Normal speaking

I'll let you guess who's thinking this

Neah Speaking

Neah's thoughts.

Neah Singing (in his part of the story)

Sorry for some mistakes that I didn't see. And also,

Thank you for reading!


Allen didn't know where all the confidence had come from, nor did he know why he was doing this. He meant like, why was he even doing this? He wasn't a medical doctor; his little basic knowledge in the field of healing was to the point of barely any, and even the scarce few had come from his unfortunate almost daily encounters with hostile Noahs, (well, not really that hostile if you count Road and a bunch of others; it was more like they were playing with him and his friends with all the [mostly harmful] games they played) and akuma, and even before that, out-of-their-minds debtors. Oh! And let's not forget his bastard of a master who would (and actually did) promptly throw him to a ring of akuma without hesitation and the littlest pity to save his own furry hide (Allen: it has to be furry!), right? He didn't even know anything about babies—except for the fact that they were tiny and undeniably cute. Crap, he didn't even know what the problem with the little child was. Again, why was he doing this?

There is no fate, no destiny that can hold you back—it is up to you do what you want to do, what you feel you need to do.

As Allen stepped closer, the features of the babe came to light. Red hair that came from Mr. Santigo made the little baby look like a bite sized Lavi who forgot to wear his eye patch. The cute, round face alive with baby fat and the pinkish skin that Allen was sure would soon resemble Mrs. Santigo's livid tan. The baby's ample red lips were sucking his thumb as his mother tried to shush him in comfort to sleep, and then, raised his round face to look at Allen, baring the full force of incredibly vivid brown eyes—Allen didn't know that the color brown had that many shades, but somehow this boy managed to pull it off.

Babies are the only forms of humans that will never be tainted.

Allen wanted to coo at the sight of the child's adorable, innocent, and wickedly angelic face—dear God, he had a feeling (and his feelings were usually right) that he was going obsessed with babies. Who can't? They have super chubby faces and make the funniest expressions and are irresistible when they smile—even with the growing throb of hatred directed to the fat guy behind him who declared himself a doctor. A doctor wouldn't suggest that a child be killed when the child himself still had a long time to live. Allen could tell, feel it in his veins. His instincts were already screaming at him to murder the portly man. He didn't know what the other's intention was, but he knew that the little boy could still survive a couple of years. A couple of years!

Slowly and gradually, he reached a firm hand to caress the little boy's forehead. The babe's eyes fluttered, and Mr. and Mrs. Santigo were silent and wary of him, but a quick look between the two couple, and they held their place, neither pulling away from Allen's slow approach, nor inviting him closer. They were trying to trust him, willing themselves to believe that a miracle could happen. He was their only lifeline though it was likely impossible to do a sudden touch and a prayer or something of the sort to result in viola! He healed their baby.

Humans, they cling to whatever they thought could save them, no matter how impossible that belief could be.

His hand, his right hand without the innocence, felt the cool head of the infant's against his own probably slightly warmer skin. It was then that Allen closed his eyes, and everything around him all except for the little child he was still touching, melted away into oblivion, leaving a darker than black space all around them as if they two were the only existing beings in the world.

Allen didn't know how he found it. Found the slowly failing systems of his center focus. He could hear the calm beating of the child's little heart, but the heart itself was already having trouble; it was too small. The baby's left lung was shrunken a little more so than his right. And even that apparently wasn't enough; a black turmoil was glowing in beats down the right side of child's own brain.

Cancer. How Allen knew it, he had no idea and could only draw conclusions of his own, but he was certain, so perfectly certain that the turmoil of blackened color was cancer, and the reason, the main reason for the bastard's suggestion of death. It was cancer halfway through its worst stage. In fact, he even knew it was a grade III (anaplastic) glioma, an aggressive kind of tumor. How the baby had it was probably from his genetics, but how it grew so fast was big wonder to Allen. Oh yeah, repeat aggressive.

Then Allen felt it, felt it rather than see it; strong currents of life, rushing and travelling through and from the ground where it flowed restlessly in small channels, attaching and connecting themselves to any living being. For some strange reasons, (another one of those reasons he was stacking up in the big basket that read Big Miracles and Impossibilities That Happened in the Life of Allen Walker,) Allen knew the thread of life emitted the color white, or preferably silver since it was more of a misty, platinum color than white. It surged on through like a wild river, bursting into different colors every now and then, each color a signature to their feelings. You could almost read their minds via single colored fireworks hunting.

What I see is Life, so is the darkness Death? Close your eyes, and look for the other part of me.

