Thanks so much to everyone for the reviews.

Freefan1412: You nailed it. Allen felt this danger when he synchronized with his Innocence in the lab, and some strong clues were the title of chapter eight and some parts of it, I think. Of course, with the weak update schedule of this story, I can hardly expect everyone to remember, haha.

As for your question, Allen was his child self back then, only using his past self's knowledge to his favor (back then, he could do so without being taken over). And Allen knew only two kinds of names, the names of the people living in the laboratory, including himself and Kanda, and the names from his past. One would expect Allen to accidentally call himself by his past name but, the thing is, his past name was Allen too, and he was trying to hide that. So he thought of the second name that was most present in his life, the one he most thought of, Nea, even if he didn't know what it meant.

Karina001: Kanda will probably learn of it all in a very unpleasant way. It will be in the next chapter, too, as the mystery can't really drag for much longer.

Darke13: Yes, that scene will be interesting to write!

Militares Sintéticos

Capítulo 14 – Caindo aos pedaços

·÷±‡±±‡±÷·

The information about Walker had leaked, and the science department intern's eyes glowed with excitement. "I'm surprised at the Order's advancing technology. Floating platforms, advanced potions, almost sentient machinery… and now they froze this guy's brain for fifty years!"

A weak smile and a raised eyebrow was the answer he got from the neuroscientist. "No brain lasts preserved for that long, you know, no matter how advanced the technology may be."

·÷±‡±±‡±÷·

The forest was humid and slightly cold, the leaf covered ground soft beneath his feet. There were sounds of insects, animals and the occasional wind, but it was absent of any human noise, and that was a relief.

He honestly couldn't stand the oppressive air of the encampment.

It had been too much. To faint all of a sudden, to wake up to a sloppy explanation and demands, and then to have everyone circling him and wanting to know things even he couldn't explain… he had wanted to get away from everyone, needed it. Just to find his place in this whole mess, and to figure things out.

But how would thinking help, when his own mind was unreliable?

He didn't stop his progress, his running and jumping, even considering how uncomfortable he felt, because he needed some sort of anchor. Just dwelling on whatever was happening inside his head would surely make him insane, if that hadn't already occurred.

"Tell me what happened, now."

Back then, Allen had ignored Yuu's question, but he could try to answer it here, by himself. Try to remember and understand what had happened just before he fell – the mystery the whole group wanted out of him. He had… he had been thinking. Always thinking, but about what? He'd been so angry…

No. Allen hadn't felt angry, not at all. He'd been happy, so happy. He had decided he would try to survive this war. No, more than that, he had decided he definitely would, and it had been so liberating. He had chosen to stop looking at the memories of his past –

Ah, that was when that hate started, right? That was when that great anger he couldn't recognize as his own invaded his heart, and his hand hurt in a way his fragile seal had failed to heal completely, the weak but persistent pain an uncomfortable reminder that everything definitely wasn't well.

Something had been enraged at his refusal to continue observing the memories that had been directing him through the years… and that was only more proof that Allen was right, that they were dangerous.

But what could that something be? He was just Allen. Why would another entity be present in his mind?

He was afraid of being taken over by his past…

Self?

"Aren't we the same?" he asked weakly, the defeated admission of the problem leaving his lips and being absorbed by the greenery, and no answer came.

He laughed without humor, before continuing his anxious tread. The treetops above him were a thick, effective leafy ceiling, that forbade any but the smallest hints of light to come from the sky. Here and there, however, he could see a few clearings as he travelled. He shied from them, always preferring the comfort of the shadows.

Allen had grown to appreciate the dark and the cold. It was not that he had become gloomy – he certainly could enjoy a bright day after months of winter or forced seclusion from the outside. But though the sun was beautiful, he couldn't tolerate the strong rays for too long. It had much to do with his journey away from the laboratory. He had always expected the beautiful sky of a warm day to greet him, but instead only got to walk the path he still called the Death Road in his mind, the burning sunlight punishing his body and making the semi buried white bones gleam brightly in front of him.

