A/N: This is the last chapter in the Attack on Death City story arc. I looked through my notes, and I think I have three major story arcs left (ones that are numbered with 'parts' instead of just chapter titles) until we get to the end of the fic. Hope you guys enjoy it, it's all downhill from here!
Review Responses:
pokelover01, thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it! I also really appreciate the reviews! Glad you liked the fight scenes, and of course Kid will have a heart attack. He's Kid~
Diana Raven, haha, glad you liked it! Here's more—this should wrap up the arc and move us nicely into the next one.
Em-Wing, thanks! Glad you enjoyed it!
Latisha McPeanuts, thanks so much! Glad you thought it was worth taking four days to read! Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks for leaving a review!
Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Attack Pt. 4; In the Face of Fear
Rei's eyes met Morgan's, and time seemed to slow to a crawl.
He stared at Morgan, his mouth dry, his heart beating quickly in his chest, and saw something that he felt reflected in her eyes, saw something familiar in the way that she stared at him. Fear. He had only seen Morgan afraid once before, only once, when he had confronted her about what he felt inside her soul. He couldn't even imagine what it could be, this thing that Morgan feared, this person that she called her uncle.
Her mouth worked, opening and closing, but she didn't speak, didn't say anything. Just clutched Cassie's grimoire form close to her side, staring at him like he was a ghost. Silent as a shadow, the man she had been talking to appeared behind her, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at Rei.
He was a tall man, tall and slender, and he towered over both Rei and Morgan, dressed in black. His dark hair fell down past his shoulders, his eyes were a deep, deep red, a color that reminded Rei of dark wine. He brushed past Morgan as she stood frozen in place, staring down at him.
"A friend of yours?" he asked after a moment, looking down at the girl.
Morgan didn't answer him. Instead, she tightened her hold on the doorknob, lowering her eyes to the floor. Her fingers, clutching the brass handle of the doorknob, were shaking. "You shouldn't have come…" Rei heard her mutter under her breath. "You idiot…you shouldn't have come."
Rei blinked, finding his voice. "M-Morgan," he said, looking at her. "What—?"
"How did you find us, boy?" Mordred asked, turning his attention back towards Rei. "Speak."
The words died in Rei's throat. Inside her soul space, Ayame scowled, leaning forward angrily. "Who the hell do you think you are?!" she said. "You don't get to talk to us like that!"
The man watched Rei as if he hadn't heard her, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "I see," he said. "The Evans boy. I should have known. Run home, child. This has nothing to do with you."
"Are you going to just stand there and let him talk like this?" Ayame asked, whipping around to face him. Ahead of him, Morgan watched him, fear in her eyes. Rei tightened his grip on her hilt to keep his hand from shaking, gathering moisture into his mouth. He forced himself, against every instinct, to sink down into a crouch, to get into a fighting stance.
"I'm not leaving Morgan," he said.
"Rei—," Morgan began.
"Oh?" the man asked, interrupting her. His eyes moved over Rei, taking in his stance, and Rei had the sudden, sinking feeling that the man knew just how scared Rei was, knew how hard he was trying to hide it. "You see yourself as a knight in shining armor, boy? Here to rescue the fair maiden?" He snorted. "Don't make me laugh. My niece's attachment to you is the only reason why you aren't already smeared across this pitiful excuse for an establishment. Leave."
"Rei!" Ayame barked.
Rei grit his teeth, steeling his courage, and sank down further, holding the ninjato out in front of him. If he moved quickly, if he ducked and darted to the right, he might be able to get around Morgan, might get in close enough to the man to—to do something. He didn't know what yet, but he could do something.
The man simply watched him, unimpressed. "So you would fight?" he asked, half-turning away from Rei. "I see. Soul Perception, was it?"
It was like having a veil drawn away from his eyes. One moment, the man's Soul Response was muted, the next it was shining through, barely a sliver but enough to stop Rei in his tracks. He caught a glimpse of an immense soul, burning with power in the center of this man's chest, power and knowledge and the weight of a thousand years of experience. His blood ran cold, the color draining from his face. He stared at the man, stared at that power, and found that he couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but stand there and stare, his grip slackening on Ayame's ninjato form. Her eyes widened, and she spun around to face him.
"Rei!" she said. "Come on, Rei! Let's go! What are you waiting for?"