Allen saw nothing with his eyes. Only the plain darkness of harsh emptiness could be seen as even the baby had dissolved from his sight, leaving his senses other than his sight to feel the little child. Allen could hear it, feel it, touch it, taste the lingering signs of innocence, and smell the different taste of life.

From Mr. Santigo's side, a scent similar to that of damp earth, like that of a forest after a downpour of rain. Absorption. Mr. Santigo would absorb blow after blow, taking it all in no matter how perilous as it could all lead to a landslide, but sometimes defiant, leaving water to escape it in floods.

The odor of coconut came from Mrs. Santigo. Allen could guess that it came from her to symbolize a shield, an unbreakable barrier, a strong fold to protect the people she loved. If her husband would let himself be hurt, then she would be the one to protect him and their child to the greatest of her abilities.

A good family.

And then there was the doctor.

Fire sends warmth.

Fire sent many the security of safety.

Fire burns

and it burns


once you got

too close.

The scent of fire awashed his senses, giving the falsely smell of warmth and comfort whereas it masked the unpleasantness of scorched meat. The white coated man reeked of greed and cowardice, of lulling and entrapment. That's what the man's life force practically shouted to Allen; lure and trap.

Like the worst of the humans.

Allen focused his thoughts on what the man's primary plans were and his hatred turned into loathing, fury turning into a rage so consuming it threatened to make Allen go crazy and just murder the pig behind him. The filth planned on charging too much for the little boy's death—ignoring the fact that the child could still go on for years and years and might actually be able to. Fight. It. Off. The idiot knew that the Santigos were never going to be able to pay enough money for his treatment of their child even in a lifetime, so that left him one option—end the child's misery earlier to save more of the materials for better paying clients and get enough money from the already poor family.

Oh. So he was just in it for the money. How predictable.

Allen could stop it, and Allen knew it. With a simple flick of his hand, or a 'misplaced' footing, he could make it all end—what once was breathing would no longer breathe - who can talk and lie and collect will no longer be able to—and all Allen had to do was wish for it. The lying bastard could die right here, right now. He would get all that he deserved. For hurting, for killing for his greed… Could Allen do it? No, would Allen do it? Will he?

I could stop it, and it would give him what he so deserved. Make the Doors of Death judge all his life, and then cast him to the hell of fire.

Unconsciously, Allen's hand moved, and it moved to cut away the gushing thread of Life from the porky man from behind him.

How some humans could turn corrupt

Then they wither

Till they're nothing but a lump of greed filled with inferiority complexes

Really, I should've known. . .

How some could remain so pure

So strong-willed to open their eyes and see

And fight for justice, for a better world for all. . .

For everything I see,

I cannot despise them all.

"Don't do it, Allen."



Neah traced the outline of the boy's face, gently playing with the white locks of hair. Gathering deep breaths, Neah began singing. The song the fourteenth sang was beautiful, but his voice was only meant as one of the two singers, his partner in the song sleeping peacefully in his arms.

"At midnight, it plays…

the murmurs of the clock.

It tells of the beginning…

of the ticking and dreams.

Above the clouds that…

survey the uneven roads below…

there is the faint shining…

of visiting lost children.

As we search for you…

we sing…

hoping that someday our distantly hoping voices…

could and would be head.

On the streaming-by night of the stars…

a northern wind whirls through the streets.

There is no news from the awaited individuals…

So we merely design the upcoming day.

The stars record hopes and wishes…

and quietly turn that sky into dust.

We, in the midst of our sleep…

dream up blithe fantasies.


Neah hummed, his eyes fluttering brightly. I wish I could hear you sing this, Allen.

"Afresh and effortlessly…

clouds are weaved into existence.

A myriad of glowing…

lambencies are born.

Footsteps and shouting voices.

Everyone awakens.

Multiple wishes…

will perchance be entrusted to me tonight.

Even though you cannot see me…

I understand it.

On a distant road, I am being hit on the back…

by the exact same rain.

On the downpour evening of the stars…

the sound of the rain swallowed our voices.

while we were still unable to slumber…

we were watching the twinkling firmament.

The seven hues of stardust and…

a buzz resonate within the earth.

Like fireworks that bloomed shambolically….

confetti twirls and swirls throughout the sky.

The strobe of outside lights and…

clouds spreading like ripples.

Floating water, swaying hair.

A flock of birds flies away.

It almost feels like a miracle.

Carrying the infant who had jumped on her back…

the mother's fingertip is trembling.

I simply stand still…

and as I am languid, my memories orbit me.

Everything of the time I walked through…

were reborn here at this moment.

Until the gear that started to move…

robs me of my body…

I will be fervently…

thinking only of you."