·÷±‡±±‡±÷·

Kanda followed Allen from a certain distance, not wanting to be caught. It admittedly wasn't his first plan: his initial purpose had been to confront the boy as soon as they were far enough from the encampment, considering he had imagined Allen's reluctance to open up had been because of the possibility of others hearing about whatever problem he had.

Kanda wasn't an idiot. His initial impression that Allen had found a trusted group of close friends, or even family as he had once called them, had been dissipated with time and observation. Allen would turn into a new person whenever in someone else's presence. Subjects would be quickly changed or dropped, and this behavior that he had at first believed only applied to their shared story in Japan actually was repeated over everything, even small matters such as hopes or feelings about a particular situation. An expressed worry about the oncoming group mission would immediately change to strong optimism when someone other than Kanda asked, and any sort of pain or discomfort would be instantly hidden by a carefully prepared act.

It wasn't about great secrets only. He was like that about everything, and he trusted no one.

The Japanese never truly questioned the boy after the realization became clear. He had no right to, he didn't know these people as well as Allen did, and he could hear Allen's cynic tone when Kanda had called the other exorcists Allen's family. It bothered him to a point, to know Allen had been without anyone he truly trusted for all of those years, but Kanda also couldn't see himself ever becoming as close to the others as he was with his fellow Apostle and so, in order not to be a hypocrite, he remained silent. It was just another small trouble about Allen Kanda kept to himself.

Now Kanda tagged Allen with difficulty, careful not to have any noise denounce his presence. He should easily solve the whole affair by calling the boy and forcing him to stop and explain himself, but he couldn't. Because yesterday Allen had been found unconscious and with a strange wound, but there was no way anything could have gotten inside his well watched tent. It was at the heart of the encampment, and Laboun swore he had never left his post. Even if the man had lied, and Kanda had no reason to think that, anyone powerful enough to take Allen down would have caused enough of a commotion to get attention from the others. Even considering the minuscule possibility of the existence of an hostile trespasser capable of invading the encampment and fighting Allen without raising any sort of alarm, why in the world would he or she leave the boy with only a broken hand as a warning?

Only Allen could have those answers, but now he ran in strange patterns, speed changing here and there and tracing unexplainable paths. Kanda also thought he heard the white haired exorcist speak something at least once, though he was too far away to be able to swear it. Basically, whatever suspicions he had about the other's mental health weren't exactly being assuaged, and he thought there was a chance he would actually get more information by secretly observing than from a direct confrontation.

Guilt gnawed at him, but he brushed it away in annoyance, as he watched Allen hold his head yet once more before making a nonsensical curve that didn't seem to take them anywhere. Even if he didn't get his answers today, he would at the very least make sure Allen didn't wander off the continent, or whatever the insane plan inside that white head of his was.

·÷±‡±±‡±÷·

He couldn't say it with absolute certainty but, if pressed, Allen would say it all started when he reached a small river in his path. It had been by then that he noticed he hadn't been truly paying attention to the way he had been walking and that, though he had been honest when saying he would be back before nightfall, it would be impossible to do so if he continued wandering in such an irresponsible way. Berating himself, he turned back, trying to regain clarity and decide which path to take in order to return, but something in his peripheral vision just shifted and he halted.

A small fire appeared in front of him in the same way people and objects would in the laboratory, illusionary trees growing straight from the cold floors years ago. Allen observed as the area around the fire became darker, as if shrouded by night, even though it was midday. Someone sat in a tree trunk that seemed to be conveniently placed there, cooking a fish. Allen tried to see the features but, as expected, that made the curtains of the memory fall.

The experience wasn't distressing or surprising; Allen had been used to it for years, though by now he should be able to decide the time when they should appear, and Allen had learned to restrain the occurrences so they would only happen inside his closed eyelids. This newfound lack of control was a warning, and he wondered what he should do from then on. The scene didn't seem to have been pulled from something that happened in another place. Instead, it seemed to fit this riverbank, as if he had truly been here once, decades ago, living what he just saw.

