"Are you sure about this?"
"Of course I'm sure. I've given it some careful thought and I think this will be the easiest way to do it."
"It's just… ve~ it doesn't feel very safe."
"Explain."
"It's not very big. How am I going to fit on?"
"You're only a little bit larger than I am, and if I keep Liz and Patty tucked into my pants, then we'll have plenty of room if you can find a way to hang off the end. It shouldn't be too difficult even for a person like you."
"Ve~ I've never done this sort of thing before."
"I'm not surprised: you don't exactly look the type. You'll have to hold onto my arm pretty tightly, or else you'll fall off and probably die, and I don't think either of us wants that to happen."
"…Do you really call it Beelzebub?"
Kid chose to ignore the latest question. He stepped onto the waiting board – various twigs and leaves crunched under the added weight of his body – and held out his hand, waiting for Italy to take it.
The young man was understandably hesitant. He had discovered the previous night that Kid's hands were incredibly, inconceivably cold, but definitely a lot stronger than the hands of a teenage boy were supposed to be. He had proven that he could keep a firm grip on Italy's arm, which was in itself a little reassuring at least, considering what they were doing now.
But surely it was only a skateboard! Just a skateboard with cartoonish, slightly eerie skulls painted on the underside. Wasn't it? Well, it had come out of Kid's arm surrounded by purple light, so it was probably different, but…
Italy took a deep breath in through the nose and gulped fearfully. He didn't want any other injuries to worry about. Not only did he now have his left arm wrapped liberally in bandages, but now that same arm had cuts in the hand: a slightly gruesome imprint of the cold metal pendant he still bore around his neck. He uncurled his fingers, looked at the cuts and winced at the memory.
On the other hand (figuratively, that is) this boy had saved his life, even if Italy couldn't remember it for some reason. He could tell that he had good intentions at heart – he had promised not to try to pull off Italy's curl anymore, although he had sounded a little reluctant – and he was only a kid, so he couldn't do too much damage, right?
"Well?" said Kid. "What're you waiting for?"
"Can we please get a move on and go already?" Liz demanded, her voice tinny due to her being in weapon form. "I've already spent way longer than I want being stuck next to Kid's ass!"
"Hey sis, you really shouldn't talk like that," Patty piped up. "You gotta admit that there're worse places he could've stuck us. And besides, Kid has a nice ass!"
"What?" Kid asked quietly without looking down.
"Yeah, that's true," Liz admitted. "If we were gonna be stuck next to any guy's ass, I'd choose Kid. No questions asked."
"Girls, I appreciate the posterior-related compliments," said Kid, "but there is a time and a place for this sort of talk… wait, no there isn't! Forget it. Forget I said that. Italy, are you coming or not?"
Italy was still weighing the pros and cons. A small bead of sweat trickled off his forehead – perhaps it was evidence of his brain overheating from thinking.
'Those girls might be scary and angry,' he thought, 'but they're also really pretty and I bet they'd be nice if I got to know them. And Kid kinda talks like England when he's angry. Or that guy from England's TV show about aliens. Maybe if I go with him we can get to know each other a little better, and he might not be so angry and scary all the time and we all can have pasta!'
When he took that into consideration, it was impossible to say no.
He took Kid's hand and found himself yanked forward, closer to the waiting board.
"You might want to find room to stand," said Kid.
"Why would I want to find room to staAAAAAAAH!"
He didn't know what he had been expecting. Maybe it had been for the board to suddenly lift up off the ground and leave him dangling, or maybe he hadn't. In any case it took quite a bit of dangling and flailing around wildly before he was able to get a foot on the end of the board.
"Straighten up," Kid commanded abrasively, and Italy straightened up. He feared that if he pulled on the boy's arm any harder, it was going to fall off.
"Are you stable?" asked Kid.
"Ve~ I think so," Italy replied. He found that if he stuck out his other leg behind him, it gave him much more balance than if he tried to squeeze both feet onto what little space he had reserved. Kid was taking up most of the space: he was the pilot after all, if that was an appropriate name. What was the name you gave to someone who flew a skateboard?
If Liz was to be believed, it was 'nutcase'.
