Oh, hey there! This is my first time writing a one-shot, so don't kill me. If you guys demand more chapters, I will add more, but seeing as this one chapter will be pretty long and that I have another story that I have to update, yeah. I can take some writing prompts for this and that, but please enjoy. It's a bit bloody and sad, so sorry. I apologize. (IT'S ALSO MY FIRST TIME WRITING IMMENSELY SAD SCENES {EXCLUDING THE PART IN MY OTHER STORY} SO YEAH.)
On top of that, I'm sorry for not updating my story 'Lost in the Fire' because I'm starting another story, really just a drabble series, and it's mainly for crack. I hope you enjoy.
His own blood, crimson and thick, fascinated him up to the point that he often watched it dripping off of his arm and splattering against the floor like rain every day.
But it wasn't just simple interest in his blood that caused him to go out of his way to slice through his own skin. No, it was something far deeper, something far more painful than just simple interest.
If he had to blame someone, he'd blame his accursed ancestors for making others hate him so because of what they did, and not what he did. He had the least souls collected in all of DWMA—apart from the newbies, of course—proving just how desperate he was to escape from his heritage. He pretended that he simply wanted to be a 'big star' and draw attention when all he truly wanted was to escape from everyone, to never see anyone in pain because of him, not even a Kishin egg. The only souls he'd collected were Mifune's and his first Kishin egg soul, and they were hard to collect.
When he found out he'd been walking the path of the demon, he despaired, as it was the path that the Star Clan followed. And the tattoo, with the deep scar through it, did nothing to ease his pain, only deepening it to the point it was almost unbearable.
Of course, by pure chance, he accidentally cut himself with a knife for the first time. He definitely did not cry out and tears did not spill from his cheeks; all he did was stare at the wound that wept his crimson blood and felt nothing but relief.
That's when he started. And that's when his friends started noticing the oddly straight and fresh scars that appeared on his arms. He didn't change his attire otherwise his friends would think something was wrong with him—of course there was, but he wouldn't admit it—and only told them that he was doing extra training with a false grin that always seemed to fool them, even Tsubaki. He'd been able to mask everything so well that even his soul wore a layer of false pretenses.
That deer bastard, Nakatsukasa (A/N: Sorry if I spelled this wrong.), couldn't even tell. After all, he was one with Tsubaki, and if Tsubaki didn't notice, then nobody would. Most likely.
His friends weren't going to keep believing his story about how his training was just too hard. He desperately searched for a way to cover up his arms without being suspicious, but he found none.
Thankfully, the Spartoi uniforms came with white bandages that covered from his hands to the bottom of his elbows. Finally his friends could rest easy, think that his arms wouldn't be as damaged as they were originally because of the bandages being able to block them out a bit. He went along with it, hiding his relief with a grin and a statement saying that a big star like him couldn't be defeated by simple scratches. However, that statement was a lie. He'd been defeated long ago.
His friends wouldn't know the truth until a while later.
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Finally, the battle against the Kishin was over, and the monster was sealed on the moon with Black Blood. Fatigue dragged at his limbs, and as they reached the ground, he ended up standing in his own blood. He was perfectly fine with it, and completely used to it. He enjoyed the agonizing pain that seared from everywhere.
However, his scars ran deep, not just on the outside, but on the inside, crawling over his soul and heart.
As Maka was greeted by Marie, and Kid running off to go find his father, Black Star just stood there, his focus simply on keeping his balance and not falling over. Without realizing it, Tsubaki had been supporting him, calling Nygus over for him to get some treatment. In the midst of the battle, the bandages covering his arms had been sliced through, revealing the sensitive and cut skin hidden beneath its white layers.
Soon, he found himself in the infirmary along with the other meisters that had been on the moon with him. Except that he was the only one who was immobilized.
Kid was sitting up, body wreathed in bandages. Apparently, he was miffed about the fact that they weren't symmetrical, but his OCD had weakened a bit. As the new Shinigami, he was a bit nervous and pretty unhappy about the fact that his father had died. Black Star couldn't relate; he had a shitty father. What's to be expected?