That brought him some trepidation. What should he do? Allen wanted to do the responsible thing and return to the others in the encampment, but he also wanted to follow this first clue and search for others. For the life of him, he couldn't understand whether this feeling came from himself or… something else, but the idea of abandoning this place and going back seemed unappealing. What would he do, returning to his tent only to undoubtedly remain tormented by whatever ailed him?

Wouldn't it be better to try and go to the bottom of this? He would never be able to work properly if he had frequent bouts of mental and physical disease.

With that assumption he justified his decision and continued his path, easily jumping over the river to the other side. His erratic walking had stopped, becoming more of a sure travel as he felt a distinct safety in making his way within a place he felt he knew by some means, and a deep satisfaction rose from his core, as if to reward him for his good behavior. He tried not to let the implications of that worry him.

·÷±‡±±‡±÷·

Protect Allen, that's what he had told himself, but he couldn't do even this damn thing.

Whatever Allen had been looking for with his senseless meandering, the boy seemed to have found it in some river so far away from the camp Kanda started wondering whether he had lied when he said he had planned to come back soon. Uncertainty seemed to vanish from Allen's features as he stayed immobile by the river, before he jumped over it with speed and a certainty of direction. Alarmed, Kanda had followed. And in his internal debate of whether he should confront Allen or not, he allowed the whole situation to go to hell.

This was fucked up, beyond proportions.

It had been all of a sudden. In one moment, Kanda had thought they were both shielded by the thick and annoyingly wet forest and its noisy animals and, in the other, he saw the wall. He brusquely stopped his pace and hid behind one tall tree, heart hammering with the danger ahead. It had been the almost impenetrable treetops, the natural growth that allowed little view and also his own wandering thoughts that put him in a situation where he only noticed he was close to the Order once he almost hit his face against its goddamned border.

Allen, meanwhile, disappeared inside in a feat he was absolutely sure he wouldn't be able to imitate.

His mentally confused, sick friend was now wandering inside of their worst enemy's fortress, and Kanda wanted to beat himself dead.

·÷±‡±±‡±÷·

Whatever guided Allen to the city, it seemed to stop clouding his mind as soon as he was close to it.

He made his way, circling the wall. It wasn't completely watched due to its enormous expanse, and he hoped that, should he be spotted, he would merely be mistaken as a harmless outsider looking for help. He traced the concrete, hot because of the sun, with the tips of his fingers, wondering whether he would get a clue or a shot to the head first. This wall, as many others, told stories of fights, attempted invasions and attacks that all ended in the Order's victory, and he examined the signs of conflict, both new and old.

Where the wall met the ground there was some thick foliage, sometimes taller than him. He saw himself, only taller and red haired, fall to his knees in a certain area and move away a few blocks. Following the instruction, he found it – a place where the heavy concrete chunks were loose and could be moved and later replaced. It didn't look like it had been used recently, fortunately, or he would have worried about the city's safety.

"Is this what you have to show me?" he asked, before deciding to follow through. He was already willing to take risks, plus it would be very hard to go back the way he came without raising an alarm.

Having made sure to pick his bag with basic necessities before, he quickly donned his wig and applied the make up over the left side of his face as he had learned. The bandaged face trick had grown old and was now a telltale of his identity for those who knew him, so he had to hide his scar in such a way instead. Only a very close look would denounce the tattoo-like blemish on his face, and hopefully it wouldn't come to that. After cleaning his boots and clothes from any clues about his travel in the forest, he waited for the ideal moment to merge with the citizens.

Now for all appearances a veritable brunet, Allen walked the market, face apparently untarnished. Thick gloves would seem inappropriate in the hot day, so he opted for an improvised sling to cover his arm, instead.

At the very least, he was doing something useful to the others. Even if this endeavor proved itself useless, he could bring back the encampment much needed provisions. Allen walked through markets with the apparent ease of someone who was in their right place. He didn't spend time haggling with vendors lest that made his face memorable, but was also by no means hiding, as he had always understood that would only complicate matters.