"Make sure you hold on tightly!" Kid repeated. "I've never flown with a passenger who isn't Liz or Patty before, so things could get a little tricky! Whatever you do, don't look straight down or you'll just get dizzy! It's very rare that we'll pass over a landscape which is symmetrical!"
By now they were hovering just above the trees. Italy gulped again and tightened his grip on Kid's icy hand.
"Get ready," the boy commanded.
And they were off, soaring through the air like a… a… thing that soars through the air. A plane, maybe? Some kind of over-caffeinated zeppelin? Or maybe an eagle. They can go up pretty high in the sky, right?
While Kid focused intently on the area before him, Italy hung off his arm like a dead weight and screamed his heart out. Soon, however, they were met with a clash of interests.
"Will you please stop screaming?" Kid asked, raising his voice to be heard over the rushing of the wind through their ears. "If I'm distracted and we run into turbulence, we could all be done for!"
"I'm sorry!" Italy shouted back. "I've never flown like this before and I'm really, really scared I'm going to lose my grip and fall off and plunge to a horrible death!"
"Don't think about that!" Kid replied. "Try thinking about something else!"
"Hey Kid, I was just wondering," Patty piped up. "Why do they call that place the Black Forest? It's not black! None of the trees in there are black, so it doesn't make any sense!"
"Look back at it," said Kid. "From the air, all of the trees compacted make it look as though it were black. I think it may have been named before eyesight was invented."
With yet another fearful gulp, Italy willed himself to look back, and gasped in wonderment.
The view was spectacular. Rolling hills covered in never-ending grasses and trees stretched out as far as the eye could see beneath a flawless sky of brilliant blue, the colour of cornflowers. It paled to near white where it touched the earth, tainted by the glow of the sun, and deepened to a near sapphire colour where it rested over their heads. It all had to be seen to be believed.
'Ve~ I wish we could stop up here for a moment,' Italy thought wistfully. 'Then maybe I could have stopped and painted a nice picture. I'm sure it would look good. I also wish I had some painting things with me.'
"Enjoying the view?" asked Kid, having noticed the young man's bedazzlement.
"Ve~ it's beautiful!" cried Italy. "Wait, aren't you supposed to be looking where you're going?"
"Don't worry," said Kid. "We're not flying anywhere near high enough to be worrying about planes, the ground is most certainly not getting closer, there isn't a cloud in the sky and the sun is shining nice and brightly. I think we can afford to relax a little for the time being."
Speaking of which, something appeared to be wrong with the sun. Even Italy knew that you should never look directly at it, even with eye protection, but there was definitely something strange going on. He had always been used to its constant, perfect roundness, its infallible brightness and heat and above all the fact that it was always, from his point of view, completely and totally blank.
But now it was looking a little… different. It was like another image was laid over the top, but it was faint and barely noticeable unless you knew what you were looking for. The image in particular was of a huge, dirty yellow orb covered in massive spikes and bearing beady little eyes which were disproportionate to a terrifyingly huge grin which stretched and contorted with faint laughter. Very faint laughter, on the edge of hearing.
"Ve~ is something wrong with the sun?" Italy asked nervously. "It's starting to look kinda weird."
Kid looked up at the sun, with its spiked surface, tiny eyes and nightmarish grin engaged in perpetual laughter, but failed to see any kind of problem.
"Maybe the high altitude is getting to you," he said, and dropped down a little lower in the sky. It quickly became a little easier to breathe, and whatever was going on with the sun was now a little less noticeable.
Italy leaned forward and looked ahead of Kid, seeing only European countryside and the thin, barely visible blue line which was the sea sitting just below the sky.
"Kid?" he said. "Can I ask a question?"
"Provided it's not about my hair, yes," said Kid.
"I wasn't going to ask about your hair," said Italy, "I was wondering: how fast are we going, ve~?"
Kid was silent for a few moments, pondering a way in which to answer this question without freaking out Italy so much that he lost his grip and fell to a messy death.
"Well, let me put it this way," he eventually replied. "If we were in a car, we'd most definitely be over the speed limit."
Italy gulped.
"And stop gulping! It's beginning to get on my nerves!"
He fell silent.
For a few minutes, at least.
"Ve~ I'm hungry."
Maybe they could stop somewhere and get some pasta. They'd already passed over several towns which looked as though they might have some nice restaurants. Perhaps they could turn back?
