Chapter 1
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When I had died, I was happy. I had a warm family, with my kind mama, my strong papa, and my caring older sister. I had a bunch of friends whom I spent my life with, who stayed with me through thick and thin.
I was really happy and satisfied.
Then, life decided to throw in another lemon which was too sour and bitter to make into lemonade.
Yeah, I died.
What happens after death? When a person die, is he supposed to go to heaven?
What I did know, that I was pretty much... Alive.
It was confusing. Breathing in oxygen which seemed like ice, forming words which wouldn't quite come. But it didn't took long to realise that I was a baby. I mean, who wouldn't, if you get your diapers changed every now and then, and bottle-fed?
Just... Long story short, I died, and came back as a baby to haunt the world.
(Rahh, fear me world!)
Orphanages were all the same no matter where you go. A bit rundown, and simple looking. Strangly, I was satisfied with the fact that in this new life, I had no parents. Wouldn't it be weird and disturbing to have strangers believing that you are their child while all the time your mind was fixed on: this couple isn't my parents.
I wasn't the first orphan to be brought there. For the first two years of my life, I had been in a part of the orphanage which took care of younger children, as my only accompanies were babies. When I reached my third birthday, and I got shifted from the 'baby' to the 'nursery', things started to become a little more interesting.
I got excess to some children's story books for starters, and from it, I could tell that I was in US, or somewhere there. Or at least a country that spoke American English. (They spelt 'colour' as 'color', so I could at least be sure or that.)
There were fables, simplified bibles, and tons of books to read, but I soon exhausted my only entertainment source by the end of week one.
I had made it clear to the workers in the orphanage that I was at least smart enough not to get into trouble when they took their eyes off me. Not to mention I was very, very quick to 'potty-train' myself, so I was left alone for the most part besides mealtimes and naptimes, something that I very much approved of.
I could say that that the adults were quite relieved over my nature, since I rarely demanded attention or anything. (Once I had to do a sort of a half-wail because one of the adults locked me in a room, and I didn't even realised I was locked until lunchtime.)
There was one interesting rumour, though. There were whispers of 'demon child' in the orphanage, and naturally, being the busybody I always was, I poked my nose directly into this case.
That, was probably how I came to a startling conclusion that I was no longer in my own world.
I grimaced as I realised exactly how big the orphanage was, and there was definitely more than 30 kids running around at the same time. And that was only counting those that were present during my mealtime.
And we had different mealtimes, categorised by our age.
I sat by the table, closer to the adults, so I could hear the exchanges between them, and it would be less of a sudden to blurt questions to them this way.
"Hello ma'am?" I asked meekly.
I had been able to talk since before I was one, and after giving half the workers in the orphanage semi heart attacks with my supposedly prodigal skill, they had all accepted the fact that they were apparently raising a genius, which really meant that they had one less kid to take care of. And because I sometimes helped to look out for kids to make sure they don't walk out of the front door or crawl out of a window, I was very well favoured by some of the workers, evident when they lent me books (actual book, not children stories) to read.
Some kids in the orphanage didn't take the fact too well, though. Already at a young age, there were gangs formed, and there were bullies lurking in the orphanage. I usually ignored them but when they resorted to violence, I would just outrun them.
Good reason to build on my speed anyway.
"Who's the person you've been talking about?" I continued.
The lady paled slightly, and her her companion looked a tad startled.
"You wish to know what we spoke of, child?" She asked.
"Yes ma'am," I replied sweetly, "I'm just curious."
"And curiosity killed the cat," her companion signed. "It's best you leave this matter alone."
But the lady knew me better than her friend. She knew I would never put something which spiked my curiosity to rest. "Alright, I'd tell you, but promise me, child, that this would be the last time."
I nodded, but I knew I made no promise I couldn't keep.
The lady squatted down, so that she was closer to me, and she whispered in a hushed voice, "there's a boy in this orphanage who have a deformed hand. And it looks like one from a demon, who had slain enough to make his hand turn red."
I hummed in thought, and the two soon left me alone.
