As I said in the previous chapter, only delayed~


It was like a comedic show being played out before them, the two performers inducing the face-splitting grins that decorated the audience's faces.

Light laughs morphed into loud chortles as the masked comrade who nearly revealed their fortress persisted in his claims. His voice was hoarse as he insisted, and his body shook as he retreated backwards. Their hooded master followed his pace, slowly advancing to him as she voiced her scorn. Her tone was deceptively controlled, but the narrowed, sectioned eyes hovering within the shadow of her hooded face danced with repulsion and magical madness; truly it was a sight that would make any creature, regardless of its large size or power, quake with fear.

In her watching Prototype's eyes, he saw his mistress's anger was justified. The clown was now as big a threat to revealing intelligence as the withering meister he worked with was; the two pests who followed him here was proof of that. Had it not been for the furred messengers outside warning of their approach, they would not know of his negligence.

And yet, the fool still persisted in saying he took precautions: claiming he hid the car he stole near a rock formation two miles away, that he crouched through the shrubs in effort to stay hidden as he traveled, how he searched his surroundings before entering the grassy sea. But even if he was telling the truth and did perform such actions, it was of no importance now. His master made that clear for all to hear.

The clown's insistings grew shakier and higher in pitch as he continued, the mocking laughter rising in time with his new volume. The Prototype watched as his own maniacal pleasure curved his lips, his chest shaking from his repeated chuckles.

The show rose in hilarity as the dolt looked to the crowd of comrades around him, voicing his pleas for assistance to them now rather than the infuriated witch. Such an action made the colleague to the Prototype's side screech ear-shatteringly louder from his laughter. His seemingly cerebral palsic arms kept to his chest shook as he arched forward from his harder laugh. And like his demented comrade, the Prototype's snickers grew in intensity, bellowing his humor as it clawed up his gut to shake the muscles of his open throat.

Like their comrade's mask displayed, the beggar was a clown worthy of derisive laughter. The servant expected his colleague to have the proper brain size to know that acting on such implorings was not how they operated. Asking for help was for those who were weak of mind and body, for those who cannot defend themselves from their own crippling inferiority.

But most importantly, asking for help is when one is immediately discharged from this army.

The stingered end of the enchanted braid resting on his mistress's shoulder snaked up into the air. Her weapon rushed forward and her punchline was delivered as the bewitched stinger burst through the clown's chest. Blobs of blood and bits of muscle infiltrated the air, almost acting as some gruesome form of confetti to celebrate her gut-busting joke. Thunderous uproars and hyenic giggles immediately responded, the sounds vibrating the cavern's interior as she retrieved her murder weapon and allowed the limp body to fall. The red flare from their ejected comrade's eyes faded, and his heart and soul was left demolished from the intrusion that shredded the bones and tissue within his torso.

The Prototype snickered, watching while his mistress whipped her braid to the side to relieve the stain of blood, uncaring of who she dotted the soaring specks with. Not like his cheering comrades cared, of course; they simply saw the spray as some form of reward, as if they expected and hoped to be soaked like the front row audience of a show with splash encounters.

His master lifted her fingers to snap as her braid rested on her shoulder's front once more, her hand descending down to point to the mangled body on the floor in order. Screeching roars and jumbled thuddings pounding against rock answered the call, mixing with the laughter around them. The furred form of his leader's spy tactics rushed out from the shadows, snarling as they sprinted to sink their sabered jaws into the bleeding corpse. The crowd of mountain felines surrounded their meal, growling and swiping paws at their comrades over the edible evidence they were required to engorge.

As the trash disposals to his master's deeds fed and the repetitive laughter continued, the Prototype's smile faded, growing bored quickly. He turned away from the bland sight and walked toward the ocular monitors kept against the cavern's walls. The relayed images from the messengers lurking in the outside bushes flashed brightly on the screen, and he watched to see his mistress's order upon the sitting boys take place through their eyes.

A messy shuffle of feet flopped against the floor behind him, and the subordinate's focus shifted to his side. He watched as his comrade who nearly shattered his eardrums join him, his body awkwardly swaying like a drunk underneath his white robe. The only feature visible from his hooded face was the large grin brandishing pearly daggers for teeth, his clawed fingers rapping against them rhythmically. A screechy cackle left him as he leaped onto a nearby boulder, squatting needlessly low with his arms still bent to his chest, and bladed fingers on his lips.

"One of them is awfully scrawny; doesn't look like there's much to collect off such a thin twig." His colleague rasped. He quirkily bent his head as his tongue outlined his lips, his vision aimed at the albino scythe."But the other…the other has alovely amount of meat on his bones. Absolutely delicious. I can only wonder if his soul is as juicy as his body appears."

"You shouldn't want to put such filth in your mouth." A thicker voice boomed. The Prototype watched as the more brawnier of his comrades approached. What was shown from his half-lighted face from the light of the monitors was creased in a fierce scowl. "Catching a dog of Shibusen is better suited for trophy-keeping, not eating."

The Prototype's maddened comrade bent his head even farther to the side, a hum of examination escaping him. He leaned in towards the large man while keeping his squat, closely meeting the soldier's scowl with his eerie frown. "Leave it to you to always ruin my fun. You never agree with the meals I want. What's wrong with having one puny weapon for breakfast? Afraid I'll hurt my teeth on his blades? Or that they'll try to chop me up from the inside? Tell me, I'm just dying to know."

The man's harsh framing of lips grew fiercer as the more childish of their comrades continued to speak. The burly soldier turned his head, ignoring the squatting sodlier's proddings to keep his eyes on the events their spy utensils fed the monitors.

While the attack played out before them, a loud scoff whistled past the thicker soldier lips. "That should be us out there." He grunted. "Not simple kittens doing our job. We could have handled those brats easily. To think otherwise is an insult."

The faithful Prototype returned his own glower of scorn, the yellow eye stamped with his leader's influence snapping toward his associate. "Are you saying you disagree with our leader's decision?" His own powerful voice replied. "Or are you just throwing a tantrum that you didn't get to show your supposed superior powers off to her? Are you sure you're not just disappointed you lost your chance to prove yourself?"

The heavily built man's lips formed a menacing snarl. He didn't bother to respond with words to the accusation, but spoke to the sneering Prototype through the anger that wrinkled his face. The accuser responded by smiling smugly, knowing he read him like a book.

After the moment of challenge passed, the soldiers returned their eyes to the web of screens. The Prototype wished he would refrain and gift him with silence, but his muscled comrade allowed more foolish words to escape his lips. "By the looks of things, it doesn't matter now anyway. Soon enough, we'll get our turn, even if it isn't by fighting them. If the Death Scythe can only sprout one minuscule blade and Medusa's pest can't pry one kitten from himself, they are doomed to be lunch. If anything, the pink brat will be on our side soon if he stays in that water, and that will make it much easier to take out Soul Eater."

Their comrade squatting atop a rock sighed forlornly, shaking his bent head in sadness. "And to think I may have had a decent tasting catch today. Such a shame. I've always wondered what a Death Scythe tastes like."

"As I said, you don't want to put a grimy dog in your mouth. Soldiers from true intention like us shouldn't indulge on putrid souls like Soul Eater."

The Prototype kept silent, uncaring of his comrades idiotic conversation. His attention was kept toward the screens resembling his mistress's animal totem's beady eyes.

He had faith his mistress's plan would work, that by scaring off children with mountain lions that so commonly attacked would be a perfect disguise to shoo them away. They already witnessed an oddity earlier, caused by desperation to keep their puppet from talking. They already observed how far a meister could be pushed under master's influence; he wasn't needed anymore anyway. But the last thing they needed to increase the chance of discovery was a mass of soldiers emerging and compromising their location. The children maybe weaklings, but even the weakest of creatures could be clever, bugs could find a way to gain the upper hand; his mistress learned that the hard way, and she wanted to make sure they didn't have the chance to be lucky if they revealed themselves.

Just as the servant felt a grin for their deceitful triumph shake his lips, a slithering breach of cold wormed through his bones, freezing his body. The cracking munches from the mammals were replaced with whines and the once loud comrade crouched on his rock was now silent with his head bowed low. The laughter stopped and the Prototype's body shook as a loud series of snaps and rippings shook the air. With his body quivering and his mind puzzled, the Prototype turned his head to view the scene behind him.

Standing nearby was his mistress and the brawny soldier who joined him earlier. Her hand gripped at his revealed hair, and forced his back to arch backwards so his height could be shrunken below her own. The Prototype twitched as the tip of his mistress's embroidered hair appeared like a chest-burster as it idled within the fleshy tunnel in the man's back and chest. Silence flowed throughout the room, the only sound being the haphazard chokes and inhalations from their comrade.

The witch leaned her hooded face close to her skewered subordinate's, her voice eerily soft and sultry as she whispered, "What have I told you all about speaking of such…filthy names in my presence?" Unique eyes heavy with malice were glued to her soldier's wide ones. "Did I not warn you on what consequences it would bring? Or do you just prefer to be an example of what happens when one tests my patience and rules?"

A cacophony of gurgles responded, the large arms at the soldier's sides shaking with his chest and legs. Even with her victim's face and body flinching, his mistress kept her face agonizingly close, as if wanting to watch him die with a front row seat while teasing him with the close contact of her lips. Magical yin and yang appeared content as her victim became limp, his arms dropping, and feet sliding under his dead weight.

Like an unwanted piece of trash, she retrieved her enchanted extension and happily dropped the corpse who dared speak a taboo. As the body collapsed from her grip, she raised her hooded head to look at the monitors.

She moved and stepped on her victim like the meat obstacle he was, and furthered her advancement, stopping beside her bowing Prototype. Her eyes glinted within the darkness, and the servant's body unconsciously shook from the intruding blizzard of power. Even though he would happily die for her, the back of his subdued mind must have been chilled to see how quick his master was to kill, even for one simple mistake of saying a witch's name.

