Ari-chan: Sorry guys. This entry is very late. Please forgive this authoress who was not able to go on the computer for the past few days.
YULLEN WEEK, Day Four Theme: Protest
--
Crimson; it was shed across the walls, the carpet, and on the still chest of the man on the floor, a river of red flowing downwards from the mouth's edge.
Tarnished bronze was the poker of the hearth of fire, pierced through the man's murmuring heart.
The rancid smell of the crackling flames smothered the lungs, engulfing the room with its cursed blaze.
Salty were the tears of sorrow, his vanquished soul drenched in the emotion of loss and abandonment.
Tightly clenching onto his only current connection to society, he listened as the other person inquired of the tragic situation before him.
His hands were tainted with the stain of crimson.
Entrapped
Lavi stretched his arms as he, Kanda, and Lenalee came out of the multipurpose room along with the rest of the student body. "That was some lecture," he said, yawing with fatigue. "What was that Hitler man thinking, giving us such a boring speech? Just the thought of the chorus of snores is really unbearable. "
"Lavi, you were snoring too you know," Lenalee said, organizing the pile of brochures that they had gotten from the meeting. "Besides, as despicable looking as he is, Principal Leverrier is just looking out for the students' futures."
"Yeah, I guess. But the only interesting thing from the Career Planning meeting was Hitler man's moustache. I swear, that thing should be preserved in a museum." He then watched as Kanda ignored the two's conversation and walked to his locker. "Hey Yu, did you decide on your future yet? Let me guess, a dojo master, right?"
"Shut up," was the Japanese's only reply as he grabbed his stuff and slammed the locker door. As he walked further and further down the hall, the voices of Lavi and Lenalee, who were now talking about their future career, was drowned out in the dialogue of the masses of the people surrounding them. They too, were probably chatting about their futures.
Truthfully, Kanda did not think of a career to support himself in his distant yet fleeting life. He didn't specifically plan it all out like other people had and definitely did not have his head in the water from all the stress of what to do in the future.
What was there to do anyways? All people ever cared about was money, but Kanda was not like that. School was also a number one priority to many others; from primary to junior to regular old high school, those three were the key to entering the college days. But what was after that? If a person wanted to grab a superb paying job, then they would have to endure graduate school and maybe even beyond. It was all a pain to Kanda. It was useless even to think about it.
What was a person's goal in life anyways? To go to school and waste, literally, half your life away?
That life was not for Kanda Yu. He was not a person to throw his life away without a definite purpose.
But what was it?
"Yu," a voice panted from behind him. Kanda turned around to see Lavi holding an open cell phone in one hand, panting like a dog during a hot day. Or so Kanda described. Lenalee was catching up from behind, a worried look marring her face.
"What do you two want?" Kanda asked. Since school was over, Kanda wanted to go home and meditate in his room. He didn't want anything to delay him from his quiet time of peace.
"Yu," Lavi began after brief moments of breathing deeply, "You know how we thought that Allen didn't come to school today because of an illness, right?"
"If you're going to talk about that Beansprout, then go away."
"We're being serious Kanda," Lenalee reprimanded. "Allen…he didn't come to school because…he's at the police station."
"What?"
Lavi closed his phone and rubbed his head in frustration.
"Apparently, according to Gramps, who wrote the main article for tomorrow morning's newspaper issue…Allen's father passed away yesterday."
Kanda was silent and Lavi continued.
"He died of murder, Yu. Allen's father was killed."
--
Mana's death was so sudden and so traumatic that Allen's hair changed from brown to white.
He developed bags under his eyes from the shedding of limitless tears. Now his eyes felt as dry as a desert. He was so sad, that he was not able to cry anymore.
Allen Walker was supposed to be the victim here. But why? Why was this strange man, someone whom he had never seen before, persistently repeating the same questions over and over to him?
When you arrived at home, what did you witness?
"Mana," Allen would say, pausing for a bit. "Mana lying on the floor with a poker from the fireplace pierced through his heart."
And you called the police right away, am I right, boy?
"Yes, sir." Allen stared nervously at the tape recorder lying on the desk. The man noticed his tension.
Do not worry about the recorder, Allen. This is just going to be used for evidence to find out who the murderer is.
Allen wanted not to worry also. But the prying pairs of eyes behind the screen on the wall of the room, seemed to pierce through the very essence of his soul. Allen, no matter how much he wanted to relax, couldn't.
Police stations were the worst place in the world to be.
--
"Kanda, you're not coming?" Lavi said in front of the station, where Allen was being held for questioning. Lenalee was also there, carrying some chocolate and snacks for Allen to eat. Both she and Lavi had a vague idea that the boy was going to need it.
Without even glancing at the police station, Kanda checked the street signs and walked towards the direction of his house. Lenalee called out to him. "If you're busy right now, then you can visit Allen later!"
"Just face it Lenalee," Lavi said, his uncovered eye eyeing the chips. "Yu doesn't like police stations. Probably gives even him, the demon lord of the underworld, the creeps. He doesn't like those obese, donut-eating police guys."
