Why are you shaking?
Because I'm afraid.
What do you fear?
I'm afraid of everything.
Be specific Crona.
I-I can't do this right now.
Why not?
It hurts…
"What were you expecting? You failed, Crona. You are a bad child. This is your punishment."
He was suspended in a tangle of black vectors, each coiled around some part of his body, each constricting. Tighter and tighter, squeezing him. If this had been anyone else, the Black Blood would've hardened his flesh. Making him impenetrable, immune to pain and injury. Indestructible. But this wasn't anyone else. Lady Medusa commanded the Black Blood; it was hers. Just like him.
The arrow around his neck choked him, preventing everything except for the tiniest of whimpers from exiting his throat. Everything ached, a dull, homogenous, unendurable pain that radiated through his entire body. No other sensations registered. Nothing but the pain, screaming in his head. Throbbing. It hurt so much… he didn't understand why it hurt so much. He wanted it to stop, yet he knew that was impossible. Struggling wasn't allowed. Trying to get away wasn't allowed. Lady Medusa commanded the Black Blood- commanded him. He was hers. He was created for her use. A tear broke from his eyelashes, running along his temple and into his hair as another moan burned in his chest.
"Please," he begged. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again, I promise."
"In order to become a Kishin, you will need to consume a great many human souls. How do you expect to do that when you hesitate to kill?"
"I didn't hesitate. I killed them all."
"Why did you hold back while you were fighting the girl?"
"I wasn't holding back. I almost killed her too. I would've, if the man with a screw in his head hadn't shown up."
"Don't lie to me Crona."
He cried out, more tears following wet trails along his scalp. The vectors tightened, holding at a constant, unimaginable pressure. It was too much.
"I didn't want to kill her! She's a girl! I wanted to play with her hair!"
"How sweet." Her tone took on a honeyed edge, the vectors loosening just a little. Still painful, but he could deal with this level of pain. He panted, tasting the air on his tongue, feeling it cool his lungs as he tried to take advantage of the moment. "I suppose this was inevitable; most children begin to develop these thoughts around your age."
"It's… normal?"
"Yes Crona, it's normal. You, however, are not. You are deformed. Disgusting. No one will tolerate you; the only place you will ever belong is with me. The only thing you are capable of is killing. Your only use is to become a Kishin. You must understand that by now."
"But I-" He gasped as the arrows began to constrict around him again, the pain quickly becoming mind-shatteringly intolerable.
"Purge yourself of these thoughts, Crona. Dedicate yourself to becoming the ultimate evil."
"Yes Lady Medusa!"
Suddenly the vectors retreated, uncurling from his body and returning to her. Many of them left deep cuts, black blood welling to the surface and closing the stinging wounds quickly. He fell, landing hard on his tailbone and cracking his skull on the stone floor. It hurt. It hurt so much. Tentatively, he pushed himself up, kneeling before her, trembling. Her eyes were hard and completely without compassion or pity. She looked at him like something filthy, some piece of rotting food she hadn't thrown out yet. It filled him with a terror that was so much worse than the pain.
"Now leave. Go to the room and stay there until I come for you."
"N-no… Please… Please don't send me there. It's dark. Please don't leave us alone in the dark. I said I was sorry. I'll do everything you say. Just don't leave us alone in the dark."
"Get out of my sight; I can't stand to look at you any longer."
His insides turned to stone and his mind went absolutely blank. Wordlessly, he stood, gripping one arm and staggering away. He knew the way… knew the room. He was disgusting, a bad child, and this was his punishment.
"And Crona." He paused, face expressionless, soul open. Her words filled him, displacing anything and everything, until there was only her will. Only her orders. She commanded him, after all. There was nothing else. "The next time you see that girl, kill her."
"Yes Lady Medusa. I understand."
Maka… So now I know the name of the person I'm supposed to kill…
Crona awoke to soft light and warmth. Both were reassuring, elements of reality that simply hadn't existed when he was with Lady Medusa. Their presence meant her absence, despite what his mind kept trying to tell him. These nightmares were nothing more than memories; the sunlight was proof of that. They only had the power he gave them… that's what he had been told. And yet the warmth couldn't get inside him. It couldn't make it past the pain and fear. He wasn't someone who was meant for warmth, no matter how nice it felt. This was the dream.