A sharp hiss between teeth left her. The only word the Prototype could hear from her whispering ire was, "Impossible."

The Prototype carefully lifted his head to find the hedgehog form of Soul Eater impaling their spies on the monitor's screens. His eyes widened in further surprise as the thin boy who should have drowned or submitted to the controlling pollution within the water was alive and still conscious of his will.

How...

The quirky colleague beside him tapped a bladed finger against his teeth again, his smirk growing wider. "It looks like even the twig has a few tricks up his sleeve. Maybe he would be a nice meal after all."

His mistress exhaled sharply toward the remark. "So, Soul Eater is not as weak as his search and fight against the eroding whelp so heavily implied. Interesting." The cold slither sliding within the Prototype's inner supports flared with frost, making him quake as his master's eyes settled on the thin boy. "And apparently, not even his partner is the submissive weakling his mother so confidently claimed. Another fallacy that does not surprise me."

The servant's head bowed further as the cold winds of ire spiked, and another sharp gust left her, spitting underneath her breath, "And I told those fools to not believe her."

The Prototype inched his head to the side in wonder, carefully leaning an ear out to catch more from one of his master's whispering self-talks. But she did not speak more.

He dare not ask her, either, as palpable shock mixed with frustration shook him as she viewed the screen. His own irritation sprouted as one of the pincered arachnids his mistress used to camera the outside spotted the boys retrieve a cup filled with her liquid influence. The new Death Scythe was scanning the area, his expression suspicious while the pink boy appeared nervous.

The witch's eyes widened in alert and her reaction was immediate. "We're leaving." She turned and focused her commanding gaze onto the servants behind her. "Initiate the escape protocol, and only bring what you can. You know how quick the dogs are to react. Go." She turned toward the hooded and clawed servants beside her. "But you two, stay here."

Words of understanding filled the room, and the crowd of soldiers dispersed into the maze of rocky tunnels as quickly as a gang of cockroaches suddenly revealed to light. The two soldiers she commanded stayed faithfully.

The witch's head turned back to the screen, staring at the new Death Scythe who looked to be in deep thought, tilting her head in examination. As the standing pair watched the Shibusen dog harshly, a raspy giggle left his squatting comrade. He must have found the glacial waves of power seeping through her Soul Protect as some form of intrusive and intoxicating drug.

And it appeared that those icy winds were strong enough to attract another's attention. Soul Eater slowly lifted his gaze from his fingers, to look up and unknowingly stare into the eye of his enemy. After moments passed, the scythe's own scowl was returned to them, feeling their tangible contempt. Growls left the Prototype as the albino continued to challenge them, daring to collect samples from the dead animals around him in addition to the water collected. His hate bloomed in full as the scythe sneered at them largely while departing. The servant moved forward to rip that smirk off the weapon's face, and hold it to his own lips, but his mistress put her hand in front of him, silently denying him.

Surprise came over the Prototype as a small laugh left his mistress, not a bellow of outrage as a tactic to spread her influence was collected by brats. She shook her head, "It seems I've underestimated the dogs much more than I should have. Not even I was expecting such a display from such a slacker of a weapon and pathetic excuse of a meister…but I won't make that mistake again. I'll make sure of that."

The Prototype's body jolted in alert as the sound of hobbling limbs thumped against the ground. Sensing a threat, he moved to put himself in front of his master, but stopped upon the refusing raising of her hand. He obeyed, and watched as the mangled body of the mountain lion the pink whelp faced emerged from the shadows. The servant stared in curiosity, wondering if it was when he was too clouded by his mistress's polar aura to notice her mental order through their links for the creature to retreat.

A hum of interest swam through the air as she approached the mountain lion, her heels clacking under her. The servants could only watch as the desert native kept still while his master crouched before it. Her dainty fingers ran up one of the mammal's fangs, and lifted her hand in the air to see it under the light of the monitors. The Prototype's forehead wrinkled in curiosity as a trail of black had now stained her fingers.

A soft laugh escaped his mistress as she rubbed her fingers together, whispering, "Now… this is interesting."

Although darkness shielded her face, her bright eyes shined with mischievous intrigue, and he knew she must be smiling ear to ear within her hood's shadow. The servant bowed to her, asking, "A helpful tool you have found, my lady?"

A sharp gust of disbelief left her. "Helpful to my goals, I highly doubt it. This project was an utter failure." A gleam of anger passed through her eyes as she stood up. "And if your question is insinuating me to be a two-bit scientist who steals and uses other witch's ideas for my goals, I will not hesitate to reduce you to your partner's conditions. I happen to have a sense of pride in my work, not hope for a failure a snake spat up. "

The Prototype bowed as low as he could, apologizing repeatedly for his curiosity, that it was not his implication at all.

"My intentions are my business, not yours. Remember your place." She returned her eyes back at the wobbling cougar, her chuckles becoming louder as her eyes fell back down to her fingers. "But I would be lying if I said this didn't spark my curiosity. It's not often one gets the chance to research how your enemy's works" Another soft laugh escaped her. "A surprising enemy indeed."

His master kept her palm partially closed as her arm stayed raised to her side. Her eyes darted to the crouching servant on a nearby rock, stating firmly, "Freddy."

The soldier's head snapped towards hers, slowly bowing his head for her to continue.

"Get me every tooth within that creature's jaw, and whatever else that is stained with this black substance."She waved her stained hand in dismissal. "Whatever is left is yours to keep."

Saliva waterfalled out of Freddy's grinning gate of parting razors, lowering his head in understanding. He sneered at the maimed feline, raised his knifed fingers, and leapt off the rock to violently comply to his master's orders. The eyes of the two remaining persons before the screens stayed silent, watching through the spying eyes of the arachnid now hidden in the brush watch the boys flee.

"Tell me, Prototype."His mistress started. She brought her clean hand up to tap her pinky against her lip."I'm curious...how long has it been since I've had something new to play with?"

Her servant paused. Looking back, they have not received any new additions lately. If anything, with the intrusive sniffings from another fool of a weapon, their recruits had been forced to be slaughtered before a chance of recovery could be made. "Too long, my lady."

"Indeed it has. The vermin are either at their limits, eroding quickly, or being chased by another oaf of a Death Scythe."She bit the tip of her pinky, as if to contain her excitement. "But it would appear I've been negligent on where my collections should be focused. We've been playing it safe by taking the ones outside their doors…but a lot has changed during our time of absence. I didn't expect our old toy store to gain...such an interesting stock. The toys even have new attachments, like Soul Eater."

A shudder ran through him as spliced red and pink irises looked to him, burning with seductive mischief as she empassionatly spoke, "And you do know how much I just love new toys."

A face-cracking grin pulled to the Prototype's earlobes. He lowered his front, "I would be honored to inspect these new stocks that interest you."

"See that you will."Her voice remained soft, but fierce order was laced in her response, "You know what to do, and remember to stay hidden. I will not tolerate failure."

The Prototype kept his bow as he stepped backwards, voicing his understandings. As he retreated, he remained unresponsive to the loud slices and sight-staining sprays of red that his cackling comrade caused, reveling in his own form of gut-like confetti that stained the floor and lifted into the air.

The soldier continued to back away until he was out of his mistress's sight. From there, he raised himself, molding himself and making a home within the shadows as he began his mission.


Today was just one of those days, and Stein caved into the eager desire to light a cigarette. He inhaled a gust of calming nicotine, and watched the image within Lord Death's mirror play out. The Shinigami standing before his mirror hummed a tune of thought as he gazed at the person within the screen.

"And you're absolutely sure?" The Shinigami asked.

"As sure as I'll ever be." The eldest Thompson sister replied. The blonde ran a fingernail underneath another in effort to clean it. "This was all we found when we got here."

"Charges?" Stein asked.

"I wouldn't doubt it. It's a common abandonment tactic." Lord Death turned back to Liz. "And you're certain there is no chance of recovering anything?"

Liz's face twitched and scrunched with irritation. She closed her eyes and pointed a thumb to her side. "Well, at least that's what I think. But your son seems to think otherwise."

Stein watched as Liz moved the mirror to show a panicking and hollering Kid, his hands flying through his streaked hair. He panted with sweat sliding down his skin as he pointed from one large boulder to another, yelling out potential matching pieces to the masses of earth scattered around him. Stein examined the other images in the mirror, noticing a jubilant Patty laughing on the dry ground nearby as her meister continued to over-react to the edifice whose blocky remains blanketed over the terrain and the oasis residing beneath.

As if the destruction of the teenage God's once symmetrical mission objective wasn't torture enough for him, his neurotic brain couldn't handle the carpet of different shaped boulders that took its place. Kid collapsed when he could take no more, his eyes spinning, forehead wrinkling, and lips pulled down so low he resembled a moose as he ridiculed himself.

Although Liz was not visible in the screen, her irritation was clear in her voice as she scolded loudly, "You see, Kid, this formation wouldn't even be this way, if you didn't take three hours to check your paintings and trim your damn plants! I told you, that's what the gardeners we hired are for!"

"I refuse to allow those horrid people into my house again!" The young God responded, swirling eyes fixated and accusing finger extended toward his weapon. "If anything, we are late because of them! If they didn't sheer my shrubs two inches less than the other sides, and water my potted plants exactly eight inches, this wouldn't have happened! So from now on, we are going back to our Saturday mornings of gardening!

"Mornings?!" Liz incredulously replied. "You mean days! Do you even remember the last time we did that? You wouldn't even allow Patty and I to sleep during the night because you had to use both of us! For three days! And if you think I'm going back into a place that has dirt that will get under my nails and spiders that will fall in front of my face, you have another thing coming!"

The hysterically laughing Patty took a break from her loud humor, and lifted herself from the ground to swipe her fists into the air. "Don't worry, sis! If those big meanie bugs come after you, I'll protect you! If they dare stand in my way, I'll just stomp on them all!"

Patty stomped her feet down on the dry floor repeatedly, acting like an avenging giant attempting to crush the ants beneath her.