He could recognize some things here, though the remembrances were weak. That was likely because it had been so long ago he had been here that the streets couldn't possibly look the same. What the boy was absolutely sure of was that he had never set foot on this place as his newly born self.

After spending some coins in a new pair of shoes one of the exorcists was sorely needing in the group, he also bought a pack of unhealthy salty chips. Munching his way to the bottom, he frowned when he realized the circular freebie wasn't a limited edition. There would be no addition to Laboun's collection this time, then.

Deciding he had done enough and that there was nothing of importance to see around here, and also knowing he would be spotted should he walk the streets too late at night, he returned to the same way he had come from, hoping to accomplish a swift escape. If he could just disappear without raising suspicions, Allen could even return some time, and instruct the others as to how to enter undetected.

Walking towards the entrance when he thought no one was looking, Allen felt a sense of insecurity and quickly hid behind a small house's fence. To his surprise and alarm, Black Order personnel walked in the same path he came through. Worried about his path having been found, it took him a while to confirm they didn't actually get to see the gap in the wall. They walked past it without paying it any attention, hidden as it was, but seemed alert nonetheless.

"-called everyone from the central-"

"-can't believe it, a rogue exorcist! I hope he gets caught. We could do with more manpower."

Allen couldn't believe it – he'd been spotted. But if so, why had he been allowed to calmly shop around? When the Order suspected an invasion, everyone was ordered to stop their business and return to their houses, and an extensive search would ensue. In addition, Allen had been quite sure he hadn't made any mistake while entering, but it was obvious now that he wasn't going to leave any time soon – at least, not through the same way.

He kept watching for as long as he could remain undetected, but it didn't look like they were going to leave that section of the wall. Knowing he couldn't be seen wandering the streets after the mandatory curfew started, he started thinking of another route of escape or, at the very least, a place to hide in while he waited for his previous path to be clear.

He circled the city nervously, always making sure not to wander too close to the walls and watch posts. Providentially, he eventually found a large spread of what looked like a small forest of sorts.

It seemed like this was one of those cities whose large expanses also covered a place for nature, and that was unanticipated, as unpopulated but protected lands would always be used for agriculture, farming and other productive activities. He felt the same urge pushing him forwards, as foreign as always, and he wondered, sourly, whether he should truly obey it. It had been what put him in this unenviable position. Knowing he was effectively locked in the city as of now, however, and that the sparse woods were his only chance at hiding until morning, he warily walked towards them.

This place was clearly uncared for, so the city likely had to export their goods from somewhere else. He wondered why that would be so and, as he treaded through nature that was allowed to grow as wild as that of the outside, he observed remembrances of a streets filled by humbly dressed people and a few poor houses. The imagery this time was a weak, translucent veil that didn't substitute reality and he could see that, as of now, it had been so much time since the small wooden buildings had existed that he couldn't find vestiges of them.

It had already been the era of the fortresses, however, that he was sure of. Ignoring the information, Allen continued walking, hoping for some place that would be a little comfortable to rest in. He was by no means picky or unable to sleep in the open, but having some semblance of protection was always favorable, even if it was a small cave or the inside of a large, old tree.

He was almost deciding to simply sleep covered by the foliage only, when he spotted it. A different color in the middle of tree trunks, leaves and general vegetation. It caught his attention, and he strode towards it, making sure not to create much noise. A disturbance in the grove's pattern could mean a place that was already inhabited.

He didn't know what he had been looking for, but this wasn't it: in front of him was a large circus tent. It took a few seconds to recognize it for what it was; made of leathery fabric that was once filled with colorful stripes, the years had covered it with grime. Tree branches hit it from every side, growing through the old material and making it a miracle that the whole thing still stood upright.

It was a depressing sight, thought Allen. He was already so used to seeing things consumed by age, but not inside of the walled cities. This circus was clearly unnoticed and thus, had never been taken away.

