They needed the illusionist.
That was what whispered through the halls of the Black Order, what was repeated at the lunch tables and over wine glasses late in the night. What was said through telephone, written notes, what passed through the authorities and simple workers. The Black Order needed the illusionist.
General Cross Marian had been the first to say it. He had made his first appearance in ten tears at the Order to say a whole of four sentences.
"I need a beer." This first sentence's demand was met, a Crow hesitantly handing him a dusty bottle.
"We all know that, at this moment, the Black Order is losing badly. Just suck up and admit it, Rouvelier." Those two rather rude but true sentences made a certain man go red in the face. Rouvelier, unfortunately, knew that Cross was nearly on the same level power-wise, and pretended not to hear the second one.
"You need the illusionist." The fourth and last sentence.
He had said the last sentence with a sort-of half smile, looking like he knew something that the people around him didn't. This made Rouvelier angry, but that didn't faze the womanizer general at all. He took as many bottles of wine as he could stuff into a bag, and left. He repeated his last sentence once more, but Bookman did not feel the need to count it as a fifth. The emphasis was already clear.
They needed the Illusionist.
"How do we find this so-called 'illusionist?" Bak Chang asked, across a long table filled with Black Order leadership. Rouvelier was the highest in position there, as the pope and his other subordinate church leaders had not deigned to come. Bak had traveled by a very long boat-ride, in the which time he had considered why exactly the Black Order needed the Illusionist.
The exorcists the Black Order had were falling easily. It didn't even require a Noah to kill an exorcist anymore, only a well-equipped level three. The new exorcists were getting weaker and weaker. They had lost three exorcists in the past year, and multiple finders.
It didn't help that new Innocence wielders were to find. Even if they had information on the whereabouts of a potential exorcist, sending someone to safely extract Innocence or wielder never went well. The Black Order's members simply were't strong enough.
They needed the Illusionist. Bak had repeated that phrase over and over in his mind. Was the Illusionist really that powerful? Who even was the Illusionist? Was the Illusionist as strong as the Millennium Earl?
Bak hoped that he was. The name seemed to draw a certain power.
"Sending merely Finders would not suffice, if the person we are looking for is powerful. There is a reason he has not been heard of before now. The 'Illusionist,'" Rouvelier said from his position as head of table.
"Actually, I've heard something-of him." A European Headquarters assistant spoke up. All heads turned to face him. He flushed, stuttering. "M-my daughter, she liked to go to the circus often. Several times, there was a large attraction with an illusionist in it."
"That could be any illusionist, they are quite popular in circuses and the like," Rouvelier said dismissively, as if circuses were below his status level. The assistant shook his head.
"No, he wasn't just any illusionist. People came from all over Europe to see him, but no one knew his true name. He was The Illusionist. Plus, there- there was something about his illusions. I swear- some of them were real. Touchable, smellable, tastable." Bak shook his head at this. He doubted that something considered a 'real' illusion was nothing more than sneaky techniques, such as a scented gas released. He had only been to one circus in his entire life, and it had't been enjoyable.
"Where was this?" Komui Lee asked.
"In London, about three years ago. Before-" the assistant didn't finish. Most everyone in the room could read between the lines. Before someone I loved died. They all had normal pasts before the Black Order, before some tragedy had dragged them into the world of demons and pain.
Slowly, a few more reports along the same lines appeared. Every time, the Illusionist had a different form, but they would all swear it was the same The Illusionist. A master of tricks and deception.
"None of these reports happened before five or six years ago," Komui said. "They're all quite recent."
"I have one more witness," a man at the farthest end of the table said. "Myself." The man was dark-haired and non-descript, but looked like a veteran of loss. Rouvelier gestured for him to continue.
"I was with my brother at a large carnival, in the Illusionist booth. As it has been said before, there were a lot of people there, and his illusions were fantastic. My brother and I were both enthralled. Of course, that was why we didn't hear the screaming until it was too late." The man stopped, emotion manifesting on his face. The corners of his mouth tightened, but he continued.
"My brother was dead on the ground, smoking fire around us, before I knew what was happening. I think there had been an explosion, and my ears were ringing, so I could barely hear. There was the Illusionist in front of me, and he fell to his knees next to my brother. He was- crying. His form wasn't solid, it kept switching between different things. He said something like, "Sorry. They can't save you. I can't save you." That was most of what I could make out."
There was silence for a few seconds after this story had been told, each person considering it. "Assuming that the Illusionist in this story is the same one, we can presume he's human," Rouvelier said. "That's good. We can prey on his emotions."
Those weren't the same dastardly thoughts Komui was thinking. That's the most descriptive account we have. It appears The Illusionist can feel emotions, despite being powerful. Many members of the Order have known him, but never deemed it important. Now that their stories are coming out, it's becoming quite clear that The Illusionist is more vital to the Order than we've expected.
"I'll get our best exorcists on it," Komui said. "As soon as possible. We will find him. What is your name?" he said towards the man who gave the last testimony.
"Trapp, sir. Science division. I work with transport."
"Thank you, Trapp. We may need you to identify The Illusionist if we bring him back here."
"Heaven knows we need him," someone else muttered, echoing everybody's unspoken thoughts. Whoever and whatever the illusionist was, the Black order needed his help.
Trapp's thoughts were going in a different direction. He had told most of what he knew, but he had left small details out. The reason people had been hurt at the carnival was due to an akuma attack.
The most important detail he had left out was that when The Illusionist's form had kept warping, it had been between two forms, not many. The form of a tall, dark-haired man (the one that had been giving the performance)... and a small, white-haired child.
