Hello, and welcome to Soul Eater: Saeculum, a tie-into Soul Eater Zeta and Soul Eater: Troubled Souls. Before I say anything else, there are some things that need to be mentioned:
Setting: This is a collection of short stories and one-shots based off the aforementioned stories. Them and this collection are collectively named the "Novus Ordo Mundi saga." If you haven't read either of the stories, none of this is really going to make much sense to you.
Forewarning: This story does contain OCs (original characters), or at least some of the stories within it will. Again, you would know this if you had read my other works. Thus, there shouldn't be any surprise or outrage for this story having OCs in it. Other warnings include possible language and violence.
Structure: Each entry will denote where the one-shot or short story takes place and which story canon it is involved in. Most will be canon to the saga, but I will say if it isn't. This story does not have an 'end' planned. It will be added to again and again, usually because there is something in either story that doesn't match the current flow but needs to be told.
Disclaimer: Soul Eater is copyrighted to Atsushi Okubo and all other third parties (characters, series, and concepts).
And there you have it. So let's begin and enjoy!
Category: Canon
Setting: Soul Eater: Troubled Souls
Chronology: Chapter 22 – When the Ardsens are explaining their past
"Son, these are the tricks of the trade on how to conduct a deal."
He wanted to learn how to be a lawyer instead.
"Sweetie, I've already contacted your coach. Your father says this is more important."
The team lost the basketball game, and their shot at the championship, because he didn't go to practice that day.
"Soon enough, Mr. Ardsen, I'll be speaking to you across from that desk. You are the next don of the Chicago Gang, and we are you left- and right-hand men."
He didn't care about any of that.
Of all the teenagers in the world, why did fate impose this nightmare upon him?
...
...
...
Marcellus hated weekends.
He also hated weekend nights.
Firstly, weekends meant he was stuck inside Chicago Gang territory. He was trapped inside the very region of the city he didn't want to be in. The large district stationed near the Port of Chicago felt like a cage to him – or, rather, a prison. As the son of Don Portis, and therefore the next heir to the gang's chair, everyone wanted to see how he carried himself. He felt that people were constantly watching his every move. Marcellus already despised the underground lifestyle, but it seemed that was all he had.
And, secondly, weekend nights were the most active in both a good and a bad sense. Good in that half of the Chicago Gang was probably out conducting business, and his mother and father – Portis and Morgan – were doing husband-and-wife matters. Bad in that the Other Side Gang was doing the same. Hence why Marcellus was stuck here. The last thing he wanted was to step outside his gang's boundaries and wind up face-to-face with Other Side gangsters wanting to kill him.
Most people living normal lives would say Marcellus was crazy for cherishing school days. They didn't realize – well, he never told them; they were called personal issues for a reason – that those times were great reprieves from his gang life. He learned things he actually wanted to learn about. Talking with some friends at school was how he learned about his favorite game series Mega Man, how he got into anime and manga, and how to play basketball. School was practically a safe haven.
Living in fear of your life with nowhere to go and no way out. That was the life of Chicago Underground Association's Marcellus Ardsen.
"Don't I just have it good?" He thought bitterly, coming to a stop near the corner of a warehouse.
The mid-October wind was chilly. Marcellus was grateful he was dressed for the Saturday night weather. He had on a thick, grey, unzipped hoodie, exposing the lighter, white jacket beneath it. Black denim jeans and white camp walker, high-top shoes finished his ensemble. With a heavy sigh, he flipped off his hood, rested his back against the wall, and slid down it until he was sitting on the ground.
He heard faraway machines creaking with life. He deduced that to be both construction work and the new factory that was added to the territory some months ago. They were probably producing new products to sell on the black market; the Chicago Gang was famous, or infamous, for exporting and smuggling tech and machinery. To be honest, it was actually quite soothing. Marcellus felt that he could fall asleep here since he had virtually nothing else to do.
However, the minute he closed his eyes, he heard a soft plop right beside him. He lazily cracked open one of his eyes to examine his new company. To his surprise, it was a little girl. What stood out the most was her purple hair that could have been seen from miles away. It hung in front of her face unkemptly, matching the dingy, loose clothes she wore – a robe, pants, and simple slip-on shoes. Randomly, she had a small bag in her hand that she laid right beside her.
"You tired too?" Marcellus asked, leaning back against the wall. He assumed she was a newcomer to the gang. Uncommon, but he had heard of recruits as young as thirteen enter gangs.
"Be quiet." The girl replied brusquely, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them, assuming a fetal position.
"Well then." Marcellus yawned, unperturbed by her quiet but sharp tone. "Come around here often?"
