kim-onka disclaims D. Gray-man; author's note at the end; enjoy:


Lenalee Lee did not, generally speaking, believe in love at first sight.

Actually, she was having hard time believing in love not only at first, but also second, third and any subsequent sight – or at least as long as she herself was concerned; it seemed that no matter how many times she looked at the guys around her, nothing would ever click. Sweet enchantments and bitter infatuations alike steered clear of her way, as if deciding her incapable of deeper affection.

Still, this did not mean she lacked a sense of romanticism.

The longer her heart refused to find someone it would hold dear, the more intensely Lenalee indulged herself in dreams of love befalling her in a momentary glance at that special person's features, love enveloping in magic whispers and blooming in red roses, love binding eyes, hands and hearts – that reluctant heart of hers – together with an unbreakable chain woven from hurried heartbeats and unspoken promises. She would dream of midnight walks among woods bathed in moonlight and chocolate-flavoured caresses, all the time fully aware that she was telling herself a fairy tale – impossible, unrealizable story constructed like a puzzle of countless pieces stolen from novels, movies and songs with additions of her own reveries.

Lenalee wished she could believe in this tale, and sometimes she almost managed; yet the voice of reason would always rear its head, reminding her of the disappointments awaiting dreamers lost in their dreams.

Even so, believing or not, dream she did continue.

But in that sunny afternoon in early fall which later would turn out to have disproved some of her wishes and proved many more, Lenalee was not thinking about any of them. Maybe it was the place, maybe it was the situation; maybe it was that her thoughts were sufficiently occupied with the reality; maybe it was a display of perversity on the side of that which comes when unasked for.

Whichever it would be, the girl meandering through a maze of alleys patterning the large area of the quiet, peaceful cemetery had her thoughts smoothly running backwards, from the present into memories, back when the high trees appeared much higher and the painful loss felt much more crushing.

When Lenalee reached the point of her destination, she took out two stained-glass candles, lit them with a matchstick and carefully placed on a black marble grave, next to a low flower-pot hosting a bunch of vividly green branches. Then she stood and managed a small, sad smile.

"Mom, Dad," the girl whispered, "I'm back."

She pressed her hands to the heart and prayed for a while before taking her time to simply contemplate the tombstone, lost in remembrances; finally, she smiled weakly once again and walked away, back into the snaking alleys which had brought her there and now were supposed to guide her outside.

Every time she went there, Lenalee reflected anew on how serenely beautiful the place was with its tall trees guarding the place of eternal rest from the uproars of the outside world, its leaves – currently in royal gold and red – whispering consolations and lullabies, its bushes leaning over graves in a protective manner, its atmosphere of detachment from day-to-day life; it felt like a forest cut out from a legend.

It had been raining in the morning, as a result of which Lenalee could observe rays of sunlight skidding on lustre puddles as if in search of someone to blind with their brightness. And following them from one puddle to another, Lenalee's eyes indeed found someone.

The someone in question was apparently trying to find his way in the labyrinth of alleys, for he was looking around with a confused frown on his face. In his hands he had a pot with a beautiful flower of white petals which contrasted sharply with his tight, black coat. There was something unusual to the way he was handling the object, Lenalee noted as the stranger headed in the direction he had decided was right; it was held in the overly careful way one would hold something they needed to deliver safely, but at the same time wanted as little contact with it as possible.

With an expression that matched the young man's from moments ago she turned to observe him as he walked through the pathways and even stepped forward to take a closer look when he approached a grave and placed his charge on its tombstone. The spot was directly to the left from where she was standing, by the same alley, which ensured her a clear view of the stranger's actions.

Which were pretty simple. He just stood there, motionless, while the warm wind kept playing with his high ponytail, straight fringe and long side-bangs. His posture and face told Lenalee he couldn't be much older than she was; his face…

The girl blinked. What was she doing? She shouldn't be peering at a stranger like that, especially in a situation as intimate as a visit to a grave. Lenalee knew for sure she wouldn't want to be watched like this. What if she cried? What if he, by some chance, happened to cry? She had no right to see his tears, same way as he or anyone else had no right to see hers. Quickly, she dropped her gaze to the flower he had brought. It was not of a species she could recognise – Lenalee was no expert anyway – but it really was beautiful. Suddenly she wondered who it had been who was being offered such an exceptional gift; and then she noticed that the grave had no name on it, only a date.

Perplexed, she almost automatically cast another glance on the man's face.

Heat flooded her cheeks when she found him staring back, straight at her.

"Ah," was all she could let out at first. He glared still.

Lenalee swallowed her embarrassment and took a couple of steps in his direction. No hiding and spying on him behind his back only to retreat without a word.

"I'm sorry," she said, unable to think of anything else. He said nothing. "It's a very beautiful flower," she added, unsure whether it was to be an excuse or an attempt to engage him in a conversation.

The black-haired male shrugged her remark off, sparing an indifferent look at the object mentioned.

"It must be someone very important to you lying here," Lenalee blurted. She didn't expect him to actually tell her who it was, but it seemed like an innocuous thing to say.

She had to admit she was at a loss with this 'conversation'. Was it possible he didn't understand her? He did look Asian (much more than Lenalee, in any case); maybe he was a foreigner… But he did react to her mentioning the flower…

"No."

The girl was startled. The voice that reached her ears was quiet and bore a strange tone; still at last she heard something from him.

"…Excuse me?" she inquired uncertainly.

He turned to her, impatience evident on his features.

"There isn't anyone lying here."

"W-what do you mean?"

"Just that," the young man snapped. "There isn't anyone lying in this grave."

He must have noticed the surprise and curiosity appear on Lenalee's face, for he glared at her irritably, let out a sound resembling 'che' and started to walk away without another word.

The girl's initial impulse was to call after him, but she bit her tongue just in time. It didn't look like he was willing to answer any questions or even talk to her, who had already invaded his personal space, and she couldn't really blame him. Yet even so, she watched his journey among sun-skidded puddles and under guardian trees adorned for the arrival of autumn until he disappeared from sight, and she felt a twinge of regret at the thought of letting him leave like that, before she could as much as learn his name.

Lenalee wondered if she would ever see the dark-haired stranger again.


This is a story I started to write long ago… but right now I decided I want to post it and see what happens. So I'm waiting to see what happens. Thank you.

Chapter 2 will introduce a new character as Lenalee's friend, mention an auxiliary couple and feature a change of POV.