A boy stood, looking out of a window. He was in the attic of a very tall, crumbled building, watching the rest of the city fall into night. Smoke from evening fires rose from chimneys, people and horses clattered on streets down below. Slowly, things would become quiet. Things would sleep.
"Is silence an illusion?" he murmured, lazily flicking a finger. A silver butterfly appeared at the end of it, formed by sparkling light. It fluttered away, landing on the roof some feet away. "Is it just our ears deciding not to hear anymore? Or is it truly things not happening?"
A loud laugh from down on the street woke the boy from his thoughts, and with a clench of his fist, the butterfly on the rooftop disappeared. He stepped away from the window, getting dressed for bed. The small attic room didn't appear at all to be part of an attic, for the ceiling didn't end. It was a night sky, with large winged birds slowly flying across it. There was the sound of rushing wind and the birds' distant caws, which brought the boy comfort, one of the few things that did.
A golden golem flitted over to the boy after he had pulled on a nightshirt, settling on his shoulder. "Ah, goodnight, Tim," the boy said. "Don't pull off all the blankets again." He crawled into bed, the golem slipping underneath the sheets.
A few minutes of quiet passed. The boy turned onto his back, looking up at the illusioned sky. He kept that illusion up all the time, it didn't require much strength to (it was only affecting sight and hearing.) That night was different, though. Something was changing.
"My scar hurts," he whispered. "I wonder why?"
With those words, he fell asleep. His white hair sprawled on the pillow, blue eyes closed, Allen Walker slept.
"It's late, brother. Can't you tell us our mission in the morning?" Lenalee yawned, pulling her blanket closer around her. She had been going to bed when Komui had asked for her presence in his office.
"I asked you, Kanda, and Lavi to come here now, because I want you to leave as early as possible in the morning. This mission is of top importance."
"So tell us the mission and then let us get some darn sleep," Kanda growled. The normally grumpy Japanese man plus a lack of sleep would never equal a good outcome.
"You three will be going to London, to find someone. He is known as The Illusionist. Bring him back to the Black Order."
"That's all you needed to tell us?" Kanda said. Sensing future violent movements in his direction, Komui hurriedly continued.
"This isn't an ordinary mission. Finding this man- it could decide the fate of the Black Order. Whether we win or not."
There was silence after that statement. No one knew what to say.
"Brother, does this refer to the prophecy?" Lenalee asked. Komui looked confused.
"No, there's no connection between The Illusionist and the prophecy. General Cross recommended that we find the Illusionist, though. That's why we need him." The prophecy referred to something Hevlaska had said a year ago.
"The Destroyer of the Millennium Earl... is one who walks in red. 'The Red Walker.' He will save us, and we will save him'" That was all the beast had said, and apparently didn't remember afterwards. Ever since the prophecy had been given, the Black Order had spent numerous resources trying to find "The Red Walker," but to no avail. There had even been many imposters, people with red hair or red eyes, coming forth claiming their 'savior of the Black Order' status.
None of them had been the real thing, yet.
"You all can go to bed now. Thank you for going on this mission," Komui said. Lenalee could see the shadows underneath her brother's eyes, a sign of little sleep.
He wasn't getting enough sleep for good reasons. The Black Order had just lost an exorcist general, as well as many other exorcists. Nobody really wanted to say it, but the Black Order was losing the war against the Earl and the akuma. If what Cross suggested could save them, then of course the mission was of top importance.
"We'll find him, Komui," Lenalee said, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find the Illusionist."
They want me to do another show, Allen thought, as he scanned over the letters at his door. He was eating breakfast (bread and cheese), deciding whether to have a productive day, or to just stay in his room. More often than not, he would opt for the latter. Messing around with illusions was more fun than it seemed.
He was still in his nightclothes. Some days he wouldn't bother even getting out of them. "I suppose I might be going out today, better get dressed." Tim chomped loudly on a piece of bread to show his approval. Often, the boy wouldn't change, instead simply illusioning clothes over the ones he had on. It was a sign of Allen's teenage immaturity that the golem thought hilarious.
There were a few circuses that Allen worked for ('work' being a loose term, he did shows when he felt like it, and not for any other reason). All of them were begging him to come and do another show. They offered him large amounts of money and other forms of bribes, none of which Allen felt a need for.
I don't need money, I can just illusion it. These pitiful people think I'm available whenever they like. Tim flitted over from the counter, hovering above the letters. Of course, though, I am available- whenever I feel like it.
None of the letters referred to him by name, instead by 'Master Illusionist' or 'The Illusionist.' Only very few people still alive knew Allen's name. He liked to keep it that way.
Mr. Illusionist, with your great skill and mastery, the Pin-stripped Circus would ask for you assistance in a show. Meager, surely, for one of your standing, but the pay would be outstanding.
The flattery in the letters made Allen roll his eyes.
Standing up, Allen waved a hand, and a person appeared. It was a man, with a white mask for a face. The illusion started picking up the dishes, and putting them in the sink. It was his 'housekeeper' illusion, since Allen was a lazy teenage boy. He would never do housework if he could help it (a sign of immaturity that had yet to leave). Allen left it there, exiting his room.
He lived in a sort of hotel, but permanently. There were a few other odd residents, some temporary, others the same as him. Allen didn't socialize with them. Allen didn't socialize with anyone. Unless Tim counts as a person, he thought.
