A dark silhouette passed in front of the crescent moon.
The figure flew through the air, moving quickly. A sharp crack resounded in the night, and with it came a brief flash of light. The figure, a young-looking boy with snowy hair and viciously red eyes, swore quietly and turned around to fly in another direction, but a dark form like a snake shot from the ground and blocked his way. He whirled around to face the direction from which the flash came.
"Show yourselves if you're going to just block me off instead of killing me, you cowardly bastards," he spat.
"Now now," rang a new voice, distinctively male but young and boisterous. "Only one of us is a bastard, and I'm no coward." Two more joined the white haired boy in the sky, shooting up off of the ground to level with him. "Tsubaki is a lady and she deserves to be treated as such, especially by such a non-factor as you, Soul," snarled the shorter of the two new figures. The moon's light lit their features. The boy was of an average height with shockingly blue hair beneath his hood, and his dark cloak fluttered in the wind. The second of them was much taller, standing a good head taller than her companion. Her cloak and hair both were jet-black, making her face the only thing easily visible in the night, but her features were elegant and soft. Still, there was something ferocious in her eyes, in both of their eyes. Something dangerous.
Soul, the boy with the red eyes, sneered in their direction as he edged his way backwards, careful to not make contact with the shadow behind him. "Non-factor? As if," he retorted. "You two followed me across a goddamn ocean and then some once you figured out where I was, and you still haven't managed to take me out. I think that speaks volumes about who the weak ones are here, Black*Star."
Black*Star sputtered, searching for a retort, but his companion placed her hand in front of him in light restraint. "Your powers are nothing to take lightly, Soul," she said, "but that doesn't change your origin. You barely deserve life. Nothing but deception surrounds your existence, and those stronger than us are after you as well. We will take them back, one way or another."
"At least one of you is well-spoken," yawned Soul, glancing at the moon and gnawing on his index finger a bit. "Still, I don't give a shit about what you think. You're not getting jack from me, and neither is anyone else."
He dipped both his hands into his jacket and watched as shadows given form rose off of the ground to writhe around Black*Star and Tsubaki. It was about time, he supposed. Sticking around any longer could be risky; this was the first time they had caught up with him since the chase began, and jeer as he might they were dangerous. These two were known for their mastery of shadows, and any misstep and they could temporarily control your shadow, making you into naught more than a puppet.
Tsubaki observed Soul's movements with a critical eye. "Planning on teleporting out?" she asked. Magic crackled in the air around Soul, giving away his intention to flee. "There's no way that you can cover your tracks in less than the second it would take for us to pinpoint your target location." Black*Star nodded furiously next to his partner and added in a few incoherent battle shouts for good measure. The shadows twisted and tangled into a larger mass, rising off of the ground in alarming quantities now. One shot out to strike out at Soul, who grimaced when it bit into his shoulder but made no audible expression of pain.
And with a loud sucking noise and a few sparks, Soul disappeared.
"You bastard, you won't get away this ti– argh!" As he launched himself towards the quickly fading vortex that had enveloped Soul, Black*Star's cry was cut short by something thudded into his body. Tsubaki's brief cry of pain alerted him that he was not the only target. Traces of the spell on the shrapnel sparked and faded as their brief flight ended.
Tsubaki floated over to her companion and winced as she removed the offending material from their torsos. Holding a piece up to the crescent moon's light, she examined it. "Blades?" she wondered out loud. The sharp chunk of metal was enough to pierce flesh, but it was obviously crudely made. Each of the pieces, six in total, was about the size of her hand, and she turned them over in her palm while Black*Star cursed Soul's existence. Writing scrawled messily in black glared back at her from the shrapnel.
When Tsubaki huffed in frustration and threw the shards to the ground Black*Star snapped out of his rage. "What was it?" he asked, arm slung over his torso to cover the wounds. "Did he fucking throw that crap at us?"
She shook her head and watched the spot where Soul had disappeared. "No. He cursed them with his blood. It's that spell we had heard he used; writing it on an object in his blood bends it to his will. He probably was carrying just one block of steel with him and he hid it in his jacket. When things got dangerous, he used it to distract us long enough to escape."
With a groan, Black*Star fell backwards to splay himself out on a shadow. "Fuck," he swore. "That worthless sack of shit." He looked to Tsubaki, who had removed her hood to watch the moon. "We're gonna get them back, you know. I promise. He won't get away with it."
His words were honest and fervent. "I know," she whispered back with a smile.
Frailty, thy name is steel.
Maka sighed as she picked her way through the dilapidated houses in an abandoned neighborhood. It wasn't unlikely that in one of them there would be some sort of tweaked-out druggie, but it was the easiest shortcut that lead to her school from home. She refused to be late to homeroom because her father just had to plead for her to eat the bear-shaped pancakes he had made that morning rather than some dry toast, then begged for an extra-long hug. His affections weren't unwanted, but there was certainly a more appropriate time for them than on a Monday morning before school.
Her eyes shifted between the houses. Many had peeling paint and broken or totally missing windows; some were overgrown by weeds, while others had no lawns (weed-based or otherwise) of which to speak. Still, she wondered what had caused the abandonment. As far as the houses were concerned, they weren't particularly unattractive once you looked past the effects of being left to the elements. They were small, likely made for single families who didn't need extravagant amounts of space, and the surrounding areas weren't particularly bad neighborhoods.
