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Opsimath	By : ErinyesWyrd Category: +. to F > D. Gray Man Views: 2641 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or story of D-Gray man, and I make no money off of this story. All characters belong to Ms. Hoshino.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I do not own D.Gray Man, the story and characters are property of their respective copyright holder. Again, if affection between two men disturbs you, do not read this. And just a heads up, there will be sex in later chapters. If you’ve gotten to this point though, I doubt you really have a problem with it. I will also warn that in this chapter there is some violence-but never rape, I don’t ever write rape.

Some Spoilers for later chapters-think 150 onward, but not a huge amount.

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It was hot, crushingly, painfully, hot, the air Kanda breathed in nearly scorched his lungs, and he dropped to one knee with a choked off gasp. Everywhere was blackness, God, not the blackness. It reminded him of those first moments of death, and he panted, staggering blindly to the side. He had not died, he always knew when he died.

First there would be darkness, and then, oh yes, then there was peace. The beautiful absence of lotus flowers that carpeted his every step, clarity, everything he could not allow himself to have, or simply could not have just by virtue of his artificial existence. In those moments, Kanda truly felt that he had a soul, that he was real. It was not to be, he was always dragged back, and oh, oh, the pain was always indescribable. The madness of feeling peace for a moment, only to have it torn away-it was enough to leave a man screaming with the futility of it all.

He was not dead though, it hurt too much for him to be dead. Which meant that whatever was happening to him could be fought. So he locked his terror away, deep in a place he only found in those moments after reawakening. With a rattling breath, and the fire burning all the while in his lungs, he rose to his feet once more.

“Show yourself!” The black haired exorcist was yelling out into the darkness, Mugen held aloft in steady hands. Yelling into the darkness, did that make him mad?

He brushed the thought aside as the temperature suddenly dropped, and a soft rasping sound reverberated around the room. With a start, he remembered where he was, but could not see beyond himself. So dark, it was so dark and cold. Shivers broke out along his skin as he tried to work out where the sound had come from.

“Face me, asshole, I don’t have time for these kinds of games!” Kanda was panting, even as he tried to control his breathing. The cold was forcing his body to react, and he wondered distantly why the scientists had made him capable of feeling temperature.

To his left, a puff of breath slid along his cheek, freezing cold, and reeking of ash. Kanda went rigid, dropping into a crouch and swinging Mugen out in a sharp upwards arc. The blade sliced only through air, catching instead on thick, black, oily smoke.

“Ugh, damn it, that is disgusting!” A whispery chuckle answered his pronouncement, and Kanda felt himself growing more enraged. With a hiss of anger, and the smell of ash and lotus flowers burning in his senses, he threw himself (Mugen first) towards the sound of the laughter.

It was mocking him, Kanda realized, as yet again, his sword came up drenched in the oily smoke.

With a low growl, he began uttering the phrase to release his third illusion. Shadows be damned, he would not be toyed with. The darkness was there immediately, coiling around his hand, sliding up to insinuate itself between his moving lips when he sucked in a startled gasp. Mugen clattered to the floor as he fell to his knees, the breath halting jarringly in his now spasming lungs.

It was freezing and burning all at the same time, and Kanda tried to retch, but his body was not reacting. He clawed at his throat, feeling that blackness move through him, searing a trail of agony in its wake. Nothing, nothing, had ever felt like this. He thrashed ineffectually on the floor, and his mouth opened in a scream, but no sound came out. Lotus petals fell from his lips, and Kanda’s eyes rolled madly with panic.

‘Nonono!’ His mind screamed at him to move, and he was brought back to another time when movement had been impossible. He had been immobile on a cement slab, his consciousness slipping away from him even as he had given up.

‘Not again, no please, not again!’ Was what he attempted to say, but could only choke around the smoke and pain wracking him to his very core.

And then there was silence, save for his labored breathing, and the distant sound of someone screaming. The noise was drowned out however, when a figure stepped into Kanda’s line of vision. It was amorphous, save for the multitude of eyes embedded into its shadowy skin.

“Exorcist.” The words resounded around the void, and Kanda shuddered, taking in a choked breath. Mugen was so close, but he could not move, and could only stare as the creature leaned forward. He felt his stomach churn as the smell of burned Lotus flowers hit his nose. He could see them again, charred and withering in the corners of his vision, and suddenly he was terrified.

