They give Allen a couple of days to settle in, and he makes use of this time as best he can. He wanders through the halls, acquainting himself with the layout of the rooms and the feel of the building. Komui has still told him nothing more than he did that first day, leaving him in his room at the end of it, telling him he has free reign and then disappearing, and Allen hasn't been able to find him since. He suspects it must be some kind of ploy to get him attached to the place before telling him what will most likely make him want to leave. He wonders if the supervisor always has such convoluted ideas.

The cafeteria he takes to especially kindly, and the head chef seems to feel much the same about him. He becomes familiar with Jerry within the first day, and he loves it, able to prattle off any list of foods he feels like and they'll have it made to high standard. He doesn't let it get out of hand, out of fear he'd feel like he's taking advantage of the resources, but it's definitely a welcome change to having to work just for low-grade food, so he enjoys it while he can. It is in this cafeteria that Lenalee finds him one morning, bringing her breakfast over to sit across from him just as he's finishing up. "Hi Allen," she says as she sits down, and he pauses, looks up at her.

"Oh, Lenalee!" He beams at her, covering his mouth as he swallows his mouthful. "Good morning."

She smiles back at him, getting stuck into her breakfast. "Have you been settling in okay?"

He thinks about how to answer that around another mouthful, tapping the end of his fork against his chin. "Well, I guess so. I mean, I didn't exactly want to be 'settling in', but everyone here is really nice, and it's an alright place, so I'm not really complaining, you know? I'm just... wondering what I'm still doing here."

She frowns a little, confused. "Komui hasn't come to talk to you yet?" she asks, and when he shakes his head, she seems somehow unsurprised. "Well, that's just like him, I suppose. I wish he wouldn't forget about important things like this. It's a good thing I know what his plans were for you."

"His plans for me?" Allen asks, setting his fork down on the now bare plate.

"We can't just have you milling around, Allen, that's pretty pointless. Oh! What did Hevlaska tell you?"

He thinks back, remembering the strange encounter he'd had with the woman who apparently lives in the basement. "Nothing I didn't already know," he replies, crossing his arms and leaning them on the table, "Though I still don't really understand this whole 'prophecy' thing. What exactly is Hevlaska, anyway?"

"People call her the Eyes of God. She has prophetic dreams, like when she saw you, and she knows a lot more than any of us. She seems really strange, but she's still human, believe it or not. She's one of the Apostles."

"Huh. How many Apostles are there, exactly?" he asks, genuinely curious. He'd never heard of them before, but suddenly there seems to be quite a few.

She thinks about it, swirling her drink around. "Including Hevlaska and the five Marshals, there are nineteen of us. Twenty, actually, now that we've found you." Oh. Allen thought there would have been a lot more than that, but he supposes that being people 'chosen by God', there probably wouldn't be too many. "Come on," she then says, finishing her drink and standing up. "We should go find Kanda."

"Kanda?" he repeats, a distasteful frown nearly breaking his mask. "Why?"

"Because he's going to train you," she replies brightly, and he tries to imagine what exactly that entails as they walk, heading up towards the training floor. "He's usually in one of the practice rooms, or the meditation room on the ground floor. I hope he's here, otherwise he'll be impossible to find."

Allen is silent as she leads him down the hallways of a floor he only remembers passing through briefly, during the time she had shown him around when he first got here. She pauses outside of one of the rooms in what seems to be a practised motion, raising her hand to knock, then pausing, deciding instead to simply open it. Her face lights up, and she briefly turns to Allen, placing a finger to her lips to tell him to be quiet as she steps aside, holding the door open and gesturing for him to look. He dubiously steps forward, peering in to find a large, open room, wide patterned windows filling the room with light, mats covering the entirety of the floor. It is in this room that Kanda stands, bare-foot and bare-chested aside from tightly wound bandages around the upper half of his torso, practising what appears to be kata, moving his sword in careful, precise motions. Allen feels like he has just witnessed something he wasn't supposed to, so he steps back, looking at Lenalee, who gives him a very obtuse wink before glancing back inside. "I wonder how long it will take him to-"

She cuts off with a startled yelp as a sword suddenly embeds itself in the wood of the doorframe, wobbling from the impact. Allen takes a moment to remind himself to breathe, and Lenalee places a hand on his shoulder as she breaks down into a fit of giggles. "What are you doing?" Kanda asks flatly, entirely unimpressed with the display, arm still outstretched from the throw."

