When I'd first found the airhead..He really wasn't much of an airhead at all.
In fact, he was somebody that I would have grown to respect; somebody easy to understand.
Maybe he would have thought differently, had I never interfered. But I wasn't so merciful.
And he knew well enough that nothing about No. 6 was right, except there was much more to it than that. He'd lived the treacherous nights that were unseen by the picturesque residents, the blinding light of a new day that never seemed to play out any differently than the one prior, and he'd seen a bit more and gathered enough information that he could have written a book and sold millions upon every one of his discoveries.
Around that time, he, out of the slim few, had witnessed the series of well-structured lies that slowly but surely built up the great, holy city of No. 6.
The day I met him, he was covered in blood.
It had all started off, innocently enough. As far as he'd recalled, he'd taken a quiet walk down the streets of West Block, simply for the sake of something to do. As suicidal as it sound; it was far better than sitting at home for the better part of the day and scavenging food at night, like the animal he truly was.
He'd come across a sectioned off part of the city, which was quite unusual. It wasn't as though No. 6 had never sent their little expeditions across the wall before, but on a usual day there was at least a sign or two of their presence..such as a moving van, or police crossing tape. Any such to warn wayward travelers of the dominant society and keep all noses turned, down preferably, and away from business that didn't belong to any but one or more specific individual. In most cases, that individual wasn't too far off to be considered an acquaintance of No. 6.
At the very least, a time where someone partaking in such an expedition who'd nothing to do with the holy city was unheard of. There was no such thing as a free man.
What he'd found that day was a truly unusual sight. He ducked under the plastic board set up as a poorly constructed road detour, despite the lack of a proper road, and immediately turned tail into an alley.
The stench of death weighed thickly in the air, but that was never an unusual occurrence for West Block. At least once or twice a day someone, albeit due to unhealthy living conditions or unfortunate circumstances of the undocumented kind, would surely drop dead in the middle of the street. When it had become a frequency to the degree of normalcy, however, he'd only come to realize one late afternoon during another standstill. Yet, a part of him was sure that the gory weigh of life had developed along side the mock-city.
The dim light of the setting sun suddenly made itself apparent, and the knot in his chest tightened. It was a morning—turn back now, for this was anything but a good idea. Perhaps he should have listened, but obeying commonly accepted judgment had become nothing short of the past.
A red substance seeped down the center of the alley and he froze. Any other day, this was a common occurrence. Any other day he would've sense enough to run now and never return, but it had become painfully obvious that today just wasn't his day at all.
"Ah, is someone there?" A calm voice rose from the darkness, "I can't see you, so forgive me.."
Despite himself, he stepped closer. Out of the pitch black of the alley that wasn't illuminated by the sun that had already fallen past the distant hills, the faintest outline of pure white was visible. He wanted a closer look, but something among his body had taken the liberty of preventing that next step. There was no further point in risking his life any longer, so he remained still.
His brave mouth moved on it's own and demanded, "Who's there?"
The sound of footsteps softly walking concrete drew closer. There was no soft squish in his steps when he should have tread over blood, so he assumed the man was simply walking along the sides, where the blood hadn't traveled.
After what felt like forever, given the anxiety that had surfaced upon realizing he may have very well put his life on the line by demanding such a thing, the mysterious man stepped out into the thin ray of light, fading quickly.
Except it was hardly a man at all. Rather, his confidence regained it's stubborn hold as he'd realized that the figure before him was nothing but a teenage boy, hardly older than himself. His eyes traveled upward, noting the red scar that marred his otherwise pale skin and the white hair that neatly fell around his neck.
Upon meeting violet red eyes, his face that spoke of equal curiosity twisted into an innocent smile, "Hello." Avoiding his gaze as quickly as possible, he noted the knife in his left hand, and the clothes he wore, too proper to be remotely indigenous to West Block, drenched in blood in a fashion similar to the alley.
It was clear this boy was a murderer. "Why did you do it?"
