Gomenasai, Aishiteru

By Murasaki Kurai

The only duty of a Bookman is to record history. We have no need for emotions. We have no need for opinion. All that is necessary is an unbiased sense of what has happened, and what will occur. Who will win. Who will lose. Who will live. Who will die. All facts are completely unnecessary to think about.

Only one thing is certain, and must always be remembered and pondered.

It must be written down.

For if something is recorded, it can be explained. And if something can be explained, it will make sense. And it something can make sense…

Then what?

What difference does something 'making sense' matter in the grand scheme of things?

I still don't know the answer to that question.

But it's too late for the answer to be relevant.

Too late.

The War with the Earl ended faster than anyone thought possible. The Earl obtained 'the Heart' from Lenalee Lee's corpse before anyone could stop him. Even before he collected it, the worst was suddenly possible. It was as if the Heart was the core of power for all innocence, because it was weakened so much in its last few months… all other's seemed to whither. Allen Walker's innocence-infused arm suddenly looked diseased whenever he activated it. Krory's teeth's sharpness was diminished to that of a young dog, despite their still sharp appearance, they were but a shadow of their former glory. Miranda Lotto's clock ticked just slower; she broke down into tears whenever she looked at it.

And my hammer… it was heavy. Insanely heavy.

None of us could fight like that. We were practically useless, and the Earl and his 'Clan of Noah' destroyed the Black Order. By a single event of chance, I, as the future Bookman, was allowed to live. I was given an immunity that anyone would die (literally) to have. Akuma couldn't touch me, on supreme command of the Earl himself. It wasn't long before Bookman died of old age, and I took his place immediately.

I had what I had always wanted. I was the Bookman. It had been my life dream ever since I was a child, and was accepted into the prestigious Bookman Clan.

If only the circumstances hadn't been so horrible.

It's dark. That's the first thing that comes to mind when I wake up every day. There's no light. When was the last time I was outside when the sun was actually visible? It feels to me like it's been months… Maybe the sun never comes out anymore. Not as if I would know the difference, I never see it. I imagine my apple red hair must be dimming.

I smile.

Maybe it's purple.

I pinch a couple stray strands between my fingers and pull them towards my eye, to examine in the candle light I live by. Nope. Red. My finger's dig into my eyelids as I groan and sit up. It's cold, so I shiver as I roll out of my old bed, and examine my desk.

I'm almost finished copying down all the old prophecy records about 'the Destroyer of Time' and the 'Heart of Innocence'. My papers are strewn randomly across the room. I never could work the way Bookman could, with everything in a neat, orderly pile. That's not how it happened. It wasn't in a perfect little stack when all the events I record occurred. It was all jumbled up, and confusing and unsensical.

I grab a rubber band from the floor and tie my hair out of my face so it doesn't get in the way, tuck the stray strands behind my ever present bandana, and grab a jar of black ink from across the room. My feet expertly avoid the pages as I practically jump across the room. I'm well practiced.

My bookshelves take up 75% of the walls of the room. And every single book is filled with my own handwriting and drawings. I feel more personally connected to my books than I have felt to any human sense the Earl took over. True, Bookman was still around after that, but he had changed after the War. He seemed completely sickened to a point I could barely communicate with him. To be honest, I didn't notice any difference when he died.

I get down to work and my stomach grumbles. The grumble echoes through the room. I look around, but know it was me. I'm hungry. I've been living on bread for two months. I laugh a bit. If Allen went this long without a decent, twelve course meal, he's probably faint.

Crap. Now that stinging feeling is in my heart again. I undo my hair tie and shake it out. A bit of sweat flings off. My wrists ache when I press my palms to my forehead. I rub through the bandana, and it pushes up. The sound of pages crinkling makes me freeze, and I lift my elbows off the table, where they had been crushing the pages. My bare arms have ink smeared on them now. I grab the water pitcher from the side table, holding my arms away from my naked chest. The candle light flickers at the movement. I dip a hand in it and rub my arms with the musky smelling water. It feels dirty and gross, but I drink it so it can't be too horrible.

In the grand scheme of things, being deemed illegal to attack doesn't make much of a difference. Nothing is stopping a soul-thirsty Level 1 Akuma from attacking you when you're just minding your own business. The only difference is, if the Akuma has any brains at all, it'll stay the hell away from you. And the High Level Akuma that run the area are just hate you because you're food, and they can't have you.

The forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

I'm that forbidden fruit.


Tap. Tap. Tap.

Voices are muffled by the amount of paper and wood between myself and the speaker.

"I can't hear you!" I call out, not getting up. The person shouts more, and in the middle of it I catch two words.

Road Camelot.

Of the Clan of Noah.

I practically sprint to the door.

The Bookmen were allowed to live, despite previous acts committed against the Earl (in my case), on two conditions.

The first was that we would do nothing to try and overthrow the Earl. We were stripped of all weapons that could possibly be of harm to the Earl or any of the Noah, and our Innocence had been long destroyed. The second was that we would be supervised on a random basis by a Noah member assigned to us, to 'keep track of our progress'. In reality, the Earl is a cautious man. Though I, as a Bookman, may be kept under lock and key (not literally), the Earl suspects I could find a way. And he's probably right: I could. But, I won't. Because there's no point any more. The war was fought, and lost. My involvement in 'saving the world' is over.

A door takes up precious wall space. So instead of using up the important area I need for my bookshelves, I use a room that the only entrance is through the floor. I clear all the papers off the area around the hatchet, and pull it up. Dust flies everywhere. I cough. When was the last time I opened that door? It must have been a couple weeks ago… I stick my head down from above and look around.

"Yo Bookman-kun!" I hear a giggling voice say. I look down at the- ironically- eldest Noah member, Road Camelot. She's smiling and is lazily standing on one foot, leaning against the ladder up to the opening into my home.

"I told you I'm not a 'kun'." My knees acrobatically flip over my head, so I'm standing halfway down the ladder, looking at her. She smiles, but not that creepy grotesque smile where her mouth curls halfway to her eyeballs.

"I'm coming up so move-"

"Why?" I cut her off.

"Because I need to make sure you're working, silly!" She's jumping up and down now, pouting like a child. When the Earl first won the war, Road looked like she was about ten years old. She was half my height.

Since then, she's grown taller- something around 5"5', maybe. She looks more like a sixteen year old now. But I guess she is basically ageless. Technically, she's thousands of years old.

"Yeah, right…" All she ever does when you come here is mess up my papers. I sigh and climb back up the ladder, letting her in. I regret it immediately, because as soon as she steps up into the room, she walks on every possible page as if they aren't there as she makes her way to her usual spot, splayed across my bed. I snap the door shut, and move behind her straightening the pages. She's already bouncing up and down and getting comfortable on my unmade bed.

"Where've you been?" I ask, sitting down in the chair.

"Hm?" She asks, sitting up and staring across the room at me.

"You haven't been back here in a while. Usually you come every two weeks. It's been three months."

She flips across the room, crinkling and moving papers around with her toes and fingers. Her skirt flips down every time she is upside down, flashing her striped panties that match her socks.

I weigh the chances that she's doing this on purpose.

When she gets to me she places her chin on my shoulder and drapes her arms across my chest.

Yep. Definitely on purpose.

"Miss me…?" She asks, a faint whisper in my ear. I turn my head to face her and nonchalantly poke her in the forehead.

"I'm working. Just go lay down or something. Like you usually do." My eyes linger a little too long on the candle light flickering on her temporarily pale features. She isn't in Noah mode right now.

"Nu-uh!" She says, shaking her head back and forth childishly. "I'm supposed to be supervising you working! I can watch best from here, ne?"

"You. Are. In. The. Way." My palm presses against her forehead as I push her away. She doesn't budge, obviously, and I glare out of the corner of my eye, before lowering my hand and looking away.

There it is. That creepy smile. The inhuman one. Her face is gray now. Her normally dark blue eyes are yellow. They glow in the dark room.

I shiver.

That's the face that killed my friends.

She doesn't move and I'm frightfully aware of her breath on my neck. It's both sensual and disturbing, and I don't know how to react. My eyes re-skim the page for the hundredth time since she got here.

She removes her arms from around my neck, and I think she's leaving, to retreat to my bed, so I concentrate on the pages, finally finishing the page. Just as I am about to move the page to the other side of the desk so I can start on another, gray thighs and striped socks get in my way. I look up startled, to see Road scooting onto my desk. Her feet land strategically on my thighs, and her hands catch my face as I look up.

I unconsciously and slowly put my red hair into a ponytail again.

She takes it back out almost immediately, letting her small hands run through my hair, stroking my untouched temples. I feel the light pressure on my eye patch, the small area I can't see.