“I have never, not in all of my existence, seen eyes like yours. I wonder, exorcist, if the eyes of a doll with a soul will complete me. Even if you are blind already.” It was spoken like a caress, and Kanda began thrashing anew on the ground.

Outside of the nine pillars, Allen stood, trying, and failing to move past the barrier that had appeared after Kanda had stepped into the circle. The shadowy figures had all but disappeared, watching him silently as he scrabbled against the transparent wall. He could see him, he could see his companion writhing in the circle, and it made him feel sick with rage. The creature pulled Kanda’s head up, and it was akin to watching a child pull the wings from the struggling body of a fly.

For a moment, the white haired exorcist could not comprehend what he was seeing. Kanda was screaming, finally screaming, and his eyes, the creature had ripped them from him with a practiced ease that spoke of experience.

The black haired exorcist lay twisting in agony on the ground, he had managed to pull free from the invisible bonds that held him, but the many eyed shadow still held his throat. The resulting damage to his limbs was difficult to look at. But it was nothing compared to the horror of seeing someone so strong being tortured into insanity. Allen felt tears blur his eyes, and he pounded at the barrier, hacking at slashing at it with all of his might with his sword.

There was a lurch, and a crackling sound like a thousand wailing voices, and Allen fell through the barrier. There was no hesitation. With a scream of pure wrath, he swung towards the form that held a very still Kanda. It released him, dropping the older exorcist on the floor as if he were a broken toy. He was beyond anger, the urge to kill the thing standing so calmly over his fallen companion seethed in him like a poison.

“Get away from him!” The white haired exorcist dashed towards the figure with killing intent, white hair flying around his face in a shining halo. He was side-stepped easily, and it took all of his agility to follow the dark entity as it moved away from Kanda. Allen hefted his sword up, pointing it towards the shadowy mass, a snarl worthy of the black haired exorcist twisting his features. He could have sworn that it was smiling at him, but it was too dark to tell.

It was then that the creature laughed. Not just any laugh, it was a slimy, malicious thing, and Allen shuddered.

“Do you think you can save him?” The voice was in his head now, stinging, burning like a white hot poker. Allen’s breaths came out in short pants, and he wavered, dangerously close to falling. Hot, so hot, his body was not meant to withstand this kind of heat, no one’s was.

“I will save him, I will-” There were cold fingers stabbing through his mind, and Allen abruptly dropped to the floor, clutching his head. A multitude of pleading voices tore through is psyche, all of them begging for salvation. All of them the voices of those he had been unable to save.

“You cannot. You are both blind, both fools, but I will play a game with you, because I grow bored of slaughter. Lead him, if you can, save him, if you can. If you do, I will release him.” The creature’s tone had become mocking, but it was some hope to latch onto, hope was something Allen clung to like a life raft.

“What will happen if I fail?” A quiet sound of amusement met his question, and the being gestured at Kanda’s body.

“I will burn him from the inside out, I will eat his mind, I will destroy him, as I did the shadows whom serve me now. You though, you I will leave alive, so you can wallow in your failure and guilt.” The thought of his dark haired companion being forced into servitude even in death was enough to steel his resolve. To hell and back, he would go there to save anyone, for Kanda, he would go even further. The man had saved him, jumped in front of killing blows for him on several occasions. Allen would not back down, even if it meant dying in the process.

“I will not fail.” It was becoming a mantra, as if it would come true in the repetition.

“Will you now? I look forward to watching you try, Allen Walker.” With that, the darkness was gone.

It was then that Allen truly allowed himself to look at Kanda. With a soft sob he moved over to the fallen samurai, turning him onto his back to assess the damage. There was blood everywhere, but he was alive, just barely.

“Kanda, oh God, I’m so sorry, sorry, sorry, so sorry.” He groaned in anguish, lifting the Mugen and the taller exorcist easily, and carrying him out of the church. He was so still in his arms, as he had been during their first mission to Mater. Guilt weighed him down like a stone, but he steeled his resolve. It would not help Kanda if he were to falter now.

