Disclaimer: I do not own DGM.

Title: Perpetual Enemies

Summary: The way he looked at me? It's just pure hate. Not that I care, though. Ficlets.

Warnings: Unbeta'ed.

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If there was something that Allen loathed with outmost exaggeration, it was Japanese noodles. Seriously. Any kind of Japanese noodles; Ramen, Shirataki, Soumen, Udon, Hiyamugi, Soba.

Especially Soba.

You name it, Allen hated it.

He despised the smell of it, its package, how it was cooked, and most of all, its consumers. Well the last one didn't ring any sprite, but yeah, if you happened to be eating Japanese noodles and Allen unfortunately spotted you, then you, my good friend, were already branded; Allen Walker would officially hate you from that day on – no ifs and definitely no buts.

Like all things, this hate started with something. Something that Allen Walker first-handedly experience. Something that happened a long, long time ago but then remained on the boy's memory like an itchy dandruff that couldn't just be eradicated with a dandruff shampoo.

He damn well remembered it until now.

It was vague, yes, but it he remembered it quite well.

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June 5, 1993

Allen Walker: Three years old

Kanda Yuu: Five years old

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He was three years old, and he was as pure as a snow. He was a happy, lovable kid and at that tender age, he already understood that people would love him no matter what because he was just like that, lovable. He noticed that people were vulnerable to his giggles and smiles – especially the toothy grins with matching drools on it. Not to mention the guaah-guaah and fuee...fuee...'s.

Allen Walker loved to be on the limelight of everyone's attention.

He got more chocolates and candies that way after all.

So he learned to use it to his advantage. He would use it whenever he wanted candies, chocolates, and milk. He would use it to gather friends, to awe people, to make them love him. It was quite affective.

Until that kid came along.

Allen first saw him in the local playground where Mana always brought him. He was on the swing, practically hogging it with all his kiddy might. And Allen smiled, because he saw the kid grimaced to him when he saw that he was watching him.

As a kid, Allen Walker loved challenge too.

And lots of friends.

So with his confident baby walks, he walked towards the hissing boy who he noticed had a peculiar long, black (was it dark blue?) hair. Was he a 'she'? He thought as he walked, his eyes not leaving the scowling face of the new kid. But since he didn't look like a girl, notr with that perpetual fown etched to his face, Allen continued to walk, a smile was still annoying plastered to his face.

"Hi!" He said as he stopped in front of the scowling long haired kid. "I'm Allen! What's your name?"

The said scowling long haired kid frown with outmost disgust as if he had just seen a flying, icky frog.

"I don't play with girls! Shoo!" He angrily shouted, his left hand flailing as he bore his sharp gazes to Allen.

Allen blinked; shocked by the first rejection he had ever received since he first learned how to walk without stumbling on his own feet. But he remained smiling.

"I am not a girl. I'm a boy. See? My hair is short," he mentioned his hair and tugged a few of them as if emphasizing his point.

The kid just stared at him like he was the most boring creature he had ever seen. The he said; "My mom has a very short hair."

Allen blinked again.

How should he answer that?

Ht gulped. "But my mama has a very long hair."

The scowl deepened to the long haired kid's face. "So?"

"S-she's a girl, so she has a long hair?"

Deeper and deeper, the kid scowled. "Your point?"

Allen blinked a few times. Mana taught him to be honest all the time. He said that if you tell the truth, nothing would ever go wrong.

So with a smile and the hope of becoming this kid's friend swelling to his chest like balloon, Allen cheerfully said, "You look more like a girl than me."

That's where it all started.

You know, maybe Allen could have avoided it. Seriously.

It was just an honest mistake, you see.

But since this particular memory already happened a long time ago, well, let's just say that it was just a little too late.

The kid stood up, towering Allen a little (he would like to think that it was just a 'little') and got something from Allen's back, an oval-shaped bento, opened it, and with an agility like that of an adult, the angry kid poured something sticky to his head that immediately flowed down his feet.

Allen blinked, not immediately realizing what has happened.

But he was sure about something:

It was freaking hot.