Author's note: For those who've wanted to ask but haven't and in honor of the two that have: My update schedule for both my Soul Eater fics is every Friday, sometime between two and six Eastern Standard Time. I will warn you when I'm running out of inspiration. (You, my Beloved DeathStar readers, have already experienced this once before.)

Asking for updates, while kind of flattering, is not likely to actually net you them. Better way to get the updates you want: Give me ideas for them! ANYTHING is accepted: funny, serious, romantic. Crack- that right there's a dream sequence, maybe the character got drugged and hallucinated, maybe they have an epiphany about their life from it. Contribute to keeping the fic going! (I am highly disappointed more of you didn't answer my Author Questions at the end of last chapter.) Also be CERTAIN to tell me about how I do in action scenes: I have big plans for the end of this fic and I need to practice and know what I'm doing well and badly on.

If you're too embarassed (which you never should be) to reveiw where others can see, I'm open to PMs, I ALWAYS want to hear from my readers. Just title it something like 'Private Review to...'

Thank you for your time.

Extended note: We're finally at the long-awaited Tsubaki-funeral chapter! PLEASE tell me how I did on BlackStar's characterization in here and what you think of the speech; you have no idea how long I worked to make it both meaningful, and BlackStar-esque.

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Kid knocked on the door to BlackStar's room, clothed in his full shinigami attire, the mask off for the moment, "Star?" He'd been nervous when BlackStar had told him to take the completed tribute to their father and had then gotten ready from behind the bathroom door. It was foolish: BlackStar was the one that had to go out there and give the eulogy in front of everyone, and here Kid was the one with anxity threaded through his system and his heart threatening to jump from his chest.

The door opened and the shinigami lost the abilty for speech. For a moment, he lost the ability for coherent thought all together. BlackStar was wearing a sleeveless white top with four silver buckles on the front, his arms completely wrapped up, and a white scarf around his neck and the lower half of his face. Kid forced his mouth to work, hoping his brain would catch up, "Blue?" he asked, referring to BlackStar's pants.

"Pastel. She liked pastels."

The reason they were both standing there brought back to the forefront of his mind kick-started Kid's thought process again, only for it to derail when he looked up, "Star, what did you do to your hair?!"

BlackStar ran a hand through the shorter locks, "Cut it. I left the scissors on the sink if you want to get them later."

"...Do I need to get them later?"

BlackStar pushed past him, "Let's get going."

"It's raining outside. You should take an umbrella."

The blue haired weapon gave a scoff-like huff, "Bring on the rain."

Kid donned his mask as to perform the services just before they stepped out (and it was just as Kid said: rain quietly falling, and mist covering the grounds in a white fog; BlackStar looked like a lost soul as he emerged from it, the figure of Death next to him not helping diminish the effect). They had to separate outside, Kid going to stand beside Tsubaki's newly-hewn, glossy, pitch-black tomb stone and softly give the rites. Those in attendence, what must have been a thrid of the whole school, started to line up in morbid black rows, and BlackStar stood out like a sore thumb as he made his way through them all, horrified and disgusted words following him when it quickly became apparent that he was the only one with the 'disrespect' and the 'bad taste' to wear white to a funeral.

His face darkened, Morons. It didn't escape his notice that Maka was avoiding him, either, hiding behind Soul and using him as shield so that their green eyes never so much as made contact. BlackStar thought he should probably feel more than the hollow, throbbing nothing inside of him. The flowery words were going through his mind like he'd practiced; a memeorial to his best freind that was supposed to honor her, supposed to be able to resonate with everyone in this crowd just like how Tsubaki herself always had.

Except she hadn't. Tsubaki had always been hiding, had spoken to other meisters both before and after partnering with him, and had never once been able to resonate with any of them. Suddenly BlackStar was no longer sad, no longer numb: he was angry. All these fools were speaking about him, whispering about him, commenting on how he was disrespecting Tsubaki's memory by wearing what he was.

They didn't know that tsubaki hated the color black, that all soft pastels were her favorite, they didn't know that a huge memorial with weeping and crying was the last thing Tsubaki would ever want. Tsubaki would want something calm and quiet and intimate, just between her best friends, something where they laughed instead of cried; where they remembered all the good times and all the happy memeories that she'd helped make and been part of. They didn't know. They didn't know Tsubaki. His hands fisted. Bastards.

And as BlackStar reached the podium and stood before the crowd, seething, he glared out over them and dared them to mutter some more, to so much as think about him when they were all supposed to be here for Tsubaki. His flowery speech died a swift and violent death.

"I was supposed to stand up here and give you some stupid speech about how we're not alone here, and Tsubaki meant as much to each of us here. But that's not really true, and I'm not going to lie to you just to sooth your guilty conscious, because not a single fucking one of you really knew Tsubaki." he ignored their mutters, taking heart from the hidden smirk he just knew Kid was giving him, "If you didn't know Tsubaki's favorite drink on a cold day was coffee with chocolate syrup and marshmellows, then you didn't know Tsubaki. If you didn't know that she wanted to be a healer even though she got queazy at the sight of any blood but her own, then you didn't know Tsubaki. If you didn't know that she could handle spiders and beatles and bugs, but got creeped out and screamed at the sight of a walking stick, then you didn't know Tsubaki.