"Oh my God," Lenalee breathes, wiping at her eyes as she stands up straight again. "Allen, I'm so sorry, but you should have seen your face." Allen tries to think of what he possibly could have done to deserve this treatment, while Kanda simply frowns, walking over in long strides to pull his sword from halfway inside the wall as Lenalee composes herself. "Oh, man. Okay, believe it or not, we are here for a reason. Allen here needs to be trained, and you're the lucky guy who gets to do it. Congratulations!"

Kanda scoffs, flicking his sword to free it of any lingering splinters before he swings it up to rest the top side on his shoulder. Allen tries very hard not to notice the sheen of sweat on his bare skin. "Why do I have to train the runt?" he demands, flicking said runt a disdainful look.

"Because, Kanda," she says, placing a hand on her hip and giving him a very pointed look, "I have to go out on a mission soon, and you're the only other one here right now. Besides, you two are already acquainted; it should make things easier. I trust it won't be a problem?" She stares him down (up, really, he's a good head taller than her) for a moment longer, and then he eventually breaks, turning away and grumbling something under his breath. She beams. "Good. You can begin as soon as you're both ready. Good luck, Allen!"

He can't help looking mortified as she gives him a grin, turning to walk back down the hall with a bounce that gives him the impression she did this on purpose, and then his eyes move back to Kanda, who is still tracking her down the hall. "Well, isn't this just dandy," he bites, giving Allen a pointed look that he feels he really doesn't deserve. Kanda sighs, grabbing the sheath for his sword from where it sat against the wall just inside the door and sliding the blade back into it. "You better hope this is worth my time, kid. Be at the gate in fifteen minutes," he says forcefully, and then he steps past, closing the door behind him before he strides off down the hall. Allen gets the sinking feeling that this is going to be a very long day.

He later finds himself wandering the streets of the small town near the Order with Kanda, for no really discernible reason. Kanda has said nothing since they left the Order, and, already knowing better than to challenge him, Allen mostly keeps quiet, observing the streets around them as they walk. It is only when they reach the edge of town that he begins to feel that he should be asking questions, but he continues to follow until the town is barely visible over the crest of the hill they had just come down. Kanda abruptly stops, casts a cursory glance around the vast green area around them, then promptly sits down, cross-legged in the grass.

It is now that Allen breaks, frowning down at him. "What are we doing out here?" he finally asks, wondering if Kanda is actually taking this 'training' seriously.

"Waiting," is all he says, and something hot sparks in Allen's chest.

"Waiting for what?"

"For you to be struck by lightning," he mutters, and Allen huffs, moving to sit down next to him. "For demons, you dumbass."

He freezes. "Wait, what?"

Kanda looks at him as though he had just said the sky was green, and he wonders how it's even physically possible to carry that much condescension in just one look. "We're here for training, not a field trip. We're going to sit here until the demons that you have so stupidly led here catch up, and then you're going to kill them."

Allen struggles to find the words to convey how much he really really hates this idea, staring agape at Kanda until his mind actually catches up with him. "Why?" he demands, suddenly furious at the method Kanda has chosen to take.

"It's like talking to a wall," Kanda mumbles, moving a hand up to rub at his eyes, the bridge of his nose. "If you're training to fight demons, then the best way to learn is to fight the bloody demons. They're probably only class one anyway, it'll be like fish in a fucking barrel. Don't tell me you've never actually killed one?"

"Of course I have," he bites back, his right hand absently moving to rest over his left. He's been fighting them for more than five years now; he'd have died if he didn't kill any, either by the demons hands or his master's. He grimaces at the thought. "I have," he repeats, "But... Is this really what I'd need to do as an Apostle? Fight them all the time?"

"We've been over this. We are the only things stopping them from destroying the world; nothing but our power can kill them. Not like I care, but if you have a job to do, then you better damn well do it." He senses a sort of bitterness in Kanda's voice, hidden beneath the snappy tone he uses. He remembers the look on his face when he asked how someone became an Apostle, and wonders again what happened to Kanda to get him dragged into this life. The way he talks about it, there's no way he entered it willingly.

