Chapter One
"I do not deny evil, nor do I believe that any human is completely free of malice. Everything must be in balance. As long as evil and good maintain an equilibrium in this world there is no problem. Perfect balance is the key to everything."
It isn't the first time. Not at all. He had had children before- one to be exact. Yet his first son hadn't come out as he had hoped. Not at all. How was he supposed to know that his first son would become a drug dealer of the highest ranks? Asura brought the death to Death city. The drug-leader torments the streets and fills it with crime and near constant gun-fights. His variety of illegal supplements supplies the people of this once safe town with nightmares and madness.
It took him years to capture his son and imprison him. It took him even longer to get the city safe again. Lord Death had promised himself that he would never again have a child- 'it would be best for the world' he had told himself. Yet now, after the imprisonment of his (hopefully) only son, the Shinigami sat with a little problem... He didn't know how this had happened. He didn't know why it happened and he certainly didn't ponder of how it came to be true. But despite his unwillingness to have another child, he was granted with another, tawnier one.
His eyes were a gold more profane than the shine of the blood grinning moon and hair a darker black then the inky emptiness of the fearful night. This small reaper definitely looked the part of a killer. And the Grim reaper was fearful of the day this boy was older. The child could not, by any means necessary, turn out like his older brother. Actually this accidentally born child should nay know of Asura's existence. It would be for the best. So when the Shinigami lifted the pale boy from the ground he vowed to discipline this child. This, second accidental son, will not follow in the slumps of his brother- not at all.
"Death the Kid, you are meant for things far greater than that of drugs, death and slander. No, you would make a difference. You would be a law enforcer and you would banish evil from this world. You would be the savoir of the new millennium and you will protect the people of the world. You are a good Kid and you will be raised in a good world. You would grow up without the knowledge of ever having a sibling and you would grow up shielded from the wrong throes of this universe until the right time, only then would you know what true balance is. Only then would you know the true value of a human life. Only then would you find a mortal soul as precious as your own. And only then would you be able to dethrone the Madness."
Fifteen years. Fifteen fucking years had I been stuck in that rotting sack of a cell. I had forgotten what the sun looked liked. It looks like a murdering maniac who would kill at the first thought. It's absolutely perfect! Now I can take my revenge on the person who put me in that dump, and the best way to do that is to rebuild my kingdom and take what is precious to him.
So, I'll start at the head, because without the brain nothing can function. Not to mention it's the favourite target when aiming for the dead. My father doesn't exactly count as the living. He doesn't even deserve living. I'll kill him and reign ruler of this town. I'll return to my thrown and be the new shinigami that people fear. Fear is power and they'll learn that pretty quickly.
342. There were 342 steps to the top of the DWMA. He counted every single one of them. Why did it have to be such an asymmetrical number? Surely his father could fix it... or something. All his life he had believed his father was the best and he could do anything- why would this be any different? For a person as powerful as the grim reaper, making the steps to the entrance of his school symmetrical should be easier that eradicating a witch.
Its bothering him, he can't stop thinking about it! He wanted to yell at the person who designed these steps! Why make the institute of death weapons and Meisters so aesthetically pleasing and then mess it all up with an esoteric number such as 342? His golden eyes rested on the design of the school. Just in time too. If he had to count those steps one more time he was sure to keel over and barf up blood.
The building brought pride to his chest. His father had made this institute to fight off evil and keep crime in its place. So it could be compared to cops... only cooler and more badass... and more competent. On the second thought, no, you couldn't compare it to the police- they were so much better that the incompetent idiots who run around with guns.
People were already pooling into the entrance- class would be starting soon. Comparing the DWMA to a school also did it no justice. Yes, they had tests on paper and teachers, but learning math and history wasn't on the agenda. Stuff as boring as that belonged in a normal school and they didn't have to wear uniforms. Uniforms that went by the code: "If it's not ugly, it's not school."
Well... there were some students who decided to wear uniforms of sorts... like Maka Albarn. She was a girl with sandy blond hair and an IQ that would put Tony Stark to shame. But brains and beauty were never besties and where she had brains her boobs lacked in. That was exactly where she got the nickname "Tiny Tits" from her best friend: Soul Eater Evans. The boy was the exact opposite of his girl friend and not more needed to be said.
