A/N: I do not own D. Gray-man

Ch. 1

London, England

December 12, 1906

The morning dawned with its usual unannounced arrival, painting over the night's deep purples with a softer palette of greys and blues, clouds replacing stars just as the sun replaces the moon. As night steadily transformed into day, the world awoke with a soft sigh. The singing of birds heralded the arrival of the new day, urging dreamers from their sleep to face what laid in store.

One such dreamer awoke feeling like she was walking into a fresh nightmare.

The muscles in her back ached as she sat up, exhaustion making the smallest effort feel exponentially taxing. Soft sobs had roused her from her tenuous slumber, the sound impossibly loud amidst the hustle and bustle of nurses attending to various patients.

With weary eyes Lenalee glanced to her partner, a man who was dying.

No one had said it, but it was an unspoken threat that hung in the air all the same. The entire staff knew it and yet they went about their work pretending otherwise. It was a kindness, really, a means to bide time. As soon as one of the doctors from Central made the usual rounds checking the state of the bed ridden patients and deemed Erik unsalvageable, it would be over. He would be put down.

They had made it back to the Order late last night two days ahead of their scheduled arrival after being ambushed by a group of akuma. Caught by surprised, the fight had been brutal. They had lost two Finders from their team and Lenalee had had a near hit with a blood virus bullet. When she had spun out of the way, the large bullet had struck the building they had been staying at. The resulting concussive blast had caught Erik unawares and he had soon been buried beneath the rubble.

When the battle had been won, she had found him with a two-foot-long pipe lodged in his stomach. He fought and cried when they had pinned him down to pull it out and the eruption of blood was something Lenalee was likely never to forget anytime soon. They had staunched the wound as best as they could, stuffing it with fistfuls of gauze and tying his own coat around his waist to apply pressure, but none of them had any experience dealing with such injuries.

Their only hope had been to rush back to headquarters. None of them had slept the three days they had spent travelling back to London with a steadily worsening Erik slowing them done. He had gotten so delirious with blood loss by the second day that they had been forced to seek aid at the nearest clinic.

The man had taken one look at the wound and had shaken his head. "You should have come to me yesterday."

In the back of her head, Lenalee had known that gentle Erik, with his lovely singing voice and slow smile, had been doomed the moment they had found him with that pipe speared through his gut, but to hear it aloud left her feeling numb inside. They hadn't been fast enough, the wound was grievous, the infection had already started to spread to his small intestine, the list of excuses went on and on. Slowly, painfully, Erik was dying and there was no way to save him.

He hadn't understood that until they had made it back to the Order and the nurses had examined him.

"You can fix it can't you?!" he wailed, thrashing against the restraints at his wrists and ankles. The erratic motions tore free the few stitches the town doctor had been persuaded to make, fresh blood flowing over his pallid skin. "Fix it! Fix it, please! You can fix it, yes?! Please!"

His normally slight Norwegian accent had overwhelmed his speech until he was shouting in the language itself, his panic stricken gaze darting all about the room before finally landing on Lenalee. The sheer terror in those crazed blue eyes had been her undoing.

She refused to leave his side as they administrated a few pain killers and a couple pints of blood, demanding that he not be sedated. If this was to be his last night, then he would spend it awake. Lenalee had wished she could've done the same, but the stress of the ordeal had been too much and as things had started to wind down, the light conversation that they had held between them hadn't been enough to chase away her fatigue.

"Sleep, my friend," Erik urged upon noticing the way she struggled to keep her eyes open. "I shall be here when you awake."

"I can't . . . Erik . . ."

"Yes you can," He tried his best to smile, to seem braver than he actually was but she could still see it, the dread, the fear. "Just close your eyes and I shall sing you a lullaby." He had started to sing before she could protest and it hadn't taken long for his dulcet tones to lull her to sleep.

Her sleep had thankfully been dreamless but painfully short, awakening two hours later to a dreaded dawn. His sobbing was nigh uncontrollable, though it never rose above a muffled gasp, carefully restrained as to not draw unwanted attention to himself. Not that that worked.

Everyone in the room was painfully aware of his imminent demise and were unable to fully look away. There was a sick fascination in waiting, an unshakable curiosity that rose as the clock ticked down and the end drew near. And relief, relief that this wasn't happening to them.

Lenalee hated them. She hated herself.

