.six.
"So…how does this work, exactly?"
Soul and Maka stood in front of the mission board, a giant bulletin board lined with neat rows of hooks that took up almost an entire wall of the DWMA entrance hall. From the hooks hung wooden tablets that described the various missions available to DWMA students, staff, and outside allies. Soul had never seen a mission board before; his white hair and red eyes made it difficult for him to blend in, so they had always thought if safer for Maka to venture into the school when they needed to pick up their next mission or collect their pay.
"When you find the mission you want, you take the tablet off the board and bring it over to the Mission Director," Maka explained. "That's the woman over there, behind that desk. She checks to make sure you're qualified to take on the mission—some require you to be of a certain rank, sometimes you need special abilities like Soul Perception." Maka tapped her finger on one of the wooden rectangles, pointing out the line where it specified the prerequisites for the mission.
"If you do qualify, she writes down the mission in her log book. You sign off so that the school has an idea of who is doing the mission, and then when you come back, you state whether the mission was a success or a failure. If you don't come back within a reasonable amount of time, they send people to find out whether you died, which counts as an automatic failure. If you succeed, the Mission Director gives you the reward pay for the mission."
Soul examined the mission board. "Most of these require starred meister-weapon partners," he observed. "All of the ones that don't care about rank are a lot easier than the ones we used to do. How'd you get away with taking missions that needed ranked technicians and weapons back before we were enrolled?"
"I couldn't sign us up officially, but there's a sort of…unacknowledged but universally accepted process for taking on missions unofficially if you don't qualify. You write your name or symbol on the bottom of the mission posting to indicate that you intend to try to take it on, and if you succeed, you take the tablet to the Mission Director so you can get paid. Sometimes, you have to bring proof of completion, but usually the school just takes your word for it."
"Gotcha." Soul's eyes roved over the various mission postings. "So which one are we gonna take now?" Maka bit her lip thoughtfully, scanning the options for something that would catch her eye.
"I have something for you, if you are interested."
Maka and Soul turned around. "Oh, hi, Kid," Maka greeted.
"Hello, Maka, Soul." Kid nodded to each in turn. He handed a thin sheet of wood to Maka, who accepted curiously. "Father specifically requested that I take this mission, but it calls for two or three high-level weapon-meister pairs. Would you care to join Liz and me?"
Maka glanced at Soul, who shrugged. "Sure, Kid. That sounds great," the scythe technician said.
Kid smiled. "Excellent. I shall meet you at 8:00 tonight. Oh, and if you care to invite anyone else, that would be fine."
Soul took the tablet from Maka and glanced it over. "Bet Black*Star would like this one," he commented. "Let's ask him."
"All right," Maka consented. "I got Tsubaki's number in case I needed to ask about homework, so I can call her when we get home."
Kid nodded, and the three parted ways.
"I don't see anybody."
"We're a bit late. Do you think they left already?"
"Nah—it's only been a few minutes. Besides, he's the one who asked us to come. I doubt he'd just take off."
"Oh, wait—there's Liz. Liz!" Maka waved at the short blonde standing in front of the library and jogged over. "Liz!"
The weapon looked at Maka and burst into a fit of giggles. "I'm not Liz! I'm Patty," she told Maka through her bubbly laughter.
Maka slowed to a stop beside the blonde and stared at her, puzzled. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you twins, then?" Patty looked exactly like Liz. She was even wearing the same outfit Liz had worn the day Maka met her. Only her facial expressions and tone of voice were different—Maka couldn't imagine Liz wearing a smile quite like the one on Patty's face or speaking with such uncontained merriment.
"Nope, not twins!" Patty denied, shaking her head furiously.
"Then, sisters?" Maka tried again.
"Nu-uh!" Patty's grin widened.
"But…you are related, right?" Maka pressed. "To Elizabeth Thompson?"
"Hmm…" Patty pressed tip of her index finger to her lips musingly. "In a waaaaay…"
Thoroughly befuddled, Maka stared at the other girl. Her brow furrowed, and she was just opening her mouth to ask another question when Death the Kid walked out from the alleyway between the library and the next building over. "Ah, Maka, Soul, you made it," he said crisply, striding over to them. "Magnificent. And you have met Patty, I see…" He stopped and considered the looks of helpless confusion on their faces. "Or perhaps not."
"A little clarification might help," Maka said weakly.
"Yes. Well. How to explain this?" Kid rubbed his chin. "Patty is my weapon."
"You wield two weapons?" Maka asked.
"I can, but such is not exactly the case." Kid sighed, frowning in concentration. "Patty and Liz are…two halves of one person."
"Huh?" said Soul.
Kid shrugged helplessly. "Right now, she is Patty, but sometimes, she is Liz."
"I think I've heard of this," Maka said slowly. "Does she have Dissociative Identity Disorder?"
The young reaper shook his head. "No. Patty and Liz share memories, and although their personalities are different, they do not act independently. Any choice that Patty might make, Liz would back up, and the same is true visa versa. I don't really have any other way to explain it—she is simply what she is. It is a unique situation. It may make more sense to you when you see her fight in weapon form."
