I'm only going to say this once. I do not own Soul Eater or Shoulder-a-Coffin Kuro. Soul Eater is the property of Atsushi Okubo, the English translation specifically licensed to Yen Press. Shoulder-a-Coffin Kuro is the property of Satoko Kiyuduki, the English translation specifically licensed to Yen Press. While I'm not sure if any company owns the rights to the intellectual property of either Soul Eater (including any and all subdivisions of above title) or Shoulder-a-Coffin Kuro, I will credit them if I am made aware of ownership.
Also, for those interested in the chronological place of this story in either series' timeline, this story takes place between episodes 25 and 26 of Soul Eater, and in the present day immediately after the Mo chapter in Shoulder-a-Coffin Kuro (I don't remember the chapter's exact number).
And now, this story is not in canon. Without spoiling anything, the main plot twist of Shadow and Scythe does not make sense in the Kuro universe anymore.
I'm not apologizing.
Part One
Sharp Soul and the Silhouette
The girls in white danced down the path, and the traveler in black followed, eyes burning the sunlight.
The traveler was brooding. It came naturally to the grave lines of the wanderer's face and the gaunt shadow of the cloak it wore. From the traveler's tobacco-stenched hat and rough-cut spectacles to the rounded shoes that clasped over its feet, it seemed as though the traveler was carved into being for that very purpose. An old bat flitted to the left of the traveler's head.
"What're you thinkin', 'Kuro'? You always look like that in the mourning," the burned-blue bat teased.
The black traveler shot a glance at the flying nuisance. "It's the coffin. I think I'm getting too big for it," the shadow said. As it spoke, it gestured to a gigantic coffin that came from the top of its hat all the way down to the ankles of its rounded boots. The coffin was heavy-looking, held up by cloth chains and brass studs. Like the traveler holding it, the casket was foreboding, a massive slab of onyx night slashed out of some lightless pit. It was just the traveler's size.
"Kuro-kun!" "Shady-neechan!" The white-clad, cat-tailed girls came running, holding a spray of heather each. "Look what we found!"
"Found it near a sharp man! He had white hands!"
"White fingers with hand bags!"
"On top he was a bee!"
The black traveler smiled slightly and said, "Hush, you two!" The girls in white looked up expectantly and stopped talking. The black traveler's face looked carved out of limestone, but the traveler's eyes twinkled and softened.
The traveler knelt down, leaned forward to speak. "Track him."
They walked again, the twinned radiances leading the shadow and its burden to a field of green and purple and yellow and hundreds of other colors.
Blending in with these was a boy of about sixteen summers. He wore a jacket that shimmered wheat yellow and glinted onyx black. His ashy hair looked sharp enough to cut steel and his pale red eyes, appropriately enough, blazed with focus. He wore white silk gloves.
"Who are you?" he demanded bluntly. His jagged teeth clicked gently as he spoke. The only thing blunt about him, thought the traveler, is his speech.
The shining girls piped up, as if on cue.
"Nijuku!" the girl with black ears shouted delightedly.
"Sanju!" the long-haired child yelled gleefully.
The cobalt-shaded bat flew lazily along the boy's ear. "I'm called Sen. Who are you?"
The boy jumped, but recovered well enough. He spoke simply. "Soul. And I meant HIM." Soul pointed lazily at the black traveler with his off-hand. As he gestured, his arm curved, hardened to a sharp point for a moment. The wanderer's mouth twitched.
The traveler turned to face Nijuku and Sanju and made a quick gesture of dismissal. Nijuku and Sanju started off into the meadow, touching all the flowers as they went. Sen followed.
The black traveler shrugged, shifting the coffin over the shadowy coat. The traveler's throat rumbled, coughing out phlegm and bits of dust.
The traveler thrummed a low curse and said, "You can call me Kuro."
Soul snorted. "Well, you're melodramatic. Thing is, I gotta go. So, I'll take my ride and carve up the road for awhile, O.K.? O.K., 'bye." He sauntered to his motorcycle and was about to turn the key-
"Wait!"
Soul heard the tone, not the word. He turned, replied with a syllable of his own.
"What?"
The traveler looked him dead in the face and said, "You are a weapon, correct?"
Soul said yes.
The traveler said, "Then logically, you have a maestro… right?"
Soul twitched. "That's correct," he said, "but we call them meisters where I'm from."
The traveler looked skeptical, but said, "Then of course you live in the only place that trains 'meisters' to use weapons. This place is, in turn, located in Death City. That's where I'm headed. So, you are going to take me there." Kuro advanced a step and purred, "Aren't you?"
Soul flinched. Just like my Maka, he thought absently. He thought for a long time.
At last, he spoke. "It's cool. Just gather your kids and that stupid bat. Then… we ride!"
Kuro whispered something soft and dark.
Nijuku and Sanju came running. Their white dresses and hair were dyed every color of the rainbow, and a few more besides. Sen had turned from sapphire to a thousand shades of luxurious gemstone and precious mineral.
The twins immediately started babbling in the uncomprehending glee only childhood happiness can grant.
"So much flowers! So many colors! So much to change Kuro-chan!" –Nijuku.
"'Cause Kuro-kun is all in black we want to make Kuro into Niji!" –Sanju.
Sen idly drifted to Kuro. He perched on the traveler's shoulder and whispered conspiratorially into the traveler's ear: "I heard what you said. The rest of me are still in the coffin, you know." The bat paused. When he spoke again, there was a note of concern in his voice. "The twins won't understand why we're going. I don't understand why! Spirit won't - "
"Shut up," Kuro snarled. "That's my business." The black traveler's eyes flickered in the noonday sun.