Curious or not, Maka forced herself onward. She was still a good fifteen minutes away from her school, and her brisk jog had slowed to a leisurely walk while she looked at the houses.
Two more steps and she entered another yard, this one belonging to a particularly run-down specimen. Except... it wasn't. Maka's feet stilled as the air shimmered around her. Broken windows, lined with shards of glass, phased unstably into solid panes of glass. Peeling paint smoothed over and seemed to tremble. Grass faded in and out of existence on the once-bare lawn. The hairs on Maka's neck stood on end as the world seemed to warp. She took a shaky step back and everything stabilized again. Everything looked like it belonged in the neighborhood; the house was in the worst shape of them all. But with an uncertain shift forward everything began to change again.
A cold and dense feeling settled deep in Maka's stomach and she hesitated. It would be all too easy to turn around and find another path through these houses to reach her school, or even to backtrack out of the neighborhood and go her usual route. Shimmering air that made what was into something that previously wasn't obviously did not fit into "normal." It probably didn't fit into "safe" either, and she should probably notify the police.
Even so, her curiosity spurred her forward.
Two more steps in and the shimmering stopped. The house and its surrounding area settled into the more well-kept form, images of shattered glass and peeled paint fading. Maka let out a breath that she did not know she had been holding; perhaps there was something strange in the air, some static field or mirage of some sort, but getting closer would dispel it. There had to be an explanation.
"Having fun?"
The deep exhalation of relief choked in Maka's throat. The voice, deep and masculine, had come from right behind her, and a trembling emotion that echoed faintly of fear tingled through her chest and limbs. Without making sudden movements, she slowly and deliberately turned to face the voice's source.
He slouched, shoulders hunched inward almost protectively over himself, but Maka could tell that he was tall. Deeming him more lanky than muscular, Maka ran over the self-defense techniques she knew with that in mind; she could likely take him unless he had studied some sort of fighting himself, and the wound on his shoulder would be an advantage on her side. He likely wouldn't be able to put much force behind strikes coming from his right arm.
Maka summed up her courage and stood up straight, farce as it was. If he was planning to attack her, she would fight back. "Who are you?" she asked, and she was proud when her voice didn't waver like her soul was.
He crinkled his eyebrows and looked her up and down. "You're not one of them," he stated, and then he narrowed his eyes. "Why the hell are you here?"
"One of who?" asked Maka. Her eyes flickered to her side, to the house that had changed, and she considered dropping this entire insanity to just escape. "I'm just going to school, and you're making me late. This is the shortest way between there and my house."
His face lit up with understanding, but confusion and wariness was still reflected in his deep red eyes. "Oh. You're going to school. Uh. Okay, I guess." He shrugged, watching Maka as she shifted from one foot to the other.
"Yeah. So... can I go now?" It was difficult to keep still with his gaze following her every move.
His eyes narrowed a bit once again. "Sure. Let me ask you something first, though."
"Uh," Maka grasped for words. "Okay?"
"Do you have any sort of interest in the occult? Y'know, fortune telling, rituals, black magic. I'm looking for an, ah, instruction manual."
Without knowing exactly why, Maka shivered. Something had changed in the boy, and the chagrin at his earlier suspicions of her had been replaced by a steely gaze. His eyes did not leave her face, and her pulse sped up. "No," she squeaked, courage draining away. "I've read books on those things, but they're just fiction. Fantasy is just that, fantasy."
He eyed her a bit more, as if he were searching her very being, but then he slumped over more in defeat and sighed. "Ah, no kidding? Oh well, thanks anyways."
Maka beamed at him, relieved to be out of his probing stare. Her pulse still thundered in her veins, pumping adrenaline through her body. "Yeah! Well, it's been a nice chat, and sorry I couldn't help you, but I really have to be going now, and–"
Close. He was too close. Maka's words died in her throat and came out instead as a whimper. The boy was looming over her, eyes practically glowing. He had covered the gap between them, a few meters, in what seemed like an instant, and Maka couldn't help but wonder what he was. She had no time to think, though, as he raised a hand as if to cover her face with his open palm.
"Wait," she squeaked, and by some miracle he stopped. Still, something dark had begun to gather around his hands; it was like a thin black mist, and every moment let it thicken more. "You're not human." He did not deny her, so she continued. "What are you?"
He grinned, and his teeth were pointed and sharp. Something dangerous glinted in his eyes, and the darkness thickened. "I guess... a demon?"
The sound of flesh crumpling to the floor in a limp heap was loud but quick.
Maka stood trembling over the boy's body. A demon? Her heart was pounding, and the novel she had kept in her satchel slipped from her fingers, a heavy dent visible in its spine. He had said he was a demon. His teeth and eyes certainly were demonic enough. And there was no denying that she had witnessed strange events taking place; the house had wavered between run-down and in pristine condition in front of her eyes, the boy had appeared out of nowhere and moved exceptionally quickly, and whatever he had been planning to do with his hand was at the very least suspicious.
But a demon?
Was that possible?
She watched his chest move up and down in his unconscious state, and for the first time realized that his blood that stained his shoulder was a sinister black.
The first thing that Soul noticed when he came to was that his head fucking hurt. The aching was nothing close to dull; it was more like a sharp throbbing. Behind the darkness of his eyelids danced colorful spots, and it felt as if the world was spinning, but he forced himself to open his eyes.
