A/N: I've been promising this story for months now (something like since February?), and after deleting it all and rewriting it over and over, here's a finished product. I don't usually write characters other than Soul and Maka, so this was both an adventure and a pain.
Angst ahead, you have been warned.
He hadn't listened.
The chamber's air was thick with dust, and shadows flickered against the old cobbled stone walls. Kid could hear the faint echoing of laughter moving away, but he could not help but notice more keenly the absolute silence around him. He shivered as a chill ran down his spine.
Why hadn't he listened?
Now it was too late. That one last shot aimed at the bitch, that damned last shot, was too much, he hadn't listened, and now it was all over. Kid's eyes unfocused, and his knees made harsh contact with the stone floor, but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Cold metal slipped from between his fingers to clatter gently on the floor.
The wails that pierced the tomb's silence could stir the dead.
Death the Kid was thrust into the position of Shinigami with little warning and less preparation. His powers were certainly strong enough to take over for his father, for the moment of realization of that potential is what removed his father's existence, but Death City had fallen into a type of nervous chaos. The witches were looking for someone trustworthy with whom to make a truce; the citizens were in a panic over the newly-blackened moon and the not-so-complete defeat of the Kishin; many Shibusen students and staff members had been injured on the moon, so caretaking was a concern; and, the once-leader of Death City who was widely adored was no longer of this world.
It had never been a question of if Kid would become a full Shinigami. It had been a question of when, and nobody had anticipated it being this soon.
Kid ran his hands through his hair in frustration before carefully combing it back into place with his fingers. His mask, hauntingly similar to that of his late father, lay discarded on the center of his desk along with the accompanying cloak. It still felt strange, wrong, to wear the vestments of his father when he was not acting as a public figure. On top of that, his breath would build up into an uncomfortable humid warmth beneath the bone-like mask, and it was impossible to keep the flowing robes still and symmetrical, especially when the constricting heat under it would make one uneasy and fidgety.
With a frustrated sigh Kid returned to the paperwork he had to review before tomorrow's meeting with the council of witches. It seemed that a small group of magic-users had split off from those that followed Mabaa, the Grand Witch, and Shibusen's aid was being requested in the pursuit and capture of these rogue witches. Kid was to approve this decision and decide who would be sent after the witches, and the upcoming meeting would involve the outcome of the mission; while Soul "Eater" Evans was given the title "The Last Death Scythe," if the witches in question were found unreasonable and uncooperative there could perhaps be a few new souls available for the creation of Death Scythes... pending approval from the witches.
A gentle knock sounded on the doorframe, and the young god of death lifted his head in the direction of the noise. Liz peeked sheepishly into his room, brows knitted in what seemed like concern. The corners of Kid's lips pulled upwards slightly, and he nodded, allowing Liz to enter. "What is it?"
Liz propped herself up against the wall beside the doorframe, hands in her pockets. "It's past eight, Kid. You missed dinner." Her eyes drifted over the paperwork and the discarded mask and robes. "You've gotta eat, you know. You're either holed up in the Death Room all day at Shibusen or poring over some stupid forms when you're home."
With one last glance at the information pertaining to the rogue witches and their assumed intents and movements, Kid sighed and slid his chair back. The carpet muffled his footsteps as he walked. "You're right, of course," he said to Liz. "I was simply trying to prepare for tomorrow." The faintest hint of a smile flickered across his face as he stood by Liz and looked up at her. "If all goes well, I may finally be able to give you girls the status of Death Scythes."
Before Liz could process the implications and begin to formulate a reply, Kid had disappeared down the long hallways of the Gallows.
Maka was visibly nervous as she entered the Death Room. Kid observed her as she approached, tugging at her gloves and playing with the hem of her skirt, avoiding eye contact until she stood in front of him. Kid absentmindedly noted that one of Maka's pigtails was askew and wondered if Soul would be upset if he were to ask the weapon to correct it for him; self-control was key for a Shinigami, but that didn't mean that Kid could not impose bits of order as he saw fit, behind the scenes or not.
Such thoughts were whisked away when Maka spoke, however.
"You need to either find a way to make Liz and Patti into Death Scythes or learn to fight with a current one," she blurted out, once again seeming to find great interest in the floor. "I can see your power rising, and it's getting to be dangerous for them to be wielded by you. I mean no disrespect, I just want to make sure that they're safe. We're friends, after all."
A fistful of papers, notes on wavelengths and information on weapon souls' tolerance for strain, were thrust into Kid's hands before Maka excused herself, mumbling her apologies for speaking out of line.
The air suddenly felt very cold.
The witches who followed Mabaa had agreed, after much debate, that the souls of the rogue witches, if intact after their deaths, were free to be used to create Death Scythes at Kid's discretion. The arguments against had not been unexpected, but the power with which Mabaa was able to silence the fervent chatter with a single loudly proclaimed "Nyamu!" was astounding. Conditions were set thereafter; Kid would be the one to distribute the souls to worthy weapon-meister pairs, and any rogue factions that split off after this incident's resolution would have to be treated on a case-by-case basis.
Still, it had been a huge leap forward.
The tomb was quiet, and Kid's footsteps echoed against the walls. Supposedly the runaway witches had been involved in necromancy, and Kid expected to find them in the tomb's final room, where shrouds for various powerful meisters lay. Reports had reached the witches, and consequently Kid, that meisters who had passed on were seen moving about outside of the tomb, and it was easy to connect the dots. These necromantic witches had been sloppy; they had not only chosen prominent figures, but they had picked them from a location close to Death City's nightlife.
