Raenyx: Kanda's seal is different because it can be reapplied as many times as needed, and can also be used in normal humans. The older version could only be applied in artificial disciples, and only once. That's it. Yes, it fights against diseases, though if they are too bad Kanda will stay down for a while. But it also is consumed as any seal would be and because of that he has to be careful and not depend on it too much. Plus Allen and Kanda don't have, by any means, the knowledge Zu Mei Chan had, so they are unable to reapply the seal even if they discover that possibility exists.

Synthetic Soldiers

12 – Special boy

Since the failed breakdown in the Eastern Fortress, the Black Order has changed its security protocols and wishes to build an external wall around every city. The citizens would stay inside the internal wall and, between the two, there should only be military. Though this plan would take many years to come to fruition, orders have been sent for caravans with workers and material to travel to almost every European city classified as of top priority. The Vatican conference also mentioned the possibility of applying blood tests on travelers instead of merely checking their documents. More information will come as soon as possible. -4

Allen sighed, seeing his plans for the next weeks crumble before his eyes. He turned towards his exorcist and occasional messenger man.

"Is it bad?" asked Lavi, who had been watching him this whole time.

"Read it then dispose of it," said Allen, giving Lavi the letter, "have you seen any unusual activity when you travelled to the Vatican?"

"Yeah, there seemed to be a lot of hubbub among the civilians. The worker class, mostly. Seems like they are preparing for a long travel." He quickly read the message. "Oh. Now it makes sense."

"I knew that Akuma attack in the East would affect us," lamented the white haired exorcist. "If what Komui says is true, even the mostly unused roads will be filled with people and their Order escorts. This is so terrible."

"Um, does this mean what I think it means?"

"Yes. Please tell everyone their tasks are cancelled until further notice. And it is time to reduce food intake again."

Lavi nodded and was going to leave, but then he stopped in uncertainty. "Um, Allen. What about Lena?"

" Oh. Of course. Please tell Lenalee to come."

The redhead's smile was blinding. "Thanks! Hey, don't stress out. At least not about the blood test part. The Order has new advances in technology but, to be able to start mass testing in each city's gate... man, I bet the war will be over before they manage that. It's impossible, seriously."

Allen raised his head. "Is that so? Well, that is a relief. Are you quite sure?"

"Yup. I mean, they may manage to start it in the greater cities, but that's it. Plus, it will slow people's entrance drastically and keep more of their personnel occupied. It will work for us one way or the other. Who tries to invade through the civilian lines, anyway?"

"Kanda."

"Oh. Well, don't get white hairs from overthinking it, alright? Bye."

Allen rolled his eyes at the lame joke, but let him go. There was some truth in Lavi's words. They would just find new ways to exploit the system. Still, with loads of carriages and exorcist personnel filling the continent's pathways, there was no way he would send anyone in a mission. If he could, that is.

As predicted, Lenalee appeared before him in less than a minute. Her eagerness had been so great she had actually activated her Innocence in order to reach him faster, Allen noticed in amusement, watching as the glowing boots returned to their basic form.

"Allen! Hi! Um, is that true? Brother..."

"Letter for you," said Allen with a smile, delivering the other piece of paper, this one destined to Lenalee. She quickly snatched it from his hands and started reading right in front of him. It was a scene he was used to: first, a quick read, then a slower one, as if to enjoy and feel every word, as her eyes filled with tears she didn't try to hold back. They spilled as she read the paper for the third time.

"T-thanks, Allen... it's been a while since I've received something from him..."

"I wish we could communicate with him more frequently," he said honestly, passing her a handkerchief.

The Chinese girl dried her tears, before thanking him and hiding the letter in a pocket. And when she also pocketed the embroidered piece of fabric, too, he said nothing.

"Komui says... Komui thanks you for caring for me, Allen. As always," she said with a calmer tone.

Allen knew what Komui had written. He always read it all before handing the letters to Lenalee. He would, of course, never tell her that. "Caring for you? Is this the environment he envisioned for his younger sister?" he asked instead.

