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back to the street where we began;
Summary: In the time span that Allen had died, he had gone to a train station from nowhere, and lost all his memories. After meeting with various others, he must remember why his arm is special, and what he must do. His heart beats louder when he remembers, closer to the stab wound of his heart. Slowly, his friends regain their memories, and to live again, he must board the train.
Ba-dump.
“Now departing . . . from Station . . . Platform . . . Please do not step over . . . line . . . “
Allen woke up groggily. Tiredly, he tried to move himself to sit in an upright position, but his arms were too heavy, as if they were attached to lead. Over a tinny radio, he could hear a strange melody from a piano. He tried to find a name for the piece, but the names would not come.
Finally, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was sitting on a bench at a station—a train station—and there were other people around him. But it was a strange world. Everything was in monochrome. Even the light filtering in from the large windows above seemed only to be shades of gray.
He stood up and nearly fell again. Swallowing rapidly, he hesitantly turned to a man who was reading a newspaper, leaning against a pillar.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I seem to be lost.” And that seemed to be an understatement. “Could you tell me where I am?”
The man did not move.
“Excuse me,” he repeated, louder. Then, curious, Allen tried to see what the man was reading. But the newspaper was covered in a language that he did not understand. Finally, he reached over with his hand and tried to tug the man’s coat.
But as if he was a ghost, his hand disappeared inside the man’s arm.
“Au-augh!” He leapt back, and then squirrelly glanced around, trying to see if anybody noticed his ghostly moment. But he realized that nobody was moving, either. There was a little girl, frozen in time as she tugged her mother’s hand. Another man, checking his watch, which was permanently set.
He shivered. This place was creepy. Other than the piano streaming from the intercom, he could only hear his own footsteps as he traveled from person to person, trying to touch them, to attract their attention. But the result was the same for each.
“Hello?” Allen waved his hand in front of a woman’s face. “Can you hear me?” If only he could touch them. Then he would be able to draw things on their faces or something like that. But he felt bewildered, now, and he looked around. There were no doors from the room, though.
He leaned against a wall, exhausted from running around. Unhappily, he glanced at a nearby mirror. He, too, was in black and white, though he was able to move. He blinked and leaned closer to the mirror, though. It seemed that the mark on his eye was glowing red, though, the only color in the room. When he lifted his hand to the mirror, it was the same color of bright red.
Why were they red? He curiously flexed his arm, and touched his eye. Were they special parts of him? His eye and his arm? Did they do something? But it was just an ordinary arm and an ordinary eye.
Ba-dump.
A wave of nausea rushed over him, and he gripped his heart suddenly. It hurt, as if it was tearing its way from his chest. No, that would be the wrong description. Like something was . . . tearing into his chest . . . ?
The piano melody continued.
“Are you lost?”
He spun around. The other voice seemed like riches to his ears, and he would have willingly burst into tears and give hugs if he knew who the person was. But this person didn’t seem to be a person at all. It was more like a shadow, a burning shadow with flickering skin, but its face was only a sinister smile, bright on the shadow’s face.
Allen decided it would be impolite to stare, so he only nervously looked away.
“Y-Yeah, I seem to be. Do you know where I am?”
“Yes.”
There was a long pause as Allen felt a pulse of irritation. Even if this thing was a shadow, it didn’t give it a right to be impolite.
“Wh-where am I, then?”
“A train station.”
“I can see that much,” Allen muttered. “Do you know how to get back?”
“Get back to where?”
“To—“ Allen paused, and wrinkled his brow. There was a place he needed to go, but he couldn’t remember where. It was like an incessant tickle in his brain, a pounding headache. He gripped his head tightly, and the wave of nausea came again. He had to remember! There was a place important to him, deep within his heart—which was aching, as if it was being gripped from the sides—
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump badumpbadumpba
“I just need to go back!” He shouted. His voice echoed through the walls. “I just—I just need to.”
His breathing was ragged and he was sweating, and he finally straightened up again, unable to look at the shadow anymore. His heart seemed to calm down, but when he looked up again, the shadow seemed disappointed.
“But do you want to?”
“E-eh--?”
But the shadow already disappeared.
The intercom crackled above. “All boarding . . . Train . . . “
Ba-dump.