The last thing he expected to see was that stupid devil girl.
Well, perhaps devil wasn't the right word; that would be an insult to the actual devils out there.
A cursory glance told him that he was inside of the house he had temporarily made his base. She was sitting in front of him cross-legged, a novel resting open in her lap. A novel that looked vaguely– had she clocked him with a goddamn book? A low growl that crossed between embarrassment and anger sprang unbidden from his throat, and the girl's eyes flickered up to meet his.
"Oh, good. You're awake." With that short opening she stood, dusting off her skirt, and looked down at him. "I just wanted to make sure you survived. Or weren't concussed. But that's your last warning; try anything funny again and I won't make sure you wake up."
Soul sputtered, sitting up while he searched for an answer. He opened his mouth to speak and winced at the echoing pain. He gingerly touched the top of his head; he swore he could feel a dent from where the novel had collided with his skull. "Anything funny?" he finally managed, falling back to lean against the wall. "Stupid woman, I wasn't going to hurt you."
The look that she shot him was nothing short of baffled. "You... weren't?"
"No, you idiot!" he snarled, eyes closing in hopes of warding off the pain. "I was just going to wipe your memory of you walking through here. Goddamn that smarts. I don't want anyone finding me here, and I don't need some stupid human getting their mind picked through later to give me away!" Soul cracked an eye open to look at her and tried his best to sound sincere. "Wasn't going to hurt you. I swear. That's not my kind of thing."
She hesitated before sitting back down, brushing out her skirt primly. "So, you're... actually a demon? And not evil?" Beneath the hesitation in her eyes shone a bright curiosity, and despite his best efforts Soul found himself willing to answer. It had been so long since he had actually talked with someone. Maybe he could hold off on wiping her memories for a while longer. Maybe it was safe.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm a demon, although there are those who would claim otherwise. There are a lot of us out there. And we're not necessarily bad; we're just... wired differently? I dunno." The girl tilted her head, and Soul sighed. "There are bad seeds out there, sure, but mostly we keep to ourselves. Y'know, demon business."
"I'm quite sorry, but no, I don't know."
"Sassy, aren't you?"
She cracked a smile at him. "Sometimes."
Soul watched her watch him; she was strange, this girl. "What's your name?" The words sprang unbidden from his mouth before he could stop them.
Her hand, ensconced in a soft looking white glove, reached out to him. "I'm Maka Albarn. You can call me Maka, though."
There were a few beats of silence as he just stared at her extended hand. "Stupid, I'm not going to actually use it. It's just so I know who to avoid in the future." Still her hand hung between them. "What's wrong with your arm?"
Maka's smile wilted and turned into a slight scowl. She shook her hand lightly in the air, emphasizing its existence. "What, am I too lowly of a human for you to acknowledge?"
Soul narrowed his eyes at her. "I really have no idea what you're on about."
Her hand fell slightly, almost brushing the ground. "It's a handshake." He stared blankly back. "You don't know what a handshake is?"
"Nope."
Maka watched him curiously for a moment. Soul shrunk down against the wall, avoiding her eyes; somehow he felt as if he was being judged. The corners of Maka's mouth twitched a bit, fighting back a smile, before she bursted into giggles. "Here I was –ahahaha– scared out of my wits of you –heehee!– and it turns out you're a big softie who doesn't even know what a handshake is!"
He could feel the blush creeping up his face. "Shut up! You stupid humans do such dumb things, how am I supposed to keep up with them all?" Still, Maka laughed, doubled over and clutching her stomach.
Eventually her laughter died down. "Sorry, sorry," she apologized, still smiling widely. "A handshake is something that we do when we introduce ourselves. Like this," she said, and she scooted closer to Soul. Maka reached out with her right hand and picked up his; Soul noted that while her hands were small, her grip was strong. She held his hand and then shook it once, up and down. Then as soon as it had begun, it was over.
Soul looked down at his hand, going over the quick motion in his head. "Oh. Okay. I guess I'm Soul."
"Nice to meet you, Soul." Maka beamed and suppressed another giggle. "I've never heard that name before. I guess you aren't that much of a bigshot demon, are you?"
Soul scowled and bared his teeth at her a bit. "Excuse me?" She continued to smile at him. "I'm not someone who's concerned with status; I'm strong and I know it! I don't need fame for that."
"Yeah, yeah. Of course." She shifted again, this time to sit next to him, leaning against the wall. "So, what brings you to Death City?"
A nervous agitation tugged at him, but Soul couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. "I'm running away, and I heard that something I want is here," he blurted, but then his jaw snapped shut. What was he doing, talking to a human girl like this? If she had made it past both the misdirection spell outside of the block and the illusion surrounding the house, what was to say she wasn't being tracked by Black*Star and Tsubaki, manipulated by their grip on her shadow? His teeth ground against each other and he glanced at her by his side. She was certainly strange if she wasn't possessed. "Aren't you afraid? Any normal person would've run away." Once again he had no control over the words; they simply were.
Maka turned her head to watch him. "I was, at first," she admitted, head cocking to the side. "Not now, though. I'm not really sure why. You seem... harmless." Soul sputtered, so Maka backtracked. "Although I'm sure you're terrifying and powerful!" she amended. "I didn't mean it that way. I guess I just believe you; you don't want to hurt me."