Her fingers tenderly hold my head in her hand, and I gaze up at her. My back slouched, as always, she seems to tower over me as she watches my still face. I must look confused, because she smiles gently, and folds herself into my lap.

"Bookman-kun…" She purrs. Vaguely, I feel her mouth skim across mine, but I'm too busy concentrating on the crosses on her forehead. Trying to look somewhere away from her eyes. Anywhere else. But they seemed to grossly radiate all around her face- like candles.

Her midnight blue hair frames her small face cutely, and I see one of her fingers curl around a strand, as it lets go of me.

"Say something…" She whispers. I don't. "Lavi-kun…"

The way my previous name rolls off her tongue is sexy and I feel my body react.

"You killed Allen…" I whisper.

"Yes." The word comes out of her mouth as if killing my friend was the most normal thing in the world.

"You're comrades killed all my friends…"

"Yes." Again with the nonchalant tone.

I try not to think about how sparkly her lips look from this angle, with the small light reflecting all over her. In her hair, the dim light looks like stars. Her hair looks like the night sky.

I don't speak again because I don't have anything else to say. Anything and everything I say, she'll just look at it with her devious logic and ignore the disturbing facts. She sighs and leans back onto the desk.

"You know… Bookman-kun…" I mentally note her returning to the name Bookman. "I'm not a virgin."

Desperately, I try not to show anything on my face as I struggle inwardly with all the possible reasons for her telling me this.

"Neither am I," I tell her. Wait… why did I tell her that?

Another smile appears on her face as she reaches to my shoulders again, pulling herself close to me. Some small part of me somewhere wonders if the chair can support both our weight like this, as her breasts push against me.

Suddenly, I feel like a zombie. I have a sort of out of body experience as I stare blankly forward, as she caresses my bare chest with her fingers and slippery tongue. My thighs tingle, as hers rub against them. My mouth must have opened because her tongue finds its way inside the wet cavern, where it powerfully runs along the length of my own paralyzed muscle. Her hands scrape their way down my back, and finally, with nowhere else to go, they skim along my pant line.

Just as her fingers threaten to plunge into my pants, I snap out of it.

She's playing with me.

Like I'm her toy.

I'm not her toy.

Within a second I have her pinned against the desk. The foreign tongue snaps out of my mouth in surprise and Road's eyes go wide.

"I'm. Not. Your. Doll." I hiss in her ear brokenly. The way my words sound is so foreign to my ears that I can't even recognize the sound of my own voice.

My body goes rigid as I respond to the way she shudders under my weight, a leg on each side of my waist. Then, my hands roughly move against her, similar to the way she had been caressing me only moments ago.

I chomp at her ear lobe, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. She gasps and her arms come flying out of nowhere to knot themselves around the back of my neck. My lips cram into hers and our tongues meet at our lips, pressing and swirling around each other. Road's hands are searching me again and her hands slide across my sweating chest. Somewhere in the midst of movements, her shirt comes off, and her bare, round chest falls beneath my mouth. We press together, and somehow our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, meant to be like that.

"Lavi…-kun," She mutters in a small moment her mouth is separated from me. I moan. Her name falls off my lips before I can stop myself.

"Road…" Her legs move around my waist and she holds herself there, like a monkey dangling off my body. I lean away from the table and somehow blindly stumble to my mattress a few yards away, my eyes never once separating from her gold ones. Our joined bodies bounce a bit as we fall onto it. I prop myself up on my palms and knees and look down at her. She only gazes expectantly up at me, gasping a bit, chest rising and falling.

I remember her.


I remember Lenalee.

I loved Lenalee.

I made love to Lenalee.

Road's hands move across my chest and around my shoulders. She pulls me into her, and I lean down to move my mouth across her chin.

Road… the people Road cared about and worked with… Her family… They killed her. They took the 'Heart of Innocence' from her body.

Her dead body.

Dear god, was I seriously able to write about this, over and over again, for all this time?

Tears fall before I can stop myself. They drip, and stain Road's gray face. She doesn't notice at first, but as they continue to fall, she ceases her sexual movements and looks at me. My tears sparkle on her gray face like dirty diamonds. She looks confused, but somehow mockingly so.

I slowly push myself off of her and sit on the edge of my bed, rubbing my face with the palm of my hands, as if I had just woken up. My feet absently touch the wall.

