Hello everyone I'm back with yet another chapter of A Tale of Two Endlings! I hope you all have been keeping safe and sound over these rocky couple of weeks! With my time at Uni finally over for the semester I can start working on this story more, so look forward to that! I'm hoping you guys are enjoying this, as we're finally about to get into the actual plot of this bad boy. And so, without further delay, let's get to it!
P.S. Thanks to the people who left reviews! I'm really happy with how much support this little project has gotten! Again, I also want to apologize for how long this story is taking. I know that I kind of update on an infrequent basis, but I am determined to actually finish my stories. It's just that I'm smack dab in the middle of a complicated time in my life, so I haven't had as much time to write as I would want.
Disclaimer: I don't own -man or BNHA, all rights go to their respective owners.
Chapter 10: The Path of the Strong
Allen frowned as he lay still in his dorm room bed. The day of the culture festival was just over a week away, and, even though his classmates wouldn't allow him to help, he was starting to feel a bit stressed. "A school festival... I wonder what it'll be like?" he thought as he nervously squeezed his pillow. Since he grew up on the streets with Mana he never got the chance to actually attend such an event as a student. Granted, he wouldn't actually be participating this time. After all, nobody wanted him in their group in the first place. Which he didn't blame them for. He heard that U.A.'s culture festival was quite the popular event, and with how much press his class had been getting thanks to recent events, there was a good chance that the media would be there as well. "I can't afford to drag my classmates down," he thought as he bit his lip, "They may be shunning me, but all of them have their own hopes and dreams that they've worked their whole lives to achieve. I don't have the right to ruin that for them."
Still, even though he wouldn't be able to participate in the festival, that didn't mean that he was going to spend the next week twiddling his thumbs. Maybe it was a result of Mana's teachings, but he just couldn't let himself stop. "I've just got to keep moving forward," he thought as he looked up at his left hand. He decided a few days ago that he would spend the festival devoted to strengthening his body and innocence. However, that decision came with a whole slew of issues. Improving his physical condition was easy, he just had to add a few more activities to his daily workout, but his innocence was a different story. "The Crown Clown isn't a muscle," he thought, "So how do I strengthen it?" Technically speaking, the closest thing he had to a true friend at present was his innocence. But he had no idea how to deepen his bond with it. No matter how hard he thought, pondered, and schemed, he couldn't come up with an answer for this little dilemma.
"Hey, has anyone seen Ashido? We've got to practice our dancing!" Allen heard one of his classmates call out from the dorm's lobby. From what he could piece together, Class A was planning on throwing a huge party for their attraction. There would be lights, live music, and performers all working towards entertaining their fellow students. Honestly, it was an incredible idea, and one that he wished he could participate in.
"They certainly sound like they're having fun," he thought as he frustratingly pressed one of his fists into his forehead. He didn't want to admit it, but with the festival closed off to him, and with no feasible method to strengthen himself, he was currently at a standstill. "What I need is an advisor." There was only so much he could do by himself, after all. "But who could I even talk to about stuff like this?" Allen had so much he wanted to get off his chest, but there simply wasn't anyone he could trust at the moment. It may be hard to believe, but even though he was surrounded by heroes everyday, true comrades were in short supply. He mused over this thought for what seemed like hours until he finally gave up. "C'mon, Tim," he started as he turned to his dog, "Let's go on a walk." Immediately, the cute little beagle shot up out of its makeshift bed and happily barked. For a second, Allen found himself envying the animal for that. Its mood changed on the flip of a coin, and while that might sound bad at first, it was a trait that he was in dire need of. "It's certainly strange," Allen mumbled as he walked out of his dorm, "I think I was actually happier when I was serving as an exorcist." Back then, every new morning brought a slew of danger, death, and melancholy. Yet... somehow... he found himself longing for those bygone days.
