D. Gray-Man – Notes and Tears
‘D. Gray-Man’ by Katsura Hoshino
“Notes and Tears” by Ryuuzaki Kusakurin
DISCLAIMER: D. Gray-Man isn’t mine. If it was, it would be centred around Kanda-chan.
Warnings: Language, violence, spoilers for current chapters as of 03 April 2008, etc.
Characters: Allen Walker, Yu Kanda, Lenalee Lee, Timcanpy
Theme Songs: Zero Signal [Yoko Kanno], Ghosthack [Kenji KAWAI], Nightstalker [Kenji KAWAI], Idea [Eufonius], Tempest [Yoko Kanno], Doubt & Trust [Access], ReBirth + ReVerse [Abingdon Boys School]
If you see this posted anywhere else, kindly inform me. I don’t like my work being stolen.
A/N: This story is based off of Yumi’s stories ‘Musician’ and ‘The 14th Noah’. Read those BEFORE you read this one; this story is designed to be a sequel to the two oneshots. If you don’t read those first, you won’t understand it later.
Also, I might write another chapter later, which is why the banner that has the chapter title in it says ‘Chapter 1’. I just don’t know where this story is going yet… YAY 2nd period Business!
The soft melody of the piano once more filled the halls and rooms of this dimension; Allen’s special gift was not wasted here. He was the Musician; the piano controlled this world with nothing more than a sheet of circular notes and the white-haired boy’s raw talent. But today, something was different – the pianist was sad.
The rich melody that filled this world was lonely, drifting, and quiet, floating throughout the air as if it was a dying butterfly. It amused him in an odd way, although he wasn’t entirely aware of it as his fingers drifted over the inverted ivory and ebony keys. A quiet sigh escaped the exorcist’s lips as he began the slow crescendo to the next part of the music his father had left for him, and small droplets – tears – fell from his silver-blue eyes. His father had meant nearly everything to him – Mana Walker had taken him in when he had been abandoned by his real parents. Mana had loved him with all his heart, even if evidence was now beginning to prove that he may have belonged to the side of the demons. Mana had been the Musician before he had been, and perhaps there had been another Fourteenth before that. Allen didn’t know, and right now, he didn’t care. All that was on his mind was the bittersweet melody that played out the memory of his childhood.
He didn’t know that there were others listening to his music.
He didn’t care if there were others listening to his music, either. Right now, the only thing in this world was the piano in this secret, secluded room. It was oddly plain, and although it was filled with rich furniture, Allen saw it as only a hideaway. An escape from the reality that he had been resigned to when he had been born. He had been born as an exorcist, and would die as one; he had already accepted that part of it. The unspoken part of that life was that all of his friends – Lenalee, Lavi, Jerry, Krory, Komui, Reever, and even Kanda – would probably die by those he was sworn to fight before he would. He was younger than the rest of them – he was the youngest member of the Black Order, after all – and thus had more potential to grow and become an even more brilliant fighter than he already was. Watching his blackened hand as it danced lightly over the keys, the white-haired teenager sighed again. Why did he have to be so different from the rest of them? Why?
It wasn’t as though he didn’t know the answer. He had only asked himself the same question over and over again about a thousand times.
He was the prophesied ‘destroyer of time’, the one who would defeat the Millennium Earl for once and for all. He couldn’t die that easily, could he? The problem that he was currently grappling with was the fact that because of that destiny, he would live while everyone else might die trying. It scared him, honestly… Fifteen years was too short to see all of his friends die, he instinctively knew, but what fifteen-year-old had a left arm made out of a weapon? What fifteen-year-old was supposed to become a killer to defend the human race? He didn’t know anyone else quite like that, although he was glad that he was the one bearing the burden, rather than another, weaker exorcist. Any other exorcist might have already cracked under the pressure put on him. Letting his head fall forward, onto the keys of the piano, Allen closed his eyes as the deafening boom shook his surroundings. He was already beginning to wither up and die from the inside out, and it was all because of the strain put on his small body. He knew that with the current use of his weaponised arm, the Clown Crown, he would be dead in a matter of years – it would probably be around 5, maybe 10 at the most. The worst part of all was that he knew how short his life would be. And he hated it.
“Moyashi?” That had to be Kanda, he knew. He didn’t even bother looking up – he knew that the marks of the Noah were patterned across his forehead, after his encounter with Lenalee a few days earlier. He knew what he was – an exorcist that was also the 14th Noah – the Musician. He didn’t want the swordsman to see the cross-shaped marks for some reason [probably because he knew that the swordsman would kill him on sight], and so he didn’t respond.
Maybe if I don’t answer, he’ll go away…
He even used my name…
Okay, so he might not go away. Groaning and hitting a few keys to turn the lights down to the point where Kanda wouldn’t see his face, he looked up and glared in his general direction.
“What is it, bakanda?” He knew he wasn’t being nice, and he didn’t care at all. Normally, he was the epitome of politeness, an upstanding young man who just happened to be an exorcist.
“Are you alright?” How strange it was, for Kanda to show any emotion whatsoever, Allen decided.
“I thought you didn’t care,” he mumbled, still glaring from his perch on the piano bench.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Kanda replied, his voice still level. “It doesn’t help anyone if there’s a suicidal exorcist in the Order.”
“Whatever, bakanda,” Allen ground out, gritting his teeth. “Now get out.” Even in the dim light, he could see the long-haired man’s expression – it was one of surprise, almost shock. “Go!” Hitting a key on the piano, he grinned. Kanda was locked outside of the room. “Thank god for that,” he exhaled, calming down abruptly and putting his hand back on his newest obsession – the piano.
“Whatever, bakanda,” Allen offered with no trace of remorse or kindness in his quiet voice. “Now get out.” And with that, he had hit two keys in rapid succession and had thrown Kanda out.
“Moyashi?” He knew that the white-haired exorcist would ignore him for his words and actions. He knew that if he gave the appearance of caring the moyashi would take it the wrong way and think that it was just pity. Kanda groaned in frustration. Did the boy think that he hadn’t seen the marks? Did he think that Kanda wold just arbitrarily jump to conclusions? Resolving to talk to the moyashi, he said the words that would all but guaruntee him passage back into the room of the Musician. “I saw the marks,” he told the sky reluctantly. The music paused mid-crescendo, and then, it came again.
A lilting melody filled the air, sweetly playing out the ghosts of words – the melody of te Musician, the 14th Noah. And the newly-made door swung open in front of him in response.
A Noah awaited him inside.
“What do you want? Are you here to kill me now, like Lenalee was?” His voice was full of bitterness and resentment, but there was an undertone that made Kanda’s blood run cold.
“Do you want to die?” Kanda asked, watching him carefully. Yes, he was worried about the kid, but at the moment, his priorities were with the Order. If Allen turned his back on the Order, there would be no hesitation.
Kanda would kill him.
“I…” He paused, gauging his choices carefully. “I don’t know,” the British by admitted, hanging his head. “I don’t want to be the person to kill the Earl. I don’t want to have to watch an of you die to reach that point. I don’t want to be a Noah, either. I don’t know anymore,” he continued, easily depressed. Allen was beginning to remind him a bit of Miranda, he wryly thought.
“I… know how you feel,” the swordsman admitted. “But… it will become… easier… in time.” And then he turned around and walked out, leaving the Musican staring at the empty space he had vacated.