Just a short one.
Part Six
The One and Only Death Scythe
The red-haired man heard an animalistic scream.
He was finely dressed, a cross-shaped black tie splitting his white shirt into quarters, bordered by a sharp gray Seville Row jacket. His legs were draped in black-on-gray pinstriped suit pants.
He walked slowly along the outer wall of Death City, taking in the night air. He was determined to come home to his daughter, to see how she was doing at the Academy. He loved her so much, and he'd made a promise to her.
The man heard a scream, starting low and rising to a bat's screech. He saw a blue arch of light burst upwards, cresting over the building a few streets down. He quickened his pace, nearly running. He heard a familiar voice invoking the Witch Hunter. The man gasped. Maka!
Suddenly, a resounding crack rang in the air, and a tremendous bellow of pain cracked the serenity of the night. The blue light vanished as quickly as it appeared. The man sprinted around the last corner, and stopped short.
Hanging before his eyes was a veil of shadow. He listened carefully, listening for something. A rustling sound brushed at him, drifting down to him from on high.
The man leaped at the sound, slashing with his arms. The swarm of now-frightened bats flapped around him, battering his head and shrieking in his ears.
He planted his feet on a nearby wall, jumped. He landed heavily, touching down in a hunched crouch. He was surrounded by shadows.
"MAKA!" he shouted.
A terrifying voice whispered in his ear. What is she to you?
The man slashed at the voice, hitting air.
So hostile, the voice noted. Don't be. I'm not trying to harm you, and Maka's fine, though unconscious. I have a bit of a message for you.
The man quickly asked, "Who are you? And why are you telling me this?"
The voice spoke down through the mists of ages. You really don't know? Your people have dreamed of me for ages without measure, and of my departures, my returns, and of what comes between them. I am Night.
One of my blessed ones is coming to your town. She calls herself Kuro, one of my sacred names for one of my sacred servants. You will know her by the great coffin she carries. I don't know what business that man has with her, but she wishes to see a very special person, for a very special reason. She wishes to meet Spirit Albarn.
The man said nothing, but twitched. Gray blades burst from his arms and back, splitting the air behind him.
Ahhh, the voice rumbled. Death Scythe, correct?
"Yeah, that's me. Now tell me, what's your stake in this?"
The voice sounded almost maternal for a moment. I don't want to lose her.
Death Scythe thought of his daughter, and nodded. "I think I know what you mean."
Yesssssss... The girl. She's quite the warrior, she is. She's just down the street, lying next to the screaming boy.
Death Scythe smiled, then ran down the street, calling Maka's name.
Kuro materialized, slumping next to the coffin.
I hope he bought it, she thought.