Lenalee frowned. "We are very thankful for it Allen! The walls are safe for civilians, but they are a torture for exorcists. I'm glad to be out here with you. With you all," she corrected hastily, blushing and staring at her black shoes.

"Alright," said Allen, bothered by the subject. "Has Lavi warned you about the food shortage?"

"Um... no... we do have plenty of food."

"We will be saving from now on, as there will be no new expeditions for a while."

Lenalee's lips pursed, knowing such rest wasn't necessarily good news. "I see. Well, lunch is already done..."

The white haired boy got up and brushed his trousers clean. "Well, let us enjoy our last fulfilling meal for the next weeks, then," he said, expecting her to blanch, but she only nodded.

"I brought lots of dango from my last expedition," she said with a mischievous smile.

Allen smiled pleasantly. "Those expire fast. We better eat it all," he said, and they walked together towards the encampment.

÷±‡±±‡±÷

The next days had been, for Allen, mostly about hurriedly gathering intelligence in order to discover what he should do next. Lavi was quickly sent to meet with his precious contact, the actual Bookman, in order to discover which cities would be the most vulnerable during this whole ordeal. Allen sent Crowley with him, as the two shared good team dynamics, despite their bickering. Crowley also needed to consume Akuma blood with a certain frequency, and Allen wasn't sure they would manage to get their hands in enough monsters as they hid in this cold forest. So Lavi and Crowley were out. The other exorcists, however, Allen kept close to himself.

Not that they stayed motionless. They always trained, even when unburdened by tasks and Akuma. Dedication to stay alive forced them to.

He saw Yuu leaving his own tent. As the Japanese man marched towards him, Reed tried to engage him in conversation, but Yuu just shoved him away, leaving the now angry archer behind.

Allen merely raised an eyebrow. "You know, I tell them this meditation of yours is anger management therapy. Can you try not to botch the story, please?"

"I swear that every time the rabbit is gone, someone tries to fill his role instead," grumbled Yuu once they were close enough.

With a chuckle, Allen slapped the back of his head – immediately avoiding the resulting punch Yuu sent his way in retaliation – before they both marched towards Allen's tent.

"So... report your progress," said Allen jokingly, nibbling in a protein bar and wincing at the horrible taste.

That seemed to lighten the samurai's mood. It always did, lately. "It's getting better. The memories are still just short images of scenery, but they stay for longer and I'm getting more sensory perceptions, such as hearing things or feeling them. As if I'm truly there, instead of just watching something in my mind."

"That is wonderful-"

"There is this enormous temple – it is in a nice place filled with nature where I can see people walking freely from my window, and there are no walls to be seen. But it is not the outside, not considering how happy and carefree the people seem to be. The building is a light gold... no, I'd say a cream color. Tending to yellow. And inside of it..."

Allen watched as his friend eagerly told him recollection after recollection. Few days after his piece of advice, Yuu had managed to see more than the usual flowery lake, and he only got more and more each time. Thanks to their stop, the Japanese man had much more time to work on his past than he would when the group was more active, and meditating became as important to him as training or doing his duties for the group. Yuu had yet to piece enough to be able to tell a whole story, but Allen knew it was merely a matter of time.

With a small smile as Yuu told him more and more, Allen let his mind wander towards thoughts that had been filling his head lately.

The end of the war.

Visualizing it was pleasurable: the Earl and his family, forever gone. The Order, destroyed. Walls falling apart as people from both the inside and outside reunited once more.

What would they do? Most of the people in his group were insiders with career plans, before they were discovered and had to chose between working for the Order or fleeing. He knew Lavi would just succeed the Bookman. Lenalee didn't talk about dreams, just about being with her brother and everyone else, and he wondered what the older Lee sibling would do once the war was over. Have his own laboratory? Work with science, or just grab the money reward destined for those who fought for the winning side and spend the rest of his life happily procrastinating, as Lenalee often said he would?

Reed had a group of friends he wanted to return to. Laboun only spoke about a few family members, but he didn't seem very hopeful they were alive. Crowley, their oldest member, had a family manor and properties inside a city, which he left before they could even discover he was an exorcist. Would everything be whole and waiting for him? What about Miranda? She said being an exorcist was the only thing she could do right, but he doubted this was her only talent.

