Notes:
This is AU. (Alternate universe) There are no meisters, weapons, witches, or Kishins.
Kidd and Maka will be out of character for the first couple of chapters, just a fair warning.
I don't own Soul Eater or any other works/brands mentioned in this.
Chapter One: Rainy Graveyard
Great, he thought. Rain.
He sighed, stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, and walked out of the graveyard.
"What time is it?" He muttered to himself, before pulling out his cell phone and shielding it from the rain with his other hand. "Shit, it's already two in the morning…"
Once he approached his car, he fiddled with the key for a moment and then unlocked the door and slid inside.
He slammed it shut and rubbed his bare hands together in an attempt to warm them up. He then inserted his key into the ignition and started the engine—and, more importantly, the heater.
He drove away.
After about ten minutes, the rain had increased significantly. He cursed his shitty windshield wipers, and leaned forward slightly to squint out the windshield.
"What the hell…?" he murmured, eyes narrowing again, before widening immensely and slamming on the brakes.
There was a girl standing in the middle of the road.
His car veered to the left a little and he managed to stop before hitting her.
She did not move despite nearly being run over.
He debated with himself for a few seconds before pulling his hood up and getting out of his car.
"Hey, you lost or something?" he asked her.
She did not acknowledge him.
He approached her. At a closer look, he was astounded. What was a girl his age doing out alone in the middle of the night?
Her head was tilted upwards, and her eyes half lidded. Her arms hung limply at her sides, and her jeans were ripped and scratched. He assumed her legs were too. Her hair was ash blonde but steadily darkening from the rain.
"Are you alright?" He asked, waving a hand in front of her face. Her expression remained blank, but her head shook just the slightest. Her knees buckled, and she fainted.
"Hey!" He exclaimed, dropping to his knees in time to catch her before her head hit the asphalt.
Bright, she thought. So bright…where am I…?
She opened her eyes and immediately squinted—the light was much brighter than with closed eyes.
She sat up and realized she was on a bed. She rubbed her head and surveyed the room she was in.
The walls were white and there were copies of the same painting on each of them, in the dead center. There were two bookshelves on either side of the door. The room was extremely neat and tidy, almost as if it had been cleaned aggressively.
She felt her pocket and sighed in relief when she felt that her only possession was still there.
The doorknob turned and she tensed. The door opened and she pulled out her knife.
"Hey! Hey! Careful with that thing!" A girl no older than herself entered the room. Her long black hair was tied up in a thin ponytail, and her sapphire eyes held honesty and kindness.
"She's awake!" she called over her shoulder, before making her way over to the bed and sitting on it. "Do you feel alright?" she asked. She seemed genuinely concerned.
The girl with the green eyes blinked, and her mouth opened slightly before she bit her lip and looked to the side.
Quick footsteps were heard, and then the door opened again.
A male entered this time. She felt she recognized him, but she couldn't place her finger on why. He stood tall—though not much taller than herself—and he was thin, though not unhealthily. His black hair nearly touched his shoulders in the back, though what caught her attention were the three white stripes that ran halfway around his head. His golden eyes fixed on her, and he quickly approached her and handed her a glass of water.
"You were out for two days," he informed her.
She held the cup with both hands and stared at it.
"You must be thirsty, right?" the black haired girl asked. "My name is Tsubaki, by the way." She smiled and offered her hand, but was ignored.
"Go on, drink up," the boy said. She shook her head, and handed the cup back.
Tsubaki frowned, took the cup from the boy, and left the room.
The girl picked up her knife again, and ran her finger along the blade, not even wincing when she accidentally cut herself.
"Hey, that's dangerous," he said, tugging the knife from her grip and placing it on the nightstand. He folded his arms, and furrowed his eyebrows. "What's up with you?"
She turned her head slightly to look at him, though her emotionless face never changed.
"You're standing in the middle of the street in the middle of the night, not to mention it's pouring rain. You pass out for two days, refuse to drink, and won't talk? Come on, at least give us something. Where do you live? I can take you home-"
"No."
Startled that she had not only spoken, but denied the offer to go home, the boy knelt at the bedside.
"Why not?"
"Where am I?"