Maka, apparently the least wounded due to the Black Blood, was standing and leaning a little on Soul.
"I feel sorry for you," said Maka, glancing at Black Star. "You can't get out of bed."
"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "I can't wait to be out of here."
Soul cracked a grin at his friend. "If there's something you need, just tell us, and we'll get it for you."
Black Star just needed to dump off this emotional burden. That's all he needed.
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After all of them had healed remarkably well from the battle against the Kishin, Black Star found himself sitting inside his bathroom. Tsubaki wasn't home; she was at school, and Black Star was skipping class as usual. It had been a while, he mused as he felt a sharp blade touch his sensitive skin. The bandages on his arms had been removed, allowing him to look at his bare arms. Long and white scars decorated his skin and a wry smile spread across his face.
Crimson liquid spilled onto the snow-white ground.
Pain exploded from his arm, and he enjoyed every second of it until it ended. More brightly colored rain splattered to the tiled floor, creating a puddle around his bare feet. He could feel the unhappiness that welled up inside him diminishing slightly, and a genuine smile, one that only appeared when he was with Tsubaki and his friends, appeared on his face.
Soon, he collapsed in a pool of blood.
"Black Star? I'm home," called Tsubaki's voice, and waited for a reply. When she didn't get one, worry began to gnaw at her. She headed into their room and found the bathroom door open instead of closed as she had left it.
There was blood. Crimson stained the tiles, and unconscious in the middle of it was Black Star, slashes on his arms that were crying red tears. The bandages that he normally wore were tossed in the corner carelessly, a clean roll sitting on the sink.
Immediately, she tried to stanch the bleeding with the clean bandages, all the while calling up Stein for help. Soon, he arrived, and quickly Black Star was taken to the infirmary at the school.
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His eyes fluttered open to see the ceiling of the infirmary above him. How had he gotten here? Then what had happened came back to him. Being the idiot he was, he had cut too deep and passed out from blood loss. But how had he gotten here? Did someone bring him here?
Tsubaki. Of course. Said person was hovering over him, worry in her dark violet-blue eyes.
"He's awake," came another voice, and Black Star recognized it as Soul, his voice full of relief.
"What were you thinking?" demanded Kid, who appeared in his vision. He didn't respond.
Maka was holding a hardcover book, slapping the spine against her palm. "If you don't answer that, this is going to hit your cranium, and hard."
He stared at her silently, his mouth shut. So he wasn't dumb enough to think that she'd hit him in that condition.
An exasperated sigh escaped from Liz. "You know that if there's something bothering you, you can tell us, right?"
"Yeah! Mr. Giraffe will make you feel much better!" Patty chimed in, holding up a stuffed giraffe. Black Star averted his eyes to the wall, not saying anything.
After an awkward moment of silence, Black Star spoke up softly, for once quiet. "I appreciate it, but I don't need help. I can't ask for it."
"Why not?" inquired a curious Patty, and the question was echoed by none other than Tsubaki.
"I…I…wish I could just forget where I came from," he whispered, voice barely audible. "If I'm going to be hated for something that my Clan did…it's just bloody unfair." He stared at the white ceiling above him, wishing he wasn't given such a dark name. If he was as clean as the ceiling above him, if his Clan was, he wouldn't be in this position.
"You're still on about that?" asked Soul incredulously. A book to his head punished him for his blunt and tactless words.
"You helped to trap the Kishin on the moon. You fought against Arachnophobia, an evil organization. You've done so much good. What your family did doesn't reflect you!" Tsubaki said fiercely.
His melancholy eyes turned to Tsubaki, but they turned back to the ceiling unhappily. He didn't say anything.
"Remember this, Black Star. You're different from the Hoshizoku! You're a warrior god, and not a demon. You won't ever be like your clan. We all know you're Shibusen's strongest student, and if you're going to be defeated by your own clan, you'll simply get back up again. So, Black Star, give us a smile. A genuine one. You'd tell us the same if any of us in that position; in fact, you'd force us to do it," Kid said.
They all grinned at him, brightening the room.
He returned the smile, for once finding peace.
I hope you enjoyed. Tell me if it was bad or if you want another chapter.