she grabbed Allen's hand again, the bag of fruit still hoisted on her other arm as she dragged the poor male to the kitchen.

"Hey, hey, Grandma!" Micah began cheerfully, setting the bag down on the counter and looking to the frail old woman whose hair was brought up in a messy bun, strands of white hair that'd came free hanging in her aged and wrinkled face. "Grandma, this is. . ." She blinked, then turned to the male, "What was your name?" Allen smiled lightly.

She must be forgetful, he noted, a bit humored, "Allen Walker."

She nodded whole heartedly, looking back to Allen before beginning again, "This is Allen Walker! He's an amnesiac that'll be staying with us! Shiro-chan, this is Grandma Helena!" Apparently, 'Shiro-chan' was his new nickname, although Walker had no idea what it meant. Allen gave a shy wave as the old woman smiled up at him.

She looked to Micah, "Alphonse, you said?"

Micah groaned lightly, and Allen realized the old woman was hard of hearing, much to his dismay, "No, Grandma, it's Allen."

"A Lennie?" The woman's brows furrowed as she looked to Micah, "Oh, what a silly name!"

Micah looked ready to try again when Allen butted in, speaking to the elderly woman, "It's Alphonse." His confirmation was, surprisingly, loud enough for the woman to hear, who nodded and smiled victoriously. Micah, however, was a bit surprised at him taking up the name, at least for the elderly woman. She remembered that her grandmother had called her 'Mikey' when she'd first moved in with them. Eventually, Micah had gotten through the woman's thick skull that her name wasn't Mikey, but Micah.

"Alphonse," The old woman began, "Would you mind putting the groceries up? Micah always leaves it up to me to do so and my old bones can't take it." Allen blinked, as did Micah. A smile came to Allen's face as he nodded, agreeing to do so. It was the least he could do if he'd be staying with them, after all. He'd pay his weight in physical, manual labor.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it and, even if you didn't, review please. If you didn't like it, tell me why. If you did, enlighten me on what you'd like to see in this story. But, overall, I'd like you to critique it, too. Please and thank you!

A. Aden