"Means a lot coming from a flat chested devil-girl who clocks people with books. I could almost cry, I'm so touched."
Maka pouted. "Hey, you can't tell me that you weren't suspicious. Asking about the occult, running up to me like that to wipe my memories... That screams 'hit me, it's self-defense!'"
"Uh huh." The decision to let Maka stay was weighing heavily on Soul's mind. She looked innocent enough. Pigtails lent a childish look to her, but she carried herself like someone who didn't fear the world. She didn't fear him at least.
Perhaps that was the most dangerous part of her.
His fists balled up by his side. "You need to go," he whispered. His voice sounded strained, but he made sure that it did not waver. "Get out of here. Go." Maka looked at him quizzically, and his teeth clenched together at her disobedience. "Get out," he snarled, standing up despite his aching head. Soul gestured to the door leading to the hall. "You can't stay here anymore."
Soul knew that he was being mean to her; she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Her mouth hung slightly agape, her eyes were wide, and perhaps she was a bit hurt by his sudden change in demeanor but it was too risky to keep her here. She hesitated, fiddling with the hem of her skirt, and a low growl tore itself from his throat. "Leave before I change my mind and wipe your memories. I don't need a human here."
He could see her deflate. Her mouth opened, likely to protest, but it snapped shut again and she pushed off of the floor. "Alright. It was nice to meet you, Soul," she murmured, avoiding his eyes. "I would've liked to talk to you more, but if you don't want me around, I guess I'll leave you alone." She brushed past him, and for a brief moment he regretted sending her away.
But then she was gone, and things were back to normal; he was alone with his thoughts.
Soul slumped back against the wall. All of a sudden the room was so quiet. The weight of being alone was unexpectedly heavy. Still, having a human around was dangerous, and he had never needed company before now. It was okay. Things would work out. He settled against the floor again, closing his eyes to ward off the ache in his skull, and listened for the front door closing so that he could fortify the defenses around the house again.
The sound never came.
A shiver ran down his spine and Soul's eyes snapped open. Maka stood in the doorway watching him, but her eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated to the point that her green irises were barely visible. There was something wild and frightened that seemed to radiate off of her, and the shiver that had overcome Soul tangled together into a dense cold feeling that sunk deep into his bones.
Every movement as he stood up was deliberate, from the shifting of his arms to balancing as he pushed off the floor. Her eyes followed him, capturing every last detail of his motions.
"Can we... talk some more?" Maka's jaw moved stiffly, as if it struggled to form the words she spoke. Soul hesitated as she took a jerky step in his direction. "I'd like to hear more about you." He backed against the wall, noting the location of the window on his left.
"Leave, Maka. If you can leave, do it." The words were heavy on his tongue, and he loathed the fear behind them. If she couldn't leave...
Her body shuddered to a halt, and her eyes met his.
Before she could react, addled and dulled as her mind was, Soul had reached her and struck her square on the back of the neck. She crumpled to the ground, and with a low hiss a shadow dissipated from within her like smoke wafting through the air.
"You're damn cowards, you know that?" he snarled, lifting Maka off of the ground and slinging her over his shoulder. He brought his free hand up to his mouth, and with a sharp jerk Soul ran his index finger over his fangs, slicing a deep cut into the flesh. Black blood oozed from the wound and dripped onto the wooden floor. "You call me all the names you want, but you're the real despicable ones, using an outsider to try to get to me."
A booming and boisterous laugh rang through the house, and predictably Black*Star and Tsubaki's appearance in the doorway followed it. Black*Star cracked his knuckles, extending his arms outward, and laughed again. "No way, Patchy," he grinned. "I just wanted to have a little fun with your new friend. She walked right into us, didn't even have a chance to squeak before Tsubaki had her enchanted."
Tsubaki stepped forward and eyed Maka. "You really are a disgrace; you still have some sort of lingering attachment to humans, it would seem. If you left her behind, you likely could evade us for a few more days. In your present condition, what with the shadows infecting your arm, you can't afford the burden of another to look after." Maka stirred, and Soul's grip on her tightened; it would be incredibly inconvenient to lug her around, but having her be conscious but dazed was even worse. Tsubaki smiled slightly, and Soul could almost believe that she was pitying the young girl, but her gaze suddenly hardened. "Your would-be nobility will be your downfall, you petty thief."
"Thief?" The words were quiet, almost inaudible, but they were there. Maka still hung limp over his shoulder, but Soul realized that she had certainly regained consciousness. He hadn't hit her too hard for fear of leaving lasting damage, after all. "You're a thief?"
"Damn right he is!" shouted Black*Star, pushing ahead of his partner. "The bastard has our ears!"
"Your... ears?"
Slowly and deliberately, Soul set Maka down. Her legs wobbled slightly, but she managed to stay up. He took a step back, pressing up against the wall, and she turned her head to look between him and the new intruders. "What do they mean, you have their ears?"
Tsubaki broke the tense silence that hung between Soul and Maka. "We mean exactly what it sounds like," she said, and she slid the hood that shadowed her face off. She turned her head to aim its left side towards Maka.
Her ear was missing.
Black*Star mirrored his partner's actions, although he showed off the right side of his head. Similar to Tsubaki, his right ear was gone.
Maka wavered, as if she might fall over. "But. He has them? Why? How?"