"Er…okay," Maka said. "Nice—nice to meet you, Patty."
Patty laughed. "We've already met, silly! But I'll shake your hand again anyway!" She grabbed Maka's outstretched hand and pumped it enthusiastically.
A little dazed, Maka turned to Kid. "By the way, we're sorry we were late."
The reaper glanced at his watch. "Since it is 8:08, I will forgive you," he decided. Soul and Maka exchanged a perplexed glance. "Besides, Black*Star has yet to show up. Did he agree to come?"
"Of course I did! A big guy like me is always happy to help you little runts out! Bwahahaha!" Death the Kid, Maka, and Soul looked up (while Patty giggled to herself). Black*Star stood on the roof of the library. Seeing their upturned eyes focused on him, the ninja grinned and jumped, landing with a loud thump in the center of their loose circle.
"About time you showed up, man," Soul said, smirking. Black*Star laughed and gave him a high five.
"Hello, Maka," greeted Tsubaki, walking toward her like a normal person. "I apologize for our lateness. Black*Star wanted to make a grand entrance." The quiet shadow weapon laughed lightly, a bit sheepish.
"It's not a problem," Maka assured her. Tsubaki smiled gratefully and exchanged salutations with the others.
Death the Kid checked his watch once more. "If we are all ready, we should get started." Five heads bobbed in agreement, and the group set off.
"YAAAAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Death the Kid cocked his head slightly. That one had sounded a bit closer than the last. Black*Star was doing well. He had to admit, despite his reservations about the immature ninja, that Maka and Soul had chosen the third weapon-meister pair for this mission well. The pre-kishin target was a fairly powerful specimen, but the main difficulty in the mission was the creature's reluctance to engage in battle. For all its physical prowess, its greatest talent was slipping away from the meisters who chased it. Thus, the best way to hunt the monster was to lay a trap for it, and Black*Star was the perfect person for his part in the springing of said trap.
The plan was simple, but still had a ninety-four percent chance of success. Black*Star would chase the pre-kishin into the narrow alley below Kid's current perch. Maka, Soul in her hands, waited at the other end of the alley to block the pre-kishin's further progress. Black*Star would close the trap from behind. Kid covered the rooftops of the buildings that formed the sides of the alley, preventing the creature from escape from above. Unable to get past the three meisters, the creature would be forced to fight, and with three skilled opponents, quickly brought down. Kid marveled at the neatness of the plot.
"IT'S EASY TO UNDERSTAND WHY YOU'RE SO TERRIFIED OF A BIG GUY LIKE ME, YOU TINY MONSTER! I'M THE MIGHTY BLACK*STAR! HAHAHA!"
Death the Kid winced. That one had definitely been closer—just a block away, by his estimation. He readied the heavy, double-barreled handgun in his hands. "It's almost time, Patty," he murmured to his weapon.
"Aye, aye, sir!" Patty laughed.
Kid counted carefully in his head. Nine seconds later—he allowed himself a quiet sigh of disappointment—there was a flurry of scrabbling noises, and the pre-kishin darted down the alley, hounded by the echoes of Black*Star's maniacal laughter. Contrary to Black*Star's taunting claims, the corrupted being was anything but tiny. It was at least eight feet tall at the peak of its hunched back, with long, thick arms that brushed the ground as it loped and a block-like head full of tombstone teeth. Kid watched the creature approach Maka with interest, curious to see how she would handle it.
The scythe meister held her ground against the charging pre-kishin until the last possible moment, lulling it into a false sense of security—letting it believe it could either slice her down or slide past with ease. And then, when it was almost upon her, she struck. Spinning Soul Eater around her hands with an expression of intense concentration on her face, she hit hard and fast, darting between the creature's tree-trunk arms to jab sharply up, catching it at the center of its diaphragm. Her aim was perfect; she had located and connected with its weak point. The monster nearly collapsed, stumbling back several steps to right itself. Forward Maka ran, slashing mercilessly, driving the creature back. Her focus was clearly only on calculating how best to bring her enemy down; she used her weapon with an enviable, mindless grace, as though he were merely an extension of her own limbs.
The pre-kishin, having had more than enough of the tiny but ferocious scythe meister, whirled around to run the way it had come, momentarily forgetting the blue-haired ninja that had driven him down this alley in the first place. The corrupted being soon paid for that mistake. Yelling something that Kid did not bother trying to make out, Black*Star leaped upon the monster. The twin blades of his beautifully symmetrical chain scythe dug deeply into the pre-kishin's hide. Its square, lumpy jaws parted, and a howl tore from its throat, sending streamers of spittle flying through the air. Black*Star clapped his hands over his ears, one eye squinting in pain.