.chapter one: Lavi
Allen sulkily sat at his bench (it was his now, he thought, after all, nobody was active enough to fight him for it) and crossed his arms over his chest. He was hungry without being hungry—not that he was physically hungry, but in his mind, he could have eaten three tons of soup, no problem. He tried not to look too jealous at a little girl who was sucking a lollipop.
He patted at his shirt until he found a pocketwatch, and clicked it open for the time.
Exactly twelve.
He sighed again and relaxed against the bench.
And felt a sudden tug at his chest.
“Oi—oi!” He flailed desperately as he tried not to pulled away from the bench.
“Hmmm?” The boy peered at him. “How’d a shrimp like you get such a nice watch? Didya steal it? I bet you stole it.”
“I didn’t steal it!” Allen snatched it back and, ruffled, stuffed it back into his shirt. Then he gaped openly at the other boy. “You’re moving!”
“Ehh?” The boy blinked his one eye. “Of course I’m moving.”
“But nobody else is.”
“You and me are, right?” He plopped down on the bench beside him. “Do you have any food?”
Allen’s stomach gave a loud rumble.
“. . . Guess not. My name’s Lavi. What’s yours?”
“Allen. Allen Walker.”
“What are you doing around here?”
“I-I don’t know. I just woke up, and—hey! Do you know where we are?” Allen brightened up considerably. “And why nobody is moving?”
“I don’t know.”
Allen felt another, wilder pulse of irritation.
“Whatever,” he muttered to himself. But he felt it was comforting to have someone with him that was seemingly a human. Unless it was the shadow in disguise. His eyes darkened considerably at that thought.
“So do you live here?” he asked, trying to make pleasant conversation.
“Not really. I’m only here because you are.”
That was creepy.
“Besides, aren’t you late?” Lavi pointed at Allen’s watch. “You have to board the train.”
“The train?”
Ba-dump.
“You can’t miss it. Once it comes, it’ll wait for you.”
“That loses a lot of business,” Allen said.
“. . . That shouldn’t be your first thought.”
“Ehh?” There were a lot of weird people here. “What should be my first thought, then?”
This strange boy, Lavi, only grinned. “Can’t tell ya.”
“What?” That was mean. “Why not? Is it a secret?”
“I’m only here ta watch. If I tell ya—“ Lavi touched Allen’s eye, and there seemed to be something special in his touch. “Then it’ll ruin it.”
Allen held his breath for a moment, staring at Lavi. But when Lavi only grinned in return, Allen flushed and pushed his hand away. “Why don’t you do anything?” Allen asked defensively.
“Because my heart’s made out of paper,” Lavi said, “And what I bleed is ink. I’m not like you.”
He was talking to a crazy person. Allen laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, all the while eyeing the other frozen statues. There seemed to be no rescue from this really weird person. “Ehhhhh.” Allen said, trying to laugh it off. “It must be hard to be a bystander, then.”
“Hard?” Lavi blinked.
“To see everybody doing their best and not be able to do anything about it.” Allen checked his pocketwatch again. It was still twelve. “When did you say the train arrived?”
“I didn’t.” Lavi scratched his cheek gingerly. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”
“The train?”
“Not being involved. Humans got war. And death. And everything. If you’re not part of it, it doesn’t matter. Jus’ write it down.”
Allen smiled. “But there are causes that we believe in, too. Don’t you remember? Fighting for what you want, fighting to live, and not just survive.”
Lavi mumbled something.
“What?”
“It’s sad.” He looked grouchy now, unlike his usual (usual? Allen thought. This was the first time he had met this Lavi, though) self. “Besides, I’m a Bookman. We’re a different type. We just write it down, and we just find the information. We don’t pick sides.”
Ba-dump. Allen clutched at his heart. “But aren’t there things you want to fight for?” he asked, without hatred, without curiosity. He smiled innocently. “Things that you’re willing to die for? To risk everything, in the deepest storm, to save a person from a fate worse than death? Even if it is—“
Ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump
“—even if it doesn’t turn out the way you want it to—“
ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump he was going to die his heart wouldn’t stop but the sentence wouldn’t stop ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump
“—wouldn’t it be worth it . . . ?”