Road's fingers tangle themselves in my hair from behind, and I feel her breasts press against my back as she touches her lips to my neck.

Lenalee. Her long black hair. Her long, acrobatic legs. Her joyous, enlightening face. Different images of her flash through my mind. Her voice rings in my ears. The tingling feeling of her warms fingers on my chest radiates along my skin.

It's almost like she's here with me.

The mattress creaks as Road gets up and comes around to face me. Slowly, her hands grip mine, and lowers them from my face. With her index finger, she lifts my chin, so I look at her in the eyes. Her thumbs wipes my single line of tears away.

"I… I hurt you didn't I?" Road whispers. I instantly know what she's referring to- nothing physical. Only the mental hurt I felt at that time. It's barely a question, but my expression answers it. "I'm sorry… Lavi-kun."

"LAVI-KUN!" The shriek breaks the strained silence, and I whip around to see Lenalee watching me, with fear-stricken eyes. Blood drops down from her side, and I can see her stumbling across the barren landscape, with nowhere to else to go but to me, with no one else to trust and believe in but me.

But I can't move. My hand reaches toward her shaking form, as it collapses in front of me. I drop to my knees and watch the stream of blood move towards me, threateningly. My quivering hand tenderly lowers to the streak of red on the ground, and touches the girl- the woman I love's blood.


My bloody fingers rise back towards my face, and they slide across my face, like paint. I see a few strands of my hair.


Everything's red.

The entire world seems as if it has been died that color.







"Le…" I murmur, watching the stilling figure. "Lena…"

Her chest's movements, her breathe, pulls slowly to a stop.



Everything's red.

The ground.

My weakened hammer.



So am I.

I'm red.

Road's yellow eyes stare at me. My eyes follow her line of vision to my hands. I'm shaking. I pull my hands away from her, and she releases without any hesitation. I think of her words.

'I'm sorry.' I think of the strange way they sound on her lips. I, a writer, can only think of the irony of her words.

Something is really wrong with the story when the antagonist is sorry.

Her hands run repeatedly through my hair, massaging my aching scalp. My thighs ache, and as much as I wish I could push the feeling- the lust- away, I know this is where I was always meant to be. I remember the way I felt when the girl I didn't even know kissed Allen that day on the arc. Then, as if it was nothing, she showed me- reminded me- what my purpose was.

"Play with me, Bookman!" Road's voice jingles.

Lenalee in the box, her arms trying desperately to reach me. And Road, standing in front of me, giggling happily, as if she wouldn't rather be playing with another. Her convincing me to play with her, me agreeing, and being plunged into her realm. Away from the girl I love, and the people I care about. Then, a strange Road Camelot sprouting from the checker board like a flower.

She introduced to me my opponent and the beginning of the greatest battle I would I ever fight. Her, the Noah who possesses the most vulnerable state of a person's mentality, the dream, put me there, and forced me into a battle against myself, against my memories and my consciousness.

She purposely showed me what I used to be, what I will never be and what I am.

She made me understand.

And when it was all over, I simply returned to my routine as an exorcist, clinging helplessly to the few moments I had left in the life I wished I could have stayed in forever.

Then, when the Akuma attacked, for the final time, I realized the time had come, for me to accept my task- my fiftieth identity.

Like a good Bookman, I backed away from the battle, and stood, watching from a vantage point that I would never use. I was simply watching the fight.

Eventually, the entire Black Order had been destroyed, the ceilings, the walls, and even the floors. The landscape for the battle became a barren ground, which would serve as the final resting place for my former friends. My vantage point melted away as well, but the Noah's, as well as the Akuma, knew what I was doing.

They let me be, while I stood in front a would-be proud Bookman. I wish I could say he looked was proud of me for letting go. But I know he wasn't. Despite everything he ever told me to believe in- he wanted so much more for me than this.

Lenalee died at my feet. She was the last to fall, and I watched, unmoving, as the Earl striped her of the Heart of Innocence. After that, her body was indistinguishable among the piles of corpses that belonged to those I loved.

Bookman died soon after that. He told me he was dying because he was old and sick, but I knew that was a lie. After seeing me betray myself, and him being forced to do the same, he had no will to live on.

I'm surprised I did.