Or perhaps, a large ape that was trying to display their hulking dominance; either or.

Liz continued to bicker with her meister, yelling at Kid to stop trying to lift a boulder and move it to its matching mate. The Shinigami finally caved underneath the pressure of his angst, and fainted from the overload.

Although this was one more disappointment to add to Stein's list, a tiny smile made its way across his lips at how comical his students were about it. His other reports weren't nearly as jubilant, and that was a good change of pace for him.

Besides, it's not like he expected them to find anything. When Stein discovered it would take Kid an hour for him to reach the location Soul and Crona reported from, he knew she would be gone by then. An hour given to a witch was like a day's preparation time; they were always ready for a quick escape.

The Shinigami nodded, his tune of thought never ceasing. "I see then. Thank you for your efforts. Now get on out of that dangerous place and head on home! Good luck! Catch you lllllater!"

Patty waved excitedly while Liz groaned, muttering something about having to wait in the sun for their meister to wake before they could go anywhere. The mirror clicked off and the two workers for Shibusen were left in silence.

Stein inhaled another gust of burning tobacco, commenting, "It looks like we have another failed witch recovery to add to our heaping stocks." He tucked his hands into his pockets, and exhaled through the small opening of his mouth. "It's just seems to be one disappointment after another."

A sorrowful hum passed through Lord Death's mask, staring at his reflection in the mirror. "If that is what you think, then I assume Spirit has reported the same outcome yet again?"

"Has it ever changed?"

Lord Death paused, staring at his own emotionless expression. "No, I suppose not."

And at the rate things were going, Stein felt the outcome never would change. Since Spirit's and Sid's venture to their mission in South America, they kept the same results. It happened so often, Stein couldn't blame Spirit for smoking to help ease himself during their mirror call, the lines of sleep deprivation visible under his eyes and his disappointment clear. If he had been in Spirit's shoes and had to witness students they fought to bring home and question end themselves horrifically, Stein would yearn for a recall to home as well.

"I understand it is difficult for him to take," Lord Death began. "And I know I am asking much of him to remain there and keep searching, but we need to find every possible student who may still dwell in that country, bring them home, and find a way to get their consciousness back. They are our only source of information now. Now that our possible information from Marcus is gone," The Shinigami stopped his sentence. A small rumble that could rival an upset animal left him. "We are back to square one."

Stein's eyelid twitched, his hand within his pocket flinching at mention of his student. Though cockiness and whinings ran potently through Marcus, his intentions within the academy's ways were true; a devout follower to the end. And for a faithful student to be reduced to a puppet without moral, to be left with nothing but his consciousness trapped within a husk of disease-riddled flesh…

The effect was devastating for Stein, for both as a teacher and watcher of the young student's who walked these halls. No student, no person deserved such a death or state of rotting Marcus's puppeteer gifted him with, a strain that Spirit reported that poisons the muscles if too much administered, like some sick testing process to see how much the poor kids could take.

"If this is the way the ball is going to roll today, we might as well get what remains out of the way." Lord Death sighed. He turned his body to face Stein, his dark chasms staring into exhausted green. "Spirit's report was not the only let down today, wasn't it?"

Stein stared impassively, gusts of smoke billowing out from his nostrils. He nodded. "I received an update from Kim regarding the parcel."

"And?"

The professor retrieved the lighted stick from his mouth. "She says she doesn't specialize in dark magic or lifting cursed enchantments. She also says she nor any other sane magical creature would be willing to attempt to pry it open. The backlash is too great."

The Shinigami kept silent as his empty eyes stared at Stein, silently telling him to go on. "Long story short, she wasn't able to take off the enchantment. It's difficult enough to lift another witch's specialized magic, curses just make the job that much more troublesome."

Lord Death lowered his head, a sigh of defeat leaving him. "Then I suppose we have no other choice." He outstretched his hand toward Stein. "I would prefer to keep it elsewhere, but I will not chance it falling back into its masters hands. I will take the parcel back, and seal it in the lower dungeons, far away from our vaults and students. I'll place trustworthy guards where they need to be as well. I need all the eyes I can get on an object originating from crafty poison."

Stein bobbed his head, mentally agreeing with Shinigami's concern. True, the object was a hazard, but keeping an item away from its master was better than keeping it outside their protective borders. Their interiors were strong; Shibusen was a foundation of strength for a reason.

But he responded to Lord Death's demand with a small smile. "Kim also wanted me to tell you one more thing."

"Oh? And what's that?"

The doctor closed his eyes from his humorous recollection. "She told me she thinks we're idiots if we think we're going to do what she suspects and keep the parcel. Pardon me, complete idiots was the term. So as a result of that suspicion, Kim said she's keeping it to look over it."

Lord Death made a sound of surprise. "And you just let her keep such a dangerous object?"

"If Kim wished to do us harm, she would have done so a long time ago."

"That's not what I meant. I meant the potential harm that could come to her. We have no knowledge what that curse entails or what it is striving to harbor. She's putting herself at a huge risk."

"I'm sure Kim knows that, but she has enough background in magic to perform tricks that may help hide the package. She is a witch who successfully snuck into Shibusen, after all. Such a feat isn't easy." Stein adjusted his glasses. "I am as reluctant as you to have her keep such an object, but if Kim believes she can handle it and keep it safe, then I believe her."

Lord Death examined him, his hand still extended in front of him. After the moments of analysis passed, his hand raised up so his forefinger and thumb formed a circle, giving his "A-okay" symbol. "I see, I understand your point! And I agree. She has proven to be a strong girl, and is more caring than she lets on." He lowered his hand. "But I do hope she stays wary. I'd hate to have more of my students hurt by a witch who lacks the very simplest of morals."

Stein blinked in agreement. Like Crona, Kim is one of the few offsprings from magic who grew up in a world surrounded by ancient malevolence, but still kept hearts of genuine care. Even the chameleon witch under the care of Shibusen's fencing teacher held innocent kindness, a trait that had not been stolen from her by the magical being's ways, from creatures who claimed evil was stitched into their very souls…

A series of tingling jolts sparked Stein's nervous system. The window of curiosity opened wider to broaden it's flow and allow the winds to whisper to him new questions, new theories on a topic that poked at his brain constantly.

Surely, he was not the only scientist fascinated by witches. But specimens of such beings were rare, if not, non-existent. There was just nothing left to examine once their soul was retrieved, and that grieved the doctor greatly. He wondered what occured in that power riddled body of theirs, how it was even concealed, how such traits of madness inducing strength could possibly be carried onto offspring. Maybe if he caught up with Kim…

"Something wrong, Stein?" The Shinigami questioned.

Stein blinked out of his trance and saw Lord Death peering at him with interest. The Shinigami knew him long enough to know when he was lost in his storm of thoughts.

"Thinking, as usual."He casually replied.

"Already interested in the samples the boys recovered from the oasis, are we?"

The right side of Stein's lip quivered and the fingers within his pocket moved against each other eagerly. Although he could not pry into the mammals himself, the blood and water was another object for him to manipulate and examine. His excitement shook him at the hope of these creatures bearing positive results, unlike the mountain lion who had attacked Kim not too long ago.

"I would be lying if I said that wasn't one of them."He answered.

Lord Death hummed in response. The Shinigami ventured to his tea table in the corner of his platform. He bent his slim, tattered robed legs to kneel down. "You know it's not healthy to dwell on such mysteries and chances, don't you?"

Stein pulled out a new cigarette from his pocket, applying his lighter to it. He stared at Lord Death with tired eyes as his response.

"Such a habit has never been beneficial with you. I would hate for you to experience the same mental storms you endured when expecting your son. Don't do the same while Crona is enduring this. You're one of the people he needs for positive support, not scientific analysis's of his baby."

"I know," Stein responded. "I'm able to keep them out the majority of the time, but the thoughts always manage to creep in."

Silence gusted between them as Lord Death sipped his tea and the professor inhaled clouds from his lighted tobacco. He turned on the heel of his sutured boot, and aimed for the Death Room's exit. "I'll leave you be, sir. I will report to you my findings."

"Very well then. Thanks for your time! Have a good day!"

Stein kept his hands in his pockets as he clomped off the obsidian platform. He walked until he was through the Death Room's door, and from that point on, cruised through the academy's halls aimlessly. His swarm of thoughts began to fester, and Stein inhaled a deep breath of nicotine to ease him.

He knew Lord Death was right, that consistently guessing every potential outcome of Crona's offspring would resort him to the same paranoid mess he was when expecting his son. Perhaps, it would be more damaging to him than informative to observe the yet to be completed gestation period of the rats within his office. But for a mad and curious scientist like he, abiding by his lord's rules was always a challenge.

He had already stepped over the line on Lord Death's orders in denying black blood experiments, so he shouldn't act on his desires to seek out Kim and ask her questions. Not only could that be discomforting to a witch who purged that painful past, but he should be patient like everyone else. Thinking about magical heritage, the pupputed students, samples, and the rat's gestation period were obstructing clouds that blocked his bright light of sanity.

The anxious professor walked and cancelled out the thoughts with images of his own comfort, his own method of temporarily purging his curiosities. And as he walked by the janitor's closet, the beaming rays of sanity broke through the thick clouds, and a tiny curve of lips came to him from a new wonder.

Although he pondered Crona's offspring's genetic details, he was even more curious to know how he was dealing with the new responsibility he had received.


The trainee wiped his sweating brow with a blue-colored sleeve as he watched his classmates perform their fitness exams. A soft breeze brushed against his face as the sun above him blazed with heat, aiming to turn the sprinter's skin who circled the track an even brighter and exhausted red, or a baked tan. Needle-like spears and softball-sized weights punctured and dented the large fields of green in different areas as the Javelin and Shot Put throwers displayed their strength. For Crona, it was astonishing for him to witness the amount of power or vigor contained in each student, even how much was within his own friends.

