A/N- MaleCrona and manga-verse. Even if you've only seen the anime and haven't read the manga, it won't be too hard to understand after this chapter, so don't worry about it. I started this a few months ago before pretty much any progress started in the moon battles, so it's different than the recent chapters. This chapter is serious and sort of angsty, but trust me, that's going to dramatically change in chapter two. Trust me.
They were losing.
The elite Spartoi and Death Scythes along with Stein, even when all teamed together, could not even hope to defeat the embodiment of Madness known as the Kishin.
The great entity stood before them, scarves floating around him in an almost magical way, though it forced horror and insanity into all those who laid eyes on him. The Kishin gazed onwards, his face unexpressive, all three eyes focused on those who dared challenge him. The eye patterns on his hair and scarves seemed almost attentive as the energy of his soul pulsed throughout the air.
"You still think you can win?" Asura murmured, tugging absent-mindedly at the scarves covering his mouth. It was a disappointing sight to him; all of these beings that were previously considered 'powerful' attempting to team up against him. He expected something more challenging, even went to the extent of preparing his spells. All he ended up getting was a group of children and Death's minions, none of which posed a real threat to him in any way. Not only that, but the supposed 'other sides' had failed to make a significant appearance. He assumed that they'd finally become sensible and left to save their own skins. Asura was so looking forward to a multi-sided fight which he would eventually be the victor of; but these were all just pesky soldiers and greedy wanna-be Kishin, and were but a trifle to a powerful being such as himself.
The Kishin found his eyes drifting to a pigtailed girl as she used her Scythe partner to pull herself up from the ground, one hand clutching at a gaping wound in her side. The flesh festered and crawled, and she let out a low hiss of breath, looking up at Asura with hate-filled eyes. Her breathing was heavy and labored and her knees wobbly, but it didn't seem to affect her confidence and malice.
"Tch," She growled, taking a step forwards. Blood leaked between her fingers from the newfound motion, but she paid little mind to it. She carefully stepped over the unconscious form of one of her comrades, giving a silent prayer that he, along with everyone else, would be fine in the end.
"You have a death wish?" The Kishin murmured in response, a small smile finding his face. "I admire your determination, but it is pointless, Miss Albarn. It would be of your best interest to give up while you still have the opportunity."
"No!" Maka cried furiously, her muscles failing, sending her falling to her knees. She glared up at Asura, fury painted on her face. "We will defeat you! You can't win, I won't let you!"
Asura couldn't help but give a chuckle, placing a hand on his hip. "You and what army, girl?" He gestured towards the space behind her, where all of her companions lay unconscious and bleeding. His face changed to one of pity as he continued, eyes trained on her. "All of your friends are done for. All I need to do is snap my fingers and they're gone, even the miniature shinigami. I almost feel bad for you." His tone was filled with mocking sympathy, lips pursed in a small pout.
In response, Maka spat in his direction, teeth grit together. "I don't need your pity, Kishin."
"You don't?" He sounded innocently surprised, sighing and tapping his chin lightly. "Oh, well." With that, Asura flicked his hand forwards, and Soul went flying from Maka's grasp. He landed with a loud clank against the hard surface of the moon. The death scythe reverted back to his human form, panting heavily, clutching at a gash on his forehead. The look in his eyes told that he was completely out of his senses; pupils unfocused and dilated.
Maka swore at her misfortune, now on her hands and knees. She couldn't die like this, not now! She still had so much she wanted to accomplish! She wasn't a three-star meister yet, hadn't grown better than Stein, hadn't helped Soul become the true Death Scythe…
Asura stepped towards her, all eyes locked on her panicked face. Maka's breath hitched, and she fell back onto her rear, beginning to scoot away from him. How silly this was for her! Coming to defeat him, only to back away in fear? She hissed at the thought, blood beginning to drench her side. "Stay back, you!"
Soon enough, Asura stood right above her, staring down at her with those odd eyes of his, examining her as if she were a test subject. His brow furrowed and his lips sealed tightly, a small "hmm" coming from his throat. He bent down, placing his hands on his knees, getting at eye-level with her. He leaned forwards slightly, as to gain her full attention. "Miss Maka Albarn. Such a young age to go." One of his hands tapped lightly on his collarbone, and a smug smile found its way onto his face. "But such a lovely Grigori soul you have. Mind if I collect it?"
Maka found it hard to breathe. How did you breathe again? In, out. How do you do that? His hand was coming closer, ready to rip out her soul and devour it.
There was nowhere to run; nothing to do that could possibly save her now. Those eyes wouldn't quit staring at her, staring into her very being. She shut her eyes, hoping that somehow, through some freak event, she would be spared.
She knew it was hopeless.
What happens after you die…?
…
Splut.
A warm substance drenched the front of her shirt, though she wasn't feeling any more pain. It couldn't have been her bleeding. Her eyes snapped open, unable to bear the curiosity.
Asura was hunched forwards, his dark blood dripping from his mouth, eyes wide with pure shock. He trembled slightly; fear painted all over his face, and reached his wobbly hands towards his chest, where the pain seemed to be centered. He twitched and vomited up more blood, his eyes meeting Maka's in a sort of plea. Asura's panic soon vanished completely, his face losing all expression as he collapsed.
He was dead.
Maka stared at his motionless body for a moment, appalled. His death was so fast, she didn't even have the time to react, much less know what to think.
She noticed a movement behind the body, and her eyes drifted up to find an all-too-familiar head of pink hair and a pair of distant eyes gazing down at her.
"…Crona…?"
It was him. Just standing there, his eyes trained on her, was the boy who used to be her best friend.