"You really don't know?" asked Tsubaki, and Maka shook her head. "I suppose that I'll tell you, then." She took a deep breath and began to speak. "As I'm sure you've figured out or been told by now, we're demons. It's not uncommon for us to get into brawls of sorts, although many of us are relatively peaceful. But demons are powerful, and fighting is not always without consequence; sometimes we are killed. Sometimes we are severely injured. And sometimes we lose a limb or two. Black*Star and I happened to lose our ears in a battle with an imp with fire magic. In a truly impish fashion, they hid our ears away while we were tending to our wounds, and by the time we found them, one of each were missing. The wounds weren't a big deal, as the fire magic that inflicted them in the first place cauterized them and we demons heal quickly to begin with, but losing a body part is infuriating, as I'm sure you can imagine. Years passed with us searching for our ears, until we heard the story of a young human scientist conducting experiments. His goal was to create a demon out of lost body parts, be they from dead or living demons.
There was a beat of silence, and Soul tensed up before Tsubaki continued. "He succeeded. The end result was that abomination there. And now that we've found him, we intend to take our ears back by any means necessary. That includes using you as a bargaining chip."
Soul watched as something akin to realization crossed Maka's face, accompanied soon after by a healthy dose of fear.
"So what you were looking for in Death City, the instruction manual you mentioned...?"
"Yeah," said Soul, gritting his teeth as he saw Tsubaki and Black*Star shift into a battle-ready position. "It's on how to make me. But I'm not giving back these ears; they're mine now."
"Man, you're so predictable," sighed Black*Star, and in an instant his scowl shifted into a twisted and demonic grin. "Guess we'll have to have some more fun with you." Shadows flared out of the ground, and Soul lunged for Maka. The moment that his hand grabbed her arm the world warped around them with a lurching swirl, and suddenly they were in a run-down house, roof missing.
"What the– How did we get here?"
"Goddammit," swore Soul, not even bothering to stay quiet to avoid detection; he had been unable to cover his magical trail and knew they would be tracked. "They were right, the wound they left me with last night really did dampen my magic. I couldn't even leave the goddamn neighborhood with an extra passenger."
Maka stiffened. "You're risking yourself for–"
"WOOHOO!" Black*Star's boisterous battlecry rang through the house, and Soul grimaced as he and Tsubaki crashed in from above.
"Soul, we have to run again!" shouted Maka, whirling to face him as darkness swirled around the approaching duo. "They're going to kill you!" When Soul did nothing but crouch, touching his hand to the floor, she keened in frustration. "Soul, run! Please!"
He just shook his head, focusing on the ground. The blood from his previously inflicted cut on his left hand was still flowing relatively freely, and with his right hand Soul took the blood, smeared onto his index finger, and traced it across the floor. "I'm finishing this here," he growled when done, and lifted his finger.
Maka stomped her foot. "Why would you say that? You said the wound on your arm was weakening you, you should ru–" Realization froze her body, and Soul could practically see the gears turning in her head. "You're doing this for my sake?"
Soul straightened up and stood in front of his handiwork. "They'll just chase me if I leave again, and I'm not leaving you in the line of fire. This isn't your fight, and you're here because you tried to do the right thing." He grinned, now facing Black*Star and Tsubaki, and his fangs gleamed in the sunlight flowing from the open roof. "Bring it on."
With a whooping yell Black*Star charged forward toward Soul, shadows surging from the corners where they fell from the sunlight, and Tsubaki raised her arms high, strands of darkness curling around her wrists until they shot in Maka's direction.
Simply shifting to the side, Soul revealed the text he had written in his blood and the spell that came with it.
Frailty, thy name is shadow.
While Black*Star continued to charge forward, the shadows that followed him and sprung from Tsubaki did not. They shuddered to a stop mid-air before twisting in on themselves and then tangling around their masters. Even Black*Star and Tsubaki's shadows rose from the ground to restrain them with dark strands, each resembling their demon of origin. They both cried out in surprise and frustration, and Soul spoke quietly in Maka's direction. "It's a good thing we landed here; if the roof weren't missing the shadows wouldn't be heavy or condensed enough for the spell to latch onto them all." Next, to his struggling assailants, he said, "I'll give you this last chance; surrender and I'll let you live."
Black*Star snarled at the shadows entangling him, "Get off me, damn you! I'm your master, your god!" He kicked at the rope-like tendrils, struggling wildly and yowling in anger, but Tsubaki hung limp and defeated, not bothering to waste her energy struggling. Still, they both suddenly stiffened, eyes widening. Soul turned to look behind him, just in time to be flung backwards by a dark form striking him across the chest.
Wincing, he braced himself against the ground and stood up. Before him loomed a large shadow, wavering and oscillating wildly, but its shape was distinctly human. Its limbs were long and thin, as was its body, but black wings, resembling those of a bat, spread to give it an ominous silhouette, and in one hand it grasped a broadsword. "Woah," whispered Soul, still a bit breathless from the blow.
"You fool!" cried Tsubaki, now struggling wildly against her restraints. "You're going to get us all killed, your little human friend too! You can't even control your own shadow!"
Maka stumbled backwards, tripping over tendrils of darkness that wafted from the frightening form. "That's... your shadow?" she choked out, staring upwards as it turned its head to look at her. "It looks nothing like you, how is that your shadow?!"