After taking a moment to put on a happy mask, Allen walked out into the hall and quickly made his way to the front door. Every so often he'd pass by one of his classmates practicing for the upcoming festival. Again, none of them made any attempt to call out to him or ask him for his help, but that wasn't surprising. "They look like they're having fun," he thought as he stared at U.A.'s main building. His classmates were going about their day without a care in the world. Honestly, their peaceful visages were almost... disturbing... in a way. Since he had to rely on himself to survive for the majority of his life, Allen never believed that he'd ever be able to experience such bliss. When he was training to join the Black Order, he made it a rule to never let anyone get too close. He'd be kind, but in turn, he'd keep those who knew him at a comfortable distance. Back then, before he knew how to use his weapon, that was one of the few ways he was able to protect himself from akuma.
In some ways, one could almost call him a sheep that had lost his flock. He was determined to continue walking down his path, but for his efforts to mean something he couldn't afford to let his road get too windy. "Dammit," he thought as he unknowingly made his way to the campus' exit gate. With every step, Tim darted in between his legs, eager to snap its jaws around whatever unfortunate insect flew too close. "It isn't like I could just go to a typical advisor with my problems," Allen grimaced. Even if he did have someone he could trust with his issues, there was also the fact that, at the moment, he wasn't exactly the most popular person in Japan. He wouldn't be surprised if some advisors purposefully avoided him, and honestly, he didn't want to risk digging a deeper hole for himself. He needed a guiding hand, but he also had to stay anonymous to avoid souring his already-poor reputation. Such a complex query usually didn't have an answer, but, thanks in part to his past occupation, it didn't take the exorcist long to figure out where he should go for help. "That could work," he thought, "But is there even one nearby?" Japan was an eastern country, after all. There was a very good chance that he wouldn't be able to find what he was looking for in this city. However, even though his efforts might end up fruitless, Allen strove forward without a second thought. "It isn't like I have anything else to do today," the boy whispered as he walked through the exit gate, it was time for him to start moving forward.
A few hours later...
While Catholicism was the largest religion back in his day. In Japan, the force of the Roman Catholic Church was relatively minor. Only a select few vehemently practiced the belief in the country, and the number of physical churches was small, to say the least. That's why, when Allen Walker began his search for a sanctified chapel, he wasn't that confident he'd actually find one. However, luck was on his side that day, and it didn't take him long before he was staring at one such building. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised," he thought, "This is a major city, of course they'd have a church stuffed away somewhere."
The chapel he was currently in front of was a small hole in the wall hidden in one of the slum's alleyways. If he were describe it in just one word, he'd say it felt homely. "I can't remember the last time I attended mass," he thought as he led Tim to the front entrance. Cobwebs and dust covered the archway which hung over the door, and the wood's finish was starting to peel. After taking a moment to say a small prayer, Allen clapped his hands together and entered the building. The entrance swung open with an audible squeak, almost as if nobody had touched it for decades. Of course, that was a slight exaggeration, but one could almost say that about any part of this decrepit church. Some of the wooden flooring had noticeable water damage, and the ceiling leaked something awful. "Hello!" Allen called out into the main section of the chapel, "Is there anybody in here?!" His voice echoed throughout the rafters and hallways, almost like a wind chime, before his calls were answered.
"Oh," he heard a man say from one of the floors above him, "Is that a worshiper?" A few moments later, an old priest came rushing down a nearby flight of stairs. He was a rather large person, and seemed to be a bit out of shape, but he had this oddly soothing aura about him that just demanded a person's trust.
"A Catholic priest in the flesh... I can't believe I actually managed to find one in this city," Allen mumbled as a strange feeling of nostalgia washed over his entire being. Ever since he escaped from the Order, he couldn't risk getting close to a church, much less think about physically entering one. "Even after centuries of development and growth, places like this still feel the same," he thought as he found himself a seat in one of the empty booths.
"You are..." the priest started as he curiously scratched his chin, "Allen Walker, correct? The one who stopped that villain in the construction yard a few days ago?" The tone the priest used when asking this question wasn't one that Walker expected. Honestly, he half-believed that he'd be ushered out the door the second he stepped foot in the building, but, obviously, that wasn't the case.
"Uh... yeah... yeah I am," Allen mumbled as he awkwardly pressed his thumbs together. "I was wondering, Father, if you'd be willing to listen to my confession." The act of confession was a common practice that all followers of the faith were expected to actively participate in. However, he hadn't actually stepped in a booth in years. There was so much that he had to get off his chest. So much weight resting on his shoulders that he didn't know what to do with. "If you can't do it, or if my presence makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and I'll be on my way."
