It just came out. Sorry, I really am writing everything I promised!!

I wanted to make a fic about the end of the war, and the scene at the end with ghosts was hanging around in my mind, and everything was kinda fuzzy, and so that's what you got here. A fuzzy. Doesn't tell you exactly what happened, doesn't tell you exactly what they do, but it's still sort of hanging there, waiting for you to read into it.

Also, the final scene is almost complete dialogue, so I hope I set enough speech patterns for you to understand who was talking when.

If you read this, please review!! Oh, and just as an explanation... Allen was burried with his innocence, so that's why... oh, I've gone and spoiled now :P dangit. Oh well, if you didn't understand, then... you'll just have to keep reading!

Disclaimer: really... cant I just put this on one and have it be accepted? I mean, yeah, when and if I publish my own book, I might do a few extras here on things I want to happen but cant, but currently, I am not published, I am not asian, and I don't speak more then a couple words of Japanese.. there, happy now??

Allen Walker was dead. That fact itself was plain and simple. He had been dead for a while, three years to the day. He died on New Years day, right after turning eighteen, from innocence fatigue and the battle with the Earl. Yes, it had happened. The Destroyer of Time's prophecy had gone far beyond the original assumption of it's meaning.

Yes, Allen Walker destroyed the Earl of Time. Allen Walker had the complex and state of mind. Allen Walker chose his path and forced himself down it. Allen Walker was the beginning of a new era. Allen Walker was the new creator of Time. Allen Walker died for our sins like the famous fabled Jesus. Allen Walker was the one who denied his fate and walked forward on his own terms, not obeying anyone's order but his own.

Allen Walker lived his life for the sole purpose of destroying the Time Duke.

And so, Allen Walker perished in the same moment the Earl did himself.

At age eighteen, Allen Walker's Innocence reached it limit and began to feed off his life force. Allen supposedly felt it happening, for halfway through the battle, at night when both sides were forced to retreat and rest, he told of the horrible feeling he had, as though blood were being sucked out of his veins. His comrades begged him to not force his powers, but he had to.

In the end, he ignored his comrades pleas, and with a blinding flash, white and black swallowed the world.

And with the last moments coming, the number Fourteen lent one final push for his host, sealing the fate of the world.

And Allen Walker's corpse was found alongside the Earl's. They were holding hands.

Left in left, right in right. One in all. He made things right. Dancing clown, we sing for you. Until our days are ended too, teach us your weary lullaby till daybreak comes and night draws nigh. Great white clown up in the sky, you're not alone, with you we cry, and so we will continue to pray, give us held hands and a kiss!" She chanted. The mother looked up at her eight-year-old daughter.

"What are you singing, dear?" She asked. The little girl looked up at her mom from the picture she was drawing on a spare bit of parchment.

"It's a rhyme, Momma," She said happily. "I learn't it at school t'day!" She smiled and giggled. "It was in history, n'less!" Her mother walked over and knelt down beside her daughter and smiled as well.

"Why did you learn that in history?" She asked, "I thought you were supposed to learn that such in music." The little girl shrugged.

"Mister Lavi said it told a story," She explained. The mother nodded.

"What story?"

"Mister Lavi said it was about a boy who was abandoned," She said, "He was born weird and deformed and all," she wiggled her arms to convey her explanation. "Then, he met a clown and joined the circus!" she clapped happily, "The clown became his daddy, and then, when his daddy died, a man came to him and told him 'bout a deal..." The mother turned her head to the side in confusion.

"A deal?" She asked. The child nodded.

"Yep, the man said he was gonna bring his daddy back to life!" She said joyously. Then her face fell into sadness. "But it didn't work and his daddy went mad at him and cut open his face..." The mother looked horrified at this turn in the story, which had seemed cheerful and happy at first. What sort of history was Professor Lavi teaching these children?

"But then, his arm changed," The girl continued. "And it made his father go back to heaven!" She pointed gleefully to the sky. "He was really confused, and then, another man came!" She said. The mother wondered vaguely whether this man would do as much harm to the boy as the previous had done. "And the man said that he had saved his father!"

"What?"

The little girl nodded joyously. "His arms was a tool that could save people that came back from heaven, and the man explained the last man was trying to hurt people by having them bring the people they loved back t' life. An', an' there was this war going on against that guy, an', an'..." The mother suddenly smiled.

"Was the boy's name Allen?" She asked. The little girl paused and looked up in thought a moment.

"Um... yep! Sumthin' like that!" She cheered. The mother smiled again and hugged her little girl.

"Then I know the rest of the story," She said.

000

"And then, Kanda-sensei did the strangest thing," The young boy said, talking to his friends, who were all about his age, give or take a year. All in their early teens. "Kanda-sensei got so fed up with my swordsmanship that he actually yelled at me!" He exclaimed. His friends laughed.

"That's not unusual for him!" They all said in various dialects and phrases. The boy pouted.

"No, it's what he said that was weird." He cried over the sounds of his friends' laughter. They grew quiet almost at once, wanting to hear this. "He just knocked my sword away like I'd never seen him do it before and he yelled, 'even the moyashi could fight better than you could'," they were all quietly digesting this information.

"Who's 'the moyashi'?" someone asked. Several others shrugged.

"What's a moyashi, anyway?"