His eyes cracked open, blinking in bemusement at what they saw. Maka's face was next to his, sharing the other end of his pillow. She'd curled up on top of the blankets, one arm under her head and the other draped over his shoulders. Her hair was fanned out, like a halo spun from fine, wheat threads, glowing in the early light. Her mouth was open, breath deep and regular, leaving a little dark spot of drool on the pillow case fabric. She was perfect. Now he knew he was dreaming.
Squirming softly, he extracted a hand from beneath the sheets and reached over to her. Tracing the butter soft contours of her face. It felt so real. Growing bold, he moved to her hair, brushing a few wild strands from her cheek and running his fingers through the rest. Like silk. She let out a low murmur, responding to his touch by readjusting, closing her mouth and swallowing. He remembered last night, their talk, the things she'd said, the things he hadn't, all of it. She'd said he was a good person, but how could she know? Maka had always put her faith in him and he'd so rarely deserved it. Besides, she didn't know everything. She blamed Lady Medusa for all of it, painting him the innocent victim in her mind, but that wasn't right. Not entirely.
"Maka," he whispered, snuggling just a little closer, leaning in until their bangs brushed. With anyone else the situation would've filled him with dread, the proximity to another warm body overwhelming his reason and sending him into a spiral of terror. Even with Maka there was a dissonance, something inside him that fought the rightness of it all. Something that couldn't accept how wonderfully comfortable he felt just being close to her.
He loved this. He didn't want to loose this. Not ever.
A sadness filled him at that realization. After all, to have is to loose, and Crona knew in his heart that something this perfect was far too fragile to last. It would break. He would break it. There was a burning, bubbling sensation beneath his left shoulder blade and Ragnarok poked out, resting his hands on Crona's arm and staring at the sleeping girl.
"Well what do we have here," he said without concern for the volume of his voice. "This is like a wet dream for you, right Crona? Quick, grab her boobs! She can't say no while she's passed out!"
"Ragnarok," Crona squeaked in horror, pulling back his hand from her hair and flushing deeply. Maka let out another little moan, as if upset by his withdrawal, nuzzling in to him. Their noses touched. He could taste her breath, morning sour. Fire burned in his chest, working its way up his neck into his face. The Demon Sword made a move to execute his plan, but Crona rolled away, squishing him against the mattress and muffling his protests.
"Keep it down," Crona scolded, pushing himself up against the wall and then oozing around the edge of the bed and onto the floor. Hands shaking, he took the edge of the blanket that had covered him and folded it over onto Maka's sleeping form. "You'll wake her."
"And I care why? I don't! I don't give a shit! You just want to stay on her good side so she'll keep feeding you."
"She feeds you too. Maka takes care of us."
"Psht, we were doing fine! You weren't dead and I had a steady diet of tasty human souls; those were the days! Then she hacked into your soul and now look at us. Dumb cow…"
"Don't say things like that…"
"Why the hell not?"
"Be quiet Ragnarok."
"Oh come on! It doesn't matter! It's not like you even stand a chance with her! For one, you're the most disturbed little shit to ever walk the planet. And then there's that thing between your legs-"
"Ragnarok!"
"And then there's these." Crona tried to stop him, grasping at his black wrists and batting away his white hands, but the weapon was persistent. He tore open the buttons on Crona's robe, peeling the fabric back to expose the glowingly pale flesh of his chest, shoulders, and upper arms. Places where thick, circular scars made dotted lines across his flesh. The pink haired meister froze, paling in shame and fear.
"Those are-"
"I know what they are, I let you do it, remember? I could've just hardened the blood, no scars no fuss, but you wanted to bleed. You'd just sit there, clawing at yourself until I let the blood out. Not just once, and not just when we were with Medusa. What kind of a psycho does that? You're all kinds of messed up Crona and this little crush just proves it. You think she's kinky enough to be into you? You think she'll even keep you around when she finds out about this bull shit!"