Kid's grip on Liz and Patti's weapon forms tightened, and he said, barely a whisper, "We're close now." There was a glow ahead, slightly brighter than that of the torches strewn about the halls, and quiet murmuring could be heard with strained ears. Liz's anxiety palpably spiked in his hand, and even Patti tensed. Each step Kid took brought them closer, ever so closer, to the light ahead, and the murmurs turned to giggles.
"So nice of you to visit us, Shinigami-sama."
Trap.
Liz stretched languidly back in her chair, arms flung upward and feet propped on the dining room table. Next to her, Patti was "taking aim" at the vases on the opposite side of the room and giggling when she imagined her targets shattering. Liz cracked an eye open and glanced at Kid when he entered the room. "What's up, Kid? What did you mean earlier?"
He shook his head and took a seat. "It's nothing decided yet. The witches may as well reject the idea completely, and I would not blame them in the least."
Patti's attention drifted slightly from target practice to the conversation at hand, and she spoke while looking up at her sister. "What's going on?"
"There may soon be some witch souls available, and I would like to transform you both into Death Scythes." Both sisters looked at him now, and Kid closed his eyes. "Several witches deserted the council after the truce was formed, and there are reports saying that they are practicing necromancy on deceased meisters. Typically the punishment for deserters is death, as witches are not so easily swayed in their ways." He sighed and stood up, pushing his plate of food away from him without taking a bite. "If the opportunity arises, you both should be changed. You each have the quota of tainted souls and then some, and you are certainly deserving."
Before Kid could pass the doorway, Liz spoke up. The warmth in her voice served to do nothing but send a shiver of fear down his spine. "Don't get too worked up over it, okay? You don't owe us anything, and you've given us so much already. We're happy just to be with you, Kid." Patti chirped out her agreement.
I just can't lose you both.
They were knocked out of his hands before Kid could even react, and in the next moment he was crushed against the wall, a torch flickering dangerously close to his cheek. The witch, likely the buzzard witch Linos, stood only a few feet away from him.
"If you know what's best for you, you'll stay in weapon form." The statement from the witch was absolute, her tone not veiling any empty threats. Liz flinched internally, but did not transform. Patti was surrounded by a pink light for a moment, but it fizzled out with a pained cry. Linos smirked, and her straight brown hair floated around her face. "This area is enchanted, my dear prey. I warned you, did I not?"
Her eyes, so golden that they were almost orange, glowed as she murmured an incantation. Patti shrieked once again, and Kid cried out in protest only to be silenced by a blow to his stomach.
"Silence, foolish child," she hissed. "You're nothing. You pretend to speak for us all, when your kind has hunted us for centuries. Mabaa is a fool for trusting you." A magical wind whipped through her hair and stirred up the dust in the tomb. "You fell into our trap, and for what? To take our souls? To continue to build an army until you turn on our kind once again? You disgust me."
The wind picked up and flared out the witch's cape, which fluttered like dark wings. Her incantation grew louder and the gale snapped at Kid's body and slid Liz and Patti farther across the hall.
He had one chance.
The shackles of magical wind that bound him to the wall did not extend to his feet, and Kid capitalized on Linos's moment of distraction to summon Beelzebub and drive it into her gut. She wheezed out a breathless squawk, but her magic momentarily faded, and Kid threw himself onto his weapons.
"It's getting to be dangerous for them to be wielded by you."
"I can see your power rising."
There was no choice, was there?
Hooking his fingers around Liz and Patti and gripping the triggers felt like betrayal.
Their souls reached out for his, seeking resonance, but he refused.
The guns' barrels leveled at Linos, and Kid squeezed the triggers. Liz and Patti each fired off a bolt of energy, but they did nothing but make the witch flinch. Her eyes were both wary and confused, and her lips pulled back into a snarl, but the fear she had shown when Kid incapacitated her had faded with the weak counterattack. "What's the matter, boy?" she sneered, a wind beginning to pick up once again. "That barely tickled. Can't even handle the only witch here? Pathetic."
Liz shouted his name, hollow and metallic, and Patti cried, "Kiddo, why won't you resonate with us?!" Kid could feel their souls in his hands, delicate and oh so precious, and his grip tightened.
"Kid!"
I'm sorry.
Their souls felt like home. Happiness. Belonging. He felt Liz's confidence, her compassion, her insecurities. He felt Patti's energy, her power, her unrestrained curiosity for the world. They flowed into his soul and absorbed his power, and with a whisper of, "Soul Resonance," they were three in one.
The first shot of the Death Cannon struck Linos square in the chest, and she shrieked in pain. Her cape flared out and she leaped backwards to gather more distance. The second shot was deflected by a shield of wind, and Kid could feel the strain on Liz and Patti's souls. They felt something amiss as well, as if they was a pressure slowly building up on top of them, but still Liz cried out, "Kid! Noise at 0.01 percent, nearing perfect resonance! Feedback in three seconds! Give her our best shot!"
In that moment, he simply focused on winning the fight like his weapons wanted.
The shot never came. Linos's eyes widened when the charge faded, and she fled in a flurry of wind, laughter fading with her departure.
It was like a taut string snapping. The tension, the connection, the resonance; in that moment, everything just went slack.
"Liz...? Patti?"
The leader of Death City, Lord of Death, Shinigami, could do nothing but scream.