"This kid..." the priest thought, "What in the world happened to this child to make him sound so defeated?" Even though this church wasn't the most popular of places, he still had quite a few congregants that kept him busy from time to time. A few of those men and women were reformed villains, and many of them still couldn't get over the guilt of their past crimes. Thanks to the news, he already knew that this boy had blood on his hands, but there was something else... something more disturbing hidden beneath that happy smile. However, it wasn't his job to pry. "Nonsense," the man said as he slowly made his way to the chapel's single confessional, "If I denied a youth's dedication to the faith, especially one of your stature, I couldn't rightly call myself a priest, now could I?" As he spoke, the priest reached over and held open one of the confessional's doors. "No matter what someone has done in the past, no matter what sins they may be burdened with, it is my responsibility to hear them in full. So, Mr. Walker, you don't have to be afraid." The man couldn't help but smile when he noticed Walker's cheeks slowly start to redden. Working up the courage to come here after doing something so heinous as breaking one of the Ten Commandments spoke volumes of his character. It was obvious that he regretted his slight against the Almighty, and wanted to change himself for the better.
"Thank you, Father, I promise that this won't take too long," Walker said as he shuffled awkwardly into the booth. Once the priest was certain that the boy was nice and comfortable, he closed the confessional's second door and took his seat. A noticeable creak rang through their ears as the old wood began to settle, knocking down veritable clouds of dust along with it. "Achoo!" the boy sneezed, causing the priest to let out a hearty chuckle.
"Sorry about the mess," he apologized, "This place is usually the last spot in the chapel we clean. So, it's almost always in a state of disrepair." Now it was the Father's turn to be embarrassed. Once he had calmed down, the priest cleared his throat, and allowed Walker to say the magic words.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been just under three years since my last confession," Walker whispered as he leaned back into his seat, officially beginning the procedure. "I'm sure you've heard about me, right?" he asked the priest.
"Yes, I'm aware of who you are," the priest started, "Allen Walker, the newest addition to the prestigious U.A. High's Class A. According to the news, less than three weeks after you first stepped into that school, you killed a villain in the line of duty. If you don't mind me asking, is that the reason why you decided to come here today?" Much to the Father's shock, the boy shook his head.
"No, to be perfectly honest, the reason I sought someone like you out is for a much more selfish reason," Walker said as he balled one of his hands up into a fist. "I've been agonizing over that villain ever since the day I sent him to his maker, but I knowthat, if I wanted to save the most lives, he had to die. Even if I personally can't stomach the idea, killing him was the only option left to me." Yet again, this boy's words made the priest speechless. He was half-expecting that Walker had come here to beg for forgiveness, like so many others. Instead, he seemed to be doing something completely different. "Truth be told, I have so much that I want to say, but I can't."
"What do you mean by that?" the priest asked. "This chapel is the Almighty's house, no matter what you've done, you can tell me and push that pain away. We men of the cloth have taken an oath of silence. So, I swear that nothing you say will leave this booth."
"Heh," Walker chuckled, "I know what I'm saying is strange, but my lips are sealed. After all, God already has his hands all over the road I'm walking on." The priest couldn't help but raise one of his eyebrows when he heard that. What in the world was this boy talking about? "Sadly, I don't think I'll ever be able to get rid of the weight that's on my shoulders. However," the boy said as a strange fiery determination burned in his eyes, "I don't plan on sitting back and allowing it to crush me. I want to get stronger, but, no matter what I do, no matter what plans I think up, the task simply seems impossible."
"If you just want to get stronger, why don't you ask one of your teachers back at school? They're heroes, they're better equipped to answer that question than some old priest in a back-alley chapel," the Father said as he somberly stared down at one of his palms. He didn't know why, but talking to this lost lamb was more difficult than any of his past confessions with reformed villains. They had only been speaking for just under two minutes, and yet he already felt like he wasn't talking to a typical student. This child had seen things. What he couldn't say, but he just knew that there had to be a reason for this boy's voice to sound so tired.