The boy cocked his head to the side as if Nezumi had grown a second head, "What do you mean?"
"Why would you murder a man in a city like this? Are the inner walls of No. 6 not good enough for you?"
He grit his teeth in an attempt to control his temper, but felt that overall it was no use. Whether or not he lashed out at this teen, there was a good chance he was due to die that day.
His smile upturned into a distant frown, "He deserved it. This man did nothing to benefit humanity, so I was asked to dispose of him..Now that I've done my job, the city will rejoice."
That was cryptic enough to deter him from pressing the subject of 'how could you!' but not nearly enough to alter his genuine curiosity. "..I see, so you were asked to murder. Then may I ask who put you up to it?"
He smiled again, "I wasn't put up to it. I'm happy that I'm serving humanity..This man," the arm holding the knife pointed somewhere behind himself, likely where the body lay, "Was convicted of multiple accounts of physical and sexual assault..Not to mention drug abuse. Master had given him a warning, but as of late we suspect his involvement in human trafficking. He's too far gone, however.."
"So rather than send this man back to prison, you decided to execute him? Is that how No. 6's legal system works, now?"
The boy shrugged, "I know nothing of the legal system..I work underground. Quite literally, my home lies in a series of underground tunnels strewn throughout No. 6."
As much as he enjoyed playing twenty questions with this kid, there was no point in furthering this conversation. Depending on whether or not the morbid little man decided to let him live, he was far too ready to return home.
He opened his mouth to daringly bid the boy a goodbye and perhaps, if he was lucky, pretend this never happened, but the boy had already spun around to face the alley. Back facing Nezumi, he pondered whether or not now was a good time to exact vengeance upon a member of No. 6, but ultimately decided against it. He wasn't about to waste his time on a brat like this, no matter how intriguing.
"Excuse me.." his voice barely rang below a whisper, "Do you know where I am?"
"..Can you repeat that? Are you telling me you don't know where you are?"
The boy barely threw a glance behind him, "..I see, so I'm not alone. Can you please tell me where I am..And, do I know you?"
Somehow he wasn't quite as fearful as before; rather, greatly disturbed. "I never introduced myself, but I spoke with you for a minute or two. You mentioned something about a master, a man suspected of trafficking, and benefiting the human race. In other words, you're a monster that resides within No. 6, am I right?"
He shook his head violently, "N-No! That's..That's not me! I'd never.." His eyes traveled downward, as if noting the knife for the first time.
For a brief moment, there was silence before the sound of knees hitting the ground became apparent. The boy had pulled himself into a small huddle and through the street light that traveled far enough, illuminated his shaking shoulders.
"P-Please help me." he spun around to face Nezumi, eyes locked in a desperate plea, "I'm begging you."
What possessed him to take the boy's hand was a mystery, but he'd felt it appropriate to return one of his own murderous glares, "I'll help you.."
The boy looked thankful enough, but wisely awaiting the conditions.
"I'll help you out, if you share with me all you know about No. 6. I trust you wont try to escape.."
He nodded and clutched Nezumi's hand; the bloodied one joined. "I swear..I swear!"
"And you wont tell any city officials that I have you, got it? That would make things a little..complicated."
The boy's eyes lit up with tears, whether they were tears of appreciation, sadness, or grief, he wasn't sure. "I swear I wont tell..I swear I wont tell!"
And that was how Nezumi's life changed in the short, casual time period of one late afternoon.
The walk home was silent, but in the end he'd found himself surrendering his jacket to the boy in an effort to hide the endless tracks of blood on his chest. His pants, although torn and mussed with dirt, weren't enough to draw any kind of attention. His hair, however..
That was the first thing he'd questions once he sat the bloodied boy down in the bathroom, on the nearest chair he was able to summon as he drained the blood off his hands.
"..So, you mind starting off with your hair? What the hell happened to you?"
The boy shuddered as if reliving a painful memory—which likely wasn't too far from the truth—and offered a weak smile. "I was injected with venom as a child..Shortly around that time, and as a result, my hair..and this scar."