Black*Star roared in frustration again and bared his teeth. "Are you stupid or something? We're demons, our shadows are different! They reflect our true power!" Soul could have sworn he heard something akin to "Mine should be much bigger," tacked on to the end. "He was made up of parts of powerful demons like me, of course he's gonna have huge potential power!"
"It, uh," began Soul, searching for words as he watched the shadow take a battle stance. "It looks kinda... mean."
As the words left his lips, Soul's shadow surged upward before slashing horizontally with its sword, slicing deeply across both Black*Star and Tsubaki's restrained bodies. They slumped limply forward as dark purple blood poured from the gaping wounds on their chests.
Soul swore as the shadow turned on Maka. He flung the other shadows, the ones that he could actually control, at it in hopes of distracting it, but still it loomed ominously over Maka, whose eyes went wide. "Shit." He focused his aura, his essence, to gather the magic he still had control over and dissolved the connections to the remaining shadows. The powers that they had contained and that he had used to manipulate them flowed back into him, and Soul's body shuddered at the sensation; his entire body tingled with hypersensitivity triggered by the active magic, and he had to fight to keep it contained lest it all dissipate and his one chance at winning slip past.
A constant stream of swears flew quietly past his lips as Soul tried to decide his next move. Time was running out. Maka, that stupid human who didn't know what was good for her, was in danger thanks to his rampaging shadow. How was he supposed to know that his shadow would be out of control? It was her fault for somehow getting past his barrier, for knocking him out, for sticking around and talking with him as if he deserved it, but somehow Soul couldn't find it within himself to let her get killed. "God damn it!" he shouted, teeth grinding together, and in that moment his shadow made its move, lunging and brandishing its sword.
Its blade slashed diagonally across Soul's chest, flaying him open from shoulder to hip.
Soul had felt pain before. His life had always been a cycle of fighting, and more often than not he left with a new wound that would scar over in time. Nothing compared to this. He choked on the blood that gathered in his throat, sputtering out a globule of black before falling to his knees in front of Maka.
He heard his name cried out behind him, but Soul couldn't focus on it. He had one chance, one opening to win this fight, and it was slipping away because he had to protect that damned girl. Body trembling, Soul looked upward to meet his shadow's gaze. It twitched sporadically and readied its blade again, and Soul spat, "Can't even kill me with one slice? I expected more from a fragment of myself."
The shadow lurched, and after a moment of looming upward it flung itself at Soul, sword arcing for his neck.
His right hand blocked it.
Every fiber of Soul's being was screaming with the strain put upon it. He could feel the throbbing in his chest where he had been cut, and it was excruciatingly painful; even diverting some of the excess magic that he had gathered into it could not staunch the bleeding, and a growing puddle of black spread beneath his knees. His hand, sparking with power as it dripped darkness, could barely hold back the sword with all of the fortification behind it, and his arm trembled.
One shot.
"You are part of me," he gasped out. "You will obey me!"
With the little physical strength he had left to muster, Soul raised his left hand and extended it, palm facing the shadow.
Words glared at the dark form, and it screeched.
Frailty, thy name is Soul.
The shadow shook, and the vibrations through its ethereal form dug the blade deeper into Soul's palm. Still, he held fast: this was it. This was the one chance he had to win. He wasn't going out this way, not to those shadow-master goons or to himself. He would win. He would survive.
It was all he knew how to do, after all.
The shadow hunched over, filling the air with ghostly wailing. Its form, once solid and dense, seemed to waver as it fought the spell. Still, it was in vain; the power from Soul's blood had spoken, and it could not fight. It faded, becoming a being of smoke-like vapors, before it gathered itself in Soul's palm and disappeared with a hiss.
"My shadow... is part of me, after all," Soul murmured, watching it dissipate. "Even if it takes a spell to control..."
He slumped forward into a puddle of his own blood, and the world faded to black.
When Soul came to, the first thing he noticed was the absolute absence of sensation in his torso. Considering that the last time he had been unconscious he had ended up with a killer headache he was mildly grateful for the lack of pain, but if he remembered correctly–
Maka.
His eyes flew open, and they immediately locked onto the blankness of a white ceiling. Well, white tinged with hues of pink and orange; the sun was setting. Soul turned his head to the source of the warm light, and he watched the sun hover lazily over the roofs of the neighboring houses. From this vantage point, he knew for certain he was in the house he had cleaned up and claimed as his own. For a moment, his eyes closed again and he let out a deep breath. That meant Maka must have brought him here; she was alive.
Unless–
Soul sat upright quickly and flung the sheets that draped over him off and away. Twinges of pain broke the numbness of his chest, and he peered down.
His heart sank, and for the first time in a hundred years he felt despair and regret bubbling within him.
The wound his shadow had inflicted upon him, the deep gash across his chest, was stitched closed with tendrils of darkness that squirmed against his flesh. Soul wanted to retch as he watched the shadows hold him together. They were alive. They were alive and Maka might not be and– Soul clapped his hands against the sides of his head, and then heaved a sigh of relief. "Still there," he mumbled, dragging his fingers across the shells of both of his ears.
Still, that brought up new questions all over again.
Soul swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bed that someone laid him in, and stood. Somehow his legs did not waver beneath him, which he took to be a sign that he had been unconscious for longer than simply the day he last remembered; he could feel physical strength within him as well as magical, and with the blood loss and energy consumption he had encountered it was unlikely that a few hours would restore him to this condition.