Or not. Kid reached into his pocket and tossed Italy an apple.
"Bon appetite," he deadpanned.
The fruit was deep red, not quite as deep as blood, and shone flawlessly in the light of the sun. Italy looked up at Kid and was about to ask another question, but the young gunman had pulled out another apple and was chowing down with alarming ferocity. Sensing that there wasn't much chance of getting any pasta while flying through the air on some kind of magic skateboard (which holding the freezing cold hand of a rather scary boy) Italy bit into the apple.
It was sweet and juicy, which was surprising considering it had come out of Kid's pocket. How did it fit in there, anyway? And where had he got the second one from? Were his pockets bigger on the inside or something?
As Italy took another bite, he looked up and saw that Kid had already finished his first apple and was now making a start on a second.
'He must really like apples,' Italy thought. 'Ve~ I wonder where he's putting the cores?'
He hazarded a look down and saw that they had just passed the coast. Lush green forests and jade-coloured fields had given way to bustling towns, which had become a strip of golden-white sand bordering the endless blue of the Atlantic Ocean. The sun didn't appear to have moved at all for some reason, but Italy was beginning to feel drowsy. How long had they been flying, exactly?
"Are you alright?" asked Kid. "Don't fall asleep."
"I'll try not to," said Italy. "Ve~ I don't know why I'm feeling tired all of a sudden."
"It's because we're passing through time zones," Kid explained. "I wouldn't be surprised if you started to get tired, but if you fall asleep I won't be able to hold you up on my own, so stay awake, do you hear me?"
"Si, I hear you. By the way, grazie for the apple."
"That's alright. Would you like another?"
Something in Italy's mind exploded. Just how many apples did Kid have stashed away in his pockets? How many pockets did he have in his pockets? Was he carrying a whole bushel in there somewhere?
He wanted to refuse because this was too weird, but he was still hungry too.
"Si, yes please."
And then Italy found himself bombarded with no less than three apples which he only just managed to pocket in his breeches before they were lost to the atmosphere. He stared at Kid in alarm, only to see that the boy was eating yet another apple and quite obviously had one stuffed into his sleeve.
'Eight apples?' Italy thought. 'He carries around eight apples stuffed into his pockets? …Okay.'
Not much was said for the rest of the trip over the Atlantic, except for this little exchange:
"Ve~ Can you tell me why you had eight apples?"
"Two reasons. Number one: eight is the perfect number. No matter how you cut it, vertically or horizontally, it remains perfectly symmetrical. I let you have four so that they'd be evenly divided between the two of us. Number two: I like apples."
"Number three: you're an OCD nutcase."
"You said it, sis!"
After this, it was several hours – neither the teenage reaper nor the nation or the two pistols were keeping track of the time (not very well anyway) – before they reached the east coast of the United States of America (it was pretty damn awkward). That was when their problems really began. Somewhere over… it may have been Virginia or Kentucky, maybe even Missouri, a deafening roaring noise filled the until-then empty air.
"WHAT IS THAT?!" screamed Italy in terror. "WHAT'S THAT NOISE?! KID, WHAT'S GOING ON WHAT'S GOING ON WHAT'S GOING ON WHAT'S GOING ON WHAT'S GOING ON WHAT'S GOING ON WHAT'S GOING ON WHAT'S GOING ON WHAT'S GOING ON WHAT'S GOING OOOOOOOOOOOOOON?!"
"Shit," Kid swore quietly, "these guys again?"
Soon the source of the noise became apparent. It was pretty hard to ignore it or tune it out when it was coming from a pair of planes which drew up alongside the flying skateboard, flanking it on either side in an attempt to prevent escape.
"WHAT ARE THESE GUYS DOING HERE?!" Italy shrieked.
"Those IDIOTS!" cried Kid. "When are they going to stop interfering with my flights? I don't need authorisation to fly over United States airspace because I'm a GODDAMN GRIM REAPER!"
Italy felt as though his body had just turned to stone.
"Wha…?" he murmured. "But-But how could you-"
"It's a long story!" Kid replied. "I'll explain once we get to Death City!"
He looked at the pilots on his left and right. Both of them motioned for him to descend to a lower altitude. When Kid shook his head, they only repeated the motion.