As much as he wanted to delve deeper into the world of scars that stretched across his entire body, which became apparent when the boy removed his shirt, he wanted anything but to trigger the mess of whomever he'd met before.
"..Introduce yourself." he stated simply, with the intentions of sounding a bit less demanding.
"I'm Shion!" he proudly stated, before his eyes flashed a familiar violet. They remained as he calmly held out a bloodstained hand, "I'm an elite assassin, belonging to the city of No. 6. Pleased to meet you, Nezumi."
As if it had never happened, the hand returned to his lap and a blood red, somehow less intimidating, had taken the place of glowing violet. His voice caught in his throat. "How..the hell do you know my name?"
He frowned, "I said..?" before eyes widened. He brought his forehead to his palms and left it there, "Damnit..It's happening again!"
"What's happening again?" he asked as if he hadn't quickly realized the fact that there was more than one person residing inside this body of his.
"I..I'm sorry, Nezumi. It appears he's taken a liking to you.."
"Really now?" he asked with feigned confidence, "I'm so proud. Whatever can I do to thank your majesty, for his time and effort?"
Shion's face twisted into another frown, "Don't make fun of me. You and I both know what we saw was real, and that makes you just as crazy."
"I wouldn't exactly word it as crazy." he let out an irritable sigh as he wrapped the white bandages around the length of the kid's torso, "I believe there's a lot we don't know about either city, and the people inside. There were things that we weren't meant to see or experience as humans and as far as I know, you're just unfortunate."
Shion frowned down at his hands as Nezumi moved to wash the dirt and blood off. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble. If I had my way, I would have never bothered you..or anyone else for that matter. But thank you, you're the only one that's ever tried to treat my wounds before.
And suddenly he was frustrated with himself, "What the hell? Don't mistake this for an act of kindness. You're in West Block and around here, unlike your little utopia, there's a greater chance of dying from infection than the actual wound killing you itself. I need you alive if I'm going to get the upper hand on a city like No. 6."
He cocked his head to the side, clearly interested, "You want to take down my city?"
Nezumi replied with nothing but a nod.
Shion smiled, "Then you already have the upper hand. If anything, you know valuable information that jeopardizes the city's very existence. Think of it this way, people who actually live beneath the city that are trained to be blood thirsty from early childhood..You're on your way!"
"Early childhood?" he repeated, "I take it you've been a prisoner of circumstance since you were young, then?"
He nodded, "At seven years old..My mother was murdered along with the others. I never questioned the city until then. I wasn't sure why, but it had been announced that the city was recruiting a group of six children for a project that was said to benefit humanity. Mother never liked the sound of that so she told me she'd have absolutely nothing to do with it, and I trusted her.."
His eyes shifted violet as his frown thickened, "But I was clumsy. I walked without a single care in the world. It was the day that Safu, my friend at the time..Her grandmother, her only guardian, passed away due to undocumented circumstances that were said to have been caused by old age. It had only been a week since the recruitment was issues and I didn't think much of it at the time, but I couldn't help but try and fit the pieces together.."
Nezumi's fists clenched. He'd already estimated the origin of this kid's life story, definitely never assuming that he must have lead a happy one, but this was inhumane.
"When I returned home that afternoon, I was ambushed by a group of men that threw me in the back of a van along side Safu and told me my mother was dead. Although I never saw her body, I didn't want to question it. I wanted to forget that day had ever happened..but it did, and late that after noon I was given a sedative to calm me down since I'd fought the officials so desperately."
His eyes returned to that same soothing red color, "The next day I was said to report for orientation. Along side Safu and five other children I couldn't recognize, we were all lined up and given a test of strength. I believe we were meant to endure a certain amount of pain and after a while, they promised they'd help us..to the point we never experienced any kind of pain again. Nearly every single day afterward, save for once a week that was usually used as a resting standpoint, we trained until we couldn't stand."