Before going out for the day, he conjured up an illusion about himself. It changed every day. That day it was a middle-aged man with graying black hair. Allen hadn't shown his true face to nearly anyone. It was the perfect face of an illusionist, odd, otherworldly, (with white hair and a mysterious scar down one side) but it was his face, and felt too personal to be shown.
The street was already packed with businessmen, factory workers, and people of many classes. The highest class pushed their way through with fancy carriages and dirtied horses.
Nothing here interests me, Allen thought. I'm- tired of this. This predictability. His scar throbbed, and he raised a hand to it.
As if on cue, his eye reacted to an akuma. For anyone looking at Allen, they would see his face shift, for a second, gears would be visible. They floated above his cursed eye, allowing him to see the haunted souls of akuma. He would quickly gain control a moment later, changing the illusion, and they would blink and blame it on a trick of the light.
There's an akuma near, Allen mentally sighed. I've got to go kill it. The stupid Black Order had been lagging behind, barely doing a passable job. He heard more stories everyday about dead exorcists and a triumphant Millennium Earl.
He had Innocence, a fact that no one except a certain general was aware of. Cross had showed up when he was about ten, Allen's Innocence just newly activated, and trained him to use it. He had informed Allen that his synchronization rate was above 100%, apparently a rare thing with exorcists.
Allen didn't think of himself as an exorcist. He was a wanderer, a vagrant, and didn't ally himself with any particular side. He killed the akuma because they disgusted him, and they killed other people. He also avoided the Black Order, because they did some nasty things as well. Cross had said, right before he left, that in the future Allen's opinions would change. The Black Order would ask him for help. Allen had politely replied, "Screw them," in his adorable ten-year-old voice.
He had meant it.
The akuma were in a populated place, as usual. They generally wanted to take as many human souls as possible, because then they leveled up. The akuma that Allen's eye was sensing was in the same street he was in. He could see them.
There were ten of them, one was a level two. It would have been easy.
Allen activated his crown clown, pulling up an illusionist around the akuma, separating them from the humans. They would look around and see a black sky, and barren ground, the illusionist-exorcist's favorite place to fight.
When Allen created illusions, they were sound and perfect. He had trained for years with Mana to create the perfect illusion: one that could be felt by all five senses. Of course, if an illusion was solid, it required a lot of Allen's energy and life force to maintain. The things inside of his illusion, in that instance akuma, could move their bodies around freely, but they wouldn't see any of the real world. They would assume they were in another place.
This was only if Allen created a total illusion, where the illusion surrounded the object completely. The object's mind would think it was feeling the crumbled rocks underfoot, and wouldn't smell the humans around it. Allen could see both the illusion world in his mind, and the real world.
The akuma all screamed, an angry cry that made the townspeople around the supposed-human jump away. Inside the illusion, Allen stepped forward. The akuma couldn't see him, as he didn't include himself in the illusion. They just saw a black sky and barren desert.
It would have gone fine. He could have easily killed the akuma before they knew they were being attacked.
It would have been easy.
Except a stupid woman decide to cry and throw herself onto Allen (because of the illusion, she saw an attractive, strong, older man fighting a demon, and assumed herself to be the damsel in distress.) Allen tripped with her weight, and the illusion warped as he lost his concentration. For a moment, all ten akuma saw him, with his Innocence. For a moment, there was silence.
Then they all went straight for him. Even as Allen fixed the illusion's tear, he knew he couldn't move fast enough to avoid all the blood-bullets coming his way. The woman was thrown off of him, into more people in the street, and Allen was able to avoid eight of the ten bullets coming his way.
The other two hit him in his chest and stomach. Allen was thrown back onto the hard cobblestones of the street. His Innocence sword quickly warped back into his arm, so not to be separated from its exorcist. All the townspeople saw was a middle-aged man thrown back by a confused demon, with the man's left side looking too shimmery to be normal.
Allen gasped, the pain of being hit with the bullets instantaneous. They didn't draw blood, but injected the akuma virus into him. He started purging it quickly, with his blood, but he could feel exhaustion instantly trying to pull him into sleep. Blackness started creeping up his neck, until the Innocence squelched it.
Maintaining illusions drew a small amount of energy. Maintaining large illusions, like the one the akuma were in, required a lot more energy. Maintain large illusions and purging akuma virus from one's body required nearly passing out from energy exhaustion.
"I've got to deal with you now," Allen said, and reactivated his Innocence. The akuma couldn't see him anymore, he made sure the illusion was firm. They didn't realize he was back again, until they were cut down. The entire thing had gone down in less than three minutes.
Allen focused, creating a flimsy illusion around him, rendering himself invisible. It wouldn't stand up to scrutiny, but it would keep people from chasing after him and demanding an explanation. More people were gathering around the akuma corpses, some screaming, some crying, some talking excitedly.
I need to beware of stupid bystanders, Allen thought. It's not normal for me to be caught off guard. I suppose the rest of the day will be bedrest.
That was why he didn't go out much. The world was tiresome.
He slowly made his way back. If his Illusions had been dropped, people would have seen a skinny teenager stumbling home, leaving a trail of black blood, looking as if his shoulders held a weight much too large. He couldn't even remember why he had come out in the first place.
Why did he even fight akuma?
Lenalee looked at the piece of paper in her hand. Marborough's Carnival of Wonder. Komui had given it to her, explaining that it was the place where The Illusionist was most often seen. "This is the place," she said.
They stood just inside the gates of the carnival. Around them was floating garbage, flyers, and other dross. The carnival appeared to be nearly deserted, empty tents surrounding them, the entrances flapping slowly. It was a far cry from the rest of London, a bustling place filled with people.