"I guess that's the obvious answer, right?" the boy responded with a sad grin. "Sadly, what I want to strengthen isn't something like a muscle or quirk." As he spoke, the priest noticed Walker stare absentmindedly down at his left hand. It almost looked like he was searching for something in that palm, something that was just out of his reach.
"Oh, so that's how it is," the Father mumbled as he scratched his right temple. "You're looking for a way to strengthen your spirit, is that it?" he asked. Yet again, Walker did not answer, which didn't surprise him. After all, answers to complex questions like this usually weren't so simple.
"That's definitely part of it, but..." Walker frowned, "I'm not really sure how to describe it. I came here because I couldn't put this feeling into words, ya know? I was hoping that, with your age and experience, you might be able to point me in the right direction." Now it was the priest's turn to sigh.
"I guess that makes sense, but to be frank, neither of us really know each other. Why risk asking me, a complete stranger, such an important question?" the priest said, clearly confused at this entire situation. Yet again, the boy let out a sad chuckle and looked up at the ceiling of the confessional, almost as if he were staring at the boundless blue sky above.
"I really don't know, to be honest. Maybe its because you're a priest, but, really, I think the reason I want to ask you is because you don't know me. At this point, I'm more comfortable sharing my story with someone like you than those I already know. What sort of sick joke is that? You can go ahead and laugh if you want." Walker's voice wavered with every word, almost as if someone were clutching his windpipe. It was a tone that the priest had heard before.
"This boy... he sounds like a veteran." Since quirks were discovered things like war and armed national conflicts were rare in this day and age. No nation wanted to unnecessarily risk the lives of its people when nobody knew what power the next random civilian was carrying, after all. However, that didn't mean the need for such battles had been completely wiped out. There were many private military contractors, for example, that a multitude of governments would hire when situations got dicey. Every so often he'd have a soldier from one such company walk through his doors. Most times, it'd be when that man or woman was on tour in Japan. The tales those soldiers told him chilled him to the bone, and some still kept him up at night. "Most of those types were heavily depressed when they entered this booth," the Father thought, "Some would leave this confessional without saying so much as a word. This boy, Walker, is acting in a similar manner. However..." he bit his lip, "If that's the case, then why is he so young?!" The veterans that had visited his chapel in the past were all in their mid-thirties and forties. With the rise in the popularity of public heroes, the PMCs that employed these soldiers were slowly starting to die off. In another decade or two, he wouldn't be shocked if they all filed for bankruptcy. To be blunt, in this day and age, there shouldn't be anyone in that industry under the age of twenty! However, Walker was still a student and he was giving off the exact same signals that those old veterans did!
"Are you okay, Father?" Walker asked the priest, who had been busy musing for the past few minutes. When the man finally snapped out of his trance, the young exorcist continued. "This may be a strange question to ask one of your standing, but I want to know how to get stronger."
"Hmm... and you're determined to keep walking down this path, no matter what hardships you may experience because of it?" the priest asked the boy, who nodded. "He really does remind me of those veterans," he thought as he pinched the bridge of his nose. There wasn't even the slightest inkling of hesitation in the boy's voice when it came to that, which was beyond worrisome. However, in this regard, he was in no position to lecture the child. "In the end, I'm just an old man working in this small, rundown church. I don't have the right to tell this child how to live his life. However, I'd be a disgrace to all the grandpas in the world if I let this youngster leave without any advice!" With that in mind, the priest looked up and finally broke the silence. "Truthfully, Mr. Walker, I don't have an answer for how you can walk the path of the strong. Strength, in this world, isn't something that's so easily obtained. Most are simply born with it. To be truly strong, you have to realize that, no matter how hard you work, no matter how much you train, there's always the reality that somewhere out there there's a person who can beat you simply because they have a better quirk."
"I know..." the boy whispered as he let out a depressed sigh. The priest frowned, if he were talking to any other U.A. student, he'd send them off with the typical "do your best and you'll always succeed!" line, but he simply couldn't do that here. This child was mature enough to take the cold, hard truth of the world. Of that he was certain.