Some of his group had split up to run the track or perform the Shot put and Javelin throws on the field. A light smile come across Crona's lips as he spotted Black Star loudly speak his tales of greatness, flexing his muscles while standing in line. A spiky, black-haired boy with glasses beside Kid shared Crona's smile of humor while Soul appeared uninterested, sneaking a bud into his ear to wait in the supposedly boring line. His smile stretched farther as Black Star yanked out Soul's source of sneaky music, loudly letting him know that he wasn't listening to one of his stories. The scythe responded by plugging both his ears with his buds with a sly smirk. An exhale of laughter left Crona as Black Star pounced on Soul in over-dramatic anger, evoking the proverbial dust cloud of a struggle to billow upon the grass while the best friends yelled and threw their limbs at each other.

As he remained entranced by his friend's humorous antics, Crona was pulled out of his daydream as a foreign force planted itself on his head. Confused eyes blinked as he looked up and found an extended cap settle over the middle of his vision.

Wait…why was a flap coming out of his forehead?

"You can't just sit in this kind of heat with no hat on." a low, gravelly voice said. "With skin like yours, you'll be roasted and ready to serve with that pink hair acting like a grilled vegetable within minutes."

The pressure was released from his head, and Crona peered upwards. He fidgeted a little as a source of his daily discomfort made itself known.

The old man he worked with stood beside him, fanning himself with his blue, janitor cap with a skull decorated in the center. He swiped the sweat off the bald spot atop his scalp, and combed his hand through the grey-streaked hair that stemmed from the sides and back of his head.

Crona's smile faded, and he hastily adjusted his hat so a protective shadow shielded his face, eager to comply and avoid more confusing analogies; his weapon partner already pelted him with them, he didn't need his mentor adding to that mix. Maka always told him the same when it came to wearing hats on hot days, anyway. So he really should know better by now.

The old man exhaled and wiped his forehead with a sleeve from the blue coverall they were required to wear. He joined Crona in watching the student's activities from the stone steps, an advancing smile wrinkling his tan skin and his large grey mustache ascending with it.

"It's a lovely day, don't you think?"

Crona rubbed his dry hands together nervously, keeping his eyes averted. He settled for the shy bobbing of his head to act as his response. Embarrassing as it was, it was still discomforting to engage in small talk with his co-worker, or any other person he didn't know well.

But despite Crona's quiet response, the elder still kept his smile. "It's on days like this that one can just sit on their porch and happily watch nature go by, or let your mind wander off for a bit. At least, for an old coot like me anyway." He lifted his wrist to look at his watch, and the wrinkles on his forehead crumpled with awareness. "But, unfortunately, sitting on my rump all day is not our day job, and we're on a schedule. Start wrapping up your lunch break, Crona. Our job isn't going to do itself."

Crona blinked in sudden awareness, and looked down at the open lunch box sitting on his lap. He winced as he saw the contents had barely been touched.

Crona had been too caught up in watching the athletes to keep track of time and eat. He didn't like the idea, but his mentor was waiting for him, and he couldn't let him wait longer for something that was his fault.

So, Crona had no choice but to sadly shovel the food Maka had made him quickly, and not savor it like he wanted to.

As he quickly swallowed the meat and vegetables from his lunch box, an erupting gurgle splurted from Crona's back, and a pressure was placed atop his head again. His weapon pulled the extended front of his cap down to come over his face, and cackled.

"Ya snooze ya lose, wimp!"Ragnarok barked triumphantly. "You had your chance!"

Before Crona could stop him, his weapon partner grabbed the box from his grasp and unloaded the contents into his mouth. He let out a satisfied belch after swallowing without chewing, and licked his chops. Ragnarok's meister shook off the sword's grip on his cap, and gave his weapon a frustrated glare.

"Ragnarok!" Crona exclaimed. "Maka made that for me!"

"I know. But you should be complaining to Ms. Milk-tits about that rather than me. If she had made more lunch boxes, than something like this could have been prevented."

Crona made an angry swipe at his weapon partner for his vulgar remark, but Ragnarok dissolved back into him, erupting from his side to grab the two rice-balls settled on a napkin beside him. "Don't mindddd if I do!"

"Oh no you don't!"

Crona grabbed Ragnarok's arms with one hand, and quickly reached for the napkin holding the rice-balls with the other, swiping it behind him to hold away from his weapon.

"Maka worked hard on these for me!" The swordsman struggled, fighting off the demon's relentless efforts to take his lunch. "I'm not going to let you eat it!"

"Pff, it's not like the taste is anything to brag about. It's probably the blandest food I've ever eaten. The cow's utters maybe getting better, but she still can't cook for crap."

Crona grinded his teeth in carefully controlled anger, and his forehead creased with frustrated confusion. "If that's what you think, then why would you even want what she made?"

"Because it's food, and I'm starving. And since you have food, gimme it."

Crona continued to fend off a swiping Ragnarok, going as far as to punch his weapon away and stuff the rice-balls into his mouth, giving the demon no edible spoils from their war. The sword roared in fury and placed his hands on Crona's neck to shake him back and forth, screeching his demands for his food back. His meister simply kept his hands over his mouth, his expression angry as he let out muffled denials to his partner's request.

As the pair pursued their brawl, the janitor stared in unamused astonishment, used to an odd sight that happened practically every day. His eyes were half-closed, and the bush of hair resting on his upper lip looked like a comb as his lips formed a tight line.

"You know…"He started, slapping his cap back on his head. "After working with you for the past two weeks, I'm beginning to see why Lord Death didn't send you to work at any store that sells food or the cafeteria like he does with most students. That manner-lacking creature would gobble up anything he can get his hands on. You'd be fired instantly."

"I know…"Crona commented meekly. His hands fought to push away an angry Ragnarok that pulled on his ears.

"Alright, come on now. We can't waste time that could be spent working on needless fighting."

Ragnarok let Crona's ears snap back to turn toward the old man, harshly glowering at him. "Don't tell me how to treat my bitch, old geezer. I'll keep thrashing him until I'm sated, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. So, in the opposite words of this idiot I'm stuck to, fucking deal with it."

The janitor raised a grey eyebrow, his green eyes shining with annoyance. He exhaled in defeat and slid a vein-protruding hand into the chest pocket of his coverall. He pulled out a bag of what he told Crona he now kept in large stocks within his arsenal after he experienced his first World War Ragnarok.

...which was, embarrassingly, on his first day of work.

"And what if I give you this?" The janitor said. He shook the bag of gummy worms back and forth. "If you can't behave on your own, will this help you lay off the boy for a while? Maybe even get you to go back to that little home you've got in him?...Or just go away for five minutes?"

Ragnarok's odd face kept his visible fury, but his focused pupils followed the bag like an entranced dog to a stick. In spite of his peculiar face keeping his scowl, little rivers of drool cascaded down his maw, dripping down to fall on the back of Crona's neck.

Gross…

With a grunt and hasty swipe, the Demon Sword grabbed the bag, ripped it open, and unloaded the gummies into his mouth. His cheeks were in large mounds as he chewed noisily. Ragnarok swallowed, and glared at his meister and the janitor before blowing a wet raspberry at both of them. After he covered the elder's face and Crona's back with enough of his speckled saliva, Ragnarok sunk back into his meister.

Crona rubbed the back of his neck as he stood from the stone steps, softly speaking his thanks. The serious gaze the janitor held morphed into a bushy smile, and he placed a calloused hand on Crona's shoulder. "Don't mention it. We all need a break from our personal headaches once in a while. And uh-, it seems like you could use a lot of time away from...whatever that critter in you is."

Crona's lips twitched sheepishly, trying his best to not flinch away from or swipe off the man's unfamiliar touch. Even if it was through the fabric of his coverall, any sort of contact from a new person discomforted him greatly.

But it's not that he didn't like the senior janitor. Really, it wasn't. If anything, he was likeable. The man had been kind and fairly patient with him during his training. And even when his frustration was clear in his face and voice when Crona felt too frightened to do something, the janitor gave him time to collect himself. Or just…breathe. Sometimes he even tried to encourage the timid trainee with reassuring words and pushes when he was faced with something terrifyingly new, always telling him he was right there and had his back…

But those words didn't help Crona's comfort or belief much. Although he hated thinking this way, he felt the janitor was wasting his breath. Two years wasn't enough time for his reluctance of new experiences or claims made by strangers suddenly be lifted or believed. And even if Maka kept telling him it would change one day, the last living kernel of doubt within him kept telling him that doubting part of him would never fade.

The foreign hand on his shoulder left him, and Crona frowned, slowly clenching a shaking fist. But even if the doubts and paranoid thoughts may never leave him, the now working meister couldn't let those discomforts take hold of him; it was his responsibility to do his work right. While those responsibilities certainly terrified him, he couldn't let his fear interfere with what he was required to do. If he did, then he wouldn't be doing his job right, and then he would feel even moreguilty for not helping an old man who had asked Lord Death for help, help Crona was reluctant to give due to simple unsettlements.

But most of all, if he allowed himself to succumb to fear and not do his job…he could get fired. He wouldn't have any money to save for his expecting family; he wouldn't be able to help Maka. How could he strive to be useful if he was jobless? Like the old man said, it would be difficult to find a job anywhere else due to Ragnarok's presence within him.

So, even though his job could be icky, smelly, putrid, and vile, he had to force himself to follow his mentor, even if it was a struggle to believe him. For Maka and their baby's sake, he could at least attempt to trust a person that was trying to help him with his work.

…Even though it still sounded impossible to Crona.

"Alright then!" The old janitor said, clapping his dry hands together, jolting Crona. "Let's get a move on, shall we? Last thing I want is to fall behind schedule." He descended down the stairs and motioned to his pupil to follow him. "Come along, Crona. It's time for me to show you one of our outside duties."

The pink-haired apprentice gulped, giving him a small nod as he followed him. "Y-yes, sir."

The old man stopped his descent to look behind him, his expression partially amused, and mustache slightly curved. "Look, kid. I told you before, just call me Ivan. I know you're being nice and formal, but you're just making this old dog feel older by calling me 'sir'."