Allen’s heart was going to burst from his chest. He knew it, and he hovered his hand over his heart in pain. Lavi didn’t seem to notice. His eye had a glazed look over it, and a strange expression, as if he was somehow caught in the past and present at once.
“Waddya mean by ‘rememb—‘“ Lavi’s other eye lighted up. And there was relief in his eye and voice and smile. “Oh, so it’s you, Allen. How could I forget such a shorty?”
ba-dump
“A-ah?” What was he going on about? And when did they become so informal that he could tease him about his height? He wasn’t short! But the heartbeats had stopped throbbing in his ears, so he relaxed, slightly, hand still resting over his chest.
Lavi looked at the large clock. “Train arrives at 12:01. But it waits for you, so you can’t miss it.” He slung his hammer over his shoulder, and Allen noticed for the first time that it was glowing bright red against the gray background. “Give it some thought, alright?”
“Give what some—“
But Lavi had disappeared. Allen leapt up, but all around him were just the same gray people. And when he checked his pocketwatch, it was still 12:00.
.chapter two: Lenalee
A girl walked through the train station, her feet burning like red fire. Allen stood up, blinking shyly. She had long ponytails and sparkling eyes. When she saw him, she smiled and cocked her head to the side.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen another person here,” she said, holding up her hand. “Or, rather, you?” She gave a sweeter smile, and Allen blushed. She was cute, he thought. Though for some reason, he glanced around the station, as if looking for someone else who was supposed to accompany her. But seeing that she was alone, he nervously offered her a seat on the bench.
Ba-dump.
“There was someone else here,” Allen said. “He had red hair, and an eyepatch.” He reflected. “And a hammer.”
“A hammer?” Lenalee blinked, and then smiled. “That’s strange.”
“When did you arrive here, Lenalee?” he asked. “And do you know what’s happening?”
“Hmm?” She put her finger to her lips (Allen blushed even redder and tried not to stare) and reflectively looked around. “No, I suppose I don’t. I think I used to, but then something happened.”
“Do you know what happened?”
“Not really.” She looked sad. “I’m sorry that I can’t be more of a help—“
“No, it’s okay!” he said hastily. “It’s nice to have another person around.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“I wish I had coffee or something to offer you,” she said sadly.
“C-Coffee?”
“You don’t like coffee?”
“Th-that’s not it!”
Ba-dump.
“Now departing . . . from Station . . . Platform . . . Please do not step over . . . line . . . “
Allen woke up groggily. Tiredly, he tried to move himself to sit in an upright position, but his arms were too heavy, as if they were attached to lead. Over a tinny radio, he could hear a strange melody from a piano. He tried to find a name for the piece, but the names would not come.
Finally, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was sitting on a bench at a station—a train station—and there were other people around him. But it was a strange world. Everything was in monochrome. Even the light filtering in from the large windows above seemed only to be shades of gray.
He stood up and nearly fell again. Swallowing rapidly, he hesitantly turned to a man who was reading a newspaper, leaning against a pillar.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I seem to be lost.” And that seemed to be an understatement. “Could you tell me where I am?”
The man did not move.
“Excuse me,” he repeated, louder. Then, curious, Allen tried to see what the man was reading. But the newspaper was covered in a language that he did not understand. Finally, he reached over with his hand and tried to tug the man’s coat.
But as if he was a ghost, his hand disappeared inside the man’s arm.
“Au-augh!” He leapt back, and then squirrelly glanced around, trying to see if anybody noticed his ghostly moment. But he realized that nobody was moving, either. There was a little girl, frozen in time as she tugged her mother’s hand. Another man, checking his watch, which was permanently set.
He shivered. This place was creepy. Other than the piano streaming from the intercom, he could only hear his own footsteps as he traveled from person to person, trying to touch them, to attract their attention. But the result was the same for each.
“Hello?” Allen waved his hand in front of a woman’s face. “Can you hear me?” If only he could touch them. Then he would be able to draw things on their faces or something like that. But he felt bewildered, now, and he looked around. There were no doors from the room, though.
He leaned against a wall, exhausted from running around. Unhappily, he glanced at a nearby mirror. He, too, was in black and white, though he was able to move. He blinked and leaned closer to the mirror, though. It seemed that the mark on his eye was glowing red, though, the only color in the room. When he lifted his hand to the mirror, it was the same color of bright red.