"Carnivals often only open at night time," Lavi said. "The performers are most likely sleeping."
"Hello?" Lenalee called. "Anyone there?"
No reply except some crows in the garbage. Then, a lanky kid popped up from behind a smaller tent, hefting a garbage bag. He was covered in dirt. "Whatya doin' here? The show don't open till eight tonight."
"We're looking for someone," Lavi said, trying not to wrinkle his nose. "Do you know a man called 'The Illusionist?'"
The kid blinked, then laughed. "You're lookin' for him? Like you'll ever find him. No one knows where 'lusionist hangs."
"We heard he works here," Lavi said. "Have you ever met him?"
"Eh, I don't really remember," the kid said (he couldn't have been more than twelve). "Maybe something will jog my memory." He rubbed his fingers together, the universal sign for 'money.'
Kanda grabbed his collar lifting him up without much effort. The Japanese man bared his teeth. "Does this jog your memory? Perhaps cracking a few bones might." Lenalee wined at his rough treatment.
"N-no! It's fine! I remember!" the kid said, kicking his feet. Kanda dropped him, and he hit the dirt hard. "Jeez! Stupid madmen," the lanky boy said. "I deliver the ringmaster's letters to him. To his apartment."
"How nice of you to recall," Lavi said sarcastically. "Where is this apartment?"
"No one knows but me and the ringmaster, so if I tell ya, 'lusionist will know it's from me," the kid said. "I don't want 'lusionist on my tail. Nobody wants that." He shivered, as if there was a bad memory involved with that. There was.
"We won't give him our source," Lenalee said. "Where is the Illusionist's apartment?"
Kanda cracked his knuckles for emphasis. The kid quickly told them the address.
"Y'all be careful on the streets, ya know? There was some big explosion near that apartment. And beware the 'lusionst. He get ticked, he'll have no mercy," the kid warned them as they left the dirty carnival grounds.
Lenalee shivered, the kid's warnings echoing in her ears. The Illusionist sounded scary.
But the Black Order needed him.
The apartment was actually a hotel, and a run-down one at that. It was near the carnival, but didn't stand out much. The three exorcists went through the lobby, ignored by the person behind the front desk. The lights were dim, and they could smell cigarette smoke.
"The kid said he lives on the top floor," Lavi said. They looked up at the long, wandering staircase that was before them. The three exorcists were tired from walking around the huge city, and the staircase didn't look like it would help them with their aching legs.
"I hate him already," Kanda said.
As booted feet started on the wooden stairs, none of the exorcists noticed the fresh drops of oil-like blood on the stairs, marking a pathway to the top.
At the top of the stairs (after pausing for a moment, to catch their breaths), Lavi looked at the single door that the staircase ended at. "He's the only one in the attic. Should I knock?"
"No, just knock it down," Kanda said, at the same time that Lenalee said,"Of course." Lavi knocked politely. There was a groan from somewhere inside, something like, "noo maill todayyy, darnitt," and then some slow footsteps. The door creaked open.
What they saw was a partially-warped figure of a man. He appeared to have white hair, and one eye was clear, but the rest was shimmering and out of focus. "I said no more mail- oh." He froze. Lenalee, Lavi, and Kanda all held their breaths.
The door shut in their faces.
"What- What was that?!" Kanda growled, punching the door. It held firm. "That jerk just shut the door on us!"
"Was it just me, or was he shimmery?" Lavi said. The Bookman naturally sought out distinguishing features, but on the man, they were warped. His face and age were hidden. For a so-called powerful being, this first impression isn't really making- an impression. He seemed too sleepy and human to be the powerful Illusionist we've been looking for. Lenalee knocked again. They all listened.
"I'm not seeing anyone!" the man called from inside his room. "Do not touch that door, and leave." Kanda finally lost it, and punched the door with all his might. The door cracked off its hinges, and Kanda kicked it in.
As soon as the exorcists stepped inside, the area around them warped. The room inside was filled with stuffed animals, most patched awkwardly, with red demonic eyes. Dolls had their eyes popped out, legs missing, stuffed bears' faces too scary to be normal. There was no bare space of floor.
Then, a small child stepped out from amidst the stuffed animals. It was a boy, with completely black eyes, smiling creepily. "You should leave now. The Illusionist doesn't like guests." His jaw became that of a doll. It cracked open and shut. His hand raised up, drawing a thumb across his own neck, and his head fell off. It landed with a heavy thunk.
The room was growing darker. The walls were changing color, turning black and blood-red. "Please leave," echoed around the three exorcists, the dolls and toys speaking it. Lenalee clutched at Lavi's jacket. "Mr. Illusionist- we're-" she started, creeped out, but then fires lit up all around them. It felt hot on their skin, and there were faces screaming in the fire. They reached for Lenalee. "Stop it! Please!"
The fires receded. "Please leave, young lady. I don't like guests," a calmer, gentler voice said. They still couldn't see anything but fire and smoke.
Did he stop because he has a soft spot for women? More the chivalrous type, then, as much as he'd probably hide it, Lavi thought. "We're from the Black Order," he said. Instantly, everything flickered. For an instant, they could see a modest bed, table, kitchen, but then the black walls and burnt stuffed animals were back.
"Exorcists, then? Someone warned me you'd come round," the voice said. Lenalee assumed it was the voice of the man who'd opened the door earlier. "I told them something then, and I'll tell you the same thing: Screw you. I'm not helping."
Kanda angrily unsheathed Mugen, and held it out. "Listen, you baka, we're not asking! None of these stupid flimsy illusions will faze my sword and I!"