He loses track of just how long they sit there, the wind picking up gently around them as he lapses into thought, mapping out the things he's learned in his head. As it is, he's had no real direction, working constantly just to get by and having to watch for the demons on top of that. If he joined the Order, he would have a real place to come back to, a support network and a source of income, and all he would really need to do is immerse himself in something he hates doing. He can stand it, if he has to. It's what Cross had, presumably, trained him for. He wonders if his wayward master knew that someone would come looking for him, if that's why he told Allen to go back to Britain. If he's part of the Order, he doubts it was merely coincidence. Cross always had a way of knowing things.

He snaps back to proper mindfulness as his eye throbs, his vision blurring and wavering out of focus before resettling, a pale grey haze in his left field of view. He knows the sensation all too well. "They're here," he says, rising to his feet. Kanda knows to save questions for later, rising to his feet and drawing his sword with the gentle ring of steel in his ears. The air feels too still, too tense, the two of them frantically searching every direction for signs of them, but there is only wide green hills, vast and empty. Allen catches a glimpse of movement to his left, recognising the roiling dark clouds that have haunted him for so long. "Beneath us."

There's a moment of pause, the shadows tunnelling around beneath them, and then they burst upwards, the two of them jumping out of the way as dirt sprays upwards, five of them spiralling up from the ground to rush towards them. Kanda runs his fingers along the length of his sword, the steel glowing pale blue in their wake, and then he leaps forward to meet them. Allen's hand itches in response to their presence, and this time he lets it go; he feels his flesh tear and morph, stretching out and hardening into sharp, white claws. He blocks one of the demons that had been heading towards him, grasping it in his hand and crushing it. The demon is still weak, barely able to hold a solid form, and it crumbles easily between his fingers. He hates every time he has to look at them, the dark clouds holding themselves in condensed forms, hazy tendrils flicking around the edges, misshapen faces gnashing their teeth as they charge. It doesn't take long to dispatch them, Kanda deftly slicing through them as Allen tears them apart.

"As I thought," Kanda says afterwards, water spilling from his fingers as he flicks them over the corpse of one of the demons, watching it disintegrate as though it had been acid sprayed upon it. "Small fry." Allen deactivates his arm and watches, eyes heavy with continence as the bond between the demon's forms disintegrates alongside its physical counterpart. A small smile forms itself on his face as the dark shadow of the soul pushes away, pieces of it falling apart and melting into nothing as it rises, a smile finally breaking its misshapen face before it is gone completely. His attention is brought back when Kanda nudges him in the hip with the sheath for his sword, and he meets the glare he's receiving with narked curiosity. "I was talking to you," he bites, sliding his sword back into its sheath, and Allen realises he'd tuned him out. "What the hell are you doing, spacing out like that?"

Even Apostles can't see them, he supposes. He looks back down at where the demon had once been, nothing but a dead patch of grass to show it ever existed. "Do you ever feel bad for killing them?" he finds himself asking, flexing his hand. It always feels stiff after use, no matter how much he exercises it.

Kanda blinks, unsure what to think at first, but then he narrows his eyes, the corner of his mouth turning down in distaste. "Why would I?" he snaps back, beginning to head back to the town. Allen falls into step beside him. "They're demons, their sole purpose is to ruin lives. If you feel bad killing something like that, then I'm surprised you were even chosen as one of us."

"It's not that," he replies, trying to find the words he needs. "I mean, they weren't always demons, you know."

Kanda shoots him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, they were human once. They still have souls, warped as they are."

Kanda stops dead, and Allen pauses, surprised, turning to look back at him. His knuckles are white around the grip of his sword. "They what?" he growls, and Allen fears he has said something wrong. He isn't sure how to answer, without blatantly repeating himself, so he just stares. Kanda finds the words on his own, his blue eyes sharp towards Allen's. "What do you mean they were human? How do you know?"

He's suddenly nervous, beginning to regret ever asking. "Demons are born from the souls of the dead and grieving," he explains, remembering the explanation he had received all those years ago. "They're made when a soul is called back from the dead and possesses the body of the one who called them. The human souls are still attached, they just get bound to the demon and warped as it grows."