Neah looked back down to his dear's face and his voice faltered. What's wrong?Neah asked himself as he took in the sudden hitching of breath, greatly furrowed brows, and the slight shaking accompanied by an angry snarl coming from the slumbering boy in the circular white bed.

Alarmed, Neah grabbed his little brother's Noah form from the bed, placing his sleeping sibling to sit on his lap and wrapping his arms around the smaller boy, his soft rocking and his whispers of small reassurances echoing in the space of endless white.

"Shh. . . Shh. . ." Neah rocked back and forth, willing little Allen to a more peaceful sleep, but of course that hope was useless. Allen seemed to only grow more and more restless. Allen? Allen?Neah called with his mind, but his brother and nephew didn't answer. The hard way then. He would have to go out to see what the problem was. With a kiss on his brother's forehead, Neah plunged his way into his brother's physical world, passing through Allen's mental barriers without a slight hitch and swearing murder to whomever and whatever was causing unrest to his Allen.

Oh. So he was just in it for the money. How predictable.

Huh? Neah eyes followed the path of the thought that had popped out from Allen's consciousness. So it's the apathetic greed this time, huh? Sigh, humans.

Found you. Neah smiled, controlling his drifting path up to the white light that signaled the entrance to the world a part of his Allen was living, oh and that crystal. Neah didn't dare say the name innocence. He knew that if he did, he wouldn't be able to control the hatred that will overcome him. As long as that crystal helped protect Allen even for a bit, Noah born hatred be damned.

Finally. Neah stepped out, immediately noticing the darkness around him and the thin, silvery light that ran across the darkness with ease. Allen and a baby with red hair, who seemed half asleep and fully aware at the same time, were in the center of the light, three colorful humanoid figure—two near Allen and the baby and one a bit farther and rather . . . big.

"Hmm. . . What's going on?" Neah asked softly to himself. Damn, he should have checked Allen's thoughts first before just getting out. He would have to create a 'line', or a flow, to keep track of Allen's thoughts.

With a lot of concentration, Neah managed to create the connection. A 'line', also known as a flow, does exactly as it says—it creates a line between the 'audience', the one who listens to the thoughts of the 'center', the person or the people that the 'audience' built up a one way connection to read that person's (or group of people's) thoughts through connecting to their life-bond and thread of life.

I could stop it, and it would give him what he so deserved. Make the Doors of Death judge all his life, and then cast him to the hell of fire.

Stop it? Allen's going to kill someone? Neah's eyes had widened slightly before he shook his head. Of course, with the half transformation with Allen and his Noah version, this was bound to bloody happen. Allen should have spent more time sleeping and resting so that Allen's body could slowly begin to prepare changes for the Awakening, and as a result of that Central's damning 'law', even the nutrients needed hadn't been met. That's why Allen had to leave his 'beloved' Black Order—to get his required preparations.

Wait, this thought seem so separate from others. . . . It can't be?! So he, too, is awakening. Neah thought, oh well. At least things were finally moving faster. And with that thought, his mind soon moved on to other things.

Hmm, now that Neah thought of it, referring to both Noah 'Allen' and 'Red' Allen was quite confusing. It held a great symbol though, the way a Noah was named. The name 'Allen' in the ancient Spirit language, even after thousands and thousands of years, still held the same meaning, and it was also one of the precious few that had managed to leaked on to the 'bloody and peaceful' human history. Even then, fewer of those said scarce names still meant the same thing as it did back then. Light in the Darkness, that's what both of the boys' name meant—light in the darkness. Very fitting, isn't it? Maybe he should start calling one of them Soft White. Or Pale Silver, it would refer greatly in their marble white skin and white hair that had changed to the color of silver half a millimeter from the tip, which anyone would have found if they had bothered to look closely.

It's settled! Noah Allen will be Soft White and 'Red' Allen will be Pale Silver or Silver alone.

While Neah mused himself with their names, Allen's train of thoughts continued and Neah was forced to notice that Al—no! Silver's hand was inching towards a particular direction, towards a small thread of life gleaming about in the direction of the man (Pfft. More like a pig, really. A greedy, lumpy pig if you look at he's color. Ugh).

I could just move my hand, just hold the flow for a few seconds, and he could die, and get what he deserves. He was greedy, that doctor, and still is.

Could I? Could I do this? Can I…kill?

I don't know, Allen. Can you? Neah smiled softly, some things never change, don't they? He had to intervene now. He didn't know what would happen if he didn't, but he wasn't taking chances. Not with Allen, at least.

"Don't do it, Allen."

Allen's hand froze in midair, his dark bluish silver eyes darting around trying to pinpoint the source of Neah's voice.