She hated herself for wanting to be anywhere but here. Hated how she couldn't muster up a single tear for her dear friend. Hated how annoyed she was beginning to feel having to listen to him continuously whimper and hiccup. The sound was awful. She was awful.

"Hey now, it's alright," she crooned as she drew closer, taking his hand in both of her own and rubbing small circles over the rough calluses on his knuckles with her thumbs. "Hush, Erik, try to breathe . . ."

It took him a couple of tries before he was able to break through his shuddering sobs and gulp a huge breath. That seemed to bring him some measure of calm, his cries dying down to lesser sniffles and his tears drying on his flushed cheeks, though he still remained noticeably agitated.

"I'm sorry, Lenalee . . ." he moaned miserably, sniffing thickly through the snot that had leaked from his nostrils.

"Don't worry, you have nothing to apologize for," assured Lenalee. "Really, it's alright to be scared but . . ." She bit her lip, hesitating. Her next words would probably upset him, but they had to be said. "But at least it will be all over. You won't have to fight anymore."

The thought hadn't seemed to occur to him, and for a moment relief lit up his face with a new brilliance. "You're right," Erik replied, as if in awe at the thought. "No more worrying about getting the job done, of feeling bad when you fail or don't save someone, no more—" He stopped, his face crumpling as his sorrow returned. "No more friends. No more family. My grandma . . . she'll be all alone. I won't able to take care of her. She'll start to wonder why I'm not sending any money to her anymore. She'll wonder but will she know? Will she know that I've . . .? I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. . ."

Lenalee bowed her head and tightened her grip on his large hand, unable to bear the sight of his renewed panic. His words turned to a fevered babble that she was unable to snap him out of. When the doctor came almost an hour later, he began to panic.

"No!" he howled, struggling against the restraints. "I'm alright, I can still fight! Yes. Yes, I can still fight, you just have to fix me. Fix me and I'll do whatever you want, I won't question orders anymore. I'll be good, I swear! Please! PLEASE!"

Erik became an animal before her eyes. Her sweet, gentle partner of two years had become something else in the face of death. His back arched off the bed, his face turning a queer shade of purple as he screamed and screamed and screamed. He thrashed wildly as the doctor drew near like an uncaring specter with the hypodermic needle meant to put him to sleep, muscles straining in his arms and neck as he fought until the bitter end.

When the drug was administered intravenously through the main artery in his neck after the nurses had strapped Erik's head down, his screams elevated to an inhuman screech that rung painfully in Lenalee's ears. The high note never seemed to end even as the needle was removed, but it tapered off suddenly after a minute and became a garbled wail.

Slowly the tension fled from his muscles and his body sagged back down onto the soiled mattress. His tears still ran down the sides of his face but he was no longer openly sobbing.

"So tired . . ." he drawled, words slurring as the drug took its hold.

Lenalee stroked his damp brow and smoothed back his tousled blonde hair drenched in sweat. "Go to sleep Erik," she whispered, caressing a bearded cheek.

With a heavy sigh, Erik closed his eyes and drifted away.

Lenalee watched as his chest rose and fell its last breath before rising from her chair to plant a kiss on Erik's forehead. "Good night . . ." She lingered only long enough to memorize his face, a face she had seen too many times to count. A face that she had taken for granted.

She fled from him after that, keeping her pace subdued and calm as she left the hospital room. As soon as those double doors closed behind her, Lenalee felt her knees begin to buckle while a sob rattled painfully in her chest. She braced herself against the wall and choked back the cry, wishing that she felt nothing.

This had been her fourth partner in twelve years to be euthanized.

The first time it had happened, she had been nine and her partner had been Aaja Rajan, an Indian woman thrice her age who had broken her back after a terrible fall. She could still remember the screams, from both Aaja and herself, as they put a bullet through the woman's skull. It had happened so fast that it had taken Lenalee a few minutes to comprehend that Aaja was dead. That they had killed her. She couldn't recall what happened next, even to this day, only that it had resulted in her being confined to her room for an entire week.

Oscar Browne came next once he lost both his arms when she was twelve, and Jung Shin followed four years later from a terrible illness they couldn't cure. Now Erik Christensen was yet another ghost meant to cling to her conscious and haunt her soul.

Each time she lost someone, Lenalee had become progressively less sensitive to the pain but that didn't spare her from feeling the blow of losing yet another partner, another friend. She forced herself to recite their names every night just so that she wouldn't forget them even when she had started to forget their faces.