Then he was running, knocking on doors to try and find a doctor, the finders were gone, and Allen felt panic welling up in his chest. Kanda would heal, he knew this, but that did not mean Allen was going to allow him to suffer needlessly. Especially since it could have been himself in Kanda’s position if the man had not been so intent on going it alone.

No one would open their doors to him, and Allen resisted the urge to scream in frustration. What was happening, why would no one help them? It was only a few minutes to reach their hotel, but to Allen it felt like hours. Kanda’s body was a weight in his soul as he stumbled into the lobby, yelling for a physician, for anyone that could help.

There was no answer, the hotel was completely empty. Kanda stirred in his arms, full body tremors coursing through his battered form. Allen placed him on a couch, and began stripping the torn clothes from his body. If no one could help him, then he would have to bind the swordsman’s wounds himself.

Allen could not suppress a sound of grief as more of Kanda’s body came into view. He was covered in a fine spider-webbing of cuts, his wrists, shoulders, and legs were full of open wounds. The skin there was charred, black as midnight from the power used to bind him. There were no bandages to be found, so Allen tore the white linen curtains down from the hotel windows, and set off to the kitchens in search of a basin. Kanda’s wounds needed to be cleaned, and then Komui needed to be alerted to the gravity of their situation.

It only took a few moments to find what he needed, and Allen thanked the stars for small miracles. There was a first aid kit in the kitchen, presumably for anyone unlucky enough to burn themselves while cooking. When he strode back over to his reluctant friend’s side, Allen saw Kanda’s fingers twitch. He had to work quickly. Allen had a feeling that when his companion regained consciousness, all would not be well.

His time as an exorcist had trained him in dressing wounds, and soon Kanda was covered in bandages. As much as Allen wanted to stay by Kanda’s side, he knew that the order needed to be informed of their state. So he rose to his feet slowly, a whispered ‘I’ll be right back.’ in Kanda’s ear, as he brushed the long black hair away from his face.

When he had made it to the phone in the lobby, Allen barely had time to utter a greeting to Komui, before the man was questioning him worriedly.

“Where are you? Link has no idea where you are, the finders have been waiting for days, and none of the golems can find you.” Allen started at those words.

“L-Link, why, why is he not with me?” It came back in a rush, Link had been right behind him on the way to the train, or so he had thought. It had not even occurred to him that there was a Link once he had set foot on the train.

“Allen, what is going on.” Komui was worried, the sharp intake on the other end of the line only made him more so.

“Kanda’s been hurt, badly, the finders are gone, I don‘t know what to do. It..it ripped out his eyes, Komui!” The last words came out in a frantic rush, and Komui clutched at the phone.

“Allen.” He said softly. “Allen, there are no finders there, they are all with Link, waiting for you and Kanda.”

“What? How is that possible?” Allen’s voice cracked in disbelief, eyes darting around the suddenly smoky room.

“Get out of there, I don’t know what has happened, but you need to come home, get out now, Allen!” The white haired man did not need another telling, he hung the phone on its cradle, and ran over to Kanda. Careful of his many wounds, Allen lifted him gently, and ran from the hotel. There were people outside, faces twisted in looks of revulsion, they pointed as Allen ran past.

“¡Son mentirosos!”

“¡Son ciegos!”

“¡ Son condenados!”

Kanda moaned in pain in his arms, and Allen ran faster. He made it to his destination with haste. A bridge over the train tracks would have to do it, anywhere was better than this town. The shorter man’s thoughts were broken off as people crowded around the two exorcists, pointing and hissing. The people pressed in closer, pulling at Allen’s hair, and running their hands over Kanda’s still form.

Over the sound of his own fear, Allen heard the familiar approach of a train, and heedless to the danger, pitched off of the bridge. He landed as gracefully as possible, mindful of the body clutched to his chest.

Only later, inside the train compartment, did the panic and grief truly hit him. He ran a shaky hand along the bandages covering Kanda’s face, and he wept. Not loudly, not messily, but silently. None of Kanda’s wounds had even begun to heal.

“I’ll save you. I swear I will.” He whispered, bowing his head, and waiting for the older exorcist to come back to him. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The villagers are saying: You are liars, you are blind, and you are damned, in that order. Review, por favor?
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Opsimath