And what about Yuu, thought he, staring with warmth at the man who now spoke about a bright wheat field and a happy woman. Yuu... he was so much like Allen. He had no memories of being anything but an exorcist, and thus didn't entertain thoughts about what he would do once this task of theirs was done.

He would recover his past, though. What had Yuu been before being an exorcist? What would he do afterwards? He chuckled imagining Yuu dressed as a cook, or a policeman, or even a businessman, shouting orders, scaring subordinates and growling at office niceties-

"What are you laughing about?" asked the object of his thoughts, seeming amused by Allen's daydream.

"Don't ever become a businessman. It is unfair of you to scare people into signing contracts," said Allen, answering with the first thing that came to mind.

Yuu blinked. "Huh… alright."

Allen repressed a laugh. "I'm thinking about what we are going to do after we win the war," he explained.

The other Apostle raised an eyebrow. "I suggest we kill the Earl and destroy the whole Order before you even entertain the thought," said him skeptically.

"Oh, come on," said Allen, crossing his arms. "Have you never thought about what you are going to do besides being an exorcist?"

"No." Ouch. That frankness.

"Why not? It is nice to have something to look forward to."

Yuu shrugged. "What do you want to do, then?"

That question surprised Allen, and he blinked. He hadn't expected Yuu to ask that but, then again, he should have. It was sort of obvious, considering the turn the conversation had taken.

Noticing the shorter boy's reluctance, Yuu snorted. "Of course you would whine about the importance of planning the future while you haven't even spared a thought about it, yourself."

"I have," Allen defended himself. "Only for the others, though."

"Stop minding other people's business and think about your own. What are you going to do? Open a restaurant? Start a family?" Yuu asked mockingly.

"Hey, what's so funny about me starting a family?" Allen asked, offended. "And a restaurant... well, I'd better not. I would eat the business away."

"What made you start thinking about this all, anyway?"

Allen blinked. That's right... he was acting as if thinking about the future was the most normal thing in the world, but he had never truly done that, had he? He never spared the future outside of the war a thought, as if it would never exist for him.

And then it clicked, and the numerous possibilities appeared before him.

"I..." said he hesitantly, but he felt this was an important, life changing declaration, so he said it more firmly. "I am going to survive after we win the war, Yuu."

There, he said it.

Yuu didn't seem to find it as relevant as Allen did, however. "Of course you are," said the man simply, and Allen was surprised with the certainty he expressed. As if no other outcome was possible.

"I... see."

They stared at each other somberly, before Yuu got up. "Che. I'll talk to Reed. He wants a spar, he will have one, since he wants to substitute my eyepatched punching bag so very much."

Allen quietly observed the other's retreat. It was a relief, in the end, that Yuu wouldn't want to discuss about this.

Had Yuu really understood the truth – that the white haired exorcist had never expected to survive the war?

In his mind, he accepted no defeat, but no surviving, either. He always imagined that, with the last strike to his enemy, he would also perish. And that was why he gave himself whole to the cause, and why its end always seemed so bittersweet. Why he always unsealed more and more memories, despite the fact that they had been eating him alive.

But he had stopped, hadn't he?

Ever since Yuu started looking for his past, Allen had created excuses not to do the same. Usually they would be about guarding Yuu, or helping him through the process, or even random things such as reading a report or tracing a plan. Every night, at that time where he should be dwelling on Allen Walker, he would find something else to do, instead.

It had been weeks already and today, for the first time, he had thought about his future, not as a leader, not as an exorcist, but as Allen.

Alone inside his tent, he started pacing in circles. Perhaps there was a way to win, even without being Allen Walker, he thought. Why go through the memories that, day after day, were making him grow insane? Why feed the monster that grew in the back of his mind?

Maybe... maybe he could stop doing it. Maybe he would. It had been too long, and he had learned a lot, so maybe it was time for him to say goodbye to that past life that never felt like his own, and suppress all that unpleasantness that came with it. Yes, he would do that, Allen decided. Living would be much easier without that other side of his trying to take over. He could already feel its grasp on him weakening, whispers becoming more and more silent, as Allen's mind became his own once more.

