I don't own D. Gray-Man.

Seven Thousand Years

December 25th

Japan

Once upon a time, he had been one of the many raggedy, hungering boys wasting in the streets. Abandoned by his parents in a foundling wheel and later left in the streets by an orphanage that overflowed with children, he had been nothing more than a dirty, starving mess, ignored as many others by the more fortunate part of society.

The deformities he would eventually understand were the result of Dark Matter made his life much harsher than that of the other street children. He was unwanted amidst the unwanted, and quickly learned that hiding his left eye and infected arm from others' sight should be as much of a priority as finding food. And no matter how many years had passed since then, if he closed his eyes he could still feel the cold wind hurting his skin, the painful hole in his stomach and the whole sickness it bought, the untreated wounds and unkind stares.

He flexed his left hand, that was the color of bloody flesh and roughened by Dark Matter. That arm and his pentagram were the only remnants of his previous misery that he still carried around, for it had been long ever since his body had been dressed in cheap clothes, and it felt like ages since the last time he looked for food in a trashcan. The teenager became instead a shining example of nobility, dressed in fine clothes, expensive shoes and the always present ribbon, a bright strand of color around his neck. Hands that used to be hidden with torn pieces of disposed clothing were now concealed by soft, clean gloves, and no one could see a fault in finding the clean, well cared for boy in such a beautiful, expansive mansion. He was as much a part of it as any of the lavish decorations there, made to delight the eyes.

He walked through the corridors lit by candles on golden chandeliers. The doors were almost uncountable, all in the same pattern of heavy dark wood and shiny handles. The wallpapers were tasteful and the carpet a beautiful, deep dark red. If he squinted, he could almost see the marks from when he was dragged through this same place he now walked so calmly in, kicking and screaming with a weak body that never truly had any chance of winning a fight.

Allen shook his head. The mansion repaired itself shortly after suffering any sort of damage; the marks would have been gone long ago. If he still saw them, it was because they were burned in his memory.

That day, his blood had created a beautiful contrast against the walls, but the decorated paper had restored to perfection and refused to tell any story of the occurrence, promising instead a false sort of comfort he never managed to indulge in.

Being taken from the streets and to a rich house where he was well fed and clothed should be something out of a fairytale. How many street children had dreamed of being related to well to do families, of being taken away from their poverty by noble parents who had been looking for them ever so anxiously? Who would whisker them away from suffering and shower them with comfort and love?

And even as he finished his walk and reached the large double doors that were only different ones in this side of the household, he honestly thought that perhaps it would have been better to be left where he was.

With apprehension, he steeled himself for an unpleasant experience that would surely bring about an unpleasant day, and opened the doors.

"Happy birthday, Allen-pon!" exclaimed the rotund man, clapping gloved hands in excitement before the boy even stepped inside. Allen looked at the dinner room. With dark walls filled by pictures of the past vessels of the Noah Clan and nothing more than candles to light the place, it was quite a somber setting. The table was the only bright spot in the room, covered by bright white fabric and filled by many dishes and, notably, a large cake in the center adorned by two number shaped candles, an one and a five.

"Thank you, Lord Millennium," said he amiably, before taking his spot in one of the tall, cushioned wooden chairs. As luck would have it, by both his sides sat the most cheery members of the family, second only to the Earl himself. Lenalee hugged his arm amiably, while Lavi whistled and showered him with confetti. The white haired boy's smile remained intact, eyes soft even as he felt the urge to flinch away from the attention.

The Millennium Earl proceeded then to hold Allen's party, or as much of a party it could be in this dysfunctional family. Every birthday here was celebrated, the presence of all mandatory unless for those otherwise occupied with the clan's dealings. That's the only reason Allen could imagine Socalo and Kanda being present. The first was an old Noah of such an insanely violent and cruel behavior Allen could barely look him in the eyes, and the former…

Allen regarded Kanda with a small frown. The Noah of Illusions sat the further away from them all, elbows over the table and fingers linked together. While he doubtlessly would be somewhere else were it not for the Earl's order, Kanda would mostly be closed off and stoic in their mandatory family dinners and celebrations. Today, however, the look on his face was of pure disgust and, upon noticing Allen's stare, he scowled fiercely before fixing the cake with a glare that could easily combust it. If not for their master's presence, Allen was quite sure Kanda would have done more than grace him with his hostile glower.

The angry Japanese man usually didn't bother Allen that terribly. Though they by no means got along, in times such as those of his birthday, he wished the others such as Lenalee and Lavi would be a little more… somber. The two would smile and present him with jokes and friendly smothering, but it felt wholly inappropriate. They were all prisoners of a lavish and large prison. Had they truly forgotten? Would Allen also learn to smile and laugh as if everything was alright after decades passed and he grew tired of fighting against the life destiny imposed him?

