Disclaimer: D. Grayman belongs to Hoshino Katsura.

The Pledge

"An exorcist's duty is to fight the 'Akuma', created by the Earl of the Millennium and born of people's sorrow and betrayal." General Cross drops the rag into the sink, taking the hotel towel from its hook and dabbing it lightly across small, imperfect cheeks. Allen does not flinch as the water seeps into the cuts. "Have you fought an 'Akuma' already?"

The ruined arm hangs limply at his side, monstrous and ugly, dangling near this knee. Allen lifts large glassy eyes and quietly says, "Yes."

Cross raises a large gloved hand and lays it gently on Allen's head. "From now on, you will be fighting many more of them. That is our responsibility."

For the first time that night, Allen looks down at his freakish limb and runs his eyes down its bulky form from elbow to forearm to palm to fingers still slightly stained with oil from Mana's mechanical frame. It is heavy and cumbersome, weighing him down like lead. "Yes."

Cross turns and walks out of the small bathroom. Allen follows slowly, dragging his weapon. The sky is gray and promising rain. It is dark and monotonous inside the sparsely furnished room. "Allen Walker," and now, the boy winces. "Are you sure you want to commit yourself to the obligations of this job?"

Allen is homeless, fatherless, hopeless. "Yes," he says.