Only a few steps in to his would-be investigation of the premises, Soul froze; heavy footfalls were coming down the hall that led to this room, and they were moving quickly. He defensively brought a hand up to his mouth, ready to bite down on the flesh and draw blood to fuel his strongest spells. Thumb between his teeth, Soul watched the door.
Black*Star stepped into the doorway, neatly folded sheets in hand.
Soul bit down.
"Oh hell no, you aren't pulling that shit right now."
Blood pooling between his teeth, Soul shuddered; the shadows in his chest pulled painfully, and his body froze. Against his will his hand was jerked from his mouth, small shadows pulling the flesh closed much like they did for his larger wound. His legs, no longer his own, walked him back to the bed. His arms, out of his control, pulled the sheets back up. His eyelids, having blinked at set intervals, slammed shut. "You bastard–," he began, snarling blindly, but Black*Star cut him short.
"Tsubakiiiii! Your patient is awake! And he's being an idiot and gnawing on his hand again!"
Soul fought against the invisible restraints on his body, in his body, but they did not give. Still, his eyelids were released from their grip, and he swiveled his gaze to lock onto the door. Black*Star stood there still, arms crossed across his chest, and he eyed Soul warily. He leaned back to look into the hall, watching whoever approached.
Tsubaki poked her head into the room, beaming. "How are you feeling?" she asked, stepping in with gauze and a jar of ointment in hand. "I'm glad you've finally woken up! It's the day after the incident with your shadow, so you've been out for about a day and a half. There was certainly a lot of blood loss from your chest, but it's such a relief to see that you've recovered nicely!"
Black*Star's grip on Soul's movements weakened and then faded, and Soul scooted across the bed and closer to the wall. "What the hell's wrong with you?" he asked, eyes darting between his two obviously insane enemies. "Why are you here? Why are you alive? The hell are my ears still doing on my head?" The words where is that girl? almost slipped past his lips, but his teeth clenched shut. Instead, he ground out a low, "Tell me what's going on."
With a huff, Black*Star stepped forward. "I believe what you meant to say was 'thank you so much for saving my ass,' but I'll overlook it this once. I'm merciful, after all."
Soul snorted. "Merciful. Right. Where was that mercy when you stuck some human in the line of fire to try and make cutting off my ears easier?"
Tsubaki smiled in Soul's direction, interrupting the brewing argument. "I'd be happy to answer your questions, Soul," she said. "But first, can I check on your wound?" After a moment of hesitation Soul nodded, and Tsubaki carefully made her way toward him, making each movement deliberate and readable. With a gentle brush of her hand, the shadows that acted as stitches faded into the air. She then examined the gash, seemingly pleased at how quickly it was closing up, and replaced the stitches with a thin layer of ointment that faintly smelled of flowers and some tightly-wrapped gauze around his chest. Soul watched in silence as she treated him, but a conflicting mix of gratitude and fear festered in the pit of his stomach. Just as he opened his mouth to question her motives, Tsubaki spoke again.
"We've given up on our ears."
Black*Star muttered something unintelligible, but Tsubaki glared in his direction before returning her attention to Soul. "After that fight, we realized that it's futile; as long as you know our tactics, our patterns, and our powers, there's no way for us to defeat you. And, if we so much as slightly fell short of killing you and took them back, I'm sure you'd come after us. Am I wrong?"
"You're not wrong," Soul replied, watching Tsubaki give his hand the same treatment that his chest had received. "I'd come after you. And I'd probably have to kill you to take them back."
She nodded, setting his hand down on the bed. "I don't want to kill you, Soul," Tsubaki nearly whispered. "It's very unfortunate that we lost our ears all that time ago. I suppose we're lucky that Black*Star and I only lost one each. Still, as much as I would like to have mine back, to get his back," she glanced at her companion, "I don't want to kill you. And I certainly don't want to die myself. Before, I thought I had it in me; I thought that I wanted to get our ears back badly enough to kill you. But I've changed my mind about you, and Black*Star is respecting my decision. I think you're noble, although a bit off and certainly an unorthodox demon." Her eyes, an expressive cobalt blue, met his. "If you'd allow it, I'd like to help you out. Of course, that means Black*Star will as well. You're searching for the recipe, correct? The accounts of how you were put together, and how you as your own being came to exist?"
It took a full minute for Soul to answer. Black*Star shuffled in boredom in the doorway. They were offering not only a truce, but their companionship. Something about that sat strangely with Soul; there had never been anyone that could be considered an ally in his life. The prospect of having people who would aid his cause was very foreign and very intimidating. Still, if this was some sort of trap it was poorly set; there had been ample time to kill him or take his ears and flee, and yet, instead they stayed to treat his wounds. No question about it, they weren't pulling some sort of elaborate bluff unless they were total fools (and while Black*Star may have seemed like one, Tsubaki certainly was not).
The words were heavy on his tongue, laced with the bitter taste of trepidation and the unknown, but Soul forced them out. "Are you sure you want to get tangled up in this? There are others out there who won't hesitate to cut you down to get to me."