"So you see, not one of you knew who Tsubaki really was, and you're all idiots because of that, because there has never been a person more worth knowing. There's never been a kinder girl who would help you out without being asked even if you'd bullied her, that would sit by and tutor you for hours even if it meant her own work going undone, that would give you her own luch when you forgot yours even if it meant she'd go hungry.

"Tsubaki wasn't a big star: she was a cornerstone to every life she touched. She didn't have sparkle and flash, and she couldn't stand out in a crowd of two to save her soul; but then, she didn't have to. She was always there when you needed her, when you didn't even know that you did, and she had the ability to soothe away even the worst fears with gentle hands and a soft voice. Our lives will go on, no less brightly or colorful without her in them; but there will always be something missing; and if you don't know that, on some deep level beyond standing here in the stupid rain for a girl you can't quite remember, then you didn't know Tsubaki... and I pity you for that."

There was more muttering that he ignored as he left, the crowd parting for him as though afraid to touch him. That was fine: he was completely through with all of them anyway, making his way towards the stand of trees and the other waiting group, dressed in black suits that they looked unnatural in. BlackStar took a deep breath as a single figure stood out to him.

Sanjuro Nakatsukasa. If facing the students was something BlackStar would have avoided if he could, this meeting was exponentially more so. He wanted to run away and hide. Courage, Star.

Swallowing his pride, he bowed to the turned back of the Japanese man, "Sanjuro-sama."

The face that turned to him was weathered in sorrow, but there was an inherent strength and compassion that made BlackStar's stomach clench. That was always a look he'd asociated with her... now he knew where she'd gotten it from. Sanjuro took in his submissive posture, his hunched shoulders and clenched fists, and then in an utterly Tsubaki display, he smiled, "You must be my daughter's much-talked-about partner: BlackStar."

He glanced up at the man, "I- Yeah." he straightened up and looked away, "Sanjuro-sama-"

"None of that, BlackStar-kun. You were my daughter's precious partner and first true friend. Please, just Sanjuro is fine."

"No, it's not. I..." dammit, this was harder than he'd even thought it was going to be; and he hadn't thought it'd be a walk in the park to begin with! He couldn't even force the words out of his throat.

Sanjuro's expression softened, "Tsubaki told me so much about you."

"Sh-she did?"

"Hai, we exchanged letters often. There wasn't a one where your name failed to come up. You were a constant source of courage and confidance for her, and I thank you for that."

"It-it was nothing. Ts-she was..." Kind, gentle, patient. Say it! It's just a name; say it! "Tsubaki was my best friend, she was more than that to me; she was my partner."

Sanjuro smiled sadly, "She told me about how you were always trying to get stronger; constantly looking for ways to push yourself further. She said it was why she had to get stronger, too. I have to ask, why would one as young as you seek so much power?"

BlackStar flinched as if he'd been struck. The man might as well have just by-passed these word games BlackStar despised and asked what he was really thinking: What was the ambition my daughter died for? He wanted to be angry, to be furious at the implied accusation in the question; except he couldn't, because it wasn't an accusatory tone, and it was Tsubaki's kind eyes looking back at him.

"You know, she asked me that same thing, once, before pledging her metal to mine."

"BlackStar?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering... Well, I know you want to surpass God, but... why?"

"Did she?"

"And I'll tell you the same thing I told her."

"There's someone I want- no, someone I need to protect, and surpassing god is the only way I'll ever be strong enough to keep them safe. So no matter what I have to do to get stronger, I will: I'll do anything to protect that person."

"I see... Yes, that is something Tsubaki would have approved of."

Now, tell him. "Sanjuro, I failed to protect Tsubaki. It's my fault she died."

The man was visibly surprised, "BlackStar-kun... I know you and my daughter were close, but is not your fault she died. The blame for that, I'm afraid, falls solely on my failings as a father to Masamune which allowed him to stray from the true path. You were there for her, and you did as she would have wished. You have single-handedly salvaged the honor of two Nakatsukasa heirs, and I thank you for it. Whatever failures you feel yourself accountable for concerning my children, know that I forgive them."

BlackStar was both touched and incredulous at the blanket forgiveness he recieved from the Nakatsukasa patriarch. He didn't believe he deserved it, but the man in front of him had just lost both of his children and he wasn't about to argue with him at their funeral. He bowed deeply, receiving a shallower one in return, and walked away.

Maka watched as the Blue-haired boy approached, her throat tight enough it threatened to choke her. This wasn't the BlackStar she knew: the annoyingly enthusiastic boy who looked to surpass god, and let everyone in the vicinity know it. This taller, subdued young man was a stranger to her. He didn't look like a Kishin, he didn't look evil: he looked broken.

She felt another round of tears mist her eyes and shook her head, hands tightening on her umbrella as she fought them back while he got closer. When he was less than a foot away, she opened her mouth to try and force the words out.

Without ever looking at her, barely even pausing in his step, BlackStar stopped her, "Don't. She wouldn't want you to lie."

Maka fell to her knees on the wet ground and didn't try to hold back the tears anymore, feeling a tearing in her heart and wondering if she just lost not one, but two friends. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly and rocked back and forth, not even stiffling her sobs. I'm sorry, BlackStar. Tsubaki would never blame you. I'm sorry!

Another pair of arms surrounded her and Maka turned her face into the warmth she knew better than any other, crying in Soul's arms, for both of her lost friends.

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