"I said be quiet. Leave me alone." The girl retorted, turning her head to glare at him. Her head was dropped in a manner so that her hair covered and shaded her eyes. Well, partially. Marcellus could see a sole magenta eye among the forelocks, devoid of emotion or verve. "Just let time pass, okay?"
Marcellus felt like he was looking in a mirror.
For that reason and that reason alone, the gang prince had the inexplicable need to communicate with this young lass. "You have it rough too, huh?" He asked, angling his head toward her. His brownish-orange hair unintentionally produced the same effect as hers, highlighting his slate blue eyes and conveying the deep anguish resting inside his soul.
The girl averted her eyes. "Tch. I wonder what gave that away."
"People content with themselves don't go around resting on the sides of buildings." Marcellus replied matter-of-factly.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, really?"
"Name's Marcellus Ardsen." He shifted his head forward again. Since she didn't want to look at him, there was no point in him facing her.
"Nayumi. Not giving you my surname."
"So what's your life story?" Marcellus wondered if this was the part where older adults would light cigarettes as they endlessly rambled about each other's problems. It certainly seemed like that type of scenario to him. After all, Marcellus had nothing else to do. Neither did Nayumi, it appeared.
"Since when did we get so buddy-buddy?" Nayumi asked. Her voice actually dropped in volume, not rise with agitation as expected. She sounded like someone who was tired of everything.
"I don't know." Marcellus shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I was just asking." Around this time, his temporary spark of interest in Nayumi was beginning to wane. Now, he was becoming increasingly more content with letting silence linger between them. Another yawn escaped him as he adjusted himself. There wasn't much comfort in sitting up against hard concrete and brick, but Marcellus didn't feel like moving. Apparently neither did Nayumi because she hadn't really moved herself.
For a good few minutes, the only noises around were the breeze and distant construction work. It was so peaceful that Marcellus almost dozed off several times. Though, he wanted to go all the way, not wake up a second right before sleep welcomed him. Just then, he heard a heavy jingling sound as something hit the ground. Curiously, he looked back to Nayumi and saw that her small bag had fallen out of her grasp. She was nodding off like he was.
He was ready to dismiss it until he perceived a bright flash of gold coming from inside the bag. Leaning over, he opened it up and was greeted with an assortment of gold, sterling silver, and jewelry. Marcellus released a low, impressed whistle, knowing that this was quite a bit of money.
"Hands off!"
His whistle had alerted Nayumi. When he looked up, the girl had transformed one of her hands into an oversized hammerhead. Marcellus's eyes dilated in fear as he retracted his hands and held them up, showing no signs of hostility. With her normal hand, Nayumi snatched up her bag from the ground.
"Be careful around here with that," Marcellus cautioned, standing up. His sore body instantly felt relief. "This is gang territory. Any kid here who finds out you're carrying all that wealth won't hesitate to beat you senseless to get it."
"Don't worry about me." Nayumi replied indignantly. A purple glow encompassed the hammerhead as it morphed back into a human hand. "I already took care of one punk. So, I think I'll be okay."
Marcellus stared at her in disbelief, blinking, "Wait. You stole that?"
"Do I look like someone who can afford this?" Nayumi deadpanned.
"Touché." Then, something dawned upon the African-American. "…Where did you steal that from?"
"From here." The Canadian girl replied shamelessly.
Marcellus's jaw nearly fell off his face. It was bad enough she was hauling around that much gold, silver, and jewelry; someone might as well put a sign above her head announcing that for gangsters to see. Now, the situation was even worse knowing that this girl, Nayumi, had robbed the Chicago Underground Association. Someone was bound to find out if her claims of dealing with a gangster prior to the theft were true.
"W-Why did you do that?!" Marcellus chastised. The last thing he wanted on his conscience was the gang taking this girl inside a shed and emptying magnums on her. "Do you know what you've gotten yourself into?!"
"Well, I have to support myself somehow!" Nayumi growled, feeling as if this boy was lecturing her. "And, for the record, I honestly don't care. What matters is that I got the goods."
"But can you escape though?" Marcellus sighed. He hoped to put some sense into this young girl. "In case you hadn't realized, you're deep into the Chicago Gang's territory."
Her frustration with this boy was getting higher and higher. However, since he wanted to be so talkative, it was time to play a sort of game with him. "OK then, Mr. Smart Guy, how do I get out of here?" She asked, smirking tauntingly at Marcellus.
"Oh, no, no." Marcellus held up his hands. "You got yourself in here, so get yourself out."
"If you think that way, why were you so concerned about me earlier?"