"Maka said she wouldn't abandon me," he said in a soft voice, bowing his head and pulling the black fabric back around his form. "And I believe her… I do…I trust Maka."
"You are completely hopeless, you know that? It's pathetic."
"Yes…I know…"
Crona did up the buttons on his robe, pulled on his shoes, and slid out of the room.
"Sup," Soul greeted, looking up at him from the kitchen table with exhausted eyes. "I haven't started breakfast yet, but if you want-"
"I'm going out," Crona cut him off without looking, shuffling quickly to the door.
"What! No you're not! That ass hole said there was gonna be breakfast!" Ragnarok grabbed the sides of Crona's head and attempted to drag him back into the kitchen, but the meister would not be deterred. He continued forward, opening their front door without looking back at Soul. "Damn it!"
"I-I-I'll see you in class!"
Maka thought she was dreaming at first, a funny little dream of lying with Crona. Her body felt cold, but inside there was a happiness that made it worth it. The sensation of his fingers running through her hair, his breath mixing with hers, their noses touching. It was pleasant in a way she couldn't describe, as if some unknown need that had been gnawing at her insides was finally being sated. She liked being close to him, liked feeling him, the way he said her name. And for the little space between sleep and true wakefulness, that was enough. Then Ragnarok's voice shattered her illusion. Her eyes fluttered open just in time to catch sight of his long, pale feet sliding off the end of the bed.
That settled it; she was awake. In Crona's room. Sleeping on his bed. While he was also in the bed… A hot blush shot up her neck and into her face, making her heart pound. What followed was a flood of embarrassment, fear, and a sequence of disjointed escape plans. But before she had a chance to consider executing any of them Crona and Ragnarok started talking and her mind went quiet. A stunned silence buzzed between her ears, a new sensation that kept her prey still.
She didn't know what to do. Ragnarok was spilling secret after secret and she had no idea how to process them. Crona didn't want her to know any of it, that much was obvious, but she couldn't un-hear it. If she made it known that she was awake then the secrets would surely stop. Then she could say she tried. The swordsman might legitimately die of humiliation and the damage would still be done, but she would've tried. Or she could pretend it never happened at all, just lie here and wait for him to leave. Address the awkwardness of sharing a bed later; that, at least, had been innocent. Inaction permeated her body, paralyzing her, locking her into a position she'd never intended.
Mercifully, the exchange didn't last too long before Crona needed to be away. She heard the scraping of his shoes across the floor, his brief exchange with Soul, and then the front door close behind him. Slowly, Maka sat up, blinking, her lips pursed and pulse racing. Shit. She hadn't meant for that to happen… Shame burned in her gut, further enflamed by the curiosity and satisfaction that smoldered along side it. Sighing heavily, she pushed herself off the bed and slunk over to the door.
"Morning…" Soul greeted, sensing her presence even though his bewildered eyes were still fixed on the door. Like herself, he seemed unable to process what had just happened. Maka tried to answer, but words escaped her and a low groan issued from her throat. His crimson gaze moved and he grinned a little, teasing. "Sleep well."
"Cut it out, Soul." Scolding, at least, came easily. She sat down heavily at the table, rubbing her face. "I'm not in the mood."
"Okay, fine. Jeez." He slumped his head into an open palm, morose. Maka looked at him through her fingers, sighing heavily.
"I'm sorry…"
"I know." He gave her a cocky grin. "Just what the hell happened last night?"
"It's not what happened last night," she said slowly. "It's what happened this morning."
"What, shitty pillow talk?" The book spine smashed his face into the table top, leaving a deep, rectangular indent in his skull.
"That's not even a little bit funny."
"Alright, fine, it's not funny." Soul grumbled, massaging his scalp and giving her a dirty look. "So if you're not upset about spending the night with him, then what's got you both so worked up."
"I didn't mean to spend the night with him. I just… I guess I fell asleep."
"Yeah, when you didn't come out I figured something like that had happened."