Still, if he wanted somewhere to hide in, he had found it. Circled by soft earth that didn't display any sort of disturbance, it was clearly abandoned, and he would hardly find any place better than it. He felt compelled to enter. Without further ado, Allen pulled the tattered curtain to a side and went inside the ruined circus.

The interior wasn't as filled by darkness as he expected, as the moon shone above the roof, light streaming through the many holes and tears. It was possible to see most of the place, though the cold light and crumbling appearance of the objects let out an eerie feeling that left him, admittedly, a little unsettled.

He walked through the circular place, running a hand over the old fabric. Many objects and even some clothes littered the floor, most already half consumed by the earth. Some vegetation grew inside, such as grass, weeds and small flowers, though nothing more, perhaps due to the limited exposition to sunlight.

His hand stopped as he came close to a darkened area in the tent. Squinting in order to discern it, he managed to make out the old splatters that were scattered around.

Blood.

It was incredibly old, dark brown due to age and mixed with dust, but he still could easily recognize it. More than that, now that he paid attention, the dreadful stains could be seen everywhere – in the walls, the structure, some of the abandoned objects and even parts of the ground that hadn't been taken by wild plants. Actually, one of them could be seen in the ceiling. It was large up there in the dirty cloth, and then was dragged in a sick trail until the ground, as if someone very hurt had been thrown up there before falling to their demise.

Allen sighed in unhappiness. That explained a lot. This circus hadn't been abandoned – its workers had been left to die right here.

It was dreadful, and made him feel empty inside. And why was that so? Allen was used to the sight of ruin and death. It had been presented to him on his first day outside the laboratory, and never stopped ever since. So why was it that seeing the state of this circus made his heart clench and his strength slowly seep from him, drained by this atmosphere of abandonment and loss?

A circus…

A circus.

But of course. A circus, and Allen Walker. It wasn't that difficult to make the connection.

"Did you work here?" he whispered, and continued, undeterred by the silence, "are you sad your friends died?"

Memories of beatings, of pain, hunger and shouts from adults much taller than him filled his mind, as if to show a strong denial to the question. But then, as if escaping from a secret place, whispers of more pleasant recollections floated amidst them – a shared laugh with a couple of teenagers, a friendly young woman and a… clown… with a… dog…

The flow of memoirs cut itself abruptly, as if a window had been closed shut with a bang by an angry person. Allen steadied himself, unused to having the visions stopping in such a brusque manner.

He knew who they were, knew because of the visions from the last night, but the mere thought caused him physical pain and he knew better than to touch that subject, so he allowed the loving and at the same time disturbing older man disappear from his mind for now. That brought him some relief.

Still, he had entered in search of a place to rest, but this circus simply wouldn't do. The white haired exorcist felt the longer he stayed here, the weaker he would become. The idea of sleeping in this place went against his very instincts. Knowing it was irrational of him to act like this but also remembering he had managed to escape death many times by listening to his gut feelings, he started walking towards the exit once more, eager to distance himself from the unnerving stage.

His foot kicked something – something large, and he jumped. It was a ball, about half his size or perhaps a little more. It was clear it used to be pretty and colorful, though the bright colors now had a hard time trying to appear through the muddy brown. To his surprise, however, it seemed intact. Besides the dirt, it was as filled as it must have been many years ago. How could it still be in a good state?

Annoyed at his foolishness – he had been so out of his mind he had actually not seen a thing so large – Allen forgot his previous urge to leave and walked towards the ball that had bounced towards the very center of the old stage. For some reason, most of his trepidation had left. Now he felt some odd sensation. What was it? Ah, yes. As if he was being watched.

And though being observed by unknown entities at night in a bloodstained circus should have been absolutely nerve wracking, he felt strangely in place. As if this was how things should be. Forgetting any previous worries, death, his waiting comrades, Yuu, everything, he started picking the heavy clubs scattered around – one, two, three, four, until he lost the count. And then, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, he jumped over the ball, still holding the objects in his arms.