"You're in Death City," he responded, puzzled by her sudden subject change.
"Oh," she said. She was still for a few seconds, and then threw the blanket off of her, grabbed the knife off of the nightstand, and stood up.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, where are you going?" The boy asked, standing up and blocking her path to the door.
"I'm not far enough," she stated.
"What? What do you mean?" He mirrored her sidestep.
"I have to leave. Please move." She ducked under his outstretched arm and speed-walked out the door.
She bounded down the stairs and out the front door before Tsubaki could say "Where are you going?".
The boy came down the stairs seconds after, and Tsubaki pointed to the door. "What's going on, Kidd?"
"I dunno," he breathed, stopping when he realized she was already out of sight.
Tsubaki left a few hours later, leaving Kidd alone in his house. As he flipped through television channels, someone pounded on the door.
Glad for an interruption of 'Jersey Whore', as he liked to call it, he shut the TV off and went to answer the door. He frowned when no one was there, and turned to go back inside when he noticed a paper on the ground.
'No.'
"The hell?" he said, picking up the paper and examining it thoroughly. Nothing but that one word. He shrugged, figuring it must be a prank, and shut the door.
Minutes later there was another knock on the door.
He looked out the window first, this time, to see if there was actually someone there.
There was.
It was a tall, well-built man who looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. He had black hair that was cut short, and bright blue eyes. He appeared to be very professional looking.
Kidd opened the door. "Can I help you, sir?" He asked.
"Yes. Have you seen this girl?" The man held up a picture of a girl who looked around fifteen. Her ash blonde hair was in pigtails, and her green eyes seemed dull, as did her smile seemed forced. Kidd recognized her as the girl he had found on the street.
Kidd's eyebrows furrowed, and his mind flashed to the paper, and to her earlier statement: "I'm not far enough."
Was she being followed?
"I…actually, yes. I was visiting family a few towns over and I believe I saw her wandering the streets." It was an obvious lie to him, but he hoped it would fool the man who looked like he could easily crush his skull.
"Thank you," the man said. "I hope my daughter is alright…" he sighed, before turning and leaving.
"Daughter…?" he muttered. He shut the door, and turned around. He nearly jumped when he saw the girl he had just lied for on his couch, watching his TV.
"The programs now really are shit, aren't they," she sighed.
"How did you get in here?" Kidd demanded.
"The back door was unlocked. I was hiding in the backyard."
"That brings me to my next question," he said, marching over and hoisting her up by her upper arm. She grimaced noticeably, and tried to pry his hand off. His eyes narrowed and he tightened his grip, which caused her to whimper.
"Please," she said. "Let go, it hurts."
His eyes widened and he released her, stepping back.
"You didn't do anything," she muttered, sitting back down, holding her arm.
Hesitantly, Kidd sat down on the couch next to her. He stared at her for a moment, before suddenly lifting her sweatshirt over her head, despite her protests. She was wearing a long sleeve shirt under that as well.
"Roll up the sleeves," he demanded.
"No," she said, curling her fingers around the ends of the sleeves in case he tried to roll them up.
"Roll them up, or I will do it for you." His glare was menacing; it looked as if he could kill something.
She shrank away from him and immediately rolled up her sleeves.
Bruises—most shaped like fingers or hands—and cuts lined her arms.
Kidd was at a loss for words.
"What…the hell…happened to you?" he finally said.
She laughed bitterly. "I guess there's no point in hiding it. I ran away because I was abused."
"By who?"
"Everyone. Father, boyfriend…even friends." She hugged her knees to her chest. "I got tired of being a punching bag."
"I…I'm sorry…" he muttered.
"Don't be," she said, standing up. "It was my fault for being weak." She walked to the window, peering out the blinds. "I'll be leaving now. Thanks for not hitting me with your car."
"Hey, wait a minute. You think you can tell me that and just walk out?"
"Yes. What else would I think?"
Kidd opened his mouth to say something, but the words dropped from his mind. He shook his head and held out his hand.
"My name is Death the Kidd. I'll be your friend."
Just so all you folks know, there's a reason I don't have Spirit portrayed as her father in this. So don't hate me for it.