Heated hesitation colored the swordsman's cheeks as his mentor grinned. Crona didn't like addressing elders that were so much wiser and full of experience than he in a non-formal manner, he felt it would be disrespectful and wrong. So, rather him say a non-formal name that made him uncomfortable, Crona settled for giving a tiny nod to respond, and followed the man who he preferred to call "sir" or "Mr. Hiroshi" rather than "Ivan".

The tense trainee shook as he stepped onto the field of grass, following his mentor toward one of the white storage unit near the stone steps. It was already gross to touch other people's garbage, and mop up their smelly vomit or…other things. But the simple thought of what he was to learn next…terrified him.

A slippery gulp traveled down his throat as Mr. Hiroshi lifted the opening to the container, revealing the source of his anxiety. The elder lifted up his arms in presentation of the tools they used to spruce up the gardens and fields, one of them being the mower car sitting in the middle of the room…a tool he was told he had to learn today

Crona's shaking intensified as he stood in front of the machine, his arms kept to his chest as his mind spun with paranoid possibilities.

What if it didn't start and just exploded grass and metal bits at him? What if he fell off it? Would it gobble him up and spew him back out in black shreds of mincemeat if it caught him? Would it chase him across the fields like the angry piece of machinery it appeared to be? Crona couldn't stop shivering as his mind thought of the endless possibilities of his failures.

Noticing his stress, the old man kept his wrinkly smile. "Don't worry. I know it's nerve-wracking at first, but you'll get it. They're fairly easy to learn, and I'll be here to monitor you."

Another prick of doubt crept into him, and Crona did all he could to believe his mentor…

But his efforts didn't help. The simple sight of such a beast shook his very bones. All he could do was remind himself of Maka, of his source of drive and allow her encouraging words she told him every morning fill him.

Only then could a small bud of belief in himself peak through the hard shell surrounding it.

Crona tilted his head as he pried his sights away from the mower to view his surroundings, seeing the tools, dirt bags, and pots also contained within the unit. His brows furrowed and quietly spoke, "Um…s-sir?"

The mustached janitor didn't respond. He only inspected the seated mower, checking to see if anything was out of place. Crona scrunched his brows, and made his voice a little louder as he called, "Mr. Hiroshi?"

The older man shakily stood up from his squat and plunged a pinky into his ear. "I'm afraid you'll have to speak up, sonny. These old ears of mine aren't what they used to be." He put his hand behind his ear, leaning closer to Crona. "Now…what did you call me?"

A wave of discomfort came over Crona, and he breathed out from minor irritation. He could take the playful pushes out of his comfort zone from a sweetly smiling Maka, but it was more difficult to take from a pushy old man who gave him a wrinkled grin and a series of raising and expecting eyebrows.

If anything, when he did that it was just…weird.

But Crona experienced that Mr. Hiroshi could be resolute, he could be determined until his desires were fulfilled. In the end, he was his boss, so how could he deny his request?

Crona wriggled his nose in discomfort, and shakily spoke, "I-I-Ivan."

A smug grin tugged on the elder man's bushy lips. He closed his eyes happily, and uplifted his hands forward to welcome his pupil's question.

"A-Aren't we…Aren't we just supposed to clean up the messes inside the academy? I-I thought we were just janitors. Isn't this the job of gardeners?"

A grey brow rose with suspicion. "Is your question another way of saying you don't want to do this? And that we should dump it on someone else?"

Crona's eyes widened. He waved his hands in front of him frantically. "N-No! I-I'm not saying t-that at all! I just d-don't…You've already got so many responsibilities inside the academy and…"His shoulders slumped, and his hand gripped his arm tightly. "I'm just c-confused, is all."

Mr. Hiroshi inspected at him momentarily. When he finished, he let out an amused hitch of breath. "There's a lot to do, yes, but it's in the job description. Besides, it's a pastime that keeps me busy. Not much to do around here for people my age, so it's a chance to make myself useful." A confident, hairy grin pulled at his lips." But don't let this aged body fool you. I may be up in age, but this body is still built like an ox." He beat his chest like a warrior pumping up for battle, and a series of whooping, theatrical coughs immediately followed, a reaction Crona was doubtful was the normal response to such a claim.

Crona stepped toward him with concern, but his elder simply waved him off, wheezing laughs leaving him as he mocked his decrepit age, claiming years of smoking will do that to you.

After his mentor gathered his breath and straightened himself, he began the introduction.

One of their responsibilities included the caring of plants and lawns within Shibusen's grounds, aided by the tools around them. The Mower car he was to ride took care of snipping the lawns, while others helped pull weeds, plant flowers, and assist in any other garden action that made Crona touch mucky dirt and thorny vines.

While Mr. Hiroshi explained, Ragnarok erupted from Crona's back and plopped himself onto his head. He grabbed the extended cap of his meister's hat and sprang it up and down. "So… now you're going to learn how to plant pretty posies and plants to beef up the torrent of sun-shines and rainbows that already bursts from your ass? I'm baffled. Congratulations, Crona. Really, you did it. Whatever remains of your balls has finally receded back into you. You are now officially a chick…not that it wasn't obvious before."

Crona grabbed the hand on his cap and smacked it into his weapon's face, hissing at him to shush. Ragnarok pulled at his revealed hair while Mr. Hiroshi frowned. "I thought you promised to stay put, Ragnarok."

The demon's glare toward the senior janitor returned, snidely replying, "First off, I didn't 'promise' anything. I ate your gummies because I was hungry and ran before you could spout another boring story of how people treated each other back in your 'good old days'. Besides, I'm not stealing anything and I technically was away for five minutes. So screw you." He folded his arms on top of Crona's head, following the form of a grumpy child as he continued, "And do you even know howboring it can get inside him? Of course you don't, so let me tell you, 'sonny'. Being inside this idiot is like being locked up like a caged animal and you're given these squishy toys to tease you with but you can't freaking touch them because you'lldie if you mess with them too much! So, excuse me for having a darn good reason for breaking out once in a while."

Crona squirmed and frowned toward his rude weapon, making sure to keep his glances away from his irritated mentor. The janitor rubbed a finger underneath his nose, snarking, "Pheh, and you kids have the gall to tell people my age we need an enema to relieve clogging grumpiness. Obviously that's not the case, as kids your age and your little friend have obstructions that make you just as irritable as the elderly. "A devious twinkle brightened his eyes. "So, shall I fetch your critter one? I'll even let him use mine if he wants. At least, after I clean it off. I'm sure afterwards he'll feel much better."

Anger radiated off Ragnarok's scowling face, roaring loudly while flailing his limbs haphazardly. "Alright, that is IT! I've had it with this ancient asshole! You want to go back to your good ol' days, you shriveled up grape? Well come over here, and I'll make it happen! Maybe I'll even give you my own version of a face-lift to smooth out your nasty, saggy skin! I'll at least make you look young again as you DIE PAINFULLY!"

Crona caught his weapon's swiping arms, frantically trying to coax him out of his anger. Mr. Hiroshi guffawed and pounded his foot onto the floor repeatedly as Ragnarok continued his rant. Minutes passed and punches were flown about in the air and atop Crona's skull before the demon settled down, quieted only by the meister's promise to go to a candy store on the way home. He groaned as he agreed to the swords demands to buy him three bags of self-serve candy for him, an needless expense of his savings so he could to calm his infuriated weapon.

As the janitor settled down and wiped his eyes, Ragnarok settled for lying atop Crona's head with his hands in front of his face, appearing like an growling animal prepared to pounce.

"Anyways," The old man panted, breathing deeply as his laughter subsided. "Come on over. I'll show you the ropes."

Crona swallowed the lump in his throat, and nodded. He forced himself to approach the metal monster, and listened to his instructor's directions, watching as he pointed to buttons, levers, and steering wheel that helped guide the machine.

As he watched, Crona grew more anxious. It seemed easy enough to understand, but his apprehension toward what looked like a smaller version of a car unnerved him greatly. He didn't have any experience with driving, he didn't even have a license…. and his heart pumped faster as he watched Mr. Hiroshi move the car from the garage onto the grass.

The senior sat on the car's seat and gave him the rules: don't let anything get in the blades, wait for passersbys, and wear protective ear-wear to avoid chances of hearing loss. After he gave him the guidelines and presented a visual example to him by riding on a few patches of grass, the old man stepped off, and extended his headwear to Crona, encouraging him to go and give it a try.

Crona sighed as he complied, his hands shaking as he snapped the ear covers on and walked toward the mower. He dug his fingers into his hanging arm, and heard Ragnarok speak to him through the binding channel they shared between their souls:

Sweet, we finally get to drive now. I wonder if it will be like those small race cars at those arcade places.

Crona winced as he carefully sat on the seat. I hope not…those race cars always go way too fast. Remember when we almost crashed into that wall?

You mean the time we almost flew out of the go-kart because you covered your eyes and kept your foot on the damn gas?

Maybe.

Yeah, I'm sure it was that time. And like that time, I'll burden myself with saving the day yet again if it comes to that. You've got four hands and eyes here, so quit being a pansy and start it already.

Right…thanks.

It's only because I know you'll screw this up somehow. So let's just get it over with.

Crona inhaled a shaky breath while nodding. He turned the key and jolted as the metallic whirr of machines churned, rattling the metal beast in small bounces. His hands quivered as they settled on the steering wheel, and his foot cautiously applied pressure to the gas pedal, allowing the mower car to slowly move on the grass.

The focused meister continued with the slow speed even after two large patches had been painstakingly cut, carefully turning the wheel and guiding the machine across the field.

While Crona performed one of his job's tasks at his own pace, he heard Ragnarok speak in an exasperated tone within him:

seriously? This is as fast as you're going to go? I guess my assumption was right, you do drive like an old lady. Snails are beating us right now, Crona. They're escaping from our lawn mower blades of doom, and you're just going to take that crap?