"Oh, really?" the voice said, a tinge of humor in it. "You assume my illusions are simply that- illusions?" Chains flew out of the ground, and wrapped around Kanda's shoulders. He yelled as they yanked him to the ground, effectively pinning him. A roaring dragon appeared, with blue eyes and white scales, putting its claw on Kanda's chest. Kanda glared up into the dragon's face, but couldn't help feeling intimidated. The chains and dragon's foot were solid. They felt real.
"You see?" the voice said. "A little more than flimsy." The dragon roared, fire spraying from its mouth. Kanda flinched away. The fire was hot. It's real?!.
"Mr. Illusionist, please, can we just talk?" Lenalee asked. "Without all the intimidation?" She was starting to get her no-nonsense voice, the voice she used on misbehaving children. Everything paused, including the gigantic dragon. With a whoosh, the dragon deflated, turning into points of silver light and sucking back into one point. The light turned into a man's shape.
It was the same man that had appeared at the door, but with clearer facial features, Lavi noticed. White hair, blue eyes, an older face. His body appeared normal, two flesh hands. The only thing weird was- Lavi squinted- the left side of the man's body still seemed glittery.
"Very well. We can talk," the man said. Four chairs and a table appeared. Kanda was able to move, and angrily joined them at the table. The chairs are solid, Lavi thought in amazement.
"My name is Lenalee, this is Lavi, and Kanda," the Chinese girl introduced. She was about to continue with her speech, but took in the appearance of the man. "Pardon, but are you alright?" The white-haired man was yawning widely, not out of rudeness or boredom, it appeared, but out of exhaustion. It seemed out of character for the scary side of the illusionist shown moments before. He was too tame, too mild.
"Yes, I'm fine. Nice to meet you all. My name- I'll tell you later, if I feel like it. Mr. Illusionist suits me just fine." There was a small smile on the man's face.
"You have the annoying voice of a child," Kanda said. "How old are you? Is your face just an illusion?"
"Of course it's an illusion," the man said, as if they should expect nothing else. "My age- I could be five, I could be fifty. I'll leave it up to you to figure it out," the man said. Kanda's fist tightened. He didn't like people like the moyashi-looking man.
"The Black Order needs your help," Lavi said, cutting straight to the chase. Inside his mind, he was still questioning. This man isn't exactly sane. Those illusions were just plain creepy. Do we really need him?
The man yawned again, wiping his shimmery eyes. "Sorry. Solid illusions take a lot of energy from me. Anyway, the Black Order? No thanks. I dislike both exorcists and akuma."
"You know what akuma are?" Lavi asked.
Mr. Illusionist (the name didn't seem to fit him) gave him an intense look, staring right at Lavi. "Yes. I do. They do bad things. The Black Order, unfortunately, isn't pure white either. I'm staying out of the entire holy war."
"But we need you!" Lenalee cried. "We wouldn't be coming to you if this wasn't important!"
"I'm selfish, I know. When you're as powerful as me, you can be as selfish as you waa-" he broke into a yawn, his eyelids drooping. "I need sleep..."
"Moyashi, you listen up!" Kanda yelled, starting to draw mugen. He didn't like the illusionist at all.
The man raised his hand menacingly, and all three exorcists flinched. The illusionist dropped it slowly, sighing. "I can't waste my energy on you anymore," he said. "Please leave. I'm not going to help you, search for assistance otherwhere."
"We can't just fail our mission, people are hoping for us-"
-knock knock- "Mr. Illusionist, there are some scary people in the lobby rallying for your head, they say they're from the mafia." The voice was from outside the room. "I'm not sure what to do, Mr. Illusionist."
"Shoot," the man breathed. "I can't deal with them right now."
"Did he say the mafia?" Lavi asked in disbelief.
"Is my apartment's address common knowledge?" the man said in reply, getting up from the chairs and table. His voice became more toneless, and he raised his hand. "Dropping unnecessary illusions. Living quarters exposed. Defense mode engaged." Around them, the brown walls disappeared to be replaced with a messy bed, kitchen, and a separate room.
"Leave now, or you'll get involved too," the Illusionist warned them.
"Mr. Illusionist, they're coming up fast! I think they have guns!" the voice outside the door squeaked.
The Illusionist swore, starting to walk towards the door, but stumbling. He appeared only half coherent, and half asleep. "On second thought," he muttered, and the three exorcists watched in shock as he half-jumped, half-fell out of the window.
What the heck is this guy doing? Lavi thought.
Allen had little energy left, and that went to illusioning his body. He kept his Innocence arm and faae covered most of the time, and this time it was even more important. If the exorcists knew that he had Innocence, they would only beg more. When he decided to exit via window, he used Crown Clown strands to grab onto the walls, letting him gently down on the sidewalk. The illusion covering Crown Clown was flimsy, and a few passerby gasped in surprise.
The mafia were gunning for him, which wasn't a new thing (Allen liked to gamble. He was an amazing cheater, and cheating the mafia was his main hobby), but he couldn't fight them in his current state. Parts of his chest were still dotted with black stars, from getting hit with akuma bullets, and they throbbed. His body only had the energy to hold the virus at bay, not completely eradicate it.
"Illusionist!" a familiar voice called after Allen, and the boy swore. The exorcists, Lavi, Kanda, and Lenalee all thought he was around twenty, (that's what his illusion showed) but Allen's slightly-higher-than-a-grown-man's voice could give him away. He din't want to talk to them. They were running after him. Behind them, the mafia had heard Lavi's call, and were following.