Aaja, Oscar, Jung, Erik . . . all just names that would be forgotten in history. No one would remember the fallen, those that had played no part in bringing this holy war to an end. Would history forget her as well? Will she become a nameless casualty only mourned for a year and then soon forgotten?

Everything felt far away all the sudden. It felt as though someone had stuffed cotton in her ears and the sounds of her own breaths seemed like they were coming from someone else. The walls and floor were spinning, spinning so that the walls became the floor and the floor became the walls.

It was getting harder to breath, like there was a weight pressing down on her chest. Her body felt heavier than usual, her legs like unmovable blocks of steel. Color bled away until she was blinded by white nothingness. She couldn't see, could breathe no matter how hard she tried. Her heart hammered away in a painful rhythm as panic set in. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe! She couldn't—

In the middle of the deserted hallway Lenalee collapsed.


London, England

November 2, 1894

The Black Order was to be her new home for now on, a fact that she loathed.

It had taken their party over two months of travelling to finally make it to the Order's main branch. According to her translator, she was meant to be examined to see how compatible she was with the Dark Boots and be assigned to a General for training.

Lenalee had spent the entire boat ride through the building's underground canal in sullen silence, begrudging Zhen's every attempt of striking up a conversation with her. He was the only one out of the group that knew what she said but he might as well not have understood a word like the rest of them considering how he always deflected her requests to be brought back home. Her real home, not this gothic spire with its stone walls and too many floors.

A man was waiting for them when they made it to the dock, his rigid figure bathed in the yellow light of the lanterns. His expression was hard, like it had been chiseled out of the very same stone that made up the Black Order's grey exterior. He regarded them with a shrewd intensity, his cold stare lingering on her the longest.

"Is this the accommodator?" he asked. Much to her surprise, the words had been spoken in near fluent Chinese, which was odd coming from a man with western features.

Zhen nodded, his face suddenly looking very sad. "Her name's Lena—"

"Her name is of no importance to me," the man cut in. "I've been ordered to escort her to Hevlaska. Your services will no longer be necessary here. Chief Callahan gives her thanks for your continued service and has ordered you back to the Asian Branch until further notice."

He seemed to deflate at the command before he turned to Lenalee and mustered up a small smile. "I guess this is where we part ways," chuckled Zhen as he mussed up her hair with a fond pat.

"Take me with you!" she pleaded in a last ditch effort to convince the man. "Please, I want to go home!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. This is where you belong now."

The fact that he seemed genuinely regretful made it all the worse.

Angry tears burned in her eyes as she looked away with a dissatisfied huff. In a low voice she muttered under her breath, "I hate you . . ."

Zhen removed his hand from atop her head, scratching nervously at the back of his neck and smiling ruefully. "I know."

The western man who could speak Chinese offered his hand to help her out of the boat. She took it reluctantly, aware that there was no other choice. Going with the man willingly was far more appealing than being forced to follow.

As soon as her feet had touched the ground, the man had yanked his hand free and pulled out the pocket square in his waistcoat to remove his glove. He tucked them both in one pocket and produced a new glove from the other, slipping it onto his naked hand with a minute nod of his head.

Lenalee had watched with open-mouth confusion, his behavior seemingly absurd. Her hands weren't dirty, so why had he done that?

"All Finders are to escort Mr. Wong back before returning to their posts." He turned to scrutinize her for a second before commanding, "Come."

She trailed after him dutifully, looking back only once to see Zhen and the three Finders depart. Zhen had noticed her staring and sent her off with a wave. She turned away quickly, biting down hard to keep from crying out aloud. As much as the man frustrated her, a small part of her was going to miss him.

The western man led her down the hallway to an elevator that stood clearly lit with a set of lamps mounted on either side of the gate. With the press of a button the gate contracted, unoiled hinges screeching lowly as they were given entrance. Lenalee admired the contraption as they stepped inside, amazed by the sight of what could only be a human-sized bird cage. The gate closed behind them after another button was pressed and the cage slowly started its decent down.

Lenalee yelped in surprise at the sudden motion, clinging to the man's leg for balance. He shook her away with a disgusted sneer, his hand flying to strike her across the cheek.