Crona's hair was less tidy than he used to keep it, and the robe he wore was all black and lacking that white collar he used to have. His eyes had deep, dark lines etched beneath them from months of sleepless nights, though they remained wide open, almost frozen in a traumatized fashion. One arm hung limply at his side, and the other was stained with the Kishin's blood, a glowing soul clutched in his fingers. The soul had the three eyes of insanity clearly imprinted on it, and radiated an extreme Madness wavelength.
Asura's soul.
"You…" Maka breathed, unsure how to react for a moment. This friend that she was sure she had lost was right here in front of her, and had killed her enemy for her. It was almost too good to be true.
"Crona!" She gave a shout of joy, a grin appearing on her face, alongside a slight pink tint on her cheeks. Her eyes threatened to spill over with happy tears as she came to the realization that luck was on her side for once. Her friend had an odd expression, as if he didn't register the fact that she was expressing pride for him; his eyes simply followed her form, as if contentedly observing her. "You defeated the Kishin! We could hardly do any damage to him, so you're superior to practically everyone in Shibusen put together!"
Crona still didn't respond. For a moment, Maka worried that perhaps he was still under the influence of whatever it was that drove him to commit so many sins that he got on Death's List. But, he was here now. If he was still insane, he wouldn't have stepped in to save her right before she got her soul removed. True, this was not her Crona; but her Crona was buried somewhere inside of this being in front of her. She could help him become Crona again, she knew it.
Miraculously, she pulled herself to her feet with wobbly knees, keeping her grin plastered on her face. She looked up, meeting his eyes with her own. "I'm proud of you, Crona." With that, she threw herself forwards, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace.
She was met with a searing pain.
Maka kept her lips tightly sealed, trying not to cry out, and remained in the one-sided hug for a moment. Then, she slowly drew back and looked down at herself. Small spots of her blood were beginning to leak through her white shirt, alongside the crimson still pouring from her side wound. She knew why. The Spartoi girl gave a nervous laugh and looked back up at him, still smiling.
"Gonna have to do something about those thorns of yours, though. They hurt."
No reaction, just that heart-stiffening stare.
"You've got to say something." Maka insisted. His silence was making her edgy and nervous. "Come on, Crona."
Crona didn't as much as twitch in response. Maka was no fool; she knew that there was a problem when she saw it.
"Crona, please," Maka was begging him now, to say something, anything that would assure her that he was mentally there. "Just say one word, and I'll be happy, alright? Can you do that for me?"
And then, he finally reacted.
He smiled.
The slight upturning of the edges of his lips was enough to send a cold chill up her spine. Something was amiss here.
"Wh-what's so funny?" Maka tried at being playful, still desperately clinging to the hope that he was okay. "Are you okay?"
She couldn't take it anymore. Maybe… it must've been that soul he was holding! That had to be it! Somehow it was affecting him! She extended a hand to confiscate it from him, emotions beginning to show on her face. "Give that to me."
Crona shook his head slowly, that sick smile still plastered on his lips. Finally, they parted, and he spoke in a soft murmur in that voice she knew so well. "I'm finally done." His eyes burned into hers, captivating her attention. The tone he used was different than what she was used to from him; quiet, light, and airy, as if he was shocked and couldn't tell whether he was pleased or not. He gave a light shake of his head, gaze never once wavering. "I'm done."
"I don't get it!" Maka blurted, her fear getting the better of her once again. "What the hell are you talking about?!"
The hand that held Asura's soul was slowly raised, the Kishin's blood trailing down his arm.
"Goodbye, Maka."
Before the girl had time to react, he tilted his head back and dropped the soul into his mouth.
A nauseating slurping noise came forth as it slithered down his throat, blood dripping from his chin.
It stopped. He stopped.
He stood there, unmoving; satisfaction clearly written on his face.
Maka was stunned to silence.
What… just happened? He… he ate the Kishin?
Why?
Suddenly, the answer became all too clear.
He shuddered, clasping both hands over his mouth and taking a shaky step backwards. His eyes left Maka's form and began flicking around, his body audibly cracking and snapping. Crona's back arched forwards, his hands gripping helplessly at his face. Random words drabbled from his lips, vines stretching from the ends of his robe once again and crawling across the moon's surface.
Maka realized for a moment that he was undergoing some sort of metamorphosis. Without a doubt, his insides were morphing into something else; his outer appearance not taking on any changes quite yet.
Crona, unable to contain himself, let loose a scream of agony; blood dripping between his fingers. Pain. Was this supposed to hurt so much? He could feel his insides squirming and changing into something unfamiliar and twisted, not even remotely close to human. His goal wasn't to become human anyway, but the thought that he was being pushed further and further from humanity was horrifying.
Maka found herself completely frozen to the spot, unable to move. It was terrifying to watch him change into… whatever he was becoming, but it was so transfixing; so difficult to describe. Her eyes glazed over and her brain remained unregistering to the fact that he was crippling under his own weight.
She had a feeling that things were never going to be the same, no matter how hard she tried.
All of those months looking for Crona, eventually giving up, and then finding hope again… it all seemed meaningless. Maka had resolved to save her friend no matter what it took, and now, he was the real enemy.
Where did she go wrong? Was she too slow? She'd messed up somewhere along the way. No, wait, she'd messed up throughout the whole damn thing. Running away when she saw him talking to Eruka, refusing to tell her trusted weapon partner about anything, putting it off until the next day… even in the beginning, she'd gone wrong.
In that moment, she knew that she failed.
Everything was over.
The world went dark.
A/N- Hee hee.
See you next time, friends!