I'm trying to concentrate. I'm not trying to go fast. If I have to go slow, then I'll go slow.

Even through his headgear, Crona could hear Ragnarok moan with grief. Jeez, fine. Don't bite me with your dentures, you menopausal Granny.

Crona puckered his lips in irritation, but ignored him, and kept his focus on his task.

He scanned the growing grass attentively while moving his steering wheel, carefully guiding the machine to shave the taller blades. Another patch was finished within minutes, and Crona kept moving from one patch to another.

While he focused on his job, the working meister's peripheral vision saw the grinning janitor giving him two thumbs-up. A tiny smile curved Crona's lips as he kept his eyes on the field of grass, gliding over the patches as he grazed their overgrown stems. As time spent upon the beast passed, Crona steadily grew more confidence in his safety with this task.

His attention was fixated on the new patch of grass he shifted to, deaf to the muffled noises Ragnarok spewed at him from above, but cringing at the hard tugs of his hair. Again, Crona ignored him, and just shook his head to shake Ragnarok off. He wouldn't allow his impatient weapon to distract him.

As Crona's foot steadily pressed harder on the pedal, Ragnarok suddenly slithered into his back to lunge from his front, his ball-like hands in front of him as he slammed them on the pedal that floored the machine.

The startled swordsman cried out in alarm as the mower zoomed forward, his grey-blue eyes wide with panic, and his cap flying off his head. His fear rose higher as he watched the mower perform a new trick his teacher didn't tell him about.

Like an accomplished cowboy's horse lifted itself on its hind legs to raise its front legs high in the air, the mower car mimicked, lifting its large front with its front wheels whirring on air, and back wheels spinning on the ground. But unlike the horse that could bring itself back down, the mower began to fall back from its own and Crona's additional weight on its back. He didn't have much time to react before the bumper of the mower car hit the ground, and the front fell back on Crona. His head slammed on the grass under him as the steering wheel dug into his chest, the edges of the seat digging uncomfortably into his curled legs. A strained cough left Crona from the new weight, his head resting back on the grass from pulsing pain.

He felt grateful that his legs weren't near the whirring blades beneath the mower…but it still didn't change the fact that he was beneath a three-hundred pound mechanical monster.

And If he was beneath the mower car…that means he screwed up…again.

Ragnarok raised himself from a part of Crona's chest that wasn't being bruised by thick metal, and the meister welcomed Ragnarok's curious sights with a glare. He hissed through the link between them:

What did you do that for?!

Because I felt like it. What, no thank you for the thrill ride?

T-T…Thank you? I'm underneath a mower right now!

Well, if you just listened to me and stopped being the slow granny you are, we wouldn't be in this mess!

That doesn't give the right to-!

Crona sucked in a quick breath of air as the weight of the mower began to lift off him. His gaze left Ragnarok to see his worried mentor turning off the engine with a mummified Nygus staring at him with concern. He assisted in the lifting, using the strength his scrawny arms hid to push the mower car off him.

As he propped himself up, he felt a pair of hard hands grab his shoulders, making his eyes snap over to meet a familiar blue-haired meister whose face was etched with theatrical concern. He shook Crona back and forth, rattling his already hurting brain.

"Crona!" he heard his loud voice creep through the headphones. "Crona, are you alright?! If you are just look at my face! If you're hurt, my handsome looks will heal you! It's happened before! Trust me! Man, you were like a fucking ninja! One moment you weren't there and then you were there and…I swear! I wasn't aiming for you!"

As Crona continued to be shaken, his headphones flopped off, and he stared at Black Star with confusion.

Why was he apologizing? He was the one was at fault. He had failed to keep an eye on the impatient Ragnarok during his concentration, and as a result, it may have damaged the mower. Why did he feel the need to say he's sorry?

Before he could ask, Ragnarok grabbed Black Star's work-out shirt, shaking him like he did to his meister, "Are you fucking insane? Weren't aiming for us my ass! You're lucky this dumbass has me for a lookout, or else you would have bashed his head in! You prick, no one does that but me! You hear me, you obnoxious punk?! That's my job!"

"Shut up, leech. He's just trying to apologize." An approaching Soul said. He looked over at Crona. "Sorry about that, dude. We were just having a stupid contest. Naturally, Black Star got carried away. You alright?"

Crona nodded and rubbed the back of his head that smacked against the ground; Ragnarok released Black Star and angrily retreated back within him. Wondering what had happened, he turned behind him to find Mr. Hiroshi talking to Nygus, saying something about him being at fault for neglecting to tell Crona what patches of grass he should avoid during class. As the teachers spoke, his eyes widened as he stared at the large object imbedded in the white-streaked grass, sitting in the place where the mower car originally puttered across.

The weighted balls normally used for Shot Put...definitely weren't like the size Nygus had under her foot. While the normal size was one of a softball, the one under the dagger weapon looked like it had taken a massive dose of steroids to beef itself up into the size of a cannonball.

Crona lowered his head, the familiar knife of shame digging in his chest as he realized why Ragnarok suddenly floored the machine.

Like his weapon had said, his head would have been bashed in by an incoming meteor weight had he continued his slow course.

"You just had to use the biggest one of them all, didn't you?"Nygus sighed. "I don't even think this size is legal…and it can't be good for your wrists or neck."

"Hey, those pea-sized ones are too easy." Black Star defended himself, crossing his muscular arms. "I need something big enough to give me a challenge. And since you don't have planets to toss here, I have to settle for those."

The mummified dagger just shook her head, knowing not to push the cocky boy further. "Just get back to the field." She turned to Crona. "Do you need me to take a look at you, Crona? Were you hurt?"

"N-No. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" A light feminine voice asked. A soft pressure was placed on Crona's shoulder and his breath caught, his eyes slowly drifting up. A pair of concerned emerald whose host was donned in fitness attire and holding his cap meet surprised ebon. Her face was redder than their group partners were, and it wasn't until now Crona remembered that Maka was a part of the group running the track nearby.

She crouched down while waiting for his answer, and his heart began to race. "Crona?"

Dumbfounded, Crona could only manage a quick nod, his cheeks filling with red as he gave her a wobbly smile. She returned the soft expression, and smoothed out a few wrinkles off the fabric of his shoulder, and ran a hand though his hair before placing his cap back on his head. His face felt to be near melting point when her smile broadened, shyly recalling how much fun she had when she fussed over him while in uniform.

"Well, leave it to the magic touch of Maka to make him feel better." Soul smirked.

"Heh, yeah." Black Star replied, getting up. "My bad, Crona. I guess even my god-like strength needs to be suppressed a little. The academy just can't handle all of this."

Maka's soft gaze turned icy upon hearing Black Star, her eyes blazing as her head snapped toward them. The ninja flinched, and began to draw backwards.

"N-Now, Maka." He tried to console, waving his arms frantically out in front of him. "H-He said he's fine. I-It was all just a-oh crap. Run Soul!"

The dynamic duo fled the scene and Maka sprinted after them with her book tight in hand. Crona sat in astonishment while the old man displayed a puzzled expression.

"That boy sure does seem like a handful." Mr. Hiroshi commented.

"He is." Nygus immediately replied. "But he's a good kid. He didn't mean any harm."

"…Tell that to the mess I had to clean up when he picked that fight with Lord Death's son."

"That was two years ago. He hasn't done any damage recently; at least, not any severe damage. But I am sorry about the mower."

"Don't worry about the old girl. She's a tough machine."

As Nygus left the working pair alone, Crona kept his attention on Maka, his hot blush growing stronger, and his heart never stopping its rapid flutter.

While he stared across the field, the light from above appeared to descend on a scolding Maka like a heavenly beam, spotlighting her as she wagged her book at her skull-dented friends. In addition to the new brightness he'd been seeing her in recently, looking at her was almost blinding now; it was like she was glowing. He couldn't really explain why it was happening, but to him, it seemed like her happiness was escaping from her pores like the sun's own rays. It was the only thing that made sense to him, as Maka has been like this ever since he returned from his mission.

And although Crona couldn't properly explain this phenomenon, he loved seeing her this way. He loved seeing her smile wider than he'd ever seen it before.

Because if Maka was happy, then he was happy.

The swordsman's heartbeat halted and his red face brightened as Maka turned to meet his gaze. She flashed him a smile, and Crona felt his soul become ablaze with warmth, his own being touched by the appreciation and pride-filled love held in her face. Maka didn't care that he had made a fool of himself in front of everyone; she wasn't even ashamed or embarrassed. She just focused her sweet smile to him, like he was the only one in the world, and he returned to her his own genuine smile.

Maka's attention returned to the group of girls around her, and a sudden chuckle knocked Crona out of his daydream.

Obsidian eyes left Maka to peer at his grinning co-worker, flinching as he nudged a bony elbow into his deltoid. "You little dog, you." He snickered "So, that's your devious little ploy, eh? You flash those big puppy eyes and a shy little smile, and just wait for the flock of girls to come running, huh? Haha, I get it! Good for you!"

The janitor showed his approval by slapping Crona's shoulder blade while laughing, and the meister jerked, lowering his head to hide his flush. A quivering frown danced on his lips as the embarrassed apprentice tried to lean away from his mentor. But the janitor only saw his discomfort as a quiet acceptance of his claim, and his laughter grew louder.

As if to help further Crona's growing unease, Ragnarok made yet another appearance, snorting, "His ploy? Okay, I knew you were deaf enough to need hearing aids, but I thought even you wouldn't be this blind." The demon grabbed Crona's blushing face, and stretched his cheeks. "Just look at this guy! He can barely handle a conversation with a woman, let alone try to maneuver one into the sack! This dolt right here is mentally challenged in the art of woman catching, let alone seduction."