"Lavi, not all the policemen eat donuts you know. Anyways let's get serious here. Allen's father just died. Let's go cheer him up, alright?"
They entered the station and requested to see Allen Walker. They were then guided to a room where Allen just finished the questioning for that day. People outside of the room, were monitoring their conversation.
"Lavi, Lenalee," Allen said in surprise. "What are you two doing here?"
Noticing the bags under his eyes, both Lavi and Lenalee hugged the poor boy. Allen's eyes widened.
"What- you guys…"
"Allen, you look like you've lost some weight," Lenalee said. "Here, we brought some food for you. Sorry that they're not really nourishing though."
"It's okay, but I don't feel like eating right now."
It was then when Lavi and Lenalee noticed the change in the boy, which was hidden in the shadows of the dimly lit room.
"Allen, your hair…"
The now white-haired boy tried to crack a smile. "Oh, I was just trying on a new look. Do you like it?"
They could not bear it anymore, both of his friends broke down in tears.
"Allen, we are so sorry about your father. We're so sorry."
Allen looked up at them crying. "Don't cry you guys. Lavi, you're a man aren't you? And Lenalee, if Komui finds out I made you cry, he's going to skin me alive."
But they continued crying and hugged onto Allen as tightly as they could, as if he would disappear from them forever.
Tears, which Allen thought he did not have any longer, started streaming down his cheeks. His friends, his very good friends, were crying for him.
The only question was; where was the other good friend? Allen was sure he had one more.
Where was Kanda when Allen needed him most?
--
When his friends left the station, Allen stayed, for the police dubbed him as a victim in possible danger from the murderer that was still out there. A bit lonely, Allen was about to touch the food that Lenalee and Lavi had brought. Now that he thought about it, Allen hadn't eaten for hours and now he was hungry.
Before he could open the bag of chips, a hand was brought down and touched Allen's own hand.
We can't have you eating in the interrogating room. It's against regulations.
"I'm sorry," the boy apologized, "but I was kind of hungry."
I can save it until you are allowed out of the room.
"Really? Thank you very much."
No problem, the inspector said. He took the bag of snacks outside and dumped it into the trash.
--
At first they were nice to Allen, or so the boy had believed.
They would ask him questions about Mana's death, promising to capture the murderer once they had gathered all the evidence.
But now, it seemed that they already had their prime suspect from the beginning.
Allen Walker, a young boy of fifteen years. You murdered Mana Walker, your foster father.
The boy froze. "…What?"
We've seen the fingerprints on the poker. It matches your description.
"N-No, that's not possible."
On that day, that blood on your hands were crusted, showing that you were at the scene of the murder when your father died.
"No!"
But is he really your father? Mana Walker adopted you six years ago. He is not your biological parent. All the more reason to do away with him.
"Don't say that! I loved Mana and he loved me. I would never kill him!"
Then why don't you call him father?
--
Days passed, but Allen couldn't tell many passed by, for the investigators would interrogate him, forcing and manipulating him into answering the questions to their desire.
To the rest of the world, Allen Walker was now a prime suspect. In truth, he was forced into coercement for an act of crime that he did not commit.
But nobody believed him.
We know you stabbed Mana Walker with a poker.
"No!"
Don't try to lie to us. WE KNOW THE TRUTH.
"NO! I didn't kill Mana! Please believe me, I didn't!"
You never loved your foster father. You wanted to be rid of him.
"That's not true! Mana- I love him."
You may "love" him, but Mana does not love you back.
"…What?!"
Before Mana Walker passed away in the hospital, he said, "Allen did it. He tried to kill me."
"You lie! You lie! He never said that! He would never-"
Mana said he hated you before he died.
"N-n-no…stop it!"
Mana said he never loved you-
"S-stop it! Alright, I-I admit it!
The inspector and the people watching behind the screen, smiled in triumph.
"I- I killed him. I said it…so please, stop torturing me…….please…"
--
Lavi read the newspaper and he became infuriated.
"Young boy confesses to killing his foster father"
"Gramps! What the hell is this! I thought journalists were supposed to tell the truth in the issues!" he shouted out, not believing that the headlines for today's newspaper even existed.
"It is the truth, stupid Lavi," Bookman said while smoking on a cigarette. "Allen Walker just confessed to being a murderer. Don't let emotion overfill you, it'll get in the way of your job."
--
Allen Walker was held an immediate trial after that. It was in court where Allen retracted back his words, claiming that the police were forcing him to say what they wanted. They were coercing him, he said.
But as usual, no one believed him.
It was unanimously chosen by the jury, even his own lawyer, that Allen Walker would be sentenced to three years of juvenile until he reached the age of eighteen. Allen would be transferred from juvenile into prison, serving a fourteen year sentence behind bars.
Why didn't anybody believe Allen? He was well liked by many before. But after the incident, people started to doubt him, calling him a murderer behind his back. Even Lavi and Lenalee had stopped coming to visit him.
