Molding Iron, Tearing Silk

If there was anything Yuu Kanda Karma had learned from her late da, it was to be the hammer that molded the iron and not the other way around. Or at the very least be the anvil that supported the rest of the load when it counted. In her mind, Director Frederick Aloysius Leverrier was both hammer and the slag matter that would not yield to the smelter no matter how hot the fire roared. So she had mused in every encounter since meeting the Black Order's humorless commander-in-chief.

"A ballerina," he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

Yuu raised an eyebrow of her own and met his gaze with a level stare. "I see nothing wrong with it, sir. Koslov was a thief before we found him, wasn't he, Mal?"

In the matching upholstered chair next to hers, her friend sat with his arms crossed, one forefinger tapping against his elbow in a nonstop rhythm that set her teeth on a knife's edge. "Right. And Olympia was a prostitute. Nima was a madman in a mental asylum. Still is, just without the mental asylum. It takes all sorts, Father."

From the look on the director's face, Yuu could tell he placed a ballet dancer on the same level of 'society's vermin' as a prostitute. The same probably went for women who chose to wear trousers instead of skirts, regardless of profession. Or maybe just for women in general. She would've loved to broach the topic with the man, "Are all women whores in your opinion, sir?" But it had been an overlong night and sleep was decidedly a much better pastime as opposed to picking fights she didn't intend on winning. Another useful bit of advice from dear old Da: know when it was time to set the hammer down and go the fuck to bed. Uncrossing her long legs and unraveling her knitted fingers, she rose to her feet. "Are we done here? You have our reports and I for one haven't slept all night."

Frederick Leverrier gave a noncommittal grunt and waved her away. "Fine. But bear in mind, Karma, that I'll be sending both you and Arminius on assignment to Egypt posthaste."

"I look forward to his lectures with joy," she said dryly. As she made her way to the door, she heard the familiar step of Malcolm trailing after her.

"That wasn't so bad," he said once they were out of earshot.

"You only say that cause I was there," she retorted and cast a despairing look at her ruined dress. She wasn't normally one for finery and pretty clothes, but it had been lovely to go out and spend a night in the city, to go to the theatre, to set aside the black coat…just to not worry about the fate of the world and the Earl and the akuma for once. She sighed and contemplated asking Malcolm to help her with the buttons on the back of her dress, then wondered what was the point. It couldn't be mended, so what did a few more rips matter? Yuu grasped the neckline and pulled until she heard the tearing of silk or taffeta or whatever that nice seamstress had said it was. She heard her friend make a sound next her, a sort of startled bark of protest before his logic caught up with him. The bodice tore right down the middle and with a mild curse, she shoved the tattered garment passed her hips and stepped out of it in nothing but her largely intact chemise, corset and torn stockings. Oh, and Lottie's necklace.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Malcolm said as she undid the string of pearls from around her neck. "You know Father hates it."

Yuu absently handed him the pearls and scooped up the puddle of fabric on the floor.

"What happened to your boots?"

She'd given them to Casales. After their party had missed the last train heading in the Order's direction, they had elected to hire out a carriage to get them home on account of the new exorcist. By then, the girl had recovered something of her vitality and could walk on her own, but after seeing her ballet shoes were unsuitable for anything other than their intended purpose, not to mention a size or two too big on Casales' small feet, Yuu had given up her footwear for her sake. She'd already had an awful night, and now she was being whisked away to a new future full of warfare and uncertainty. And she was a parasite-type accommodator on top of it. "Do you think she'll be all right?"

Malcolm didn't have to ask her who she meant. "We'll help her. I mean, some apostles came to us under worse circumstances, and they turned out all right."

"Right." She gave him a rueful smile. "We were having such a good night."

He nodded. "Shame that. I wonder why it waited until the end of the ballet to strike. The akuma, I mean."

"It was a Level II," Yuu said thoughtfully. "Those ones have a personality, or whatever passes for one in those things. Maybe it had a flare for the theatrical."

"Don't we all to some degree?"

At the end of the hall, Yuu pulled open a hatch to a rubbish chute that led down to the incinerator and shoved the dress's mortal remains through it. "Well, I'm going to bed and you should too. Apparently, I'm bound for Egypt tomorrow." Just as she was about to duck down the corridor that led to her room, a thought occurred to her and she looked back. "Malcolm."

"Yeah, Karma?"

"The new exorcist." She smiled. "Warn her, please, about Hevlaska before she's brought down to meet her."

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Author's Notes: D. Gray Man is owned by Katsura Hoshino.