"Damn," the teen muttered, "I'm gonna have to try something else. Italy, I want you to close your eyes."
"Ve~ they're already closed!"
"Then CLOSE THEM TIGHTER! I'm not sure what's going to happen, so I recommend you don't look!"
Without waiting for another command, Italy placed his hand over his face, shielding his eyes from whatever was going on. He tightened his grip on Kid's hand; by now, the young reaper was wondering how many broken fingers he would have by the time he got home.
Okay.
The first thing he had to do was regulate the level, speed, direction and height of Beelzebub. One thing he definitely did not want to happen was a sudden plunge to a fast and very untidy doom on the ground far, far below.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, relaxing his body and mind as much as he dared at this altitude. He could already sense the souls of the pilots in the planes by his side. If he concentrated, they became as clear as sunlight. They were nervous, he noted, and growing in confusion. Both were dedicated to their jobs, but seemed doubtful as to what to do in this situation. Kid could tell that if he hesitated too long with this, he would be shot out of the sky in no time.
It wouldn't matter. They would probably pull away after this.
He began to resonate with their souls.
For any other person, meister or not, resonance with another person (particularly one who wasn't a weapon) was difficult enough in its own, let alone with two other people. Reapers, however, found it only natural. How else would they be able to allow multiple souls into the realm beyond death? To do it one by one would just be tedious, not to mention tiring, even if it was only a small portion of their purpose in the world. He knew for a fact that his father did it almost constantly. People all over the world died every day. Someone had to deal with all those souls. Who knows what could happen if they were just left to pile up?
It would make one hell of a mess.
That should do it. He didn't have to look to know that both of the pilots were now screaming into their oxygen masks, having seen the sun properly for the first time in their lives. Almost instantly the roaring of their engines faded, replaced only by the rushing of the wind in his ears, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Whoa," said Liz once she realised what had just happened. "That was cruel even by my standards."
"Wow, did you see those guy's faces?" cried Patty. "They were totally freaking out, I can't believe Kid just did that!"
"Wasn't that pretty reckless, though?" asked Liz. "Those guys aren't meisters or weapons, they're just ordinary people. What if they start going around talking about how there's this big conspiracy about the sun and the moon or something?"
"Don't worry," Kid replied calmly. "If you were to start telling everybody that the sun had a face and was always laughing, I have no doubt that they'd think you were absolutely crazy."
"Crazier than you?" Liz's face wasn't shown, but the tone of her voice suggested she was smiling.
"Probably not that bad," Patty said, and started giggling like crazy.
Kid rolled his eyes.
"What do you think, Italy?" he asked his third companion.
There was no reply, but he could still feel the iron-like grip on his hand. When he looked back, he saw that the man was cowering, his injured hand clamped tightly over his eyes. He was also whimpering, albeit quietly. He didn't seem to have noticed that the danger had passed.
So Kid leaned around, hand outstretched and reaching for the curl-
"WHA! I'm okay! I'm okay!"
"Next time, please respond when I ask you a question," Kid requested. "The planes are gone and hopefully we won't run into any more for the rest of our journey."
Italy surveyed the landscape, which had given way to a dusty orange plain which seemed to go on forever. This in turn became a golden desert of endless dunes, dry as a bone and almost flawlessly empty.
"Ve~ where are we now?" he asked.
Kid looked around too.
"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," he commented, "and we're certainly not over the rainbow. We should be coming up on Death City soon."
Italy fell quiet, but only for a moment.
"But how were we able to get here from the Black Forest so quickly?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," said Kid. "Meisters always seem to travel much faster than ordinary humans, especially when it comes to moving between missions and the DWMA. Maybe I'll ask my father about it when we get back."
"Ve~ your father," said Italy, "you keep mentioning him. What's he like?"
Kid smiled.
"He's a little… different."
Again, no reply. Kid turned back to what was in front of him.
"A word of warning," he said. "If you fall asleep here, I won't do anything to prevent you from falling, because we're so close to home that you can see it."
Italy leaned forward and saw a small black blotch marring the golden sand up ahead. He was too far away to make out any specific details, but couldn't deny that there was something inherently ominous about it. It was an aura of eeriness which he could feel even at this great distance.
"Ve~ I don't like it," he muttered.