A sharp pain ran up his right arm. Allen winced and stared down at it in surprise.

His right hand was clenched in an incredibly tight fist and the muscles on his arm were shuddering in spasms, as blood from his palm trickled in a steady flow through his fingers and tainted the fabric covered ground.

÷±‡±±‡±÷

Allen would be found unconscious hours later, with a bloody, broken hand, but no other visible injuries.

÷±‡±±‡±÷

1758

Akuma – Japanese word for demon, fiend, evil spirit. They seem to fuel their lives by killing humans.

Walled cities – sanctuaries that provide protection against Akuma. Only humans are allowed to enter.

Humans – the world's dominating species. They seem to fuel their lives by killing other humans.

So, contemplated the young boy, what was the point of the walls?

There were Akuma outside and inside, too.

÷±‡±±‡±÷

Water poured strongly over the carriage, some drops making their way through the cracked wood and dropping over its somber occupants. This was the oldest carriage in the whole line. That didn't seem like a problem, until that terrible storm started raging above them. Shoving his blanket to a corner lest it became wet, Allen gazed despondingly at the much newer, stronger, comfortable carriages that ran by their sides and in front of them. Some were filled with Exorcists, and others by people better off financially than them.

Cosimo seemed to notice the boy's discomfort. "At least you aren't a horse, boy," growled the ugly clown, though Allen knew the man was as bitter as he was about their means of transportation, or perhaps even more. Cosimo always thought he deserved better than what he had, and seemed very cross at having to share this carriage with Allen and the other low tier circus performers.

This time, however, the hateful man had said a truth. For the life of him, he didn't know how the horses could keep going. Actually, yes, the passengers had gotten a better deal than the poor animals. Not that Allen was unused to animal abuse, but it was still something bothersome to look at.

The circus Allen worked at didn't travel too frequently. Though it had been successful lately, the group didn't hold enough importance to be able to request the church's escorting like the richer merchants could. Because of that, they had to wait until a sizable group decided to leave the city, so they could enlist themselves among the ensemble and make their way to the next town.

"Make yourself useful boy," growled Cosimo, interrupting the redhead's thoughts. "Train some malabarism."

Allen stared at the clown in disbelief. "That's impossible! This carriage is bumpin' every ten seconds!"

"Shut up! A worthy performer can do it anywhere, you brat!"

Allen had a rude answer at the tip of his tongue, but opted to keep it to himself. Though the boy wasn't above saying exactly what he thought to anyone who bothered him no matter their age, the prospect of getting beaten during the travel didn't hold any appeal to the seven years old. And he knew quite well the other occupants would merely watch.

So, to his great consternation, the boy started juggling. He was good at it, but the conditions they were in didn't help. In the end, he couldn't keep the clubs in the air for more than ten seconds before they fell painfully over his head and the cold, wet floorboards below him.

"Stupid! I don't know why the ringmaster keeps you," disdained the man hatefully for what had to be the thousandth time ever since Allen joined the troupe. Yet again Allen fantasized about putting an end to the man's life. Perhaps a little nick to the rope Cosimo walked?

A commotion interrupted his useless training. The clubs fell once more but, this time, Allen did nothing to retrieve them. Instead, he looked through the window to the outside. Where he once saw only the Exorcists' carriages and empty horizon were now about a dozen people or so who ran in their direction, ruined clothes and dirty bodies pelted by rain and wind.

They screamed something and ran, ignored, until one woman threw a stone at one expensive looking carriage. It shattered the window, and likely hurt someone inside.

A loud, piercing whistle was heard, and the carriages slowed motion. They never stopped, but the speed reduced to what would be equivalent to a person's walk. From the beautiful carriage two men jumped, tall and menacing in their black and red uniforms.

A flash of light could be seen, and then he felt a strange pulse, before large weapons appeared in the exorcists' hands. His eyes widened in surprise.

They couldn't really be meaning to...

The woman who had thrown the stone was slashed by a large scythe. Her body fell in a large pool of red that quickly dissolved under the strong water pour.