Death the Kid liked them for their differences. So when he stepped up next to them he was greeted with smiles and he smiled in return- ignoring the asymmetrical nature of his companions. "Hey, Kid, was sup? Where are Liz and Patty? Don't you usually show up late with them?" Soul asked looking bored, hands in his pockets and hair as unruly as it always is. He was wearing his usual favourite outfit- yellow jacket and red jeans. The girl had a book in her hand and was looking at the young reaper intently, also wanting an answer.
Kid looked at them both in turn as he answered in his bland tone. "Father has sent them as a pair on an extra-credit mission to help their focus along. Liz keeps freaking out at the mention of ghosts and Patty... well, Patty needs to focus more."
"Then why weren't you sent along as well, Kid, I mean- you do get distracted with symmetry every time you fight." Maka questioned in that tone of voice only she could pull off: it wasn't soft and placating nor was it mean and insulting. "I had wanted to know the same thing, but Dad only told me I needed to stay here and focus on my studies."
"Yeah, I never see you finishing with a test- so you must suck, I wonder if you can fail and redo your year-" Next thing the red-eyed boy knew he was staring up at the weird shaped clouds overhead and a throbbing pain in his head. Maka held her book in her hand and glared weapons down at him. "Soul, you idiot, Kid may be even smarter that I! He just can't finish because he is so obsessed with writing his name symmetrically..." And this was where Kid blocked them out again. He hated useless fighting.
So while they fought over nonsense he stepped pass them and went for the entrance. There was a reason why he was early today. He wanted to speak with his father. There was an unrest that settled over him early that morning; bright and early, while the sun was still crazy and full of energy. Something was wrong and he could feel it on the white stripes in his hair.
The halls were busy and full of eager first year's. The younger students were always eager to fight and ignored their studies. When kid had first joined the academy his interests were slightly different. While all the other students loved kicking butt and blowing stuff up he was locked away in his room with only books to rid him of his gloom. Since he could remember his father had preferred him as a studying type of child, always hating it when the young boy fought. So when a brave (or stupid) first year stopped him in the hall and told him what he thought of his hair and the stupid stripes in it, Kid knew exactly what to do.
"If I cared about someone's opinion I would go to CWMA: commenting weapons and Meister's academy, not DWMA, now get the hell away." The properly dressed boy stepped to the side, hands clasped behind his back. The other boy, nonplussed, interfered with the young reaper's road again. "I don't know who you think you are, but no one talks to me like that." A fist was thrown towards the pale boy's face. He ducked and dodged- rolling to a stop left of the attacker.
Enraged, another fatty fist came his way. Kid caught it. His hand stung slightly as the impact caused colour to come to his hand in heated fury. He didn't like fighting, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to protect himself. Being beaten by a first year would be a blow to his pride... and to the honour of his father... as would it be if he beat the crud out of an injudicious first year.
Kid stood up, the other male's fist still clenched in his hand, and leaned in close to the boy's ear. "Beating you to a pile of gloop is not what I want on the second day of school. I'm sure that you're doing this to impress your friends, so I won't humiliate you in front of them. When I let go, you can either drop the fight or drop your dignity levels to an even lower bar. You chose. Either way I win." His voice was low and sombre; ensuring the atmosphere of death was set.
Obviously Kid didn't know what the boy would decide, but he was ready for any of his ultimatum's outcome. Should the boy prove Kid right and be the fool he is by choosing to continue fighting the reaper would simply put the male on his ass and make him feel like an ass. If, in the unlikely event Kid was wrong and the boy would just walk away, that would be exactly what the young shinigami would do- walk away.
His hand loosened and the other pried his fist free. They stared each other in the eye. Black and gold glared. Tantalising quiet filled the halls as every pair of eyes was fixed on the teen and child. Every student, it seemed, was staring at the duo, waiting in climactic anxiousness for the other's response to whatever the black haired- teen had whispered... Fight... or fli- tactical retreat.
"Looks like your son can handle himself in a situation of fire." Smoke drifted up into the blue cloudy roof of the death room. The mirror had a perfect view of the two quarrelling students; small ripples disturbing the screen every now and again. The squelch of a squeaky wheel irritated the living dead out of Lord Death, but he ignored it in favour of Professor Stein's remark.