As her hands continue to move across me, I feel a sudden surge of acceptance. Before I even know what I'm doing, my left hand is outstretched, hardly an inch away from her chin. The right elbow twitches, and it reaches out as well. I become aware of how far away we are, physically, mentally and metaphorically. The romanticist in me feels the need to close our distance, and I stand just as quickly as my arms have risen. My frozen limbs never once budge an inch as my fists touch the wall above Road's head, my chest towering over her. The second of confusion that flashes across her face causes me to lower my arms, my right parting with the wood to skim across the skin beneath her breasts. It migrates instinctively up the valley of her chest, and skips her neck entirely to capture her chin in its iron-like, yet gentle, grasp. I touch my lips gently to hers, hesitant despite our extremely recent intimate interactions with each other. The open-mouthed frown on her lips seems to explode into a gentle smile, despite the expression's meekness.

Her fingers betray her calm exterior, and reveal her intense need, as they wind themselves around the waist of my pants, loosening them and allowing them to slide of their own accord. My own digits imitate her, touching the hem of her black mini skirt and pulling it up slightly, while she finishes with my clothes. I don't bother to follow Road's line of sight to just below my waist, where my boxers are still in place.

Out of nowhere, her hands shove roughly against my chest, and I, surprised, fall backwards, lying sideways across my bed. I tip my neck up, just in time to see her strip herself of her skirt, leaving only a pair of white panties and her striped socks that go to her thighs. The thought crosses my mind if she's planning on removing the socks, but she has no intention by the look on her face. A wide grin breaks across my face.


I feel like an old pervert. Suddenly, she jumps, gracefully landing atop me, so she's straddling my still clothed thighs.

She moves like a cat, I realize in a far off part of my mind. Her arms at my shoulders, her knees at my waist, she stretches across me like I'm not even there and she's planning on settling down for a nap. In the process our groins- and this time I'm sure, purposely- grind against each other. After only seconds of this movement, she feels me harden, and stops.

I decide to play her game… momentarily. She touches the final clothing on my body, and without a single final glance to me, she slides them down my waist. Only when I lay completely naked beneath her does she gaze up at me, eyes glazed with an emotion that makes her look completely different. Her eyes push me to the extreme, and I take her small waist in my hands, and flip both of us over.

Her lust-filled face doesn't even waver as her hands move to remove her own underwear, but I, for once, am faster than her. My finger loops under the waistline, my knuckle skimming her sensitive skin, and tug. My forefinger makes an intentional dip across her clitoris, sending her over the edge as her leg raises and points in the air dramatically, her back arching. My mouth touches her nipple, one after another, without favoritism.

She moans, and I moan in response.

Then, as if in an ancient language we can both suddenly understand, I push inside her warmth. Tough barriers meet me, and I snapped out of it enough to be surprised for a moment. She said she wasn't a virgin… I see the small tears in the corners of her eyes as she fails at hiding her virginity. I sigh, pushing in and out.

Too many emotions are moving through me. Love. Lust. Joy. Guilt. Sadness. It's almost too much, as she leans up to kiss me. Her movements are strange and strained- I know because I can feel her clamping around my shaft. Her clothed legs rise into the air, and loop around my waist. Her eyes, finally free of pain, look straight into mine.

I remember everyone again- and I promise myself for the last time. By being in this situation, willingly, I have completely betrayed everything I, as an exorcist, once stood for. Justice. Salvation. Goodness. That's what I was supposed to be. If there was such a thing as a happy ending, I would never be here, now. I would be with Lenalee. I would be with Yu, or Allen, or Bookman. Back then, I wouldn't have given that up for anything.

But now… I wouldn't give this up for anything. What I have, right here, in my small, windowless room, with Road. I wouldn't trade it for another person's life, not even Allen's or Lenalee's. And I know that's selfish, but it's too late. I've long fallen beneath the barriers of what would be considered moral by my old self. It's too late to remember those trivial things that no longer make any difference.

"Lavi-kun…" Road moans in my ear, as she uses her legs to push me deep inside her, one last time, before both of us simultaneously climax. I call her name out, broken away from the thoughts of my past that will never cross my mind again.

"Gomenasai, Lavi…" Road whispers, when I collapse on top of her. "Aishiteru…"

The candle light flickers out, and the two of us are bathed in the darkness that is our souls.


A/N -cough cough- Well I hoped you enjoyed that at least. I thought of this idea a while ago and have been working on this a little at a time since. I understand some of the facts for this are off, but try to ignore this, k? It's sort of OOC and AU but I didn't think it was too bad.

-shrug- Reviews are always welcome!!