"Hey, I see the little stinker!" a suit-wearing mafia member yelled. Allen glanced back to see the exorcists sprint away from the mafia as they realized what was happening. Allen turned a corner, his pace slowing. He couldn't keep it up.
"Illusionist! The mafia are right behind us-" Lenalee said, catching up with him (and the other two exorcists). Allen interrupted her by grabbing her arm, and Lavi, and dragging them into a doorway in the alleyway. Kanda followed.
One more illusion, he thought. I can do one more. White light appeared from the tips of his fingers, clustering around the doorway, forming a door. It wasn't solid, and if someone touched it, their hand would pass through, but it would fool the mafia's hit men. There was only the sound of Allen breathing heavily, and then pounding footsteps went by them outside. They faded.
Allen slid down the wall, gasping. The exorcists were watching him. "See? I'm not that powerful. The Black Order can't really want this."
"You're not using even a portion of your power, I think," Lavi said. "And this is you at an exhausted state." Darnit. The stupid redhead is observant, Allen thought.
They were in a small, dark room off of the alley. It connected to a larger, abandoned hotel. "S-sit down," Allen said. "I'm not going anywhere for a few minutes. The mafia will have observers outside my apartment." His eyes were shut, sweat dripping down his face. They sat down. None of the exorcists were extremely out of breath, and all wondered why the Illusionist was so tired. Lavi voiced this.
"Why are you so exhausted?" the Bookman asked. The illusionist opened one eye, glaring at him.
"That's classified," the Illusionist replied. His voice dropped to a mutter. "And also the Black Order's fault."
Why would it be our fault? Lavi wondered. He wouldn't know the answer till much, much later.
Allen hated feeling weak. At the moment, he was simply really, really tired. He could have taken out akuma (if he really pushed himself). He still felt weak, though, because of the akuma virus, for it would take up to a full day to completely push out of his body. If he glanced underneath his shirt, at his stomach, the area there would be covered with little black stars. They would fade soon, thank goodness.
He would have sat there, in the dusty room, as long as possible. Unfortunately, a few silent minutes later, his eye activated. Lavi had been looking at him. He could have seen the quick flash of gears.
"There's-" Allen begin, but stopped. There was an akuma within meters of them, but if he explained how he knew- they would know something was weird with him. (Weirder than he already was.) He grimaced. Of course, they might not notice the akuma in time, and it could kill them all. How could he warn them?
"I hear screaming close to us," Allen said.
"I don't," Lavi said, giving him a strange look.
"Someone just screamed, 'demon.' Isn't that your line of work?" the white-haired illusionist said, forcing his eyes open. He needed to be fully awake. "There's pounding noises coming closer."
"I don't hear anything either," Lenalee said. "Mr. Illusionist, are you sure? You're not playing a joke on us?"
Darn these thick exorcists. Fine. Time for the last resort. "EXORCIST. AKUMA. MILLENIUM EARL," Allen yelled as loud as he could. Usually, if an akuma heard anything relating to exorcist, it reacted automatically, and went to kill the exorcist. "Oh, hear that? Better activate you-"
Smash.
An akuma shoved its ugly face through the wall, sneering at them. "Someone yelled exorcist. I'd like to kill them first."
Allen raised his hand. "It was them," he volunteered, pointing at the exorcists.
Lavi wiped a streak of blood off his cheek, cursing as the cut stung. The damage was minimal, though. The akuma that Mr. Illusionist had so gladly called over for them had only been a level two. Still not fun to fight, though. After using his hammer on the demon, Lavi stood panting and glaring. "Thanks a lot for that," Lavi growled at the man. The Illusionist had scooted himself into the corner while the fight had gone on. Lavi was about to say more (along the line of curses), but noticed that the receiver of the words wasn't receiving them. "Are you asleep?"
The white-haired man mumbled something that sounded like a curse.
"Uh, Mr. Illusionist, you shouldn't sleep next to the corpse of an akuma, its fumes will hurt your lungs," Lenalee said.
The Illusionist gave the slightest wave of his hand, ignoring Lenalee's warning. "Leave me," he muttered.
They were about to, Kanda growling, "I'm done with this idiot," but another crunching sound made all of them jump.
"That'll be another one," Lavi heard the Illusionist say, but the Bookman wasn't sure if he heard the words right. An ordinary citizen (an older man) pushed his way through what was left of the wall.
"What happened here?" he said in disbelief. "My wife was going to store our flour for the bakery- What exactly happened?!"
Could he be an akuma? Lavi thought. Kanda's hand crept closer to his sword.
"I-I'm calling the police!" the man said. He started to hurry out, but at the same time, the exorcist leapt forward.
"No, mister, you can't!" Lenalee said.
"Stay right there," Kanda yelled.
"Don't make any rash decisions," Lavi warned. They all crowded around the man, everyone talking over each other, the man trying to push his way out. He tripped over Kanda's leg, who in turn fell over Lenalee's heel, catching Lavi's scarf on the way down. The man pulled himself free of the pile, nearly running to the opposite end of the room, falling again.
He landed on the legs of a certain sleepy Illusionist. A sleepy Illusionist who, Lavi noted, at the moment looked anything but sleepy. His face was clear and lucid as he sat up slowly, looking at the fallen citizen.
They all watched, frozen, as the Illusionist lifted a hand, making the shape of a gun. He leaned forward, grabbing the collar of the man and yanking him up. The white-haired man pressed the tip of his finger into the man's neck, and smiled.
"Bang."