Setting up fights wasn't necessary, per se, but in this case it was necessary.
"Yes, it is true that while I sent Patricia and Elizabeth out I needed to actually get Kid alone. I need to assess how he would handle a situation on his own. Violence isn't the way I want him to chose... you can quite say that this is actually Kid's test." Stein took another drag from the slim stick of nicotine. He looked at the mirror. "Mmmm, I suppose if you believe this is the best way to decide your child's future, then you as the Kid's father would make the best decision." The man said this in a way that sounded as if he knew this would end badly, but not admitting it straight off.
Subtly saying someone is stupid is Stein's skill. Among other things...
"I believe that the best way to ensure my son's future to not be an evil, murdering drug-dealer who is obsessed with fear, is to teach his right from wrong. Fighting purely to satisfy your own needs is the wrong way to do things. Here we fight to protect others, not our dignity."
Turning the screw on the side of his head Stein mulled what the shinigami had said over. Reasoning in this test was absolutely ludicrous. How was not beating up a first year going to keep Kid from becoming evil? How was any of this justified enough to set the fate of a fifteen year old boy in stone? How could one measly little fight make or break a boy's future?
"I could've simply conducted an experiment on Kid's brain to see if there are any deficiencies in his head. We both know that Asura was consumed with madness. At that moment I was talking about the mental illness, madness, not the drug Madness. Not to mention that I sense no evil wavelength in his soul. Kiddo is as innocent as..." Stein lifted the empty packet of cigarettes, and crushed the small stick under his shoe. Small strings of poisonous pleasure drifted lazily into the air. "ash on the ground, it cannot cause any harm- there is no fire, after all."
Behind the mask of happiness Lord Death grimaced and looked down. He wanted to believe that Kid was a good kid, he really did! But he knew what exactly masks can hide. Masks hide the scary things no one wants to see. They hide the truth and the ugliness behind a facade of good-naturalness and amiable smiles.
But what happens when the parade of masks ends? What would happen if the act would be dropped and burned and left to smoulder into ash? The smoke will give rise to the truth and the walls will be dropped- revealing the true nature of a person. And the elder reaper feared what his second son's true ability would be.
What is his son hiding behind his stoic mask of blandness? What was being hidden behind the obsession of symmetry? He knew that there was a reason why his son wore an excessive amount of black attire. Some might take it as a colour that shinigami's wear in general.
Which is not true.
The turning of Stein's screw pulled him from his reverie and set his eyes back on the mirror. He had to know which choice his son would make. He had to know what his son's true nature was. He had to analyse the situation carefully and deduct ,from what he could see, if his son was good or bad.
For only a father could tell if their children were meant for greatness. He had made that mistake once before and he wasn't about to make it again. With this child, he wouldn't make the same mistakes. He would make no mistakes. This son would be the perfect boy.
The result: not good. The pathetic loser had continued with his assault and in the end the boy landed in the dispensary with a bloodied nose, broken wrist end twisted ankles. He wasn't sure, but he suspected that the dude even had a few cracked ribs.
It would've gone differently were Patty and Liz present. Those two always seemed to mellow him out. This time he didn't have that comfort and look where he ended up. Death the Kid stood before his father with his head held high. There were many things in this world that Lord Death hated. Evil was one of them. And if he suspected his son of being evil... he would slightly be less liking of him, but he is Kid's father and no parent can ever hate their children... right?
"Father I assure you it was purely out of defence. I would never engage in a fight if only for fun." Somehow even he didn't believe that. Stein stared at the younger boy. Intently looking into his soul. The little red depressed blob was vibrating and shaking wildly.
The professor knew what this meant, but was impressed of the mask that Kid put up. Most people weren't even able to school their feelings on the outside, but when some were- like in Kid's case- their soul always gave them away. Stein was even certain that the Grim reaper could see this, but chose to ignore it.
All three occupants in the room knew what was coming.
"Kiddo, I am afraid I cannot allow you to continue your studies here at the DWMA. You are being pulled from the courses this afternoon."