"I don't know about that. That girly seemed pretty drawn in by his shy tactic." The old man scratched the loose skin on his chin in thought. "In fact, I remember how that tactic worked back in my hay day when-"

Crona quickly clasped his hands over his ears. His fingers tugged at the ends of his cap to push farther over his head, doing everything he could to block out Ragnarok's and Mr. Hiroshi's conversation. He couldn't deal with nor did he ever want to hear tales from one of his mentor's…"adventures".

As much as there were parts of the janitor that were likeable, Crona didn't like this part of him at all. Not only would he poke and prod about his supposed strategies toward women when a girl passed by, but he could be as intrusive as Black Star was whenever he commanded for details about…that night. Both would always make weird hand gestures and analogies that Crona was sure he didn't want an explanation to; especially to Black Star's question of "how he stuck it to her."

Oh, and that was another thing: why was everyone so interested in those types of specifics? Wasn't the whole point of a personal life was for it to be personal? If that's so then why…why are there so many questions about it?

"Okay, okay." The janitor said. "Now that I've given you one of my secret strategies, a good exchange would be to get to work now." He moved his head in the direction of the garage and back to Crona. "Time to take a look at the mower, and finish the job. You sure you don't need to be looked at?

"N-No, I'll be fine."Crona lifted himself nervously. He returned his hand to his arm and the janitor nodded at him.

"Alright. Then let's get back to work."


As Crona's shift drew to a close, evening dawned on the track field, coating the sky in a blend of oranges and reds. His resonance group and other friends stayed on the other side of the field, entertaining themselves while waiting for Crona to join them for dinner. He wiped his hands after finishing his clean-up and waited outside the storage unit while his mentor raked the storehouse's borders nearby. The swordsman lifted his head to glance from afar at Maka who sat upon the stone steps. The group of girls around her looked to be giggling; even Soul was laughing.

Crona tilted his head as a smile of delight lit up Maka's face after she opened a box Kim retrieved from her backpack. He saw her give the meister sitting beside her a crushing hug, the pink-haired girl brushing her off and acting like she was being a nuisance despite the large smile on her face. As if it was a trophy, Crona saw her hold up what looked like raccoon-styled footsie pajamas, a striped tail protruding from the rear to seal the image. He was puzzled at first, and wondered if they were laughing because the size of the outfit was ridiculously small. In fact, that size barely even reached the length of his forearm.

It was then that Crona's face became dark with red again, watching as a mocking Soul held up a small cap with raccoon ears, waving back at forth at an irritated Maka. She responded by yanking the cap out of his hands, smacking her book on the back of his head, and watching mischievously as his bleeding body mimicked a slinky falling down the stairs. Crona ducked his head, his heart pumping a nervous beat as he noticed that the outfit and cap…was a form of baby clothing.

Maka only told the ones she cared about the news, not feeling that anyone else deserved to know, but that didn't stop rumors from spreading. After his return, he overheard her absence already caused the talk of pregnancy to stir. Although their informed friends always denied such claims, all remained suspicious.

But Maka never cared. She didn't even find them important to deal with. If anything, she was strangely happy about it all.

When he returned, he saw the fear she once harbored had died, and was replaced with excited joy. Maka always had a wide smile when she said she had been scouting out baby stores; she even started showing him pictures from magazines of what clothes or toys to buy once enough money was collected. It was standard Maka protocol to have a plan all lined up, and she didn't hesitate to start as early as she could. A small smile came across his face at the memory.

Maybe something like this could be as exciting as she so whole-heartedly believed…maybe he could be excited to, and believe everything could be okay.

While he stared happily at his friends, two snickering boys who walked away from the stone steps near him spoke up.

"Dude, did you see that?" The red-headed one cackled. "I can't believe it, Ms. Perfect Student has got something cooking in her oven."

Crona's heart stopped.

"Heh, I knew she was a closet nympho the minute I saw her." The black-haired one snickered. "Figures, the one thing she screws up on in education is how to not get knocked up."

A hot lance of anger sunk into his heart, and Crona's hands slowly collected together.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it? She ended up just like her mom; a knocked-up skank."

Crona body shook, a familiar adrenalizing cloud hazing his vision and surging in his muscles. He kept holding on, ignoring it like Maka told him to and block out the words, but they didn't stop.

"Every Ms. Perfect has to fall sometime." The red-haired one continued. "She's a royal bitch, anyway. It's what she deserves."

"Yeah! Man, just wait until the school hears about this. Just watch. I'm betting money her pest is going to have grey hair; I bet that's how she aces every test."

"Ha! You're on! I'm betting on the tell-tale white."

The vital plug feeding sanity unplugged itself from Crona's brain outlet, and his mind was left in the dark. All he felt next was his body moving, his fists tight, and blood boiling. Sounds of awareness were made, and deafened noises were yelled at him as he felt himself draw closer.

The cold darkness continued to firmly hold Crona, his body jerked only by pitiful impacts pushed on him. Feet scraping and running on grass came from his side and back of him. Soon, the rhythmic tugging of his collar joined the odd symphony of sounds around the swordsman, attempting but failing to pull him back.

"Alright." The rough voice said. "I think you've made your point. Let's not go overboard."

The angered meister didn't bother to stop. Dark shadows filled his mind, growing stronger with the adrenaline surge in his muscles, and the forces on him followed his new, harsher manner. But he was unphased by the motions against him, not caring for any of their rebuttals. Only until he heard a familiar laugh from an inner demon did his focus finally divert.

Good for you, Crona! You finally figured out a good strangling session gets crap-heaps like him to shut the hell up. It's about damn time. I told you my ways work better, and not the cow's stupid passive tactics!

Sanity's plug zipped back into his mind's outlet, and Crona's filling vision was met with the wincing face of the black-haired boy who claimed to spread the news. His feet were dangling above the ground by Crona's grip on his neck, his hands clutching his slim forearms. His red-headed friend attempted to pull at his arms and Mr. Hiroshi stood behind him with his collar tight in hand.

The sword meister blinked, and began to shiver from fearful awareness. He retracted his hands from the boy, and he fell to the ground. He gulped as the student coughed and held his throat; his vengeful orbs shot up to meet Crona's panicking ones.

"What the fuck is your problem?" The black-haired boy hoarsely spat. "Are you trying to kill me for just walking past you? What, did I trample your stupid posies and make you upset?"

Crona opened his trembling mouth, but no words escaped him. Both the boys furthered their glares at him. "Well? Answer me!"

His brain scrambled to find an answer, his breathing becoming rapid from anxiety. A lump filled Crona's throat and his thoughts raged inside his skull as his mentor revoked his grip on his uniform.

"He just got carried away."Mr. Hiroshi answered. "I told him to bring you boys over to me. After the hard work we've done, I don't blame him for being angry over the mess you made."

The red-head scowled at them both, spitting, "What mess? We've been out on the field the whole day! You going to give us crap for lifting up dirt on your stupid lawn?"

The old man pointed a thumb behind him, a stern frown on his face. "That fresh batch of cigarette buds behind my storage unit says otherwise. I bet it was you, as I didn't see you boys during the fitness exams and I've been here all day." His emphasis on those words were purposefully mocking, and the boy's harsh expressions twitched.

"I wonder what Lord Death would say about his students skipping important classes for a smoke…not great, I'm sure." The janitor ran his fingers across his mustache in thought. "In fact, I think he'll be even more furious since this is not the first time you boys have done this. Isn't this the second time I've caught you?"

The boys expression were fierce, but a shine of nervous sweat coated their skin.

"So, I'll tell you what. I'll give you one more chance to clean up your mess, and cut the crap. But if you don't want to do that, then I'll use other means to get you to straighten out."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

The janitor pointed to Crona. "Well, how does a trip with Ol' Neck Wringer here to the Death Room sound? That sounds like a lovely little get-together, don't you think?"

Hard frowns and glower's met Crona's nervous gaze, his body shaking from the unwelcoming expressions. The red-head moved forward to say something, but his partner on the ground slapped his knee in denial, shaking his head.

"Fine." The black-haired boy hissed, beginning to pick himself up. "We'll clean the damn mess."

His red-haired partner helped him stand, and the pair began to walk toward the garage where the janitor told them brooms would be. The red-haired boy flashed his bright blue eyes to Crona as he walked by, sneering, "Because you're actually angry over some stupid mess we made, right?"

Crona flinched and the boy smirked in knowing, following his partner toward the storage unit. The ashamed trainee kept his gaze away from the departing boys and silence came over the mentor and pupil.

The old man turned to Crona, his gaze stern. He motioned his head over to the stone steps close-by. "Go on and sit down for a while. I think you need a break."

The trembling boy kept his silence, but he obeyed, moving his limbs mechanically as his thoughts stirred.

They didn't know her. Those boys didn't know her, and they had no right to call her such names. Everything Maka achieved was because she earned it, she fought hard for it. How could they even think of her in such a disrespectful light?

When he approached their goal, Crona sat on the stone-steps, keeping his vision away from the janitor that stood beside him. Crona moved his eyes to see Maka and her friends still laughing, unknowing of the shameful act he just displayed. He was thankful they didn't see or hear the sounds of a struggle from across the field, and he returned his gaze to his knees. An awkward silence flowed between the workers.

While Crona stared at his knobby knees, he heard hands slapping and wiping against fabric. He moved his eyes in curiosity but clenched them shut and drew them away when the blinding gold light of the sunset invaded his sight.

"Those boys must have said something really out of line to piss you off, didn't they?" His mentor asked.

Crona didn't feel like responding. Obviously, his display had been enough of an answer.

The silence lingered, and a sigh left the janitor. "You know…those boy's weren't exactly quiet about what they were talking about. I could hear it from the storage unit." He paused. Crona heard the sound of a nail scratching against a dry scalp. "I guess that tactic of yours worked better than you thought with that girly, didn't it?"

Crona wished the janitor would stop talking and leave him alone already.

The man exhaled. "Sorry, I guess I'm just thinking out loud. But I did wonder why an eighteen year old kid like you would take this job."