He swayed a little, before managing a comfortable balance, and threw the clubs to the air, before he started juggling then in an easy circle, while moving around in the ball.

And though his attention was in the objects he currently manipulated, he could now feel where the ones watching him stood. They were all there, in the numerous rows of chairs. The stands were almost invisible due to darkness, but it was normal. The light should be at the stage, and so it was; the moon shone now only over him, as every eye drew to his performance. It became more and more complicated, professional movements guided by innate knowledge that came with years of training. Always please the audience. Always please the-

The ball popped loudly as it gave under his weight, and Allen fell heavily in the floor. The many clubs that had been in the air now fell down, two hitting his head painfully. Allen gasped and massaged his throbbing scalp, and it was over.

It was like waking from a dream after being thrown in cold water. Not a sensation he was unused to, but this time it was just unexplainable. This wasn't a memory... or was it? He had been at this circus the whole time, yet he was so sure there were people in the stands. The public. Now, however, the rows were silent and empty, and he resisted the urge to check each and every chair.

Allen tried to ignore the fact that his movements had been basically controlled just a few moments ago.

He forced himself to get up. I need rest, and now. These days have been hard on me... on everyone. I should make good use of the hours I have to recover my energy... and, apparently, my lucidity.

So he set back to his previous task of trying to find a place somehow suited to sleep, though if he didn't manage to, he would merely drop over a patch of grass.

Knowing none of the visible objects would be useful, he started opening old wooden boxes while hoping not to find any rotten food, though even the spoiled remains should have turned to dust by now. And there it was, he finally found it: performer's clothes, with some holes here and there and also some mold, but there were also some old blankets. Crinkling his nose at the smell and not wishing to cover himself with it, he just started organizing the fabrics on the floor and trying to create a soft place to rest over.

Just as he picked the last old fabric he saw it – a flash of yellow at the very bottom of the box. A bright yellow, that called attention to itself amidst everything else that was so faded and old. Curious, Allen carefully touched it. It was a golden ball of sorts. Lifting it, he was surprised to see small wings and a tail unfold, resting softly over his palms. It was a strange creature – he could discern a closed mouth and tiny horns, but nothing else.

The cross etched over it, however, was enough to sober him up. This was a golem, even if it was the strangest one Allen had ever seen. He lifted it by a wing, and jumped when, as if electrified, the golem suddenly sprang to life. It flew away from his hand and floated around in an unsure way, clearly not having stretched its wings for a long time. With his heart beating loudly, Allen jumped and grabbed it with his darkened hand.

The golem seemed resilient and full of vitality, but could only struggle inside the unnaturally strong fingers. A golem was a bad signal. Who else had them, if not the Order? It could have been left here as a trap. Right now, it could be readying itself to send the images of Allen to the Order, and he would have an army at his heels.

Making his decision, he started clenching his fist. No matter the resistance of whatever material the bizarre golem had been made with, it couldn't withstand the strength of his holy weapon. Putting an end to it would be as easy as stepping on an egg and watching it break apart. As his fingers closed more and more, the thing squirmed, wings creaking under pressure and a tiny wail left its mouth as it was crushed.

Or at least, as Allen tried to crush it. The sight of the struggling little thing, for some reason, made his heart clench. Something, something wanted him to stop. Told him that he would regret breaking the golem apart. And though rationality dictated he should just finish it already and that the damn something was what had been tormenting him all along, Allen eventually relaxed his fingers, giving in to the foreign feelings. The golem shook a little, but eventually recovered, and Allen marveled at how it acted as if it was alive. Trying to shake the feeling of having almost squished a small animal to death, Allen sighed and looked at his poorly made, makeshift bed. This would have to do, and he had wasted enough time as it was. Laying over the moldy but soft bundle, he decided to leave any worries about creepy circuses and yellow golems for tomorrow. He closed his eyes, but made sure to trap the little creature inside his bag so it wouldn't flee while he slept.