"And when I woke up Crona and Ragnarok were fighting and…" she trailed off, staring over towards the window and chewing her tongue. "And I heard some stuff I don't think I was meant to hear."
"I get it," sighed Soul, leaning back and folding his arms. He gave Maka a piercing look, face unreadable. "And one of them was that he's into you, right?"
"I wish that was all I heard, but-" Her head snapped up and she gave him a wide, stunned look. "Wait. You knew?"
"Well, I'd say it was obvious to any idiot, but then you'd probably hit me again."
"And you never said anything?"
"Come on, a cool guy like me? It's not my business. Besides, I wasn't sure Crona himself knew. Even now, I don't know… We're his first experience with normal feelings; do you think he even understands the difference between friendship and romance?"
"Sometimes I don't think I understand it." She smiled a little, looking deflated. "I mean, and don't take this the wrong way, but our relationship is about as close as I've ever felt to anyone and I've never had any desire to… date you? I guess? I don't know-"
"Maka, I know you get all up in your head and delusional and indecisive, so I'm just gonna tell you this: your feelings for me are probably pretty different from your feelings for Crona. And my feelings for you are way different than his. Sure, we'd both die for you at the drop of a hat, but it's not the same."
"I like problems that I can just punch in the face…"
"Part of your charm."
"Soul, I'm being serious! What am I supposed to do here? I don't know how to deal with this kind of situation…"
"That's his line." Soul was teasing again, grinning at her. "But if you're looking for advice, go after him. You need to tell him what you over heard or you're both gonna end up in another big hole, if you catch my drift. Deal with the feelings as they come."
"You're right…" Maka looked down, folding her hands in her lap as if in solemn prayer. "You're absolutely right… Thanks Soul!"
And she was up, moving purposefully towards the front door, face hardened in determination.
"Hey wait a second," Soul called after her, swinging an arm over the back of his chair and turning to face her. "Don't you wanna, I don't know, get dressed first?"
"Huh?" She paused, looked down at herself, and nodded sharply. With a deep sense of intensity, she hurried back into her room, crashed around for about thirty seconds, then emerged again. Her hair was unbrushed, one knee sock was around her ankle, and she was still tying her tie, but Maka was off.
"Right! Thanks Soul!"
"Well this should be good," he muttered, smiling at her back, shaking his head and getting up to close the door behind her. But as soon as the latch caught he faltered, brow knitting in thought. "At least I hope it will."
Crona calmed down a little bit once he was out on the street, slowing his pace from a frantic shuffle to more of a walk. It was early, still cold and a little grey, but that just meant there weren't any people out roaming the cobblestone yet. That was good. He needed the solitude mixed with the open space. He needed it to still the fear. Move past the panic and figure out its source. Why had he run? Because he hadn't known how to deal with it?
No. That was an easy, incomplete answer. It didn't address the complexities of the situation, didn't even begin to describe the pounding in his chest. After all, waking up next to Maka hadn't scared him; he'd actually found it rather pleasant. He'd liked it. It was Ragnarok, not Maka, that had made him want to run. But that, too, was overly simplified. Ragnarok was just being Ragnarok. He liked to pick on Crona, it was the only form of control he had, and he knew how to exploit it. He knew all the places to poke and pull when he wanted to get under Crona's skin, when he wanted to punish him for something, or when he was just bored.
Perhaps it was Ragnarok being Ragnarok in a room where Maka was trying to sleep in his bed? Maybe it was Ragnarok telling Maka things he didn't want her to know? Things about him, about how disgusting and pathetic he was. Maka said she knew. She said he was a good person. A special person. But she was wrong. He wasn't special; he was deformed. Not good, just pitiful. What would happen when she figured that out? With Lady Medusa it had always been clear: become a Kishin or be abandoned. He hadn't wanted to, but he'd known what he needed to do. Maka had put forth no such expectations. He didn't know how far her tolerance for him stretched. What would it take for her to give up on him like everyone else had? Like everyone else would… He had to be useful to her. He had to make up for all his deficiencies by being useful.