Marcellus felt himself involuntarily cringe. That was a heavy blow he had to endure. He was trying to reel this girl in and get his point across, but he wound up tripping over his own thread. Though, he had to give credit where credit was due – this girl had the practical smarts to survive the streets.
He sighed again, wondering if he was unconsciously trying to break the world record for most sighs, well, sighed in an hour. "Well, I'm the next don in line for Chicago Gang, so basically, you've told me all the info I need to persecute you. But I don't want that; you're just trying to get by. Plus… well, I hate my position."
Nayumi quirked a brow. "Why's that?"
"The gang lifestyle…" Marcellus said contemplatively, looking up the night sky as he leaned back against the wall of the warehouse, "I don't like it. Way too much violence. Too much anarchy. A microcosm like this seems…diseased. It doesn't help that my parents, especially my dad, are pushing this role on me a little too hard. I hate it. I hate it all." He clenched his fists and grounded his teeth, beginning to pull at his hair in an attempt to vent out his frustration. "This whole situation has made me ¬hate even little insignificant things that shouldn't bother me. I hate that I'm telling a total stranger all about this like you're some therapist! Everything pisses me off!"
He slammed his fist on the wall behind him, panting heavily after he finished speaking. The normally calm and cool Marcellus was angry. His adrenaline was started to run from the hatred coursing through him. The more he thought about it, about how he lacked the guts to do something about his situation and how uncaring his parents were, the worse he felt. With a long, heavy sigh, Marcellus slumped to the ground, hanging his head low. How miserable and pathetic he must look, he thought.
"Everything is just so pointless, isn't it?"
Marcellus slowly lifted his head to see Nayumi standing before him. She was grinning. The boy unconsciously pressed his back against the wall. Between how her hair draped over her face, how dull her eyes were, and how terrifyingly off her serenity was, Marcellus was genuinely creeped out by this girl. "W-what are you talking about?"
"Life is just so wrong," Nayumi continued, her expression never changing, "We are told we have freedom, yet we really don't. People like you and me are trapped, just a bunch of puppets for other people to pull on our strings. At the same time, we are bounded by our affiliations. You really think the law cares if we hate being thieves or gangsters? Nope." Nayumi approached Marcellus, straddling his lap as she caressed his cheek. It appeared her words were getting to him; he had a hard time looking at her as he ruminated on the weight of her words.
"We're nothing but criminals to be put behind bars. Fodder for the police to get their pay. There's no such thing as true justice. We may be victims of circumstances, but we aren't going beyond that. The rest of our pointless lives were determined at birth. Oh, we can try, but in the end, it's futile. Makes me wonder why I even bothered running away in the first place… Maybe fate wanted to experiment how long a lone little girl could survive before she perished." Her grin widened as Marcellus shivered. "And maybe it wanted to see how long before you'll cave into the pressure of your role."
This little girl had an amazingly good head on her shoulders to come up with stuff like that. Even though it wasn't related to her monologue, Marcellus just had to ask, "H-how old are you?"
"Twelve."
"Jesus Christ…" Here he was, talking to a twelve-year-old who apparently was a skilled jewel thief and went around preaching nihilism. "Well, I'm fifteen." And, yet, he knew way too much about the underground world and other adult subjects. "What… happened to you? Why are you like this?"
Nayumi's grin slowly faded into oblivion, hanging her head as her hair shadowed her face. "I wanted to be normal. No, I had to help steal every day. I wanted to play games and have friends. No, I had to spend time with my parents learning how to infiltrate. I didn't want those kinds of responsibilities. No, they said it was my destiny forevermore." She sat up, placing tight fists on her lap. "I hope they rot in their jail cells… I hope their spirits never rest… Why do you think I never told you my last name? I don't ever want to be associated with those bastards! I hope Satan has many punishments for them in Hell!" She clenched her fists even tighter, the knuckles turning white as she tried to keep her emotions in check, "But whatever… Nothing matters."
Marcellus just stared at the young girl. He could totally relate to her. Both of them hated their parents, despised their professions, and were forced to grow up at young and tender ages. The more and more he talked with Nayumi, the more he realized how miserable they were. "If nothing matters…" He cupped Nayumi's chin and forced her to look at him, "Then why are you crying?"
True enough, tears were streaming down Nayumi's dull, unhappy eyes. Tears were symbols of emotion – proof that someone cared about something or someone else. They spoke more words than any sort of action. "You obviously cared enough to at least try and take care of yourself. If you ask me, that's pretty admirable. I don't have the courage to steal anything…"
"So, if you hate it here, why stay? It's just causing you pain." Nayumi questioned, reaching up to grab his hand with both of hers. By now, she was significantly less hostile to Marcellus. Plus, he made her realize that she was going against the very nihilistic ideals she just talked about. Marcellus opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was another sigh as he looked down, unable to give a valid reason other than one of powerlessness. Nayumi closed her eyes, standing up as she continued holding his hand, "Come on. We're leaving."