Violet returned, "I was sure that I was going to die, but I never did. Even after several attempts at suicide, I was standing tall, and strong, and I believe that was around the time that I'd become respected..Actually, I'm sure that I was the best. Out of every single one of them, I'm still the very best. I'm an elite and quite frankly I can't be lumped in with people so clumsy as to mortally wound themselves every day on the job...Don't you find that silly, Nezumi?"
With that final question, he trailed off. Violet and red eyes alike fell shut as Shion leaned forward, until he'd realized that the boy had fallen asleep, exhausted somewhere along the way.
He wanted to push the boy off, maybe kick him around a bit or something of the like but after a story as gloomy as that, and barely brushing the surface, he couldn't help but direct his anger at the city rather than the residents. What were the odds of citizens knowing of the tragedy lurking just beneath the crystalline surface? It was a dark part of the city that never saw the light of day, and he only wondered how someone as insightful as himself had missed such vital information.
He'd never seen children so out of place in a city this small, and West Block was practically filled to the brim with people who did very little to ever remotely benefit anything other than themselves, let alone humanity. How had this boy never been deployed to such a place? Was there a certain reason behind it?
..Or perhaps there was nothing. Underneath those lies, maybe he too had been buried—to the point he'd never even bothered to notice anything out of the ordinary.
Ignoring the anger prodding the back of his mind, he lifted the boy up to the best of his ability, supporting the weight of his body with his own and lead him to the small bed at the corner of his house. He wasn't lying when he'd said that most West Block causalities were the result of poorly treated wounds, and he wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.
Yet, somehow his hands shook just a bit more than he'd have liked to admit.
Halfway through bandaging the cut up, bruised skin of his right arm, he felt a pair of arms tugging at his back. He panicked, the thought of whether or not he'd taken the knife at some point had crossed his mind, but eventually relaxed as hands gently trailed themselves toward his shoulder.
Violet eyes opened wide and clutched the skin around the neck, before brushing both cheeks. "Hey Nezumi?" he asked groggily, "Did you know that living people are warm?"
Eyes widened, but he quickly shut his own emotions down. This was a strange kid, whom of which he'd run into on a strange day, in an equally strange city. There was nothing more to it than that, and sooner or later he'd use the boy and throw him away—just as the assassin, so to speak, had likely done to so many already.
A/N: I'm not quite sure why I decided to give this fanfiction such a dark twist, but I'll try not to do so too often with the rest that follow up to this series if it's too hard to get into. The idea just sorta came to me and I was so grateful, given my writers block, that I didn't really question it. The first chapter to the D. Gray Man sequel is out, if you're following the partnership with the crossover between No. 6, K, and D. Gray Man (to which this story would be a prequel, following Shion and Nezumi's side) if you want to get started on that.
I, however, am not exactly sure when the next chapter for that specific story will be released.
Explanation (Shion's personality, Original fic, etc): Let's be honest, you've already skipped-
I know that a lot of people (assuming people are going to read this) may or may not approve of the drastic change in Shion's personally, but I linked that change to the fact that we all know Shion has a dark side, mainly brought out by Nezumi, but even so, it's still there. And Shion never had to face a situation like that in the original works, but upon coming across the insanity that was the hidden world of No. 6, or at least kept away from the media, he didn't exactly take it well. Nezumi was right when he'd said that city is corruption so I'm basically working off of that.
Of course if you've read the main fic (because as I've said, this is a prequel) then you pretty much already know what happens. I just figured that it might be fun to build up a bit of a ride for it.
As for that "Brief History of No. 6" I included along with the original fic, it wasn't a complete lie but I wasn't exactly telling the truth, either. In other words, it was the story leaked to the public.
Summarizing what I just said: This is the story of how No. 6 really fell, and how Nezumi and Shion (or perhaps, mostly Nezumi) were caught up in the mess.
Enjoy if you can, and please lower your guns and drills alike! There's one too many a hole in my body and the extreme piercing tournament excuse isn't working anymore.