Silence breezed between them, and the unfamiliar touch returned to rest on his shoulder. Crona flinched and blinding yellow light invaded his sight again. He peered to the side to find a golden band rest on his janitor's left ring finger. A blush painted the meister's cheeks as he stared at it longer, noticing two engraved skulls leaning their heads against each other in a heart, the writing "Even in Death" written on the side of the band. Crona tore his sights away, and twiddled his thumbs in worry he had read something very personal.

"I know it doesn't mean much, but I thought I'd tell you you're doing the right thing by helping that girl. Not many kids your age stick around or put themselves on this kind of level in order to find work." He paused again. "You're a good kid, Crona."

Crona's blush advanced and he uncomfortably shifted in his seat, giving the janitor a soft-spoken mumble of thanks. His mentor cackled, and Crona jerked when he pushed on his shoulder, saying, "Now scram. I've worked you hard enough for today. I'll see you tomorrow."

Mr. Hiroshi turned and raised his hand while walking away, his pupil shyly waving back. The dazed meister sat on the steps for a while, collecting himself before he returned to his friends. After enough minutes of gathering his mental stability passed, Crona lifted himself up, and walked across the field to his group.

All of them greeted him with smiles as he approached, Maka's being the brightest. She launched up from her seat, rushing down the steps to push the baby gear in front of him, speaking with a large smile that nearly turned his legs into jelly. She clasped his hands in hers as she held the outfit, her eyes full of happiness as she told him about Kim's gift, how sweet and thoughtful it was of her to do such a thing, that it was one less item off the list she had made to buy for Baby.

His advancement of blazing embarrassment resembled the rising of water being poured into a glass, the noticeable red traveling up his neck to fill his face. The girls giggled and the boys snickered as Maka continued to pair her excitement with that word again.

Baby; while he was gone, that was the nickname Maka had come up with. Not only was it a nickname she wanted while the gender was unknown, but that was a more comforting label for her as the title "it" made her strangely upset. Crona wasn't sure why at first, but after hearing her explanation of being frustrated over him being labeled that same nickname at school, he understood why she preferred "Baby" rather than "it".

Although his blush could be seen from miles away, a smile twitched on his lips as she hopped with excitement, gently holding her hands back. Crona turned to face Kim, bashfully thanking her for her gift.

Kim smirked. She jumped down from the stone steps and placed her fist on Crona's chin, pushing on it so his head moved to the side. "Well, I have to be a responsible sister, don't I?" Her confident green eyes glinted. "I mean, what kind of aunt would I be if I didn't help out my little niece or nephew? I can at least pitch in for the clothes, but you're on your own on the college fund."

Crona grew sweaty at her mentions, his eyes enlarging while the laughter grew around him. "B-But w-wait a minute." He stammered. "We m-may have the same hair color, but w-we don't even know if we're related and-"

"I know that, numbnuts. I'm just messing with you, like I always do." Kim shook her head while smirking, and shoved her hand into his shoulder. "Sheesh, you're more out of it than usual. I think your new job has made you even more antsy than normal."

"You'd be antsy too if a mower fell on top of you." Maka defended, shooting a dark look at Soul and a currently occupied Black Star.

Soul whistled non-chalantly, keeping his eyes away while Black Star ignored her. His attention was fixated on his Shot-Put match with the black-haired boy he had stood in line with.

Maka scowled at the ninja meister, taking her hands away from Crona's to cup her hands over her mouth, yelling, "Black Star! Will you hurry it up already?! The cafeteria is going to be full of people if we wait any longer!"

Black Star grunted while his bespectacled opponent hummed in agreement.

"You know, "The raven-haired meister stated, "Your group-mate does make a good point. It has gotten late and my partner is waiting for me. Perhaps it's better we end this for now."

Black Star pouted and pointed a sweaty finger at his opponent's nose, "You sure you want to join the puss out group with Soul and Kid? They couldn't hack the one-hundred throws, so are you saying you can't either? I'm disappointed in both of you! When a God is promised one-hundred throws by his loyal subordinates, he expects one-hundred throws!"

The meister's expression didn't flinch and the lone eye unblocked by his hair kept its calmness. "Black Star, I'm not saying that at all. I'm just saying it would be rude of me to have my partner and your group wait any-"

"So you are pussing out."

"I told you, that's not what I-"

"Akane, let's face it." Soul interjected, folding his arms across his chest. "That idiot isn't going to stop hounding you until he gets what he wants. And if he does win, he's going to hang this over your head for the rest of your life. Is that really what you want?" Soul flashed Black Star a red-eyed glare. "And I did not puss out. I happen to be human, and I have limits, unlike you two freaks. Plus, Kid was summoned to the Death Room, that doesn't count as pussing out."

The ninja meister grinned mockingly and the long sword meister kept his calm countenance. Akane sighed and picked up the large, weighted ball embedded in the ground. " So, what number did we leave off of?"

"Seventy-nine." Black Star smirked. "And remember, the person who throws it farther the most times has to be the other's servant for three weeks."

Akane's lip curved at that, and the two commenced their Shot Put contest again.

Crona was transfixed as the physically excelling students showed their strength, watching the weights as they soared far through the sky. He blinked from awe and flinched when he felt a soft pressure suddenly settle on his chest, a thread-like sensation tickling the underside of his chin. He looked down to find Maka resting her head against him, her hands that held the raccoon gear pressed against the middle of his torso. He made a blushing face of hesitation on her hugging him, not only because he felt he didn't deserve such a gift after his behavior earlier, but his coverall wasn't the cleanest of items to be embracing; his outfit could be sweaty and riddled with filth from his duties, so she really shouldn't risk potential dirtiness on a gift she liked so much...

But even if they sounded like good reasons to push way from her, they weren't good enough to stop him from holding her back.

He wiped his hands vigorously on his sides, and placed his hands on her waist, gently pulling her toward him. It made him smile to know he could tell she was smiling with him, even though her face was kept away. Their souls were so closely bonded that he could feel every minor shift in her emotion, and right now her soul shined with her body, beaming with happiness. His smile pulled wider as he felt that happiness seep into him, feeling Maka's nursing wavelength intertwine with his tense one and replace the polluting shadows of madness with blissful ease. The relaxed swordsman sighed and rested his cheek on Maka's head, uncaring if the others around them saw their meaningful embrace.

One of the hands Maka kept on his chest left him, and gently grabbed his own that laid on her waist. While one hand held the baby clothes against him, she used the other to maneuver it over her temporarily small stomach. He jolted from shock and his heart sped at her talking of other cute outfits they could get Baby at the stores Liz and Patty showed her, saying that they can have fun with it even if they knew very little from her over two months state. She nestled her head against his collarbone and held his hand tighter as she continued to speak.

Crona was glad to see she was so happy about it all, that she could smile as wide as she so often did. He just hoped she was too blind by that happiness to feel his tremoring hand and constricting wavelength. It was all still hard to understand and deal with when she did…that.

But he didn't want to worry her, so he stayed put and tried to hold back his shakes. He hoped she was too lost to look at him and stop her dreamy talking of their apparent shopping sprees, of their appointments with Stein, how she was excited when they could finally see-

"Patty!" Liz yelled, jolting the couple. "Don't even try to lift that ball! It's way too heavy for you to carry!"

Maka's head shot upwards, and Crona gingerly retrieved his hand from her, settling it in his pocket to casually hide it. He joined with her in curiosity and looked to see a fiercely determined Patty straining to lift the cannonball-like weight.

"You dare doubt my power?!" Patty yelled back, straining to lift the Shot Put ball. "This stupid thing will be a cinch to lift!"

"That's not what I'm saying! I'm just saying normal people like us have limits! You'll hurt yourself!"

"Don't let her feed you that crap, Patty!" Black Star shouted. "There's no such thing as limits!"

"Oh will you just, shut up Black Star! We all can't be muscled monsters like you!"

"Well if you keep being a negative nancy you won't. But I guess you're right, girls do look pretty gross when they have big muscles and stuff. Its probably best to leave the handsome masculine appearance to an all power divinity like me."

"God, will you just shut up already?!"Liz growled.

"That does it." Maka grumbled, tearing herself away from Crona. She withdrew her book from its hiding spot and hucked it at Black Star, clocking him in the forehead and making him fall to the ground. He howled as the large Shot put ball that dropped from his grasp fell on his chest, traveling down his stomach to painfully roll over his groin. Black Star sang his pain louder, and Soul fell to the ground while holding his shaking stomach.

"You've been having us wait long enough!" Maka reprimanded. "Now because of you the line is probably out the door by now!"

Black Star gurgled something inaudible, holding his family jewels tightly, and his opponent chuckled as he took the chance to leave. Akane waved goodbye to a needlessly apologizing Tsubaki, bowing to her friends for her partner's actions and lifted up her groaning meister. The crowd brushed it off, only caring that they could finally go eat and Maka put her arm around Crona's as they began to walk.

As they ventured to the cafeteria, Crona felt his mind wander, thinking back to that gold band his mentor and Professor Stein wore, the supposed sealing of a couple's devotion to one another. Professor Stein didn't have the engravings Mr. Hiroshi did, but like his mentor, he didn't wear it when he knew his hands would get dirty, like during his dissections.

And Crona also started to wonder…

He looked down at the left hand on the arm Maka had around his own. He noticed her ring finger and imagined a jeweled band there, one that brandished the most valuable stone he could find, and would only be considered the second most precious in his personal gem book. He wondered if he could engrave something as meaningful as Mr. Hiroshi did, could capture all the adoration and love he felt for the woman in his grasp in an image or words.

And as Crona walked with his friends through the dimming evening night, he felt his brain whirr and sputter ideas, capturing them to store away for the ultimate test of love in a couple's relationship.


Don't worry about the appearance of an OC here, as it is NOT centered around him. There was no janitor in the series, so I had to create my own for the sake of Crona learning more about his job.

And to those who have stuck with me and wait for these updates, I appreciate and thank you for your patience:) I hope to see you in the next update and that you enjoyed this chapter!