Marcellus's head snapped up. "What!?"
"You're running away with me," Nayumi declared with finality.
Marcellus couldn't honestly say he hadn't thought about leaving the gang. The problem was the bedlam that awaited after his actions. His mother would be heartbroken, his dad would be furious, and the other gang members would be shocked and appalled. He would forever be a fugitive to the Chicago Gang. Then, there was the Other Side Gang that knew full well who he was.
"Come on. You can't tell me you really care about this place after what you've told me." Nayumi urged, tugging on his arm.
She made a convincing argument. Maybe him running away was the scare Morgan and Portis needed to snap out of it. Perhaps he wouldn't be such a ball of restrained anguish and misery. Most optimistically, he might be able to live a new life away from this place. With one last sigh, Marcellus finally stood up, grasping Nayumi's hand more firmly.
"You can have my last name. It's Ardsen in case you didn't get it the first time." Marcellus informed her, remembering how adamantly Nayumi refused to tell him her family name. "You're with me from now on. That stuff you stole is pretty valuable. It'll last until we figure something out."
Nayumi gave him a small smile, a genuine one. "We'll make a way."
Marcellus couldn't help but smile back, a pure one of his own. "Let's go."
The Chicago Gang never realized Marcellus was gone until it was too late. He and Nayumi were on the other side of the city by then. That would require crossing into Other Side Gang territory, and the resulting bloodshed would severely cripple the Chicago Gang's resources. Marcellus and Nayumi were able to avoid confrontation by picking the appropriate paths using the former's intensive knowledge of the city.
Nonetheless, the Chicago Gang continued to waste their time sending search party after search party. Two hours had elapsed, and it started to pour rain. Activity was mitigated by the appearance of Mother Nature. Less and less people were out, the slick roads discouraged drivers, and the once-bright streetlights were dulled by the white rain.
"I got them!" Nayumi announced as she threw herself out of an open vent on the side of a department store. After she landed, she tossed Marcellus a heavy rain coat while she garbed herself in a hooded poncho. As much as she hated using her thievery skills, she had to make an exception this time or else they would have froze to death in the cold rain.
"Thank you." Marcellus replied gratefully as he slipped it on.
"Now what?" Nayumi asked as she and him exited the alley, walking along the sideway. Their footsteps splashed against the puddles forming on the concrete and asphalt.
"It's probably best to pawn that stuff," Marcellus answered, referring to sack of gold, silver, and jewelry Nayumi kept in her possession, "It isn't fair, but without money, we're at a dead end."
"I guess so."
If Marcellus was right, the nearest pawn shop was ten minutes away by vehicle. Both he and Nayumi had no intention of walking the entire way in this downpour. The two tried their best to flag down a taxi or someone kind enough to provide a free ride. However, everyone seemed unconcerned of their plight. Their hopes were gradually dying away with each passing car.
Then, they saw a cab approaching them. Their hopes were restored as they waved the vehicle down, and it continued to slow down.
But it was decelerating for the pothole in the road. It hit it, causing the water to splash on Marcellus and Nayumi, and kept on going.
An audible snarl escaped Nayumi's lips. If that cab had stopped, she would have smashed its window with her partial transformation. Even Marcellus saw that to be needlessly rude of the cab driver. The two exhaled sharply in unison as they sat on the edge of sidewalk, unable to do anything else.
Nayumi scooted closer to Marcellus, hooking her arms around one of his, "Marcellus. I'm cold…"
Marcellus placed a hand on hers, trying to be comforting, "Tough it out… like you said, we'll make a way…"
"Do you need some help?"
Marcellus and Nayumi looked up. There stood a man with orange and black hair, staring down at them with his only visible eye. He was carrying a black umbrella that shielded him from the rain. His car was parked nearby, and they saw two others peering at them through the windshield.
The man nodded in the direction of his car. "Come on. You two will catch pneumonia out here." He said. Here was someone gracious enough to lend a hand, someone who cared enough about their well-being. Hope refilling their hearts, Marcellus and Nayumi stood up and went with him into the car.
"My name's Noel Isaac Ricardsen." The man introduced himself once everyone was in the car. "These are my children, Tsuji and Rowena."
The young teenagers all locked eyes. Right then and there, the strands of fate were beginning to intertwine. These four's future would forever involve each other. The Ardsens and the Ricardsens.
Future partners at the DWMA.