"Everyone gets a little unnerved by Death City," said Kid. "You'll get used to eventually."
"Yeah, about that," said Liz, "isn't that, like, exactly what you said to me and Patty? I had skull nightmares for weeks after arriving in that place! Say what you will, but your father is fucking creepy!"
"Believe me when I say that he used to be a lot creepier!" Kid snapped in return. "And a lot more asymmetrical too!" He shivered at the thought.
Patty yawned.
"I dunno about you guys," she said in a somewhat subdued voice, "but I'm gonna take a nap when we get back. I always get tired when we fly around the world like that."
Italy moaned quietly in reply, too tired out to say anything else.
"You can sleep to your heart's content once we arrive," Kid informed him. "You should also keep your sleeve rolled up. You'll attract far less stares with bandages than you will with a torn rag, although it pains me to say you'll look horribly asymmetrical."
"Okay," Italy groaned.
He leaned forward again, and his jaw almost hit the ground far below.
He'd seen and survived many strange and often terrifying things in his time: the First and Second World Wars, the Renaissance, the Black Death pandemic and Silvio Berlusconi to name a few, but Death City was something else entirely. It rose like a mountain out of the endless golden sands of the desert, a monstrosity of black and red and white which shone palest blue under the glaring, unblocked light of the sun. It looked more like a truly tremendous castle than a city, or as stated before, a mountain of marble structures.
Perhaps the most eye-catching structure was the palace-like building which stood atop the highest point of the city. It was a mass of huge black towers with pointed red roofs, decorated with more small skulls. Three tremendous skulls adorned the front, the largest central one having a huge blood coloured spike protruding from each of its eyes and its nose hole. It also had four gigantic candles sticking out of the base, each burning with a single flame the size of a large house. Hovering above this macabre citadel were three black globes, apparently unsupported.
Kid sighed in happy satisfaction.
"Father's school is truly a beautiful building," he commented. "Everything about it is perfectly symmetrical, do you see?"
Italy nodded, too nervous to speak. This place was owned by the boy's father?! And earlier, he had said he was a grim reaper…
What the hell was going on? What was this place? Who were these people? Could he truly trust them or were they going to hold him prisoner and beat him violently for information after lulling him into a false sense of security? And worst of all: what if they didn't let him have any pasta?
Kid manoeuvred the flying skateboard until it was hovering over the cobblestoned courtyard and landed in front of the imposing building which was supposedly a school. Just like that, the flight was done.
Italy fell off the skateboard and landed heavily on the ground.
"Italy!" was the triple-voiced cry of the weapons-meister team. Kid sucked Beelzebub back up into his arm and Liz and Patty retook human form to kneel down beside the fallen nation.
The man in question looked up at the DWMA and allowed himself a small smile.
"It's so pretty," he muttered.
Kid pinched his brow, a motion second only to the facepalm in the ultimate expression of exasperation, accompanied by a small, private mutter of: "I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with you…"
He stood up and straightened his suit.
"Liz, Patty, I'd appreciate it if you could accompany him back to Gallows Manor," he commanded.
"Why the hell do we have to do it?" asked Liz. "Get him there yourself, you lazy little snob!"
"I can't," said Kid. "I need to talk to my father about this. About him. You can go to bed once you get there, but I don't think I'll take very long."
With nothing more to say, he turned away and walked towards the skull-covered building, disappearing between the teeth of the huge stone face which concealed the entrance.
"Ve~ is he always like that?" asked Italy.
"Sadly, yes," said Liz as she and Patty helped him stand up. They also caught him as he almost fell over again.
"Boy, you really are sleepy!" said the younger of the two sisters. "We better get you back home before you fall down all these stairs and die!"
They started to lead him down the steps and away from the DWMA.
Italy later considered that falling down the stairs would have taken a very, very long time.
In case you were wondering, that bit at the beginning? That's deliberate. *snigger snigger* Innuendo is hilarious, is it not? Except for the bit about Kid's ass. He has one nice ass and I'm not afraid to say that. And if you're wondering who Silvio Berlusconi is, just watch a British satirical news program at any point in the previous decade. Chances are there'll be jokes about him. Mock the Week and Russell Howard's Good News (shameless promotion) tend to have the best.
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