"Don't touch me, you miserable brat!" he snapped shrilly. "Accommodators your age are useless, good-for-nothing creatures who never amount to anything as Exorcists. The Order would do well to put every child they found down instead of pouring all of their research into finding some that are compatible. All of it is just a waste of time better spent on winning the Great War with accommodators who are adults and not a bunch of sniveling children!"

Lenalee recoiled away from his harsh words with a pained whimper, skirting over to a corner to nurse her throbbing cheek. A few stray tears fell from her eyelashes, leaving wet trails down her face. She decided right then that she hated this man too.

The entire time spent in the elevator felt like agony, the atmosphere riddled with tension even as the man removed both his gloves, straightened his tie, adjusted his glasses, and resumed staring passively forward. It was practically a relief when gate opened up to a catwalk shrouded in darkness. Lenalee left the relative safety of the elevator to venture out into the unknown, willing to do anything to be rid of this foul man.

To her immense grievance he followed after her, his measured steps contrasting her frantic skips. She broke into a dead sprint, not caring where this walkway led, not caring if she ran right off the edge. She just wanted to get away. Away from the western man and his belligerent tones, away from Zhen and his cowardice, away from Twi and her false kindness, away from everything.

Lenalee just wanted to go home.

"Slow down . . . young one . . ."

The voice erupted from the darkness unexpectedly, the woman's words a slow drawl that bounced off the walls and trailed away as echoing whispers. Lenalee skidded to a halt when a faint light blossomed from the shadows, growing brighter by the second. In the span of a second a large creature rose above the catwalk, curling over the railing to lean in close.

It was a monster, a hulking thing that was terrifyingly beautiful.

It loomed down towards her, ethereal strands of hair woven together to create long tendrils with little hands on the ends outstretched and beseeching as they drew ever nearer. It's face, a woman's face, was half shrouded by those tendrils and bore a placid expression. Lenalee wondered if it could tell how frightened she was.

Immobilized by fear, Lenalee forgot how to scream as those tiny hands began to touch along her face and arms. It felt as though her heart jumped in her throat when those wispy tendrils wrapped around her waist and held her aloft. She was brought up to meet its face as it seemed to regard her with vaguely human interest.

"Calm yourself . . . no need . . . to be frightened . . ."

Lenalee wished that she wasn't, but how could she not when this strange creature with its snake-like, bioluminescent body and woman's face had taken ahold of her. She wanted to scream, to fight . . . yes, fight! She could use the Dark Boots to fight!

"Don't . . . you'll only hurt . . . yourself . . ."

This time Lenalee really did scream. How was this thing reading her thoughts?

"Through the Innocence . . ." it answered with its wispy voice. "I need to . . . access your synchronization rate . . . it will be . . . painless . . . Are you . . . alright . . . with me doing that . . .?"

The question baffled Lenalee. No one from the Black Order had every asked for her permission to do anything, certainly not for any of their tests. She almost didn't know what to say.

Hesitantly she asked, "I-It won't hurt?"

"It won't . . ."

"Promise?"

"I promise . . ."

With a tinge of uncertainty, she gave her consent and screwed her eyes shut when more of those white tendrils crept up to her. A queer sensation began to crawl beneath the surface of her skin with their touch, most of it traveling down her legs, but it wasn't wholly unpleasant.

"2% . . . 7% . . . 12% . . . 15% . . . 21% . . ."

Its voice trailed off with a thoughtful hum as it carefully set her down. "Thank you . . . for your cooperation . . . I'm sorry . . . I scared you . . . My name is . . . Hevlaska . . ."

Lenalee gaped up at Hevlaska, at a loss for words until she remembered her manners and introduced herself.

"It is . . . very nice to . . . meet you . . . Welcome to the . . . Black Order . . ."

The low twang of something tapping upon the metal walkway caught her attention and from the light emitting of off Hevlaska's leviathan body she was able to make out the stooped form of an old woman approaching them. The man that had brought her here was trailing after her like some aristocratic guard dog, staying within reach should she be in need of his aid.

"21% . . . that's not the best I've seen from new recruits, but accommodators have been brought here with far less. Some have even lasted for over five years while those who think they're the hot stuff just because they have higher synchro rates don't even make it past a year. I wonder which one you'll be. Will you endure as your power grows or simply burn out at your peak?"