The whole affair was a tense ordeal for him, but Allen played his part, before graciously thanking the Earl and his guests and leaving the dining table as the human-shaped Akuma reunited to clean the room. As per usual, he averted his eyes as soon as they entered, choosing to observe the ground instead, as he walked back to his room. He had refused to call anything here his own for a long while, but eventually grew weary of that. He needed some place to feel safe in. Being in his room meant he wasn't doing more unpleasant things and, as the Fourteenth, he had enough of a command over the Ark to at least be able to make sure he had privacy in the place he slept in.

He heard hasty steps coming behind him and, turning around, realized it was Kanda, who was leaving the room in a quick pace. Kanda was just going to get ahead of him when, on an impulse, Allen grabbed his arm.

The other's eyes widened, clear disgust marring his now white face as he snarled and quickly ripped his arm away from Allen's grasp as fast as one wanting to avoid an infection. Allen knew the unnatural nuance of a Noah's skin bothered Kanda, and thus he only wore it when necessary, always forcing his looks back to what he considered normal whenever possible. Allen stared firmly at the taller man, now pale skinned and dark eyed in his pretense of humanity.

Pondering about his next actions, he then decided to force himself back to his human appearance, too. Perhaps it would appease the man, who so much hated the grey pallor and golden eyes of their family.

"Kanda," said he, before staring to the two sides of the corridor and noticing they were alone. A mental command made him aware of their surroundings. Thanks to his unusual affinity with the Ark, no one would listen in or get close without his notice.

"What is it?" asked the other brusquely, clearly wanting to leave. Allen knew however that, should he push Kanda too far, the man wouldn't hesitate to attack.

He just didn't know what he had done to deserve such enmity.

"What is wrong, Kanda?" asked Allen, trying to sound as sincere as he could, because he was. There was the good and the bad and the pure evil in the clan, but Allen knew Kanda wasn't one of the last of those. And despite the fact that Allen would typically eagerly return to Kanda twice the antagonism and violence the older Noah flung at him, such fights brought him no satisfaction. If he could only understand what was behind their problems…

"What? You expected me to enjoy your little party, you imbecile?"

Allen felt the usual anger rise at the unnecessary insult, but held it down. It wouldn't do to engage in violence here.

"You were quite sour today, Kanda. Even worse than usual. Care to say what's going on? There is no need for us to be like-"

To his surprise, Kanda's lips tilted up, but not in a pleasant way. A ferocious smirk was plastered upon Kanda's face, eyes burning with something that almost made Allen back down.

"Playing nice now, aren't you, beansprout?" asked him silkily and, right then, Allen knew he would rather have Kanda screaming and snarling at him than speaking him in that deceptively calm, poisonous voice. "I am not like your idiot little friends. I will not fall for your games."

Allen's brow furrowed in honest confusion. "Games? Kanda-"

The other got closer to him, step by step until Allen hit the wall without noticing, and flinched at the surprise of the contact. Kanda approached him, lips hovering only a few centimeters from Allen's ear.

"I hate your face," whispered the Noah of Illusions fiercely, before shifting back to grey. Alarmed at Kanda's now golden eyes, Allen felt his world shift, walls and floor and ceiling distorting and the other Noah having disappeared. Every one of his senses was assaulted by sensations that couldn't be real but still disturbed his mind greatly. Feeling as if he was falling in an abysm of ugly colors and having his eardrums blasted by the noise of countless screams, he finally reverted back to his Noah form, calling to his awareness as the Musician to break the spell. Immediately, the corridor restored itself before him, even if he knew it had never truly disappeared; Allen fell to his knees and emptied his stomach over the rich carped, gasping and heaving until there was nothing left inside of it. When he finally lifted his head, Kanda was far away, already turning to another direction and disappearing from his sight.

Still unable to get up due to his confused senses, he leaned heavily against the wall and waited for the effect of Kanda's attack to pass.

He just had known this was bound to be a bad day.

January 12nd

India

Inside an invaded room, General Cross Marian stared at his two young, ragged apprentices as they sat in the floor before him. Yes, it was time. He had decided so, and the boys weren't going to become any better by staying with him anymore.

He was tired of playing the babysitter, anyway.

"Jasdero. Devit."

"Yes, Master," sang the two non-identical twins in unison. The dark haired Devit stared up at him with puzzled eyes, while the always absent minded Jasdero looked at the elephants that could be seen through the window as the circus animals played a performance in the street.

"It's been three years since you became my apprentices," started Cross, swirling the wine filled crystal glass held by gloved hand. "I think it is time you go out on your own…"

Devit sat straighter at that, black eyes shining with hope. Twirling a lock of blond hair in his fingers, Jasdero watched as one elephant performed a particularly difficult tricks.

"From today on," continued Cross, "you are exorcists."

As expected, the reaction was immediate. Devit stopped himself from jumping from his place in the floor, but started fidgeting in his kneeling position instead. "Really? Did you hear that, Jasdero? Did you?"