The devastation that followed said words was catastrophic, like a rock being thrown into a puddle, causing waves of sorrow. Kid had never been dismissed from something before... and it felt terrible. He had just started making friends and now he wasn't allowed to even interact with them again, because of a single fight. Surely his father did this for his own good. So instead of having a tantrum he simply nodded silently and strode out of the Death room with practiced eloquence.
Never once before had anyone seen Death the kid as silent as now, he strode through the halls like a ghost. His steps were soft and his expression was stone. No one saw how his hands got whiter behind his back; no one saw how he clenched his jaw and no one saw how his eyes darkened when he stepped out onto the asymmetrical stairs outside. 342. Three hundred- and- fucking forty two.
The sun laughed at him, its mocking smile petulant and wild taunted him from high above. The grinning ball of gas was just as evil as the feelings that each human contained. There was evil and good in the world and they needed to contain equilibrium. One must never over power the other. If he became evil all of a sudden the balance may be tipped and the scales may shatter.
He was the only thing keeping the world in balance.
Night fell faster than he had wanted to. Going to Gallows Manor wasn't an option. Liz and Patty would be back by now and telling them about what had happened didn't appeal to him. Choosing instead to walk aimlessly in the streets, hands in his pockets, his golden orbs skimmed the skyscrapers and the bricked sidewalk.
At least the city was relatively clean. Litter and garbage was only seen here and there in the mount of a darkened alley, almost everyone avoided alleys. That was the best thing a person could have ever done. Kid ducked into it and sat beside a dumpster- pulling his knees up to his chest. He wasn't going t cry he told himself, he was merely taking a breather.
Shadows crawled up the murky walls and ate at the young Reaper's ankles. The moon was unusually silent tonight. Usually it was grinning and laughing, but now it seemed the glowing ball had settled into silence.
Being afraid was an understatement. Kid was terrified of what was going to happen next. He couldn't go back and face his friends with the truth of what had happened. He couldn't just be dishonest either- it went against his morals. Death the kid drew up his hands and stared at his hands. They were perfectly symmetrical. He had do keep the world symmetrical... this filthy alley wasn't symmetrical! It was absolutely disgusting!
Kid stood up and set to work. Symmetry always took his mind off things... even to the extremes. All he needed was to think of something else! He needed to think orderly he needed to think precise and he needed to think of something better than reality.
Laughter bubbled into his ears. And his efforts were sent to shambles when a hunched over figure looking like skin and bones kicked over the garbage bins he was aligning. Filth spilt onto the brick paved ground. The cans clanged off and sent Metallica and eeriness into the suddenly stale air. "Even shadows have secrets, so let's indulge in the madness."
"Who are you?" Kid's tone took on the defensive. He had never seen this person in the city before, and his figure didn't exactly look like something you could forget just by passing by. The man was wrapped up in several layers of clothing and a heavy scarf concealed any trademarks about his face... not that that was necessary- this man was a walking freak show on his own.
If he were able to see beyond that onion-like layer of clothes he would even bet that the man had pale skin. On second thought- no, (Kid took a step back) he could smell the man from here- he would not want to find out what was hidden beneath all that attire.
"I am the who when you ask 'who's there' and I am the fear in fearsome."
"Yeah, and you're the pang in poo and the piss in poor. Take a step back, your rotting up my air." Kid took out a neatly folded handkerchief and covered his mouth and nose. The folds were visible from where the material had been folded in an obvious triangular tip. The stranger invaded his space once more and pressed his face into his personal zone. Inspection was cut short when Kid struck the man in the nose.
A wince slipped passed the younger male's mask- wrong hand. His right hand was still sore from where he had socked that student earlier that day... he had forgotten about the pain in his moment of melodramatic misery. He wasn't about to sulk like a school girl who had lost a boyfriend. Many thing were known to him and is strengths and weaknesses were one of them- sulking wasn't one of them... he had merely experienced a moment of relapse into the realm of denial.
To get over this he needed the support of his friends. Kid's eyes widened. He had just hit a random hobo. Oh no. Invading his personal space wasn't a plausible reason to his a homeless hungry... a dagger-like blade appeared from nowhere... homicidal FREAK! Kid swrode that weapon came out of the dude's mouth!
Which is obviously a delusional assumption. But having a weapon pointed at him was not at all delusional and he wasn't about to get cut up by a hobo! "Liz, Patty, change into your... Damnit!" A silent slice sent blood seeping out of a scrape on the boy's cheek. Above his bruised knuckles and broken self-image, he was returning home with a cut as well.