"Well Kanda-sensei is japanese, why do you think we're stuck calling him 'Kanda-sensei' instead of 'teacher'?" Another added.

"Did he say anything after that?" One asked. The boy scratched his chin and groaned, trying to remember.

"Well... actually, yeah," He said, perking up. Everyone leaned in. "He covered his mouth really fast like he had said something forbidden, then he just told me I should go home early and practice more." He shrugged again. "And as I was leaving, I heard him mumbling about a war and some 'stupid brat' he knew a long time ago or something..."

"I..." All eyes suddenly veered over to the youngest boy in the group. A ten-year-old. "I actually... heard my father say that... Kanda-sensei was in a war... once... The Demon War..." All jaws dropped.

"The... The Demon War?"

"The forbidden war no one knew about until it was already over?"

"Kanda-sensei was a part of that?"

And they all were suddenly silenced as a redheaded figure, the town's schoolmaster, to be exact, walked by them and knocked on the dojo door. A young lady, probably a year or two younger than him, by his side in all black. Lady Lenalee Lee, who also taught the children with him. They worked for free, and they even taught girls. They were very popular around the area.

"They know Kanda-sensei?" One boy hissed. A few more shrugged and watched as the redhead knocked and called out to the teacher who was supposedly inside.

"Yu?" He called again. "Yu? It's Lavi and Lenalee! Come on, it's..." the door flew open.

"It's today." Kanda said in a monotone. He was out of his gi and now in plain black. Just like Lavi and Lenalee.

Lenalee nodded, a strange look on her face. "It's still impossible to understand, isn't it?" She said to no one in particular. Lavi nodded.

"He died to give us a damn decent life he never had... of course it doesn't make sense..." Kanda sighed again and gave the closest to a sad look the students had ever seen on him.

"Let's hurry up, he's waiting for us," The other two nodded roboticly and the began to walk away. Some of the students made to follow them but stopped. It was their personal affair, and they had no right to intrude.

000

The hill was just as they remembered it when they first came. That cold, joyous day for everyone in the world but them. For them, the world may as well have come to a dead halt that day, not that the world cared. Nothing had really cared. Nothing had really penetrated their heads except when their best friend, their favorite glutton, their guiding light, and ultimately their savior had been laid into the cold, cold, dark ground next to his father.

There were three graves at the top of the hill. Four, if you were to ask Allen, and five if you asked Cross.

Mana Walker.

Cross Marian.

Allen Walker.

They were the only marked graves. But to the three, there were actually two more.

The First Akuma.

Number Fourteen.

Both were buried within other graves. The Akuma in Mana's, and the Fourteenth with Allen, eternally holding his nephew in a tight embrace and whispering 'sorry' into his ear. And Allen would hug his uncle back and tell him it was okay. And they would ask Mana to hug them tightly and Cross would simply watch in amusement and occasionally hug Allen himself. They were alive in their graves, and that was all the truth in the world. Everything followed one simple rule:

Wherever there is Innocence, a phenomenon will occur.

"Good evening," He said.

"Welcome back," Lavi said. Lenalee smiled and waved at him.

"I'm glad you came again," He said quietly, then giving a small chuckle.

"He gets lonely up here, even with Mana and the others," The boy said, his tongue, even in death, heavy in his original accent that his older had worked so hard to smooth over and refine to where it could be considered gentlemanly. "We all get kind of lonely, 'cause there arent many people comin' up. They're scared." He huffed, pouting.

"Well, it's not like we can blame 'em, eh Allen? Allen?"

"Sure," They both replied in synch. It was almost odd how they were separate, and yet they fit together perfectly.

"Dammit, still cant figure out how you two know which one he''s talking ta," The man said, taking a drag out of a cigarette which had apparently lasted him into his grave. The duo snorted at their past and future master.

"Mr Cross, please, Allen's still just ten and Allen doesn't need any more trouble from you." The younger man said.

"Yeah, yeah, trouble from me. Trouble from you. Trouble from Mana. We all cause them trouble, I'm amazed they haven decided to just go up to heaven already... actually I'm wondering why none of us have done that yet."

"Aint it obvious? Not all of us make it to heaven, Cross, so we're here, stickin' t'gether instead."

"Shaddup."

"Language, Master."

"Language, old man."

"Seriously, how are they the same person, and why are there even two ghosts? I mean, I know the childhood and the teenager were really different, but honestly..."

"Deal with it. It's my son, it's impossible to expect anything but the impossible from him."

"Like how he 'impossibly' died a virgin in this day and age, brother?"

"Are you implying somethin'?"

"He lived with Cross for three years."

"Hey, I get it, I'm a man-slut, but cant we go back to another conversation now? I'd rather not like to discuss this..."

"Master has a shamed side..."

"The old man's embarrassed..."

They laughed as they watched the ghosts interact. Talking and laughing and poking fun at each other in ways they had only been able to imagine before. When in life, there is suffering, in death, there is joy. This isn't necessarily true, because suffering can drive a person to regret in their afterlife. The true test of life, if it is a game or a test, or whatever it was seen as at the time, the only way to receive a prize is to find a way to live with no regrets.

And as of now, they were only beginning to truly live.

Living with what they could never have again. Innocence.

And wherever there is innocence, there is an unexplainable phenomenon. And whether it is good or bad is only up to us.