"But," continued Cross, wanting to interrupt the overactive kid before he started one of his tirades, "to officially become an exorcist, you must go to the headquarters and meet the people there."

"Uh huh! Uh huh!" agreed Devit with a large smile, trying to poke his blond twin brother out of his reverie.

"You do know where the headquarters is, right?" asked Cross finally, getting up from his seat. This place was so damned hot, he couldn't wait to leave.

"Sorta. But it doesn't matter, huh? You are taking us there, right? Jasdero, stop looking at those stupid animals, damn it! We're exorcists!"

"Huh?" asked the boy with a tilted head, finally averting his eyes from the spectacle outside.

"Tough luck, brats," said Cross, grasping a weapon that definitely wasn't his Innocence and raising it. "I dislike the headquarters."

The shadow of the large hammer hovered ominously over the two fifteen year old boys. "M-Master?" Gasped Devit, finally realizing something was very wrong.

"When you wake up," continued Cross, "go forth. I'll have my golem accompany you guys."

"W-wait!" exclaimed Devit, and then turned and shook his twin by the shoulders. "Wake up, Jasdero! He's going to-"

The blond smiled, finally picking up with the excitement in the room. "Ooh? We're exor-"

Cross stared at the teenage exorcists as they lay unconscious in a messy pile. Tincampy floated around them, and all was well, he told himself. They had guns, which were basically the most splendid type of Innocence there was. They'd be fine.

Feeling the relief of getting rid of the two little horrors flooding his very essence, he wondered where he should go to now. South America, perhaps? They had sweet tourist spots. Then again, he also missed Anita, so China was always an option. Perhaps he would even deal with that Akuma Egg crap later, if he was in a good mood and felt generous.

January 31st

England

"Look, Mary!" whispered a young woman to her friend. "An exorcist!"

"And what a dashing one, Anna," Mary giggled.

They weren't the only ones talking about the city's newcomer, though the majority of the whisperers were certainly female. The center of their attentions preened under their appreciative gazes, chest inflating under the well tailored Black Order uniform.

"Yes, yes, I'm an exorcist," said the curly haired man with a smug smile, waving to the swooning women as a gentle king would to his subjects.

The man by his side, in much more modest clothes and carrying a large backpack, coughed in his fist and shifted embarrassedly. "Master Mikk… perhaps you shouldn't attract so much attention…"

"This cloak is to chicks like honey is to bees, I'm telling you," said Tyki, ignoring the Finder with ease. "Damn, if I had known I would have tailored myself one much before I became an exorcist."

Toma was speechless. "That would be illegal, sir. Now, according to our instructions, the Innocence is meant to be at chapel of Ar-"

"Arturo Fuente!"

"What? No, Master Mikk, I'm sure the chapel is named Arch of-"

"No, no. I'm talking the about the cigars," said Tyki in annoyance, pointing at a luxury shop's display. In it rested many expensive looking items, including a case of cigars the tall exorcist was pointing to. "I can't believe they have it here. I haven't had some of those for a while," said he, marching decidedly towards the shop.

The Finder was clearly outraged. "Master Mikk! A Black Priest should not act in such a manner, it is wholly inappropriate! Moreover, we are quite late to our mission!"

The poor man's protests continued from the moment he followed Tyki to the shop to the moment they came back, with a bag filled with an obscene amount of the cigars. Tyki had one between his lips already, and took a long drag before letting the smoke out slowly, looking so pleased it seemed a little indecent.

"Now, if you don't mind," growled the Finder, clearly forgetting protocol in his annoyance, "would you please-"

"AN EXORCIST!"

At least it isn't another woman, thought the Finder, trying to console himself as two dirty kids dressed in ruined rags made their way towards Tyki.

"Hey, you!" exclaimed the dark haired one, pointing rudely towards the rose cross over Tyki's chest. "Help us," said the kid, in a voice that demanded more than asked for anything.

"Help us, help us," whined the other, who had long blond hair and was much filthier than his companion. They were truly pitiable and seemed desperate, as if fleeing from something.

Tyki stared at the teenagers with disgust. "Do I look like a charity? Get the hell out, you grubby beggars. I'm busy." And to prove his point, he took another long drag and leaned against a light post, making sure to blow the smoke on the kids' faces. For some reason, the love struck ladies seemed to find that absolutely endearing of him.

Toma was starting to hate this man more and more.

After they stopped coughing, the dark haired one growled. "You don't get it, we're…"

"…exorcists!" completed the blond, eyes wide and mouth opened as if she was some maniac.

Tyki laughed heartily. "Hah, that's a good one! I just wish there were some Akuma around, then I could throw you two lo… sers…"

The sight of two golden revolvers pointed at his face effectively baffled Tyki to the point where his cigar fell to the floor, forgotten.

"Huh…"

"We're exorcists!" They exclaimed in unison. "Take us to the Black Order!"

"Okaay," came the very subdued response.