"That said, I can't say that my advice will be completely useless to you," the priest spoke in an almost-fatherly tone. "You see, the path to strength, in my experience, isn't a set path. Like a tall tree, everyone starts at the base, but the path soon diverges into an uncountable number of offshoots and shortcuts. Just like no two trees are exactly alike, everyone, sometime or another, takes a different path to their desired destination."
"Are you talking about training quirks?" Allen asked the priest, who sighed and shook his head.
"No, actually, what I'm referring to is much deeper and more personal than that. It's right here," the priest said as he tenderly placed a hand over his heart. "If there's one thing I learned over my many years, it's that there are many different kinds of strengths. Right now, you seem like you're focused on only improving yourself in a fight, but don't you think that that's a fools' errand?"
"What are you trying to say?" Walker asked as he stared at the priest through the confessional's gate. In response, the Father just frowned and rubbed his forehead, how could he put this in a way that this student would understand?
"Well, I guess what I'm trying to get at is that you need to play to your own strengths. I mean, if the news is accurate, you don't have a quirk, right?" the priest asked as Allen nodded. "If that's the case, then why worry about becoming as strong as your classmates? There's no need for you to catch up to people who, to be brutally honest, are as strong as monsters. Instead, you should rely on what makes you unique, and focus on molding that into something beautiful and empowering. For example," the Father said as he tossed a small crucifix through the grate and into the boy's lap, "You could use your position to your advantage."
"My... position?" Walker mumbled, "What are you trying to say, Father?" he continued as he bit his lip. "I'm in my position right now because I killed a man, isn't that something that deserves scorn?" Yet again, the priest could only sigh and scratch his chin. This boy really was like those old veterans, if he didn't say something now, there was a very real chance that Walker would never be able to shake off this guilt.
"I can't argue with that position, sadly. The murder of any human being, in our religion, will always be a great taboo. However... as you said before, if you didn't do what needed to be done, there would've been many more burials that day. All you can do is pray for forgiveness and move forward. But, even though I don't have the right to give you forgiveness, I can still point you in the right direction." Before Allen had the chance to ask what he meant, the man sighed and stepped out of the confessional. Walker followed soon after. "Sorry about that," the priest said, "It's so stuffy in that little box, and since you don't want a typical confession, I didn't think continuing our conversation in there would be wise."
"I understand," Walker said as a familiar ring echoed throughout the chapel. It was the church's bell, signifying the end of the hour. "Dammit..." this whole escapade had gone on for longer than he initially thought it would. Even though his classmates wouldn't let him participate in the festival, he still had to be present. Otherwise, All Might and the other teachers would get suspicious. And that would only cause trouble for his class, who he knew were all trying their best to make the most out of this event. "Anyways, what were you going to tell me, Father?" Allen asked as the priest made his way to the front of the church.
"I think it would be easier if I just showed you," he said as he hoisted a small box up off the alter. "Considering that you're going to school here, I doubt that this is the last time we'll be seeing each other. So, to commemorate our meeting, and to give you some more advice, I want to give you this." With that, the priest grinned and slowly opened the container.
"This is—!" the boy started as his eyes went wide, "But how... how do you have this?!" he yelled, practically screaming in the priest's ear. The Father was definitely surprised at his reaction, he definitely didn't expect him to be so shocked, but Allen couldn't help it. After all, resting inside of that container was something he recognized. "That's... one of the Black Order's golems!"
Author's Note
Well I hope you guys enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was definitely a bit different than my other chapters as we're finally getting into the first big BNHA-canon event in this story! So, I hope you guys are willing to stick with it. For those of you looking for an idea of when the next chapter will drop, expect it within the next couple of weeks. Like I said, I've got some more free time now, so hopefully I'll be able to get more chapters out!
Anyways, that's all for now! I'll try my best to get the next chapter out as soon as I'm able. I hope you guys all have a fantastic rest of your summer as I serenade you with my tales of heroes and exorcists. If you don't mind, please leave a review and maybe a rating, it really helps me get an idea of what you all like/don't like!
P.S. Also, for those of you wanting more action, I promise that there will be some in the next chapter at the festival! I've just had to get all this character development stuff out of the way now, so I hope you all understand, anyways, cheers!
Cheers! And happy summer!
Chapter 11: The Hypocrisy of a Clown