"Keep out! Move away from the carriages!" screamed one of the exorcists, swinging his own weapon threateningly.

"We aren't Akuma!" screamed a man who carried a small child in his arms. The others soon followed his example, exclaiming the same thing again and again.

"This is the last warning! Move away from the carriages!"

Allen was frozen, unable to look away from the scene, though it was somehow hard to see due to the other carriages, horses and the persistent rainstorm. The people screamed things he could not understand, and then attacked the exorcists.

Are they crazy? They have no weapons! Thought Allen in dark fascination, before the exorcists attacked more people. Eventually, two or three men seemed to run away, giving up on reaching them. Or reaching the carriages, such as the one Allen was in, now. The exorcists returned to their place, closing the carriage's door behind them and sounding the whistle once more. The horses ran, quickly picking up the previous speed.

Allen shivered.

He eventually stared at the others. They didn't seem as surprised as he was. Allen was the only one there who had never seen those people – the so called outsiders, or exiles. Before his first travel with the circus, one of the female acrobats, who was somewhat nicer to him than the others, explained they could be attacked by Akuma any time.

"They are monsters that pretend to be people", the teenaged brunette had said, "And that is why the exorcists watch over us, to protect us from them, you hear? That's why you can never travel alone."

Allen had had a morbid curiosity that made him wish, even if just a little, to see a real Akuma. As long as the exorcists did their job and killed it later, of course.

The carriage shook violently, and Allen almost jumped out of his own skin. Grasping the window there were two dirty and wounded hands, holding to it desperately. The boy ran towards the other side of the carriage so fast he almost fell through the opposite exit.

"L-let me enter! Please, plea-"

The young man, whose pained face Allen had only managed to see for about two seconds, let out a scream as a blade sliced through him. Warm drops of blood splattered the red headed boy, who stared at the now empty window with unblinking eyes.

An exorcist now frowned down at him, from the place the male exile had been seconds ago. His Innocence was slick with the lad's blood.

"Sorry for that, kid," said the exorcist dispassionately, before turning jumping back to the carriage adorned with a cross.

Allen trembled in the opposite corner, not minding the steady trickle of rain that hit his head.

"That is why the Exorcists watch over us, to protect us from them."

From them? Why?

They were only people.

Cosimo and the others didn't seem as surprised as he was but, for the rest of the trip, no one told him to juggle again.

÷±‡±±‡±÷

1761

Ten years old Allen Walker couldn't point out when exactly it started.

He learned to study other people's behavior so early in his life he couldn't remember exactly when. It was a defense mechanism: to analyze other people's habits, voices, mannerisms. To learn about what happened to them and to observe any changes, in order to predict their future behavior and act accordingly.

This way, he knew when someone was pleased with him or not, and whether it would be possible to make a request. Thanks to it, he also knew when that acrobat had decided to give up on her own life, and the idea of stopping her had crossed his mind, until he realized he couldn't make her life better afterwards and that it was none of his business, anyway, so he let it happen.

It made him know when Cosimo was planning to beat him up and he fled and hid accordingly, though he didn't always manage to. No matter how perceptive, a child was a child, and wouldn't be able to always fool their adult counterparts.

So it was natural that he would become adept at reading Mana, the one he cared for the most, and the one Allen would observe and try to understand not out of fear, but out of love.

That's why he knew something unpleasant was going to happen. It was a certainty that bothered his mind, yet he hoped whatever shadow loomed over them would go away without leaving consequences. Mana was always so warm, so loving, so protecting, so... him. It wasn't natural to see that darkness in his eyes, that confusion in his step.

Yes, the middle aged man had always been a little unhinged. Sometimes he said nonsensical jokes and laughed too loud. Sometimes, he spoke to himself, or would become immerse in something that happened in his past and would not answer Allen for minutes or hours.

But this was too much. Whatever was the strangeness that Mana carried with him and just made him an eccentric clown, it had grown to greater proportions and made Allen worried. Mumbles to himself wouldn't be pensive or distracted, but tormented. Nights wouldn't be slept well, and Allen now cared for him in his sleep, instead of the contrary that had been the usual in the last years. And more than that, the usually carefree man who was always untroubled to the point it was dangerous now carried a paranoid air, staring with fear towards every corner and every shadow, as if seeing an enemy invisible to anyone but himself.