The old woman stopped just a foot from Lenalee. She was not very tall and her bent back made it seemed like she was only a little taller than Lenalee was herself. Gripped between her gnarled hands was a cane crafted from birch with a beaded rosary necklace wrapped around the top. Her face was heavily lined and sagging with age, her hair a powder white braid pulled back in a bun. Only her eyes remained lively while the rest of her had already begun to wither away, her sharp green stare commanding attention.

"I am Chief Alice Callahan," she introduced with a slight bow of her head. "From this day forth you shall be an Exorcist of the Black Order, willing to live and die as one of the Lord's chosen soldiers. I hope you're up for the task."

Lenalee wasn't. She was far from it. But it wasn't like she was going to be given a choice.

"Now come," beckoned Alice. "There are still a few matters we must settle before you will be brought to your room to rest from your travels."

Obediently she followed after giving a stammering goodbye to Hevlaska, keeping her gaze focused on the ground while she walked. Chief Callahan continued to ramble, speaking of how it was a privilege to be an Exorcist and how accommodators were rare and best trained at a young age, the younger the better, when her words suddenly started sounding like gibberish.

The old woman continued to speak, none the wiser to Lenalee's incomprehension until she asked a question. She looked to Lenalee expectantly and scowled in annoyance as she noticed her wide eyed stare of confusion.

"Were out of Hevlaska's threshold," she grumbled lowly. With an irritated cluck of her tongue she turned to her assistant and said, "Translate for her what I just said, Oliver."

Oliver looked to Lenalee, his face still and impassive as he remarked, "The Chief wants me to tell you that if you don't perform your duties as an Exorcist when the time comes, I will make life much more difficult for you. You will obey without question or else you'll face my wrath. Now nod your head like you understand."

Lenalee nodded, inwardly lamenting the path fate had been so gracious enough to send her stumbling upon.

This place would never be her home.


London, England

December 13, 1906

When Lenalee next awoke, she wasn't in the hallway outside the hospital room. She was in someone's bedroom, laying on the bottom bunk of a bunkbed. The floor was flooded with countless stacks of books and newspapers, some stacked so high they nearly touched the ceiling. The clutter made the room feel cramp and smaller than it actually was. There were only two people who could stand living in such conditions.

"I see you're finally awake."

Lenalee sat up and looked to the room's only window, where a dear friend sat on the window seat with his nose buried in a book.

"What time is it?" asked Lenalee.

Lavi looked up from his book, snapping it close with a friendly grin. "Sometime in the morning I should think. I found you passed out outside the hospital wing yesterday. Didn't expect you'd sleep the day away, otherwise I would've brought you back to your room."

She cradled her face and groaned, "You should've woke me . . ."

"I'd heard what happened." Lavi was no longer smiling. "I'm sorry about Erik."

For a blissful second she didn't know what he meant until it all came rushing back to her. The mission, the battle, the blood. So much blood.

Curling in on herself, Lenalee drew up her legs and rested her chin on her knees. "It couldn't be helped," she murmured sullenly.

"He was a good man," Lavi remarked with sympathetic remorse that sounded too rehearsed. "Maybe too good for a place like this."

"Aren't we all?"

He looked to her sadly, his one green eye showing a weariness often hidden behind light hearted jokes and boisterous laughter. "No," he sighed with a faint rueful smile. "Not all of us."

Lenalee rose from the bed, not wanting anymore of this conversation. "I've got to fill out my mission report. Thanks for letting me rest in your room."

"Lenalee, wait!"

He hopped up from his seat, rummaging through his pockets in search of something. He dug around for a moment before pulling out a bracelet of silver links with a nameplate. "I managed to snag this before they cremated his body. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you held onto it."

She eyed the familiar piece of jewelry somberly. Erik's grandmother had bestowed it upon him before he'd left home to join the Black Order. It had been the only thing he had brought with him and he had treasured it dearly. Lenalee would do the same.

"Thank you." She tried her best to muster a smile to show her appreciation for the thoughtful gesture, but it couldn't quite reach her eyes. Stowing the bracelet away in one of her coat pockets, she bid farewell to her red headed friend.

Lavi watched her depart, exhaling slowly through his nose as he returned to his book. He leafed through the pages to where he had left off. With a finger trailing down the rows of sentences he remarked with a distracted absentmindedness, "I've been here too long . . ."

...

After completing the mission report, Lenalee met with the Chief to deliver it.