"Walker, you've got a visitor."
From his temporary cell in the local county jail, Allen's eyes widened in surprise, but didn't turn his head around. Someone came to visit him after all this time? There was no one that would do such an act after he was given the verdict of a convict. There was no one in the world that supported him now.
He was handcuffed then led into a room connected to another, separated by a wall with a small window to talk through. Allen sat down in the chair. The light was blinding, especially since he came out of the dark cell. He winced his eyes, his sense of hearing listening to the footsteps stop in front of the window. Allen didn't dare to look up. This had got to be a dream. There was no one who would visit him. Nobody.
"Pathetic, Beansprout. That's what you are, pathetic."
Beansprout. It was a long time since Allen had heard that nickname. It was…very nostalgic to his ears. Almost like a sweet melody that one would supposedly hear when they were alone.
"Who are you? Why have you come here?" Allen asked, his head still tilted towards the ground. He refused to believe it was happening. He refused. There was no possibility that that person was-
"Stop fooling around and look at me."
Allen looked up and saw him. Kanda Yu. It was a while since he had seen that trademark stern face of his.
"You… Why?" the boy asked. His astonishment preventing him from finishing his sentences.
"Look, I'm going to make this short and brief," the other said. "The only reason I came here was because Tiedoll, that stupid old man, asked me to come here. I never came here on my own accord and I never will. The old man inquired about your health and he'll not be glad to know that you look pathetic. A sore, pathetic loser that you always were."
Allen wasn't angry. He wasn't mad either. It was good to see that Kanda was still his same old self. Unlike himself.
"You always hated me anyways, didn't you?" Allen stated. Kanda clicked his tongue in reply and stood up to leave. "By the way, about Lavi and Lenalee," he said. "They worry about you." Allen trembled at his words. "They weren't able to visit because of the police. It seems you had a restraining order on visitors between close family." He turned around to walk away.
But Allen couldn't let him go. What if he never saw Kanda again? He was going to be confined to a life behind bars. This could be the last chance he could ever get.
"Kanda, remember in my freshman year on that December afternoon?" Kanda froze in his tracks. "That was the day that we met, wasn't it?"
The other was silent as the white-haired boy continued.
"I had my lunch in my hands and somehow we bumped into each other. The food spilled and splattered onto your shirt. You sure were angry that day." He slightly smiled and continued.
"You yelled and yelled at me, and I argued back until a teacher had to restrain us. But it turned into a brawl and we had to serve detention together. That was the first and last detention I had to serve during my school days…"
"From then on," Allen said, "we always bickered didn't we? At every glance of each other, we would always glare or frown. We never seemed to get along."
Kanda turned and stared at the forlorn figure behind the glass window. "So? What about it?"
Heat welled up around Allen's eye sockets.
"'What about it?' So what about it, you bastard." He looked Kanda in the eye, a glint of willpower in his silver orbs. "I'm saying that it was fun. It was fun being around you, you jerk."
Visiting time was over, and Kanda had to leave the station.
Allen watched him go, feeling no regrets, and yet felt sadness welling up in the form of tears.
Goodbye, Kanda.
--
Allen was not the type of human to mark on other people's property. But in his case, it was necessary for him to do so, in order to keep himself in mental check.
He would mark on the gray, drab walls, a tiny scratch from a stone flint representing a full day. But by 35 days, Allen had lost count and found himself wasting away in the prison cell.
He was now the age of twenty-three, so said his gloomy prison keeper.
When Allen had reached eighteen a few years ago, they had transferred him from juvenile to the prison confinement with a penal complex. He was to stay there in incarceration until he died.
"Alright Walker," the keeper ordered. "Get into the office now."
Allen willingly obeyed and entered the room. He was going to get a check up from the doctor. There had been a horrible spread of influenza in the prison lately. It was quite possible that he had caught from some other convict.
"Please check me well, doctor," he said to the person, still retaining his politeness despite being confined, wrongly accused by the world.
"Hmph, you look pathetic as usual. These eight hellish years probably had done a toll on you, didn't they?"
Allen mentally sighed. The doctor was talking nonsense again. Maybe the doctor had caught the influenza and was delirious from the symptoms.
"Hey, look at me straight in the eye when I'm talking to you."
Allen exhaled sharply. Maybe he was the one who was sick. He was starting to hear things. Maybe he had gotten insane. He started to hear a voice that seemed so nostalgic, yet lost, from the puddle of the past.
The other man placed a suitcase on a desk and motioned Allen to sit down. "Sit down Walker, we have much to discuss about your case."
Huh? Case? Discuss?
"Allen Walker, I am aware of your innocence. And I am here to prove that you were wrongly accused in the Walker case from eight years ago."
This couldn't be possible. It couldn't be. Yet, he wanted to take a chance.
Allen wanted to believe. And he did.
"It's been a while, Beansprout."
He believed he heard the nickname he never thought he would love to hear again.
--
Ari-chan: I have to say that this is actually based on a true story. Anybody recognize it? Although I did tweak it a lot.