Naturally, this troubled his ten years old charge.

Terribly.

÷±‡±±‡±÷

But he hadn't predicted this.

"What are you saying?" asked Allen in a voice so terribly calm he couldn't believe it was coming from him. "Are you tired of living together?"

The man's face distorted into a terrible frown, and Allen tensed for the painful truth, heart beating uncontrollably fast. Mana glared at Allen with hardened, cruel, strange eyes that didn't belong in his face.

And then after a blink, his whole countenance sagged, as if that anger had been artificial and he now was letting it escape from his body; Allen let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, as he watched his guardian – his father! – look a little more like his old self.

"Allen," said Mana with that soft, loving voice Allen was so used to, the redhead expected him to say this all had been a distasteful joke. "Allen, I should say I am tired. I should say I don't want to be a clown anymore, or travel in poverty. I should say you were a pastime, a substitute to my pet and something to be thrown away after a while, but..." his shoulders drooped even lower under his heavy old coat. "But... you don't deserve this. I don't want to leave you in pain. Or at least, I should leave you with as little pain as I can..."

"You shouldn't leave me!" shouted Allen, the solution clearly obvious. Mana had just admitted his hurtful words had been a pretense the whole time; why would he leave, then, if he loved Allen so?

And he loved Allen. The boy knew it as clearly as the sky was blue and the sun was bright. It was just a fact, unquestionable.

"I have no choice," said Mana softly, and the boy knew he wasn't lying, not really, but...

Allen sobbed. "I won't let you-" he started, but Mana brought a finger to the boy's lips, silencing his protests, strangely enough. He wanted to scream, to fight, but it was as if he was immersed in a forced trance. He could feel himself battling to react once more, while, outwardly, he merely watched his father with a pained but controlled countenance.

"This world is too dangerous," continued Mana. "I wish just leaving you would be enough, but I know it will not be. The Akuma-"

"-are outside," the little boy managed to whisper.

"Not always... not always. And they aren't the only demons, aren't they, Allen?" asked Mana, his dark eyes once more filled with fear, staring at every darkened alley, every shadowed corner something could hide in. "The Akuma are outside, but the monsters are everywhere."

Allen trembled in response to his guardian's warning. He didn't look like an unhinged person. No, now he sounded like someone old and wise, whose advice should be heeded. Like every word out of his mouth was the irrefutable truth.

"Then let us stay together," pleaded Allen. "You said it is dangerous, so why are you going to leave me by myself? Isn't that much worse?" he asked, feeling much smaller than he had felt in years. As small as he had felt in the circus, and in the times before it.

Those loving hands of his father embraced him, circling him and treading through his hair, very much like always. Allen closed his eyes and savored this moment, wanting to remember it forever.

"He is after me," he heard Mana whisper in his ear. "They are. All of them. We must separate, because I am not strong enough. Do you understand?"

Allen didn't. If his father was in danger... "if they want to hurt you, then I'll stay with you! I won't leave you! You think I will feel better? And who are they?" he demanded, gripping Mana's coat.

Father shook his head. "I can't expose you to this. I'm sorry, Allen. Just... just survive. And don't attract too much attention."

The redheaded boy felt his father releasing him. The cold air of December invaded his body, and he shuddered terribly, staring up at the figure of the much taller man.

"I apologize deeply. Goodbye, Allen," he said with a bitter smile.

That did it.

He snapped.

"You aren't going away!" shouted Allen.

Mana ignored him, and turned away, marching firmly towards... somewhere.

Allen knew this city. He knew each turn, each corner, every street.

But, somehow, he knew that if he lost sight of Mana now, he would never see him again.

"I said..." whispered Allen in a mix of fear, anger and love, "I said YOU AREN'T GOING AWAY!"

Unthinkingly, he ran towards Mana and grabbed the man's hand with his deformed left arm, using unnatural strength he would otherwise hold back so as not to hurt the other clown. He should have expected a snap of bones, and perhaps a pained scream.