Kanda doesn't move. He's so still that Allen isn't even sure he's breathing, staring unwaveringly at Allen. A long silence passes, the wind whispering in the grass around them, and then he finally speaks. "What. The fuck."

Allen tries his best not to fidget under his gaze. "Did... Did you not know that?"

"No!" he yells, suddenly the angriest Allen has yet seen him. "No, I did not fucking know that. How do you even know that, what kind of crazy fucking hell-monger are you? They should have known better when they found out you were cursed to the pits of fucking hell and back than to bring you here, you are sick."

He is long since used to being called out on his curse, but hearing it now, from someone who has also fought the demons, it stings a little more than usual. He focuses on the confusion instead, trying to wrap his head around why Kanda would be so surprised by the fact; if Cross had known they were human, why wouldn't Kanda? Was it on a need-to-know basis, for those of higher importance? Surely they would have told the Apostles what they were actually up against if they knew. "I thought the Order of all people would have known," he says, keeping his appearance unfazed by Kanda's outburst.

"We're going to see the supervisor," he barks, stepping back into motion at twice the pace. Allen is lucky he's used to keeping pace with someone much taller than him, walking beside him as they head back up the hill. He's tempted to say more, to try and explain himself, but he doesn't have the words, and Kanda's demeanour does not invite it, so he stays silent until he is next asked to speak, nothing more shared between during the trip through town and the canal back to the Order.

Kanda spares no bystanders on his charge up to the supervisor's office, and Allen finds that it's a good thing most of the people that work here seem to already know to move out of his way. He doesn't even knock on the heavy double doors, opting instead to push them open hard enough that they slam on their hinges and halfway close behind them as they walk in. "I need Komui," he barks at the startled staff around them, half of which had dropped whatever papers they had been holding. One man points to the desk, the least phased by Kanda's attitude, and Allen watches with mortification as he grabs whoever was hiding behind the large stacks of paper on the surface of the desk by the shirt, hoisting them up with a few gasps and murmurs from the people around them. "Did you know he was batshit?" he grinds out, his teeth grit.

Komui acts as though this is a regular occurrence, reaching up to readjust his glasses. "Kanda, you're going to have to be a little more elaborate than that," he says easily, patting Kanda's hands a little.

"He's cursed, you moron! What the hell were you thinking?" Understanding fills most of the faces around them, and a few pairs of eyes snap to Allen, suspicion growing in their gazes. He holds back a sigh; he can't have just one place that doesn't think he's an agent of Satan.

Komui furrows his brow in confusion, glancing over at Allen dubiously. "I don't think he's that cursed," he states, which surprises Allen a little.

It only helps to infuriate Kanda even further. He turns a little to push Komui back against the bookshelves behind him, and Allen swears he actually hears him growl. He feels like now is a good time to intervene; he closes the gap in a few quick steps, grabbing one of Kanda's wrists and holding it tightly. "I think it's time to let him go," he tells him, smiling in what he hopes Kanda will recognise as passive-aggresively.

His glare shifts to Allen, sharp and bold. "Let go of me," he growls, putting as much malice into the tone as he can muster.

"Not until you put down the supervisor," Allen chirps, tightening his hold. He can feel the muscles in Kanda's hand shift around his grip, his gaze unwavering, and then Kanda finally lets go, Komui dropping to the floor and managing to stay upright.

"Fine," he spits, tearing his arm out of Allen's grasp as he turns. "Don't you dare talk to me again, or I will kill you." While Allen tries to figure out if he's serious (the answer seems to be a disappointing and ominous 'yes'), he storms back out, the doors still mostly open from when they had entered.

"Wow," Komui says, dusting off his clothes. "I've never seen anyone actually get him to do something like that with that kind of force. To be fair, you pissed him off more than most people manage to, but still, kudos." Allen returns his attention to the supervisor, who readjusts his hat and then fixes Allen with a curious gaze. "So what's all this about?"

He is suddenly lost for words, unsure of how exactly go about this. "Um, I may have said some things to him that seem to have upset him a little."

"You don't say. What's this about your curse?"

"Oh, that. It, um." He pauses, biting his lip a little as he thinks. "How much do you know about the demons?"