"Consider yourself lucky kid; I didn't want to kill you just then." A weird look passed over his face and he froze. Kid froze as well. The both stood still as statues, exchanging looks. Death the kid had absolutely no idea why he was standing still. This man was obviously dangerous, and close combat with a melee weapon was dangerous... even for him. If that man was able to get past his stone walls of defence, then he had skills.
His milk had just been creamed.
"You look familiar. Like someone I hate and want to kill."
"It happens often. Hobo's usually want to kidnap Kid's and kill them in the middle of night under the maniacal moon. Or is that just me?" This seemed to amuse the stranger. "You should be filled with fear. You're about to be killed by someone you don't even know. I can hear your heart beating. Your skin is simply sweating fear and I love it." The golden cased weapon winked at Kid and sent him a gleaming smile.
"But I'm afraid I'm lost and I could use your help..." Something told the man, judging by the look in the child's face, that he wasn't about to receive any form of assistance from this child. Which annoyed him beyond belief. He had at least hoped for some fun before killing someone. And to be honest... he really was lost. First thing on his list was to cover himself up in as many sizes of clothes he could steal from murdered people as possible... then he would kill his father.
"What makes you think I'll help you?"
"Why do people always ask such predictable questions?"
"Because it's the most obvious answer any sane person would give a psychopathic murderer."
"Touché, but I do not consider myself a psychopathic-"
"You wouldn't if you were."
"-Murderer, I consider myself the person who rids the world of all the drips who suck and take all the fun away for party-seekers." Death The Kid looked at the man... he was completely and utterly mental... to even consider... "So... you're a hobo clown who murders people with a pointy stick and then... stinks up the place?" Kid stated a rhetorical question with a lace of sarcasm dripping delicious oozes of tantalising insults.
The man made an unimpressed noise and sheathed his weapon. The leather holster was agonisingly near his head- resting on his shoulder- concealed by one of the layers of material he wore.
"You're either brave or stupid to antagonise me in such a way. You are a very petulant child, what is your name?" Kid looked on in disinterest. Why answer this complete stranger? Sure he had disarmed himself and removed the threat, but that meant as much to him as a single accomplishment to overachievers.
To be truly assured of his safety he needed something more... something permanent.
"If I tell you my name, by means of society, we are no longer strangers. But being strangers or not has no importance to me if you are still inclined to bring harm upon me. There is certain etiquette one must follow when approaching a social matter, such as not murdering the person you know.
"Many things can be put in place to protect me from your blade, but only one method has any real significance." The young reaper paused for dramatic effect. The filth on the floor began to rot and drifted in a vile form to both their uncaring nostrils. The asymmetrical outlet of the alley bothered him distantly, but he ignored it for the best of his survival.
"We do the 'Invariabilem pignus', that way I could be assured that no bodily harm befalls me." At those words, so solemnly spoken, the second man's eyes stretched like saucers. Now who was the one filled with fear?
"That is forbidden and you know it! It is dark magic banned from practice because of its unpredictability and un-ethicalness. I never thought that a 'perfect' boy such as you would even think of something like that. It enthrals me."
Those words were all that need be spoken to confirm the other's decision. "If you go back on this you know of the consequences and you accept them." It wasn't a question as much as a statement, the man smiled slyly nonetheless.
Both extended hands. The clasped and skin met skin. Pale was contrasted by nothing at all. This wasn't what Kid had expected. He had expected that the man be tan with calloused hands and dirtied fingers. Once again he was wrong. Searing pain burned like a chilly on the tongue against their gripped hands.
Mentally they both knew what was happening.
The heat increased only to be dulled by flaming cold at unpredictable intervals. There was no sound, there were no overdramatic flashes of light and there was certainly no overacted screams of agony. They accepted what happened and when they pulled away they knew that what they had decided was final.
The skull-shaped scar on the inside of their palms could attest to their youthful decision. By making this decision Kid had assured himself safety against any of the other man's actions. But by making this decision both their lives were put into immediate dramatic danger.
"Asura." – "Death the Kid."
Claiming control over the opposite's soul was a dangerous game that has no winners...