·÷±‡±±‡±÷·

When he woke up, the sun was already halfway up the sky and the birds chirped loudly. He was startled – the plan was to wake up much earlier. More than that, as he got up, he noticed his body felt truly tired, as if he had spent the whole night awake and in movement, which was far from the truth.

It must be because of exerting his body after being sick, he concluded in annoyance, but one thing he noted was that his head felt surprisingly light and he felt more able to think properly. And with proper thinking also came the consequences of his actions, and the obvious fact that everyone must be worried sick – he was always one to follow through his schedules and promises, and Yuu– oh, Lord, Yuu. Forget the others, he'd have to go back to the encampment ready to dodge a lethal blade, that was for sure.

Knowing wasting more time would only make things worse, and also honestly not wanting to cause anyone any more problems, he rummaged through his things. Inside his backpack was also the little golem, that he had almost forgotten about. Its lax wings and tail and opened, drooling mouth showing it was asleep, and Allen watched it with fascination. He wondered whether there was blood running through the little thing's body, and felt very glad he hadn't smashed… killed? It yesterday.

Still, no matter how much it gave the impression of a tiny and bizarre little animal, it could still be a communication device, albeit a weird one. He didn't want to leave it here, but couldn't safely take it with him, either. Looking at some of the food wrapped in their shiny packages, he quickly removed all the layers of aluminum foil he could find and wrapped the now tied up golem in many layers of it, hoping that would keep it from transmitting any radio waves to anywhere.

Giving one last, disturbed look at the circus that also had a touch of melancholy – its crumbling appearance was only worsened by the strong sunshine – he turned away and carefully made his way to the fend. Noticing, with relief, that whatever commotion had made the guards alert had ended and no one was watching that particular spot, he managed to slip inside of the wall crack, close it again and run in immense speed from it and back to the forest as soon as the watcher turned her head to the other side.

He noticed, in apprehension, that a part of the forest's border had clearly been the setting of a fight. He could see the burning remains of damage clearly caused by Order weapons, and also slices in some trees and earth that were strangely familiar. Had Akuma inconveniently attacked the city just as he invaded it? That wouldn't explain why they were mentioning a rogue exorcist, though. Still, it wouldn't be wise to linger, and he hastily made his way back to the encampment.

He stared at the thick and undiscernible trees and then at the sky he could see in a particular opening in the middle of the leaves. The city is behind me, and the sun has risen from the… ah, east, and I sort of think I have seen that berry bush before, and the wind is sort of blowing to the… south? Southwest? Huh, and this means…

That meant he was lost.

·÷±‡±±‡±÷·

Find the river, find the river, he had been repeating mentally to himself, because it was the last reference point he could truly remember. So he just made sure to get away from the city, and it was with immense relief that, hours later, he eventually did find a river – but then he realized it could be a very extensive one, and he didn't know at which point of it he was.

"You," growled a voice he would usually recognize, if not for the utter animosity that it carried. Allen turned in surprise, Innocence activating without his command.

"Y-Yuu?"

It was the Japanese alright, in a place Allen never expected to find him – hell, in a place Allen hadn't expected to find even himself. The taller exorcist was an utter mess. His clothes were ripped apart, tattered fabrics displaying large wounds that oozed blood. The red liquid also seeped from a cut on his brow and had invaded one eye, and the hair that was usually kept in a tight ponytail was set free, wet and tangled. His whole figure was quite wet, both from water presumably from the river and the blood that persisted on escaping his body, and Mugen was unsheathed and ready in his right hand.

"Oh my God," exclaimed Allen, immediately forgetting his previous fear. "Yuu, what in the world happened to you?"

"What happened?" the other snarled, but Allen paid it no mind, immediately inspecting the damage. This was bad, not enough that it wouldn't be healed by the seal, but it was enough that it would take a while. If the wounds were like this now, he couldn't imagine what they looked like when Yuu fought, and he now could understand the splatters of blood and familiar slices in the battleground outside the city, his stomach churning with the painful realization.

