Author Notes: OH. MY. GOD. Guys, I am so, so, so, so, so, sorry it took me about a million years to update. Feel free to eat me for being such a slowpoke. My computer was broken, I forgot my password, and as dumb as I am I only worked out yesterday how to get back on *facepalm* So, I'm really sorry guys, I messed up. If you forgive me, maybe you could leave a comment, criticisms or a review for me? Also, 'FLUFFY CARROT' please have some cake. Now please! Anyway, thank and enjoy!

I'm not sure how long I've been asleep but I was suddenly aware of someone moving around. The fact that they were quietly ranting about symmetry under their breath, though, was a little bit of giveaway. I sat up and dad turned around, surprised.

He opens his mouth to speak but I'm quicker.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out, "I really am. It was wrong of me to embarrass you. I shouldn't have shouted like that. I'm sorry. But you can't tell me anything and neither can Uncle Blackstar, and even my teachers can't, then who can I get the truth from? No one will give a straight answer. Unfinished sentences, unexplained conversations. Nothing people say about me is clear. Or true! I'm always upsetting people. I'm always compared to people I don't know. Look, I'm sorry, but what I said still stands."

I expect him to shout. I think he will scream. I know he will shout and scream.

But, no. He just nods.

"And I'm sorry. I never knew you felt his way. I should have told you sooner. Because what upsets people is you. You are brilliant, and clever, and pretty in every way. Do you understand? It's who they see in you that upsets them. It's not you. Okay?" he says, looking me straight in the eyes.

I nod. There is a question on the tip of my tongue. And I know if I don't ask it now I may never get another chance.

"Do you mean my parents?"

Silence.

"Yes."

Silence. My heart beats.

"Will you tell me about them?"

Another pause. I can sense him weighing his options.

"Yes."

Silence. He speaks again.

"Okay then. Your mother and father were a weapon-meister pair. They were both very strong. They were in the DWMA, same class as me. They never created a death-scythe. But they were amazing. They just kept trying. They did Death city a great service."

I don't know how to feel. I'm finding my heritage, I'm being told my own past, but . . . I feel empty. Because I never knew these people.

"Anyway, your parents were very young when they had you, only a year or two older than you are now. They came to one of my birthday parties and got very drunk. I think . . . er . . . that's when you were . . . conceived."

"I was an accident?"

"Even if you were, they still loved you very, very much. But I don't believe your mother wished to have a child when she was that young."

"Oh. Can I meet them?"

"No, I'm sorry. We took you in because the service they did death city. . . Involved our plan going wrong. You're parents were too clever and knew we couldn't afford to lose, so they took their lives in the process of defeating lord deaths enemy. They saved us, and-"

He can tell I'm not listening. It's a lame explanation. He can't even tell me why, or how they died. Some service.

But I have to make an effort. All he's done is try to protect me, and love me. And be my father. And how have I treated him?

"What were their names?"

And suddenly, in my cold, quiet room, I hear the far-off sound again, the jazz.

The piano.

The woman's laugh.

And my father can't hear any of this, I realise. Perhaps I am going mad.

"Your father was called Soul Eater, though I believe his real name was Evans. Your mother was called Maka Albarn. Somewhere out there, I believe soul had a family. I know for certain he had a brother. Wes, I think his name was. He would be your uncle. You would have had a grandmother, called Kami, but she went missing when she heard the news of-of your parent's deaths."

"Here," he says, turning to the door, picking something up and returning. He hands me a small cardboard box. He gets out a small photo. In it is two people; a young boy with white hair, red eyes and teeth that look like a . . . shark's, and a girl with floppy, sandy hair, emerald eyes, and a heart-shaped face.

"So that's . . . Maka," I say, pointing to the girl in mid-laugh, "And Soul?" I point my finger at the smirking boys face.

"Seeing them . . . it kinda feels like . . . I belong. I don't know, does that sound weird?" I smile at my father.

"No," He smiles back at me, and put his hand under my chin, gently tilting my head upwards to look straight at him. Softly, his voice wavering, he says, "I see them in you everyday."

He hugs me, and I feel his shoulders start to shake. If I ever needed to stay strong, now would be the time.

When he calms down, and sits up again, I ask him, "Am I a weapon or a meister?"

He frowns, "You mean you don't have a partner?"

I shake my head. He dosen't know that half the time I'm not in school, and if I am, I'm fighting.

"Well, have you ever transformed?"

"Um . . . I can do this." I smile sheepishly, and feel the mini-shocks running up my arm, as I turn it into a scythe blade.

Dad smiles, "Very good. You seem to have strong weapon blood. Perhaps you will take after your father. Who knows?"

Suddenly I realise the piano music has stopped. I seem to have a strange sense of peace.

"Thank you." I say.

And I mean it.

More Authors' Notes: Okay, I'm pretty sure what little followers I had just unsubscribed/favourited/followed. I'm not proud of the fact I killed Maka and Soul of, but the story hasn't finished, Oh no, we have about fifty more chapters, and the story's gonna get good! Also, this is going to be quite a tragic story :O Sorry, guys! I hope you continue to read!

Thank you again! ;)