Scowling, the shadow technician pulled his hands away from his head. Kid's sharp golden eyes spotted a thin trail of blood trickling down one earlobe. Black*Star threw one of the scythes of his kusarigama. The weapon flew over the pre-kishin's head and then wrapped the creature's neck in Tsubaki's chain. Black*Star yanked sharply, abruptly cutting off the pre-kishin's screech. Using the chain scythe to swing himself closer to the monster's head, Black*Star attempted to pierce the pre-kishin through the eye. The corrupt being swung its powerful head, throwing the blue-haired meister away and tugging Tsubaki out of his hands. Panicked, the creature jumped onto the nearest wall and began to climb, digging its long claws into the cracks between the dingy bricks.
Kid stood. It was his turn now. He raised the gun in his hands and fired six shots in rapid succession. Rather than regular bullets, spheres of purple-pink light flew from the ends of the gun's barrels. The first two hit the creature squarely in the shoulder, but, alerted to his presence, the creature scrabbled out of the way of the rest. It was surprisingly agile for such a massive monstrosity. Kid's eyes narrowed.
"Now," he ordered his weapon.
"Right-o!"
Crackling bolts of energy spiked out of the weapon in his hands, disturbing the air around Kid, making his suit flutter and his bangs fly up, away from his forehead. The grip of the gun widened and shifted. The hammer, trigger, and sights thickened and split in two. The barrels stretched and twisted. And then the weapon split down the middle, transforming into a pair identical single-barrel handguns. Eyes cool, Death the Kid expertly twirled the guns around his fingers and caught them again, this time upside down, with his pinkies resting against the triggers. "Patty…Liz…" he murmured.
"Ready!" his weapon's two halves chorused back at him, voices the same, yet different—Liz's more mature and serious, Patty's inflections cheerful and childish. He allowed himself a dangerous smile, calmly lifting the guns to take aim once more. This was it, that perfect moment in battle when both of his weapon's personalities materialized, revealing her dual nature, her nearly perfect symmetry. Her two selves split, but worked together in absolute harmony.
He fired, and the energy of his soul poured through his twin guns, erupting in crackling, pink-purple fire…
Tsubaki wrapped her slim fingers around the glowing red kishin egg and bashfully turned her back to her companions to consume it—she always felt embarrassed when people watched her swallow the corrupt souls whole. Maka and Soul had passed on the soul, since they no longer needed to collect in order to create a Death Scythe. Normally, the soul would have gone to Kid, who had led the mission, and his weapon (currently Liz, for the more mature persona had come to dominance once again at the conclusion of the battle), but the reaper had discovered that so far Black*Star and Tsubaki had only seven souls. He had very nearly thrown himself on his knees and begged the shadow weapon to take the kishin egg as her eighth, babbling incoherently about something to do with the bisection of numbers.
Maka brushed some rubble off her skirt, unaware of the small smile on her lips. It had been a long time since she had done battle with a pre-kishin, and she had to admit that she had missed the heady feeling of victory. She did some mental calculations and froze, shocked. Three months between their defeat of the witch and Shibusen's declaration that they were a rogue meister and weapon, seven months on the run, one month healing from their confrontation with Dr. Stein, and two months in training at the school…it had been over a year since her last mission. She had fought plenty in that time, but never against someone she actually considered an enemy. The thought was daunting.
Shaking herself, Maka looked up at her companions and inquired, "Should I call Shinigami-sama to report on our success, or do we want to just return to Shibusen?"
Black*Star crossed his arms and tilted his head. "Shinigami-sama?" he asked, confused. "Shibusen? What're those?"
Tsubaki spoke up. "Shinigami-sama is what Lord Death is called in Japan, Black*Star," the Asian girl explained. "And the DWMA is referred to as Shibusen. Are you from Japan, Maka?"
Maka glanced at Soul. "I'm not sure what my exact ancestry is," she replied carefully, "but I grew up in an orphanage there. My mother may have been American or European. Soul and I met in Japan and were affiliated with the Shibusen branch near Tokyo while we collected our one hundred souls."
"Oh. And are you Japanese, Soul?" Tsubaki wanted to know.
The Death Scythe shook his head. "Nah. I'm from England, originally." He declined further explanation, and Tsubaki dropped the subject.
"In answer to your question, Maka," said Kid pointedly, "there is no need to contact my father. I will be speaking to him in person soon, anyway. Actually, I suggest we all just go back home. It is late; the school can wait for our report until tomorrow."
Suppressing yawns, all agreed, and the three sets of partners separated, looking forward to the greetings of their warm, comfortable beds.
Author's Note: When I realized I was going to have to write another fight scene, I buried my face in a cushion and screamed. There's nothing quite so refreshing as throwing a tantrum when you are waaaaaaay too old to do so.
Dissociative Identity Disorder is, apparently, the new name for Multiple Personality Disorder. I researched it just enough to find that it wasn't quite what I wanted for Elizabeth Patricia Thompson. For those of you who missed her description in chapter five, she has Patty's body type—height, coloring, and so on—but her hairstyle and clothes are all Liz's.
~ Shenzuul