'Moving isn't all too bad', I thought to myself, lying on bed of the new apartment in Death City.

'It's the people you can't trust, Grayson. Watch out for the people.'

Everything felt unnatural. After getting up and pushing open the door of my room with a soft creak, I could see the evening sunlight shining through the window of my living room down the hallway. The dingy apartment that my parents had set me up in was colored a bleak gray. I had only moved in a few days ago and didn't have a chance to get some new furniture. So I ended up stuck with whatever the parents left me when they stuck me here. The orange light lit up the living room by the entrance, showing a thin layer of dust settled on the walls and tables.

I settled down on the musty futon in the living room, giving myself a chance to think about my current situation.

"This is it, Grayson", I whispered to myself, staring at the ceiling fan. "This is pretty much what your life has amassed to."

Life wasn't always like this. There used to be times before I even knew about Death City, Meisters, Weapons, and Souls. I used to live in California; belonged to a normal middle class family. But I was something of the black sheep of the family. Or some may consider it the blue sheep of the family. If someone doesn't get that, I was born with blue hair. When I was old enough, I noticed I could see a small orb around the center of people's chests. When I tried to tell my parents, they thought i was joking around and I had to deal with it on my own. But it turns out that it wasn't a problem at all. I learned that if I listened close enough to them, I could learn more about that person rather than talking to them. When I was young, kids thought that it was a really cool trick; peering into the minds of others and figuring out things about them. But as I got older, the theatricality of my little trick didn't handle well with others.

Then that day had to happen. It was a normal day, or whatever I happened to classify as normal, spending time listening to the whispers of the orbs. By that time in my life, I had already earned the reputation of 'Freak' and was normally avoided. That's fine. I didn't like to talk much anyways. It was around noon and I had settled underneath a large oak tree in the park when I happened to see a group of teens walking my way. I wasn't always a scrawny kid, but I wasn't the most fit. And since no one ever wanted to help the 'freak', I was easy pickings for anyone that felt like they needed to blow off some steam.

"Hey, Freakshow! How's it going?", yelled out the largest, and obviously the leader, of the group.

'Don't respond, Grayson. Just listen to the sound of the orbs', I thought to myself. Usually if I ignore them enough and let them push me around a little, they get bored and just end it. Unfortunately, that wasn't how it was going to happen today.

"Hey! We're talking to you, Freak!" shouted the largest, getting in my face. The stink of his breath made me want to back up away from the tree, but his goons just held me in place.

"You look hungry, freak," he said. I wondered what he was talking about until the side of my face erupted in pain. "How 'bout a knuckle sandwich!" he cried out, which ushered a chorus of laughter from his friends.

"Real original", I muttered to myself.

"What was that?" he asked? He then grabbed my shirt and pulled me up from the ground to get eye level with him. "Say that to my face, Freakshow!"

Then something snapped in me. At that moment I knew I didn't want to take his crap anymore.

"Gladly, asshole", I said, glaring him down. Instinctively, I reached up for his face. When my hand made contact with his face, a tingling sensation ran down my arm and before I knew it, sparks seemed to be flying off my fingers and the goon was screaming in pain.

"Let go!" he screamed, trying to pry my hand away from his face. But I already had a firm grip covering half of his face.

"Not a chance!" I screamed in a blind rage, moving my other hand over the other half of his face. "No more!" I spat in his face, putting all of my effort into trying to get back at him. The man screamed even louder and louder until I though his voice would give out. After the confusion of what was happening went away, the rest of his gang had to pry me off of him.

When I glanced over at him, his friends were gathered around him. When I finally saw him, my stomach churned. The nameless goon's face was pointed towards the ground, convulsing crimson for what seemed for minutes. In between gasps, he looked up at his friends then glanced at me. His eyes were bloodshot and tears were streaming down his face. It wasn't long after that until the police picked us all up and an ambulance took the one to the hospital.

At the station, all of the friends told them it was me. They tried to convince them that I used a taser or something on his face, but none was found. I was left alone in what almost seemed like an interrogation room, alone with my thoughts.

'How did I do that?' I kept thinking myself. 'Why did I do that? Why didn't I just stop?' But then i figured it out. To show him that I'm not weak; to show everyone not to mess with me. I was tired. Just tired of being messed with, underestimated, and put down. 'But was that really the way to do it?'

After the police were through with me, they couldn't find much to peg on me. There were no other witnesses to back up the goon's friends and there was no physical evidence to frame me. They released me from the station with a warning and told me that someone would be in touch. After what happened, my parents couldn't even look at me anymore.

It was a few days after that when a man came to my house. He was dressed in a black suit and wanted to speak with my parents and me. He said he was from the DWMA, the Death Weapon Meister Academy. He said it was a school, a special school filled with people just like me, unique people. I was something called a Meister, half of a pair for a Weapon and I had the ability to see people's souls, something not every Meister is able to do. It took little convincing for my parents to agree to send me there. I'm not sure whether they thought it would best for me or if they just wanted to get rid of me. They even paid for the ticket there and a month's rent of an apartment before the school put me in proper housing.

The day I was leaving, I hugged both of them saying "I'll miss you guys." But when I tried to look them in the eyes, the both looked away and said nothing. When I looked back as the bus drove away, both of them were already gone and I was alone.

I got up from the futon and made my way back to my room, picking up my deep, crimson jacket and yellow scarf with the DWMA insignia on the end. As I walked out of my apartment onto the cobblestone path that made up most of Death City, I handled the map of the city the man had given me before heading off a few days ago.

'I'm supposed to make my way to the building in the center,' I remembered. Walking up these foreign streets made me feel uneasy, as though the group of friends were still chasing after me. I decided to take the bus as close as I could.

On the bus, you see most of the city and the school happened to be the last stop. Around the city were lines of the same white bricked apartments, ceilings covered with the same auburn tiles stretching for as far as I could see. Outside of the city you hit the wasteland, nothing except sand, a cactus or two, and more sand. The same smiling sun lit up the entire city like a diamond in the rough. And that's when I saw the school.

Well, it didn't seem so much like a school rather than a castle in the center of the city. A staircase travelled up a hill to what seemed like a large, obsidian palace. Large candles seemed to protrude out of the school on four sides, giving it a sort of birthday cake aura.

'Seriously! What is this school', I thought to myself, awestruck by the school I was approaching.

As I got off the bus, I really had to question my whole situation here. Would I belong here? Would people treat me any differently than before? What's left for me outside of this city and school. Of course, I couldn't answer these questions because some idiot was cowering at the very bottom of the staircase.

"Are you ok?" I asked, slowly approaching the kid.

"Would you by any chance be a weapon?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

"Uh, no. I'm a," pausing for a second to try and remember whatever they said I was. "Meister. I'm a Meister. Why?" At that point whatever hope he seemed to have in his eyes vanished at my answer.

"Oh, well then you're useless to me." He quickly replied, getting up and dusting off his clothes as he spoke. "Now why don't you just be a good lad and get out of here."

"What an ass", I muttered to myself as I quickly made my way up the stairs.