Prologue

A/N: This is my take on Kanda (one of my favorite DGM characters!)'s history up to the beginning of the series. I thought it would be an interesting subject to write about. Now on with the story!

The frosty sun was frothing in the frozen gray sky, a weather phenomenon now quite typical in Japan. Froi Tiedoll had heard that the haziness was an effect of the breeding population of Akuma festering in the country.

Across the rugged landscape the countryside, the said general of the Black Order and Daisya Barry traveled and wandered around on this hazy day. The latter yawned, scratched his hooded head, and peered sideways at his mentor. When Tiedoll gave no indication on his serene face of having acknowledged his student, the Turkish teenager scowled.

"Shishou," he complained, "how far are we going to walk?"

Tiedoll looked up at the sky and raised his hand to shed his eyes from the light.

"It's cloudy today," he remarked.

"Yes, I noticed!" Daisya snapped. "Isn't Japan supposed to be filled with Akuma? I want some action. I'm so bored now."

Appearing not to have heard him, Tiedoll sighed.

"The last time I came here, there were many beautiful scenes to draw," he said remorsefully. "Now the landscape is so gloomy."

"Shishou," Daisya began in controlled calmness, his impatient temper beginning to reach its zenith.

Suddenly, a crashing, blinding flash beyond the hills filled the skies, rattling the tender earth and raining dusty debris all over the vicinity and the two Exorcists. Almost immediately, the explosion dissipated like crinkled, drying leave falling insignificantly from the sighing trees of autumn.

"What was that?" Daisya gasped, still reeling from the impact.

"Akuma," Tiedoll said quietly. "And a great mass of them."

Without another word, they dashed forward, passing shattered pieces of wooden houses, fresh horse flesh still dripping bright red liquids, and, from time to time, distorted blanched skeletons that looked eerily like those of humans.

When they reached the site of the flash, they recoiled at the ghastly sight of a newly devastated village lying in a resigned acceptance of its sorry bereavement, dead and forever dead. Dark tendrils of smoke still writhed in the heavy air, thin gray snakes hissing ominously towards the heavens. Sporadic craters lined the surroundings like sadistic decorations, deep permanent scars in the groaning earth. And among the nearby fallen shambles of what used to be a perfectly healthy house—

"A human!"

Daisya rushed toward the mangled body and stared down at the lanky body of a boy, a few years younger than he was, with long dark blue hair tousled on the crumbled ground and laced with blood and dirt. At least, he probably was a male despite of his long hair because his bare (clearly masculine) chest was uncovered, the nearby fabric of his jinbei(1) ripped and burnt. Upon closer inspection—Daisya knelt closer to him and squinted—there was an unmistakable splotch of black wavy lines on the left side of his chest.

"A Hinduism tattoo," Tiedoll noted softly as he came up to Daisya. "It's the lotus. And—"

Tiedoll held up a glowing sphere of soft green light that was pulsing in suppressed excitement.

"He's compatible with this Innocence."

As though reacting to the presence of the Innocence of which he was destined to be host, the boy stirred and opened a bruised eye: a dark pool grievously drenched with tragedy and suffering and utterly shaken by loss and shock. In great pain, it seemed, he lifted him up slightly and carried protectively in his arm—Daisya noted with a start for the first time—a little girl with the same dark blue hair and pale skin. Her eyes were closed, and she even more splattered by crimson blood than the boy was. Beneath the veiled curtain of her bangs, Daisya thought he could see a black tattoo not dissimilar to the one on the boy's chest.

It brought chills skittering down his spine.

Then the boy began to speak, but it did not really sound like speaking because it seemed like he was croaking. A guttural, cracked sound emitted from his parched lips that were opened by the merest margins. Daisya could barely hear him, but he could clearly detect the distinct desperation that seeped into each word and syllable he articulated.

"Please…" the boy whispered, "please help… her…"

And then he fell into unconsciousness again.

GLOSSARY:

(1) male Japanese clothing worn in the summer. This is according to Wikipedia; I'm not an expert at Japanese customs.

A/N: Fascinating? Intriguing? : D Horrible? (I hope not) : X R&R please!

I've always HOW in the world they can all communicate with each other when they should be speaking different languages?? Yet they're always speaking the same language (aka Japanese rofl) as though they did understand each other. Ahh, the mysterious of international manga/anime-dom! It'd only bruise my brain trying to figure it out, so I'll just take it for granted.

D.Gray-Man (c) Hoshino Katsura