Why were they red? He curiously flexed his arm, and touched his eye. Were they special parts of him? His eye and his arm? Did they do something? But it was just an ordinary arm and an ordinary eye.
Ba-dump.
A wave of nausea rushed over him, and he gripped his heart suddenly. It hurt, as if it was tearing its way from his chest. No, that would be the wrong description. Like something was . . . tearing into his chest . . . ?
The piano melody continued.
“Are you lost?”
He spun around. The other voice seemed like riches to his ears, and he would have willingly burst into tears and give hugs if he knew who the person was. But this person didn’t seem to be a person at all. It was more like a shadow, a burning shadow with flickering skin, but its face was only a sinister smile, bright on the shadow’s face.
Allen decided it would be impolite to stare, so he only nervously looked away.
“Y-Yeah, I seem to be. Do you know where I am?”
“Yes.”
There was a long pause as Allen felt a pulse of irritation. Even if this thing was a shadow, it didn’t give it a right to be impolite.
“Wh-where am I, then?”
“A train station.”
“I can see that much,” Allen muttered. “Do you know how to get back?”
“Get back to where?”
“To—“ Allen paused, and wrinkled his brow. There was a place he needed to go, but he couldn’t remember where. It was like an incessant tickle in his brain, a pounding headache. He gripped his head tightly, and the wave of nausea came again. He had to remember! There was a place important to him, deep within his heart—which was aching, as if it was being gripped from the sides—
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump badumpbadumpba
“I just need to go back!” He shouted. His voice echoed through the walls. “I just—I just need to.”
His breathing was ragged and he was sweating, and he finally straightened up again, unable to look at the shadow anymore. His heart seemed to calm down, but when he looked up again, the shadow seemed disappointed.
“But do you want to?”
“E-eh--?”
But the shadow already disappeared.
The intercom crackled above. “All boarding . . . Train . . . “
Ba-dump.
.chapter one: Lavi
Allen sulkily sat at his bench (it was his now, he thought, after all, nobody was active enough to fight him for it) and crossed his arms over his chest. He was hungry without being hungry—not that he was physically hungry, but in his mind, he could have eaten three tons of soup, no problem. He tried not to look too jealous at a little girl who was sucking a lollipop.
He patted at his shirt until he found a pocketwatch, and clicked it open for the time.
Exactly twelve.
He sighed again and relaxed against the bench.
And felt a sudden tug at his chest.
“Oi—oi!” He flailed desperately as he tried not to pulled away from the bench.
“Hmmm?” The boy peered at him. “How’d a shrimp like you get such a nice watch? Didya steal it? I bet you stole it.”
“I didn’t steal it!” Allen snatched it back and, ruffled, stuffed it back into his shirt. Then he gaped openly at the other boy. “You’re moving!”
“Ehh?” The boy blinked his one eye. “Of course I’m moving.”
“But nobody else is.”
“You and me are, right?” He plopped down on the bench beside him. “Do you have any food?”
Allen’s stomach gave a loud rumble.
“. . . Guess not. My name’s Lavi. What’s yours?”
“Allen. Allen Walker.”
“What are you doing around here?”
“I-I don’t know. I just woke up, and—hey! Do you know where we are?” Allen brightened up considerably. “And why nobody is moving?”
“I don’t know.”
Allen felt another, wilder pulse of irritation.
“Whatever,” he muttered to himself. But he felt it was comforting to have someone with him that was seemingly a human. Unless it was the shadow in disguise. His eyes darkened considerably at that thought.
“So do you live here?” he asked, trying to make pleasant conversation.
“Not really. I’m only here because you are.”
That was creepy.
“Besides, aren’t you late?” Lavi pointed at Allen’s watch. “You have to board the train.”
“The train?”
Ba-dump.
“You can’t miss it. Once it comes, it’ll wait for you.”
“That loses a lot of business,” Allen said.
“. . . That shouldn’t be your first thought.”
“Ehh?” There were a lot of weird people here. “What should be my first thought, then?”
This strange boy, Lavi, only grinned. “Can’t tell ya.”
“What?” That was mean. “Why not? Is it a secret?”