"They hurt you," said Allen uselessly. "How could this happen?"

"I'll tell you how," said Yuu, slapping Allen's hands away. "You didn't come back, and then you went all happy and drooling and insane inside that bloody city and just wouldn't return! What the hell were you thin… no, no, don't you tell me. I know whatever you say will be a lie or misdirection!"

"I… I just wanted to gather provisions," said Allen, because though it hadn't been what he had planned, it was true. "Here, we won't have to eat the rations today," said he, opening his bag, but a strong pain that made him see stars interrupted his thoughts. He fell to the floor, his recently bought goods scattering through the ground.

"You didn't lie and risk both of our lives to buy us trinkets! Tell me you didn't!"

Allen didn't answer, instead trying to touch his now pained face, for a moment thinking he could have dislocated his jaw. It seemed to be in place, but it hurt greatly nonetheless and he was sure he had heard something crack. That wasn't his greater worry, though – it was the furious man towering over in his tall form, almost unrecognizable in anger that was usually never directed towards him.

"It's… food…"

Yuu grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, a few buttons ripping and scattering in the ground. Hitting Allen's back against a tree, the dark haired exorcist then ripped away the brown wig and, using a piece of rough and dirty fabric that had been falling from his jacket, started rubbing it roughly against Allen's face. It took him a while to realize Yuu was removing his makeup – and, with it, some of his skin.

In that moment, there was not a thought about his visions and the strange things that had been happening to him. There were only the two of them, Yuu's battered body and his own bloody face. Still being held by a hurt but surprisingly strong arm, he wondered whether the beating would continue, but honestly couldn't find the will to defend himself.

They stared at each other like that, labored breaths and incessant insect bickering the only noise that cut the silence, until Yuu finally let his shirt go, grabbing his pulse in a none too gentle grip instead.

"W-where are we going?" Allen gathered the courage to speak, as he was practically dragged towards the river.

"Back to the camp. Don't think I didn't see you dawdling and walking towards another direction. Back before night, my ass," growled he, unrelenting in his hauling.

"The food," said Allen weakly, wondering whether he should really.

Yuu growled. "Get it already!" Allen turned back to the scattered food, noticing that the wrapped golem fortunately hadn't moved, so he started putting the objects back in the backpack, not thinking mentioning he was carrying what was possibly a Order tracking device would do any good to the current state of affairs.

·÷±‡±±‡±÷·

Lavi and Crowley came back from their mission days later to find the encampment in such a bizarre state of affairs the pair's own tale about their travel paled in comparison.

He remembered noticing something was strange as soon as he entered the site. Though most exorcists tried to act normally, everyone seemed a bit strange, and he almost did a double take when he was greeted by Allen, who had a bloated face blemished by still healing bruises and a Kanda who seemed in a mood so fouler than usual even Lavi didn't feel bothering him would be terribly wise.

After reporting his findings, he quickly went to the others to get an explanation about what happened. And then he learnt about it all – Allen's 'disease', disappearance and return, together with Kanda, both looking battered and shabby and barely talking to each other, though the Japanese man seemed to be shadowing Allen relentlessly. It seemed Allen had decided to go on a walk and, all of a sudden, infiltrated a city nearby. It wasn't hard for the redheaded Bookman apprentice to connect the dots and understand what was truly happening to the boy, whereas others were only puzzled and quite worried.

It had started.

The moment he had been waiting for, the moment the old panda talked so much about and Lavi never truly believed. Yes, it had started, and he should be happy that this horrible stalemate in history was finally coming close to its end. Allen's actions meant one thing, and one thing only.

Lavi did his best to push away the discomfort he felt at the notion. He should be satisfied and ready to act when needed, so it wouldn't do to worry too much about… Allen. Things wouldn't bode well for the white haired pretender, but Lavi had always known that.

So he would watch those silver eyes from now on, until the moment they stopped belonging to their child leader. War killed good people and bad people, and there was nothing he could do about that.

·÷±‡±±‡±÷·