Tsubaki looked to her companion for confirmation. Black*Star scoffed in Soul's direction. "Are you kidding? Nobody could get through me." Tsubaki covered her mouth to muffle a giggle and Black*Star's cheeks pinked ever so slightly. "Just you watch, you stupid patchwork!" He put his hands on his hips and threw back his head, crowing out, "Nobody will take down the mighty Black*Star! Your search is safe with me on the front lines!"
While Black*Star continued to laugh boisterously over his own ego, Tsubaki turned back to Soul and smiled at him. "What he means to say is that he's happy to help. You see, Black*Star respects power. You defeated us, even unintentionally, and he's determined to get stronger. He decided that sticking with you, fighting the opponents that you fight, is the best way to do that." She glanced warmly back at her partner before returning her gaze to Soul. "I promise you, he won't turn on you. While he may have a big head, he holds you in high esteem, although he would never say that to your face."
Respect? It took a moment for Soul to truly process that thought; these two demons, a pair that had hunted him with deadly intent up until the previous day, were offering themselves as companions. They respected him. It was frightening in a way that also had coils of excitement building in his stomach. It was new. Someone was looking at him not as a reject, not as a worthless abomination, but as an equal, as a friend. For the first time–
Not for the first time.
"What about Maka?" he blurted, leaning forward and supporting himself with his arms. "What happened to her? The girl that was with me. Is she okay?"
Recognition lit up Tsubaki's eyes as Black*Star rolled his, but before she could answer the sound of the front door slamming shut and feet pattering down the hallway cut her off. Her open mouth, ready to respond to Soul, closed, and she smiled. Before long, Maka peered through the doorway, looking past Black*Star and Tsubaki with eyes trained on the bed. When her gaze settled on Soul her eyes lit up and she grinned. "Good to see you're up! I was worried about you, you know."
Alive.
Tension melted from Soul's muscles. Maka made her way to his bedside and leaned against the headboard. "You're not dead," he said, and internally he rejoiced at how smooth and unemotional his voice sounded; nobody needed to know of his fear that she had been killed because of him.
Still, despite Soul's flat tone, Maka smiled at him. "You can't get rid of me that easily," she quipped, and Soul snorted. "What, not happy to see me? You could be a little grateful that I hauled your sorry butt back here after the fight."
His head snapped up. "You carried me here?" he asked incredulously. Somehow it had seemed natural to assume that the shadow masters had moved him.
"Carried?" Maka laughed lightly. "I wish. It was more like dragging. Your pants probably have some nasty grass stains on them." When Soul sputtered indignantly, she laughed again. "Really, though, I'm glad you're okay. You lost a lot of blood." Her head quirked slightly to the side. "Well, I assume it was blood. The black stuff."
"Yeah," he grunted. "That's my blood. Demons heal quickly, though, so it's okay. Even though I got hit bad, I should be fine by tomorrow morning. Won't even leave a scar I bet."
"Actually..." Tsubaki's voice cut him off. "I'm not quite sure why, but my ointments are doing nothing to reduce the scarring. I'm not even quite sure why it's scarring; we demons typically heal cleanly, as I'm sure you well know. Perhaps something went wrong in your spell, but I don't know if the marking will ever fully heal."
Black*Star whistled from across the room. "Damn, dude, that sucks, but at least it looks wicked, right?"
Soul looked down at his chest and traced the puckered skin lightly with his fingertips. There was still a slight rift where the flesh had not fully knitted itself back together, but as a whole the wound was predominantly healed. Still, Tsubaki was right: there was a prominent scar, unusual within itself, and it was showing no signs of fading as most demons' wounds did. Still, he would take it over the alternative. He flashed a toothy grin in Black*Star's direction. "Yeah. It's pretty badass, don't you think?" A glaring imperfection across his chest was another sign of survival; he had been flayed open, bled out all over the ground, and he still won and lived to fight again.
It was a small price to pay for absolving himself of guilt.
His gaze shifted from Black*Star to Maka, and he grinned again. "You owe me big time for this, you know. It's cause you were so stupidly brave to mess with a demon that I had to protect you."
She grinned back at him and stuck her tongue out. "I didn't ask you for your help!" she quipped. "But you 'had' to protect me? Does that mean you want to be my friend?" Her smile was audible within her voice with the way it rang clearly, and Soul couldn't help but laugh.
"No way," he chuckled, but he was careful to restrain any actual disdain from his voice. "Not in the slightest. Violent dork."
"That's Miss Violent Dork to you, you sorry excuse for a demon!" she shot back, but a giggle broke through her attempt at a scolding voice.
She was insane. Absolutely insane, with no sense of self-preservation.
It was kinda cool.
Soul reached for her hand and gave it a slight squeeze. The heat of her skin was beautiful and felt like something akin to hope, and when she squeezed his hand back something warm bloomed in his chest that numbed the slight ache where his scar laid. He met her gaze, watched her jade eyes twinkle happily. Human or not, crazy and suicidal and violent or not, she looked at him with no contempt or hatred. She looked at him like he wasn't trash, like he deserved the answers he sought, like there was some greater purpose in his life. Different than the humans and demons alike that Soul had encountered, Maka seemed genuine and kind.
He didn't want to let her go. For the first time, he felt like he belonged.
A slight tug on her hand and he had pulled her down next to him, gathering her into his arms. Her body shook with gentle laughter even as Black*Star whooped and Tsubaki quickly ushered him out of the room.
"So you were happy to see me, huh?"
He grinned against her hair and pulled her closer again. "Shut up."