Death the Kid lay in his bed, contemplating the day's happenings. He got expelled from school by his father after dismissing a dead weight first-year meister. His weapon partners were out on extra credit courses and he made a deal with his soul as a betting piece.
He had covered up the skull-scar with a long-sleeved shirt. Since arriving home he had felt a buzz of power coursing through his veins, only to be written off as adrenaline from the excitement earlier that night. Kid had decided to tell Liz and Patty about his expulsion- they would find out anyway due to rumours- and he wanted to spare the theatricals if they were to find out from anyone but him.
Bed sheets were crumpled underneath his pallid frame and pillows as pale as pearls caressed black hair in a warm embrace. Were it not for the girl's late arrival back home later this evening he would have dosed off hours ago. The matter of being dismissed from the DWMA could have waited for the morning, but the burden of it compressed its titanium weight down onto his chest and restricted his breathing room.
Getting this off his chest was what was best for him. He heard the front door open. The comfortingly annoying trill of Patty's cheerful voice greeted his sensitive ears. Even from such a large distance between him and his front door he could still hear each word clearly spoken. Liz was scolding her younger sister for being so loud and told her that she would wake Kid. At that he looked over at his analog-clock.
It was already morning. He had no idea where they went, but if their journey took that long he supposed they were pretty far away. Usually travelling wasn't an issue and didn't take up much of his time- travelling per skateboard was pretty fast... not that, that would be needed anymore.
He got up. He was going to tell them and the telling time was nigh.
"Liz, Patty!" He called through his heavy wooden door. The noise downstairs silenced. He had to chuckle at that. They probably thought they had disturbed his slumber. How considerate of them. Before he could even reach his door it burst open and an overly friendly girl squealed and tackled him to the ground. A mop of blond hair was seen before all the wind was knocked clean out of him.
"I got you! You're defeated!" A slim tanned finger pointed at him. The youngest sister stood over him with a triumphant smile. Patty laughed. "I beat Kid! I beat Kid!" she sing-sung. Liz entered the room with a weary look in her eyes. "Patty get of him, don't you think you've tortured enough souls already?" Surprisingly the younger girl did as she was told. "You're right, sis, at least Kid didn't try to eat you like those creepy animal-thingies! But you showed them!"
Liz paled considerably at the mention of their mission. "Please don't talk about that, Patty." She drawled tiredly. Observing the looks of both the two girls' physique his resolved wavered. They looked so undeniably exhausted! Maybe holding it off until the morning would be best?
"Why are you still on the floor, Kid?" Two pairs of eyes met his; questioning eyes greeting troubled golden hues. "Kid, what's wrong?" Curse Liz for being so perceptive! She was always deductive, especially when it concerned those who she cared about. "Nothing that concerns you at the time being. Go to sleep, we can address the situation in the morning after you've rested. Let me assist you in bringing your bags to your bedrooms-"
He got up off the floor, only to be blocked from exiting. "What do you mean by 'situation'? What happened?" Kid cursed himself for his word choice. He should've revised his noun usage to something less drastic sounding. But that was exactly what it was- drastic! This couldn't wait 'til the morning. Despite what he wanted, despite what they would think, he had to do it. He had to come clean.
"Liz, Patty," He addressed them both seriously. Liz despised this look. She knew it was much worse than his usual barrage of lectures about the tips of triangulated toilet paper or symmetrical eyebrows when he became serious like this. Her meister wasn't supposed to be as serious as this... it was unnatural.
, "Because of my reckless behaviour at school today, I was expelled from the DWMA."
Rules of Invariabilem pignus:
1) The one who breaks the bond of soul by killing and/or inflicting physical pain upon the counterpart will meet the fate of Death.
2) A bond can only be broken when one of the contributing parties, if not both, die of natural causes.
3) 'Invariabilem pignus' is a bonding of souls by giving rights of your existence to the opposite contributing party. Your soul is no longer yours and henceforth belongs to the second bonder.
4) The received scar is the mark of the bond. If any harm is to come to the scar by breaking or cutting of the flesh the counterpart will die and by constitution of the rules so will the person bearing the broken scar.
5) A bond could last for eternity or for seconds. It depends on if you value your life as much as your counterpart's.
¤CM¤