Chief Komui Lee was found diligently pouring over a set of files with a rare bout of professional attentiveness in his office, periodically taking a sip from his coffee mug. When he realized that it was Lenalee who had come to visit him, he set aside his work to greet her warmly. He rose from the high back leather chair, anticipating the loving embrace they usually shared upon Lenalee's return to headquarters, but she remained obstinately rooted in place in front of his cluttered desk.

With a resigned sigh Komui settled back down. He shouldn't be surprised by her sullen attitude; his sister often retreated inwardly whenever she loss a partner or a comrade-in-arms she was friends with and had stopped seeking him out for comfort as of late. All of it weighed her down and Komui feared the day she would finally break. He didn't think he could pick up all the pieces again.

"Did you have a good rest?" he asked with a patient smile.

She shrugged and glanced away. "More or less." After a pause she added, "I've come to deliver my mission report."

"Oh, good, just put it anywhere on the desk. I'll get to eventually." He gestured vaguely to a spot that didn't seemed quite as swarmed with paperwork and manila folders.

For the briefest moment a smile flitted across Lenalee's lips as she set the paper carefully down on a pile of office expenses. The small glimpse was enough to warm Komui's heart, and for once he was glad his tendency to get easily distracted had brought his sister some measure of amusement rather than the usual headache.

It was enough of a push to get him to ask, "Do you wish to talk about it?"

Lenalee hesitated, looking to the door as the thought of fleeing entered her mind. No, she didn't want to talk about it because there was nothing to talk about. But it was her brother who had asked; she was willing to dig into her fresh wounds in order to try and pry out the sorrow that was buried deep inside.

She took a seat on the sofa, pushing aside the discarded newspaper. It took her a few minutes to gather her thoughts before she began to speak. "It had happened so fast . . . there was nothing I could do to stop it."

"These things often happen that way," Komui remarked with a sad understanding. "We just have to accept that sometimes these things happen and try our best to move on from them."

"But how can I when it's always my fault?" she asked, desperate for an answer. "How do I just forget that Erik and Aaja and Oscar and Jung are all dead because of something I did. It always goes back to me and for the life of me I don't understand why I'm still here."

"Lenalee—"

"Twelve years. I've been an Exorcist for twelve years. Not many people can boast that they've been here for that long. I've watched so many people fall in the line of duty, loss so many friends to this damnable war. How is that I'm still alive? Can this even be called living? I'm . . . I'm so tired . . ."

Though she hadn't outright said it, the implication was clear. The concern washing over her brother's already strained features was enough to make Lenalee look away in shame.

After a momentary lapse of silence riddled with an uncomfortable tension brought about by their conversation, Komui managed to muster back his voice. "There's nothing I can say that will make any of this easier for you. I wish there was. All I can say is that none of their deaths were because of you, that Aaja, Oscar, Jung, and Erik wouldn't want you to blame yourself for what happened. They'd want you to live, just like I do."

Lenalee opened her mouth to respond when a rush of footsteps caught both sibling's attention. In rushed a Finder, out of breath and struggling with his large backpack. "Sir, an accommodator is rumored to be in the city, the very one we've been trying to locate for almost a year."

"The one who's managed to disappear on several occasions?"

"Yes, yes, the very one. Some of the Finders stationed in the city think they spotted him working at a circus."

"Well, that would explain how he's been moving around so quickly . . ." Komui mused thoughtfully. "Lenalee, would you be willing to go have a look for this illusive accommodator? Perhaps you can shed some light onto this rumor." When it looked she was going to refuse he added pointedly, "No one would think twice if an Exorcist were to be seen at a circus if they were out there for an investigation, wouldn't you agree?"

It took her second to decipher his meaning before she nodded, silently relieved. She hoped none of these rumors turned out to be true, that this supposed accommodator that several Finders had spent doggedly searching for him turned out to be nothing.

Because the last thing she wanted to do was bring another person to this never ending nightmare.


A/N: Thank you Leone Brion, XX-The Barmy Otaku-XX, and Midnight Phantasma for reviewing and all those who favorited/followed!

Kind of surprised I was able to crank this one out so fast while being busy with summer classes and distracted by Pokémon Go. There's parts of this chapter that I feel are weaker than others in terms of writing, but overall I'm happy with how it turned out.

I'll try to have the next chapter out in one or two weeks for now. Tune in for Allen's debut!