“I’m only here ta watch. If I tell ya—“ Lavi touched Allen’s eye, and there seemed to be something special in his touch. “Then it’ll ruin it.”
Allen held his breath for a moment, staring at Lavi. But when Lavi only grinned in return, Allen flushed and pushed his hand away. “Why don’t you do anything?” Allen asked defensively.
“Because my heart’s made out of paper,” Lavi said, “And what I bleed is ink. I’m not like you.”
He was talking to a crazy person. Allen laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, all the while eyeing the other frozen statues. There seemed to be no rescue from this really weird person. “Ehhhhh.” Allen said, trying to laugh it off. “It must be hard to be a bystander, then.”
“Hard?” Lavi blinked.
“To see everybody doing their best and not be able to do anything about it.” Allen checked his pocketwatch again. It was still twelve. “When did you say the train arrived?”
“I didn’t.” Lavi scratched his cheek gingerly. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”
“The train?”
“Not being involved. Humans got war. And death. And everything. If you’re not part of it, it doesn’t matter. Jus’ write it down.”
Allen smiled. “But there are causes that we believe in, too. Don’t you remember? Fighting for what you want, fighting to live, and not just survive.”
Lavi mumbled something.
“What?”
“It’s sad.” He looked grouchy now, unlike his usual (usual? Allen thought. This was the first time he had met this Lavi, though) self. “Besides, I’m a Bookman. We’re a different type. We just write it down, and we just find the information. We don’t pick sides.”
Ba-dump. Allen clutched at his heart. “But aren’t there things you want to fight for?” he asked, without hatred, without curiosity. He smiled innocently. “Things that you’re willing to die for? To risk everything, in the deepest storm, to save a person from a fate worse than death? Even if it is—“
Ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump
“—even if it doesn’t turn out the way you want it to—“
ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump he was going to die his heart wouldn’t stop but the sentence wouldn’t stop ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump
“—wouldn’t it be worth it . . . ?”
Allen’s heart was going to burst from his chest. He knew it, and he hovered his hand over his heart in pain. Lavi didn’t seem to notice. His eye had a glazed look over it, and a strange expression, as if he was somehow caught in the past and present at once.
“Waddya mean by ‘rememb—‘“ Lavi’s other eye lighted up. And there was relief in his eye and voice and smile. “Oh, so it’s you, Allen. How could I forget such a shorty?”
ba-dump
“A-ah?” What was he going on about? And when did they become so informal that he could tease him about his height? He wasn’t short! But the heartbeats had stopped throbbing in his ears, so he relaxed, slightly, hand still resting over his chest.
Lavi looked at the large clock. “Train arrives at 12:01. But it waits for you, so you can’t miss it.” He slung his hammer over his shoulder, and Allen noticed for the first time that it was glowing bright red against the gray background. “Give it some thought, alright?”
“Give what some—“
But Lavi had disappeared. Allen leapt up, but all around him were just the same gray people. And when he checked his pocketwatch, it was still 12:00.
.chapter two: Lenalee
A girl walked through the train station, her feet burning like red fire. Allen stood up, blinking shyly. She had long ponytails and sparkling eyes. When she saw him, she smiled and cocked her head to the side.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen another person here,” she said, holding up her hand. “Or, rather, you?” She gave a sweeter smile, and Allen blushed. She was cute, he thought. Though for some reason, he glanced around the station, as if looking for someone else who was supposed to accompany her. But seeing that she was alone, he nervously offered her a seat on the bench.
Ba-dump.
“There was someone else here,” Allen said. “He had red hair, and an eyepatch.” He reflected. “And a hammer.”
“A hammer?” Lenalee blinked, and then smiled. “That’s strange.”
“When did you arrive here, Lenalee?” he asked. “And do you know what’s happening?”
“Hmm?” She put her finger to her lips (Allen blushed even redder and tried not to stare) and reflectively looked around. “No, I suppose I don’t. I think I used to, but then something happened.”
“Do you know what happened?”
“Not really.” She looked sad. “I’m sorry that I can’t be more of a help—“
“No, it’s okay!” he said hastily. “It’s nice to have another person around.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“I wish I had coffee or something to offer you,” she said sadly.
“C-Coffee?”
“You don’t like coffee?”
“Th-that’s not it!”