He perks up a little, not having expected the question, putting a knuckle thoughtfully against his chin. "Well, I'd like to say we know a fair bit, but there's still a lot we're missing. Why, do you want more information on them?"

He shakes his head. "Maybe another time. Do you know how they're born?"

There are a few murmurs around the room, and he notices Komui stiffen. "Pardon?" he says, and Allen tenses. There's a long pause before he moves to sit down at his desk, one of his assistants placing papers on his desk but staying there to listen. "I'm... afraid we don't, if I'm honest. All we know is that they are somehow related to death, so we've been assuming that they're souls raised from Hell, considering their motives and such."

"You're close," Allen tells him, and he looks up from his thoughts to the younger boy before him, wary but interested in the information. "They're souls of the recently departed, called back by a person who grieves for them, with the help of an intermediary."

"An intermediary?" he repeats, the wariness steadily leaving his features.

He nods. "I'm not exactly positive, but... I'm pretty sure it's a man, whoever is in charge of the demons."

"The earl!" Komui cries, bumping his fist into his palm. "Reever, take notes of all this." The man who had paused by the desk immediately pulls a diary from his breast pocket, a pen soon following, and begins to jot things down in it. "Allen, pardon me for asking this, but how do you know all this?"

He sucks in a breath, trying to keep the memories out of his mind, pushing back that gloomy day in the graveyard. His mind flashes over parts of it, bits and pieces. His hand twitches at his side. "I can see them," he says, not meeting Komui's eyes. "The souls of the demons. The curse allows me to sense them, and to see the souls attached to them."

"It's all beginning to make sense," he mutters, tapping a finger against the surface of the desk. "How exactly did you receive this curse, if I may ask?"

He grits his teeth. He'd known they were bound to ask that question eventually, but he is still reluctant to answer it, to bring up what he has been trying to lay to rest for so many years. They need to know, though, or he'll never gain whatever trust they might hold for him. "I nearly birthed a demon," he says eventually, quietly so that only he, Komui and his assistant can hear it. "Just after my father died, I was approached by a man who told me I could call him back, and I did, but it wasn't... It was only half a demon, still raw, made from his soul." He touches a hand absently to the scar on his face, brushes his fingers over the subtle ridge of it. "That was when I found out I could kill them. Whatever is in my arm activated, nearly killed him in one shot before he could possess me. I'm not sure why, but that was when he laid his curse on me. I've always been able to see the souls after that." Even his, he thinks, remembering the first time he saw one of the deformed remnants of humanity.

There's a long silence that follows his confession, pregnant with endless responses either of them could be making, hanging thick in the air. Then Komui stands, placing his hands firmly on Allen's shoulders, and the younger man freezes, uncomfortable under the gaze set hard on his eyes. "Allen, I want you to know that you can be safe here," he says quietly, his voice forceful but gentle. Allen stays frozen under his hands. "Yes, we send you out to fight demons, which is extremely dangerous, I know, but this is a home. The Order is a place Apostles can come back to, can call their own, can feel safe and welcome in and support each other. I want you to be safe."

Stay safe, Allen. The words ring in his head, reminiscent of what he'd been told so many years ago. This seems to be what Cross wanted him to do, and while he generally ignores everything that man wants on principle, he gets the feeling that this is important, maybe even to Cross himself. Maybe, like his master has told him, this is how he could do penance for what he did to his father.

Would Mana approve? Had he, in seeing the power Allen harboured, given the curse with purpose? Allen has promised him, so many times, that he would keep going, but until now he had never known exactly where he would go. He thinks about Kanda, the haunted look in his eyes when Allen asked how he'd ended up here, the hatred he seems to harbour for it, and wonders if he is making the right choice, but then he remembers Lenalee, bright and vibrant and treating everybody as though they have always been close friends. Komui, treating him (very eccentrically) like a friend, wishing for his wellbeing amidst this mess. Jerry, chatting vibrantly with him while he cooks. The kind smiles he received from some of the grounds team members he passed in the halls.

"Alright," he sighs, more to himself than to them. Komui blinks, stepping back. Allen takes a moment to steel himself before he meets his eyes. This is what I need to do, he tells himself. "I'd like to join the Order."

They all beam, and he feels like this is the right choice.