Lavi wasn't sure why it happened, but the man screamed, throwing himself back away from the Illusionist, as the exorcists sprung into motion. The citizen was an akuma. That much was clear as he shed his human skin, turning into a gigantic machine-demon. It had a scythe for an arm, that swung down and reached for the Illusionist's neck-
Kanda's Mugen caught it before it could slice the man's neck. It fell with a loud scream and clank, finished. "You're welcome," Kanda said.
Pushing aside the curse words he wanted to use on the Illusionist, Lavi offered the man a hand, and the Illusionist accepted. They all surveyed the damage. "We should get out of here now," Lavi said. "Don't need anymore citizens coming in."
The resident illusionist yawned loudly in reply. "You guys can deal with that. It's all your fault."
"Mr. Illusionist, since we fought together and are now friends," Lenalee said, putting on her innocent smile. Both Kanda and Lavi's facial expressions suggested anything but that, yet, they feared Lenalee's fist more than becoming 'friends' with the Illusionist.
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far-" the white-haired man protested.
"Would you please tell us your name? Your real name? Even if it's just your first name."
The man sighed. They all listened intently for his next words.
"It's... Allen. Call me Allen."
He wasn't sure why he told them his name. It wasn't supposed to be common knowledge, but there he was, telling a bunch of exorcists hours after he had met them.
Exorcists, of all people. Allen was trying to keep his Innocence hidden (and a secret) but yet, he befriended the very people who hunted it. Cross would hit me if he knew what I was doing.
I don't want to say goodbye to these people, though. For some strange reason, I want to be- possibly- friends with them? We've known each other for twenty minutes.
It was a desire foreign to Allen, the lonely Illusionist. That's not what this feeling is. It can't be. I'm just tired.
When the akuma had fallen on him (a hilarious trick of fate) he had grabbed it around the neck with his Innocence hand. If the akuma hadn't realized the burn it felt was from Innocence, it had certainly realized Allen had Innocence when Allen had dropped the illusion surrounding his face. Only the akuma could see the ugly scar running down one side, the unnatural pentagram. It had thrown itself away from him, Allen not lifting a finger to kill it.
That red-haired one appears to be strong, Allen thought. Not too much of a hindrance in battle. Same goes with the rest of them, I suppose. Although, fighting with a woman seems tedious. What if she breaks down crying?
"Maybe we were friends in another life," the woman-exorcist said, beaming at him (very few people ever actually did that, why did he feel happy because of a stupid smile?), "Because you seem very easy to get along with."
"Is that a joke?" Allen said, wrinkling his forehead.
The hammer-wielder and Asian man both snickered. Allen eyebrow ticked, and with a small twitch of his fingers, there were two red-eyed dogs barking at them, with saliva-coated fangs. They both flinched. My favorite activity, instilling fear in humankind, Allen thought, allowing a smile to reach his lips. The illusion was see-through, though. Mana would have done better, even if he were as tired as I am. Exhaustion pulled at his eyelids, but he forced them open again.
"What was your name again?" he asked pointedly.
"Lenalee." Another smile. She was much too happy to be in the same exorcising line of work as him.
"You were suicidal when you were younger." The thought slipped from his lips unbidden. Lavi and Kanda didn't hear him, they were too busy shaking off the fading dog illusions. Lenalee froze, eyes wide. Allen's expression was indifferent, calculating, similar to Lavi's when he was studying something he didn't like. How did he know? Not even Komui knows exactly how depressed I was.
Allen didn't say anything else to Lenalee, leaving her in shock. Maybe that'll keep her from trying to converse with me. The male exorcists seemed to have realized that randomly appearing dogs couldn't be natural, and assumed their normal pace, as if nothing had happened.
They were going to the post office. Most likely to contact a Black Order employee to tell them about their new companion, Allen thought. Me.
He ignored Lenalee's scathing expression. She was in shock from his observation, assuring him that it was probably correct.
He had known, because he had been the same way when he was younger.
"I'm glad that you've chosen to help us, Allen," Lavi said, attempting at conversation. Allen stiffened at the sound of his name. It was my own stupid mistake for telling them, I'll have to get used to it. "Everyone has been waiting for more powerful help."
They darn well got it. Allen let immature pride overtake him for a minute, but then squished it. I can't act like the sixteen-year-old I actually am. They think I'm twenty or something.
"The Holy War's already being lost, though," Allen said. "I don't think outside help will change a lot."
"Don't think that way," Lavi said. "It's not just the Black Order that's in stake. Millions of souls being tortured after death, forced to kill the ones they love- it's disgusting what our enemy resorts to."
Allen's illusion shimmered.
Stop it, you stupid boy. Stop talking about what you think you know. You don't know about death. How could you.
With a few breaths, he was back to normal. Why did I even let myself become tangled in this web of theirs?
"Allen, how come you keep up that shimmery illusion around your body?" Lenalee asked. She was still pale.
"I thought I already explained. My face is too stunning for any mere mortal to see me."
"That wasn't how you said it before," Kanda said.
Allen made a show of stretching, and flipping his hair. "I just signed up to be dragged across Europe with you, to who-know-where. I'm warning you, I'm quite expensive. I can't just sit anywhere on a train, first class generally will do just fine."
"The Black Order will pay for it," Lenalee said. "Although, um, you shouldn't try to destroy things on purpose."
All the exorcists shivered as they saw the dark smirk on Allen's face. Oh, these children have no idea what they've gotten into.