They would have been alarmed if they could read my mind, because at that point in time, all I could think of to make my life more interesting was to find this boy.
Despite what I had said, life past without me acknowledging it.
Though, I just knew the world was too small.
Because, before I hit four, I met him.
"Hand over that toy," the trio threatened.
The room was void of adults, perfect time for the bullies to strike. Their victim cowered, trembling slightly. The other children inched away from both the bullies and the victims. My eyes trailed over to them lazily, not really bothering that a bullying case was about to happen.
It was not that I didn't care. It was just a daily thing.
Then one of them glance towards me, and the three shared a quite discussion.
Before long, I found myself the new victim.
"Some guts you've gotten there, boy," one of them, the presumably leader of the trio, sneered at me.
Well, biologically and mentally, I was a girl. Maybe a tomboyish girl, but a girl nonetheless. It was only my appearance that fooled the people in the orphanage, and it felt too nice to mind blow them, and boys usually got a little more privilege than girls, so I had always kept my gender a secret.
Not that anyone cared, though.
Considering whether to reply a witty retort or just keep my mouth shut (in my past life, I had been getting in lots of trouble because of my words), I opted for the latter instead, wanting to observe first.
'Hmmm, should I escape via the window this time?' I weighed the idea up, 'or should I just invite them in a chase? I could train my stamina for any future events.'
I scanned the built of the leader, and immediately settled for the former.
"Too troublesome," I muttered, finding myself a shadow of Shikamaru from Naruto.
Too bad he was one of my favourite charactor.
"What was that, wimp?"
Wimp? Seriously? I could have come up with more imaginative words.
I opened my mouth to speak, but it came out as a gasp when I realised exactly who was standing beside the leader.
"Holy shit, Sasuke? As in, Uchiha Sasuke?"
The moment it came out, I knew I was wrong. For starters, Sasuke didn't have reddish-brown hair. Sasuke wasn't in an orphanage. And I just knew that I wasn't anywhere near a village called 'Konoha', or that I had so far seen any ninja jumping on rooftops.
But all the while, both of them were so similar. The way that the boy sauntered around with his hand shoved in his pocket, the way that the boy looked coldly at everything, but all the same time, I knew that the boy was in grieve.
"I know you," I announced, as if it was something important. And I knew it was, just that I couldn't put a finger to it.
There was a moment of silence, before the bullies (minus the Sasuke-alike) bursted out laughing.
"You? Know him?" The leader jerked a thumb in the Sasuke-alike's direction, who looked really stunned.
In fact, he looked like he could collapse any moment.
"Yes. Yes, I know him," I repeated, this time confident and so sure of myself that had made the bullies did a double take.
Then, I realised, in the bullies' eyes, I was only a quiet target, who was never easy to impose on because I would be always quick to escape. But it wasn't because I stood up to them or something.
Granted, I wasn't exactly standing up to them at this moment, but none had the guts to really be unafraid in their presence. And so far, I had just been using the 'tactical retreat' strategy, preferring to get out of a trouble rather than solving it.
Indeed, so troublesome.
I had this spilt second thought that, maybe I shouldn't really have pointed it out. It would make no difference to my life anyway. Not to mention, it was impossible to know someone in this era. From what I observed, this was the freaking nineteenth century.
I could be a little out dated in my own timeline, but I was no where as slow as to notice that there was, sadly, no smartphones and internet in this timeline.
The two bullies (except the Sasuke-alike) was whispering among themselves, and I couldn't be bothered with whatever exchange they made. However, my normal 'stand-by' mode had been switched to 'alert' mode once I became conscious as to what they were about to do.
Not really because of the bullies going to possibly harm their own gang member, but because of one phrase they said.
"Demon child," the leader snickered, with venom.
My eyes widened, and suddenly, it made sense.
Left hand. Deformed. Red.
Red. Red. Allen.
Allen Walker.
I'm in D. Gray-Man?
Is the Earth still round?