A series of little moaning sounds shattered the morning quiet, freezing Crona in place like sirens. His fingers dug into the flesh of his upper arm, eyes darting around, looking for the source. There. In a window up and to his left. Two people. They were… eating each other… Crona's eyes widened and he let out a little whimper of fear, but the pair didn't seem to notice or care. Their hands were roaming, holding and squeezing as their mouths worked, faces mashed together. Neither seemed particularly disturbed by the circumstance… They actually looked to be enjoying it. He frowned a little, still wide eyed and confused. One pulled away from the other, withdrawing a tongue into their own mouth before moving their lips to the soft skin of their partner's neck.
"I need to go," moaned the one, their eyes closed and tone unconvincing. "If your roommates find us- Ah!"
The others hands had moved below the window ledge and were doing something Crona couldn't see. Their lips were moving downward, sucking and nipping and extracting noises he didn't understand. Whatever they were doing, they seemed to be making each other happy. Very happy. Crona felt something twinge below his stomach, between his legs, and flushed deeply, moving on. This… exchange… was private. Or at least it aught to be.
"Come on Crona, go back!" Ragnarok popped up from between his shoulder blades. "Keep watching! I'll bet you could learn a thing or two."
"No… Don't be so perverted."
"I'm just saying what you're thinking. Besides, you made me skip breakfast. The least you could do is let me have some fun."
"Not that kind of fun… I don't like watching. It makes me uncomfortable. I wish they'd close the window."
"Like you even know what you're looking at. But fine, whatever. That means we're going to go kill some people then, right?"
"No Ragnarok. We don't do that anymore."
"Can we kill something! I'm so bored!"
"I'm sorry, but there's nothing in Death City to kill. This is a safe place. If you want to hunt Kishin Eggs, then we could ask Lord Death for an assignment. Maybe he'll let us start eating Kishin souls like everyone else."
"We can't have fun, so we go kill the people who are, huh? I don't see how that could possibly be as good as eating human souls. Besides, you really think they're going to let you out after yesterday? You reminded them of just how much of a psycho you are; it'll be a miracle if they don't put you back in that dungeon."
"I'm fine with the dungeon," murmured Crona, eyes downcast. "So long as they don't send me away…"
Crona…
It wasn't a voice so much as a sensation. Crona froze, his breath going shallow and his eyes turning ice blue. Something crawled around inside his skull, something old and not quite familiar. An imposter of Lady Medusa's will poking and prodding and exploring. Places he didn't remember existed, thoughts he no longer felt compelled to think surfacing.
The only way to overcome this fear is to grow stronger and become Kishin
I don't understand what's wrong if she said it was okay
I need power or else I'll always be afraid
Yes Crona, that's right. But be specific. What do you fear?
"Crona?"
He inhaled sharply, blinking away tears he hadn't noticed before and looking around. He wasn't out on the cobblestone street anymore, and Ragnarok had gone back inside him… how'd that happen? How'd he get here? Why was he standing in the shadowed alleyway between two apartment complexes? Why was he shaking? Someone came up behind him and he tensed, an all too familiar surge of terror flooding his black blood. But then their hand pressed against his left shoulder blade and dawn broke inside him.
"Maka," he answered, turning and looking down at her, perplexed. She blinked back, equally confused, her hand still lingering close to his body.
"What're you doing," she asked, glancing around the alley.
"Having a meltdown." The weapon didn't bother coming out; his voice came from inside Crona, centered somewhere around his gut. Crona flushed, eyes fixating on his shoes.
"It's nothing," he insisted, not sounding convincing at all. Maka licked her lips, looking a little uncomfortable herself. His eyes flicked to her, a frown making folds beneath his bangs. "What are you doing here, Maka? It's early. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"
"I, uh," Maka laughed awkwardly. Then she sobered up and gave him a very intense look, holding out her hand. "Let's go get breakfast. My treat."
"Umm…" Crona hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard. Then he seemed to reach a decision and his face relaxed, his fingers stretching as if afraid to go too far from his body. They rested lightly on her palm and Maka smiled, twisting her hand and interlacing her fingers with his. "Okay…"