"What have I gotten into, Tim?!" Allen cried, throwing himself onto his bed. "They're all waiting downstairs for me to leave! What on earth was I thinking?" There's also the problem of the mafia. I think the Japanese one took care of them with his sword, though.
The golden golem flitted around his limp form sympathetically chewing on the ends of his hair. Allen flicked him away. "It's my own fault. Darnit." He stood, and threw some clothes into a suitcase, stumbling over nearly every object. "I need to sleeeeppp," he whined.
Tim, despite being a golem, still had thoughts of his own (simple thoughts.) He was in amazement that his master could be so mature and serious one moment, then completely turn around and be a teenager.
Allen finished. He surveyed the place, trying not to feel nostalgic. "That's it, then." It was filled with boxes of books and other crap that he didn't need to take with him, but they were still his. "I hope I come back here."
He closed his eyes, then spoke aloud in an inflectionless voice. "Dropping all situational illusions in three, two, one. Keeping body Illusions up." There was a small release in the back of his mind, like a tiny weight being lifted off his shoulders. When he opened his eyes, the beautiful starred ceiling of the room was gone. The room was much plainer. "Tim, you better stay in my shirt whenever the exorcists are around. They'll recognize you," Allen warned. Tim obediently wrapped his tail around Allen neck, just beneath his collarbone.
Just like that, Allen Walker said goodbye to his previous life.
Just like that, the Black Order found the Illusionist.
Just like that, the prophecy started to become a reality.
"The Red Walker... will save us all."
"We will save the Red Walker."
"Why're we stopping?" Allen asked. He dropped his bag onto the street with a groan. "Who are you calling?'
"Shut up and stop asking questions," the Japanese one (Kinda? No, Kando. Konda?) said, at the same time Lenalee answered.
"I'm calling my brother. He works in the Black Order. He's the one who sent us to find you." She went inside the building they stood outside of, to find a telephone. Allen tapped his foot for a few seconds. Both the red-head and the Japanese one didn't say anything.
"Is her brother powerful?" Allen said. Powerful people annoyed him. They always assumed they had the upper hand.
"Does that matter?" the red-head one said. (Lobi?) "He's a good man."
Allen snorted. 'Good man.' Many a good man would turn into a bad one at the flick of a switch. A person just had to know the right pressure or bribe. "I'm going inside." He followed Lenalee's previous path into the building. She was talking into the phone. He grabbed it out of her hands, ignoring her protests.
"Is this the brother?" he said.
Far away, Komui's hand slipped on his desk in his surprise, hitting the 'speaker' button on the phone. He had been chatting away to his beloved sister when an altogether different voice spoke.
"Is this the brother?" rang out in the science division. All scratching of pens, flipping papers, and other noises stopped. The voice was that of a man, but a young one.
"Y-yes?" Komui said. "I'm Lenalee's brother, who is this?"
"I'm the Illusionist."
The silence in the room fell even harder, not even one pen moving. All the lab workers, assistants, and other people listened intently.
"You're the Illusionist?" Komui said. "Wow. Um, it's nice to meet you. I am Komui Lee."
"Yes, yes, that's nice. I just took the phone to inform you that I'll help you as long as I feel like it. There's nothing you can do to keep helping you."
There were many things running through Komui's brain to say, like 'thank you' and 'I'm glad you're helping us,' but what came out wasn't exactly along those lines.
"...How old are you?"
The voice echoing gave a staticky sigh. "I'm twenty-ish. Does it matter?"
"I suppose not," Komui answered. "Well, thank you- for your help, at least for now." Reever snorted from somewhere behind him, and Komui rolled his eyes. What am I supposed to say?!
"You're welcome. I suppose I'll fight on this side- if only because the Millennium Earl's hats are really atrocious." The line clicked off.
What.
"He knows what the Millennium Earl looks like?" Reever said in disbelief. "Even I don't know that specifically- how on earth does he know?"
Komui shook his head. "I have no idea what just happened."
They didn't know what to think of him, and Allen was fine with that. They didn't need to know about him. He had made them pay for his train ticket, and he could tell they weren't happy with him. They won't say anything, though. They don't want to offend me. It was like he was a powerful king, Allen mused. He wasn't going to complain. Too sleepy to.
The train compartment was nice and large, and the seats were soft. He claimed the window, taking up as much room as possible. The long-haired grumpy one got stuck next to him, the women and eyepatch across. "Remind me of your names," Allen said sleepily, trying to focus on their faces.
"Lenalee," the women said. "Kanda is next to you, and this is Lavi."
Yup, I've already forgotten. I guess it doesn't really matter, he thought. It's not like I'll be with these people for very long. He yawned, getting comfortable. I need to regain some energy, and this first-class cabin seems perfect. The exorcists got on something right.
Lavi was watching him, Allen knew. The one-eye was most likely fixated on his illusion-perfect face, trying to figure out exactly what Allen looked like underneath it. "My illusions don't stop when I fall asleep," Allen said, keeping his eyes shut. "For the curious red-head."
"How is that possible?" Lavi asked.
"It's called autopilot, you idiot," Allen muttered. He made sure to take up as much of the seat as possible, just to make Kanda more irritated. "As long as I'm not dead, the illusions don't stop."
"I can fix that," Kanda muttered. Allen 'accidentally' stretched out his legs too far, kicking Kanda.
"I'm going to sleep. Don't wake me up," he said, and within a few seconds, he was unconscious.
Lavi still didn't take his eyes off Allen, even though the illusionist had said the illusions didn't stop. He was waiting for even the slightest break in the barely shimmering stuff. No breaks came, however. Not one.
Thanks for reading!