What he got, instead, was a face so livid it made him immediately release his hold, and golden eyes – golden eyes? – staring at him with such a pure hatred Allen was sure he was going to be killed by his own father, right there.

It all happened in the matter of seconds – he released his father, but didn't get away in time. Mana's hand slapped his face, with such strength he was thrown meters away, colliding with a close wall and a few trashcans. His back felt wounded and his legs were pained against the icy ground. He raised tear filled eyes towards his aggressor, who approached with slow but unyielding steps and, suddenly, Allen didn't want him to come close, anymore. This was all he had wanted ever since this nightmare started, for Mana to come back and stay with him. But as the man came closer and closer with that fearsome expression, that threatening countenance and those bizarre eyes, Allen wanted more than ever to flee.

When Mana finally reached Allen's sprawled form, he removed his glove. The man's hand was burnt exactly where Allen had grabbed him, one ugly wound that looked like an infection.

"I see," murmured Mana with a voice that didn't belong to him at all. "You aren't so defenseless, after all. I should have known," he said, staring at Allen's arm as if it was a weapon.

The boy shivered, one tear sliding down from his left eye and caressing his cheek. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered, half truth and half fear.

"So am I," said Mana, hiding the wound once more, and kneeling before Allen, golden eyes insisting on remaining that way. "This almost makes it certain that we will cross paths again though I hope, for your sake, that we do not," he continued, before removing the glove from his right, unharmed hand and raising it to Allen's face.

It was colored a sickly, unnatural grey.

"What are you?" whispered Allen in fear because in this world, a person who displayed unnatural physical changes was never a good sign.

"I am your father," answered Mana with ease and, just like that, Allen believed.

Then Mana's hand, thumb poised over his temple right above his left eye, pressed, pressed painfully, and Allen gasped, but he simply couldn't move.

The boy whimpered as he felt that thumb dig on his forehead, yet he couldn't react. Piercing pain invaded his skull and he breathed in gasps as the blinding agony took him.

"This is my last gift to you. It is not pleasant, but it will help you stay alive, and that is what I want the most," said Mana calmly, even as his thumb traced a line of fire over his left eye, and then his cheek, spreading warm liquid that had to be blood. "Don't stop, Allen. Keep walking. And don't attract attention. Not from the Order, not from the people, and not from Akuma, if you can help it. Most of all, don't attract attention from the Mi-"

Mana's words were cut short, and he retrieved his hand, now using both to hide his face. The right one wasn't stained with Allen's blood, as the boy had expected, but with a strange dark liquid that resembled black ink. Mana trembled as he got up on shaky legs.

"I can't even mention his name, for God's sake," he rasped, and then laughed at something Allen couldn't understand. "Don't look for me, son. You won't find me, no matter what happens. And no matter what you do, don't trust this face."

Allen didn't get up from his place. He didn't move towards his father, made no movement as the man retreated further and further down the eerie alleyway, filled with snow and dirt.

"I love you. You made this short time worth it. I love you more than anything," affirmed Mana with certainty, as if begging him to believe and remember, even as he disappeared for the last time. "But don't trust this face."

÷±‡±±‡±÷

1771

Allen did everything Mana asked him not to, but not on purpose. He had tried to be inconspicuous, but it seemed as if the moment Mana disappeared, an invisible veil that hid Allen from the world's notice did the same. It only took a few months for him to be noticed by the people who warned the Order, then by the Akuma and, years later, by the legendary Millennium Earl.

At the very least, he said to himself in consolation, he didn't stop. He kept walking.

Or so he thought, until he was killed by the very Mana Walker who raised him.

No matter what you do, don't trust this face.

But really, how could he not drop his guard before the face of his beloved father?

I love you more than anything. But don't trust this face.

Allen wept as he breathed his last, torn apart by the sword of the Noah.

I'm sorry, father. I didn't keep a single promise.

Twenty years old Allen Walker was an exorcist of the Black Order and suspected of associating with the fourteenth Noah, when he was murdered by the Millennium Earl. He was reborn in a cold birthing pit of the second exorcist project.

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