I did not know exactly how I came to that conclusion, but it was as if everything just fitted, and it made perfect sense at the same time. Like an odd missing jigsaw puzzle that fitted well. It was unbelievable, yet convincing.
"That demon child has no names," the leader sniggered.
"His parents don't want him," the other added on.
My senses registered several things which happened: the bullies (now no-longer the trio, but just the duo) switched their target to the child-Allen, who was barely holding his place. Other bulies-in-hiding also ganged up (so now the duo became a group, just marvellous). I had a feeling somewhere there I had grabbed a trembling hand and pulled him along, escaping from the malicious crowd.
When the message had finally reached my mind, and then my brain started processing, I was no longer in the orphanage, or at least inside the orphanage. I squeezed the hand I had held, and even then, the trembling did not stop.
"It's okay," I cooed, "they won't get you here."
In the back of my mind, I silently pondered why Allen was actually part of the bullies. He had always seemed like the type of person who was easily intimidated, not the other way round. Then, logic hit me like a bucket of icy water, as I drew that, victims usually became bullies themselves. As a child, Allen must have feared that he would be ostracised because of his left arm, so he must have thought that joining the gang would help.
But obviously, it didn't.
Looking at the figure before me, I sighed. This was obviously going nowhere. And not to mention, I was feeling awkward. Like, really really awkward.
I was never good at dealing with awkwardness.
'When in doubt, be direct. Don't beat around the bushes.' My lips quirked up in a wry smile as I remembered one of my quotes in my past life.
How could I forget my own way of living?
"What is your name?" I asked, though I knew very much that, Allen got his name only after Allen the dog died.
Wasn't it always good to start early?
He gave me a look of so much sorrow and hatred and hurt that it made my heart ached.
"Allen," I chocked, teetering between breaking down and giving 'motivational speech', before finally gaining control over my emotions. At his bewildered look, I repeated the name once more.
"Allen. You're Allen." I pointed to his chest, as if this simple action would make any difference.
"Who told you?" He retorted angrily, but at the same time, I could feel that tinge of hope lingering in his words.
"Nobody did," I said, and the hope immediately vanished. "I decided to name you Allen."
He was instantly on his feet, and he stomped, not caring a bit about the ruckus he made. "Who give you that right?" He snarled, fuming.
"I did." And Allen opened his mouth for more words, but I cut him off with my next words. "I've got to call you something since you're gonna be my friend." I stuck out my right hand.
Allen's mouth hung open, and his whole body immobilised, and his eyes darted between my hand and my face.
"You can always find someone else to be friends with," he huffed, clenching and unclenching the hem of his shirt, which looked shabby by the way. "In fact, you'll like that better."
I arched an eyebrow. "I'm asking you. And you don't even know me. Don't assume stupid things about me or I'll flip you."
Allen looked downright perplexed now. His gaze dropped to my hand again, which, by the way, was starting to get tired.
I sighed. God, this was awkward. Blowing out a breath, I reached forward, seized his right hand, and shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you, Allen. I don't have a name, you can call me whatever you feel like. "
And without another word, I released him and sat down on the grass, focusing on staring intensely at an insect attempting voyage on a stem of a plant and biting the inside of my cheek to stave off the burn of embarrassment threatening to rise in my cheeks.
I poked at a blade of grass. The introduction wasn't exactly what I had imagined, but it was frank and straight forward, and somehow I kind of liked it.
"...Nice to meet you too," Allen finally muttered. My eyes flash back up to find him staring back with an odd look on his face.
And when we finally decided to go back inside the orphanage, he remarked, "you're short."
"Well I'm younger than you are."
"Whatever you say, Shrimp."
And maybe that was why that became my nickname for the time being.
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And so, my attempt at a DGM OC self-insert fic. Because this fandom seriously need more OC SI. Hello readers:D Hopefully my story would inspire some damn good writer to start a fanfic so I'd have more fanfic to read!
I want the DGM fandom to be revived! And hopefully with enough encouragement and support, Hoshino Katsura (that's the DGM author, btw) would soon continue her story!
So, err, see you next time, readers:) Please review!