The Rhythm of Your Soul~ X-Reader

To Death City We Go

"Hey, get up, today's your special day!"

You groan defiantly at the positive ecstasy in your mother's tone. She bounces into view, waving frantically at the doorway of your rather untidy room. "Special day? Wha'…?"

"C'mon now, don't you tell me that you've forgotten your enrollment into the DWMA, young lady!" She chides, yanking the toasty blankets roughly, exposing you to the crispy chill of the airy room.

You shiver some, eyes widening as the memory washes over. The previous night had been tiring, lugging what you thought to be needed, the sparks of trepidation and yearning, chores of course. Chores, chores, chores. A sudden rush of excitement bubbles over you, this time you even ignore any thoughts of drawback. You would be among the newest meisters, one to sync soul wavelengths with a weapon. To fight as one. To feel as one. 'A sound soul dwells within a sound mind, and a sound body.' "Death City! DWMA! How could I have possibly forgot, I'll get ready, mom!"

"Okay, honey." Her voice hardens sternly. "Don't forget to brush your teeth."

You roll your eyes as she makes her leave, tossing yourself into the wooden floor in a tangle of bed sheets. "Oh, I guess I forgot to do that." You mutter foggily, smacking your lips. Morning breath. Worsened from the lack of last night's brushing. With a yawn, you heave yourself up, lightly as possible making your way to the widely opened closet. There was an extensive array of outfit choices. With a shrug, you snatch a maddeningly smiley T-shirt, a black cardigan, and studded jeans. Stripping off your nightwear, you quickly throw this on, rushing to the brightly lit bathroom. "Really? Out of tooth floss?" Sighing, you apply a dab of toothpaste to the shabby toothbrush, vigorously brushing. You spat this out, combing your hair into a messy bun. With a nod of self-satisfaction, you dash to an alignment of dressers, rummaging for your newly bought, bone-white Death City broach. Pinning this hastily, you make a grab for your luggage, scrambling into the stark kitchen. "Mom, I'm ready!"

Oh no, you have forgotten how clingy mom could really be. Straightening your shoulders, you prepare for the twitter of frets.

"Certainly not, you've left out your photo album! Oh, you mustn't leave that, or your….your special blankie!" Her eyes welled with unshed tears. She has always been overly emotional. Child-like, in a good manner.

"Sheesh…I've already packed my blanket, mother." You say in a subdued grumble, gingerly taking the out held binder in your free arm. "It's okay, you don't have to make such a big deal out of it, y'know?"

With a shaky sob, your mother takes you into a tight embrace, resulting you to let a loud gasp fly. Her bear hugs have always been overpowering. "Y-you know that I love you, right?"

Expression softening, you return the caress heartily. "Of course I know that! I love you too. Don't worry, I'll even send post cards."

"Lovely! I know you'll make so many friends, pumpkin. I wonder what type of weapon your partner will be? Keep me updated, okay, hun?"

You smirk some at that, but it was wiped cleanly off when her countenance became cross. "It's hard to say, mom. I've always loved swords, but the type doesn't matter! I promise to keep you updated." Wheels screeched to a slippery stop outside. "I gotta go! The bus is here to pick me up. I love you, bye."

With a bob of confirmation, she pecks a kiss atop your head, accompanying you to the elongated, tall vehicle. It stood out vividly against the wintry layout of town around it. The doors pull mechanically open, so you shuffle up and inside, finding a seat at the very front. Your lips twitch into a smile as you wave out the frost-lined window. The bus lurched forward, carrying you, and all the babbling passengers along with it. "To Death City I go."