"Hello, Silver." Neah lifted his hat, chuckling. His Silver was just so cute. He would be even more adorable once Light and White became one. Then they would truly be 'Allen' then.

"You. . . You're the fourteenth!" Silver's face was stoic and calculating mingled with a bit of surprise in his eyes. Allen's body was poised as if expecting an attack at any second now. Neah grinned knowing 'Silver' Allen wouldn't see it. This was the side of 'Allen' that would rush in to protect people he didn't even know. If Neah intended to harm the people in this place, except, perhaps, for the big violet color human outline in this plane, Allen would be ready for it.

"Now, now, isn't that a bit rude? After all I went all the way here just to see you." Allen didn't answer, but continued to glare holes at his head. Seeing as Allen was planning to remain silent in his presence, Neah pressed on, voicing a question that had. "So nice to know that you seem to recognize me even if I'm pretty sure this is the first time that we met. Care to tell me how?"

Could he possibly remember me? Neah mentally asked himself. Even though knowing that Allen remembering him was impossible, he couldn't help the wistful feeling that flooded him.

Uncertainty flashed the silver eyes before the solemnity over took it again, and Allen said with a monotone, "You're a Noah."

It wasn't a question. "Yes, or as I fancy it to be, was a Noah."

Nice dodge to the question, Allen.

"Now, I'm guessing you're planning on healing little baby-chan over there," Allen's eyes flickered to the baby then returned to him in a second.

"So if I was?" Bingo!

"Then why were you planning on killing fat guy over there?" Neah pointed to his back where the portly man stood unmoving. The only moving creatures in the darkness were him, Allen, and the child.

Allen's breathing seem to stop, and Allen stared at his shaking hands.

He's right, huh? I wanted to kill him. . . . I was going to kill him.

"You don't need to bother taking responsibilities like that, Allen." Neah went over to Allen, messing with the boy's white hair. It felt unusually silken in his hands. "Would you really like to take a life?"

Allen shook his head, lifting his face to stare at Neah calmly. "What do you want?" the words with me were left unspoken.

"I want to help you."

Allen eyed him skeptically, so Neah repeated. "I want to help you."


Allen 'stepped' out of the life world as he had named the dark plane with the white light. What felt like an hour was actually no longer than a minute in the real world? He just couldn't believe it when Neah had explained it to him. He swayed slightly at the loss of contact between him and the baby.

"Are alright there, lad?" Mr. Santigo was eyeing him warily and hugging he's wife and son at the same. It wasn't only concern in his eyes; it also held disbelief and joy at the same time.

Oh. So they had felt that power too.

"Careful." Neah graciously added in his head.

Allen smiled at the family. Healing Al, the baby's name as he soon found, had taken a bit more energy than he expected. Thinking that his job was done, Allen stepped backwards, heading towards the door.



One. . . .


"Wha—" Allen turned around quickly, innocence in half activation before the sight before him made him stop.

The air around the doctor was whipping, bits of what looked like paper flying about and sticking themselves to the man in the center of the biting winds. When almost all the pieces of paper was gone, the doctor wasn't there anymore. In his place stood a bald. . . covered with feathers face man holding a furious scowl.


"Neah?!" Allen asked almost frantically. For some reason, he didn't like this man at all. Nope, not one bit.

"Fifteenth! How dare you mess with our plans!" the man snarled, his mosaic-like face twisting angrily.

"Um, what?" Allen stood still. What plans, he asked himself.

"Hold on, Allen! He's coming!" Neah shouted in his head.

"Who's coming?!" Allen shouted mentally in his head.



There was suddenly a blinding darkness, and for a while Allen was lost. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear any sound. Heck, he couldn't even contact Neah.




Then suddenly a clear, strong voice broke the silence. "Hello, Allen."

Hello, guys. I know that I haven't updated for long, but I was having trouble writing. Besides starting this story with barely any plot in mind, I seem to be only focused on making a lot of words and could not really get on with the story as you noticed on the first part of this chapter. But! Horray! I found a solution! By covering up the words number on the screen, I could write faster! Yay!

And so…

I would like to edit the previous chapters, and hopefully this time, I could finish them faster.


And also please note that if an author signs out and votes again for their couple—it is allowed! It counts as devotion for the couple too seeing as one of you already did that. :)

Oh and if you would like to share an idea for Allen's room, send them in!

Um, I promised to make a RoadxAllen story to sate those of you who wanted the pairing. Now, the problem is, I have no idea what is going to happen. Fans of the pairing, please, please send anything you might find you might like to happen in the story! Thank you!

Lyrics to the song Neah sang was found in youtube with the address watch?v=sJKf8CZuYVY