Rei didn't respond, staring at the man behind Morgan. Fear seized his heart, trapping him in place. His breath caught in his throat. The man eyed him for a moment, meeting his eyes, then nodded, turning away.
"I thought so," he said, the glimpse of that soul vanishing as he drew it back within himself, shadows falling into place over it again. He looked back over his shoulder at Morgan. "Consider what I've said. I cannot hide you forever. One way or another, Morgan, I will return."
He walked past Rei, barely giving him another glance as he swept out into the street outside. The door closed behind him, the click unearthly loud in the small, confined space. Rei stared at the wall just past Morgan, hearing his heart beat loudly in his ears, hearing his breath quickening. He couldn't look at Morgan, couldn't face Ayame.
He lost his grip on Ayame's hilt, the short blade falling to the ground.
Micah wasn't willing to go down without a fight.
As Stein advanced, following one of the strands of possibility that Shelley had laid out for him, he leaped to his feet, letting out a hiss of anger. He pulled a card from his pocket, throwing it face-up on the ground as he dashed forward, holding his sword loosely in his hand. The gemstone hanging around his neck began to glow as light covered the face of the card—Strength.
Micah's movements were faster and sharper as he slashed sharply at Stein's stomach. Stein saw the movement an instant before it actually happened, a shadowy figure that resembled Micah breaking away from him to strike a half-second before Micah actually did. Stein leaped back, avoiding the blow, and the shadow split apart into about six different shadows, each one representing a possible attack. When Micah moved, selecting a possibility, the shadows coalesced, dwindling down to two or three.
It was too much information for any one person to take in, without the added support of Shelley's mental enhancement abilities. As it was, Shelley found herself working hard to keep up, her mind racing as she sorted through all of the possibilities, discarding ones that weren't likely and limiting the information only to what Micah was most likely to do.
It was an easier task than it should have been, due in part to how well Shelley knew him.
Micah moved the sword with a flick of his wrist, slashing at Stein's throat. At Shelley's direction, Stein stepped out of the way, then reversed his grip on the scalpel, moving his hand backwards through the air and aiming the point of the blade at Micah's neck. Micah caught Stein's wrist just in time, the enhanced strength lent to him by the Strength card keeping the scalpel at bay. He glanced at it out of the corner of his eye, red eyes wide and regretful, and Shelley grit her teeth, his eyes filling up the whole of her vision.
"Is that your actual weapon form?"
Shelley quickly transformed back into her human form, her face flushing at the question. Angela blinked at her, confused, but Shelley ignored her, turning towards the boy who had asked. He was a boy about her age, one she thought she recognized from her class. He blinked at her with wide red eyes, as if he wasn't sure whether he should have asked the question. Behind him, a slender girl with red hair watched, considering the exchange.
The boy was still waiting for a response.
"Um—y-yes," Shelley said, not sure what to say. She drew herself up to her full height, hoping that her face wasn't as red as she felt. "I don't use it often though—um—it's not very…"
The boy's face split into a wide grin before she could finish, a grin that lit up his eyes. "That's really cool!" he said. "You should use it more!"
"I—um—."
"I'm Micah," the boy said, holding out a hand. "What's your name?"
"I'm Shelley…" she said, hesitantly taking the boy's hand. "Shelley Stein…"
Her hands clenched into fists at her side as her father ducked, lashing out at him with his foot. Stein's foot caught him just above the knee, driving him back and breaking the spell. The two of them sprang apart from each other, but the damage had been done.
In this form, she didn't really inhabit a physical body, but she thought she could feel her nails digging into her palm anyway.
In Stein's vision, the shadows and gold lines faltered, disappearing for a moment. He looked down at the scalpel in his hand, frowning. "Shelley?" he asked.
Shelley shook her head, placing a hand to her temple. "I'm fine," she said, sweeping her free hand through the air. The images appeared again, sharper this time as Micah charged again, letting loose with a flurry of thrusts and slashes. Shelley grit her teeth, realizing that she couldn't keep up with the movements. He was moving too fast, leaving too many possibilities. Micah would have figured out what she was doing and come up with a plan to counter it.
After all, he knew her about as well as she knew him.
Thankfully, her father was a gifted fighter even without her assistance. He stepped out of the way of each blow, the sword moving harmlessly past as he danced out of the way. Shelley eyed Micah's stance and form, looking for an opening. There! With a wave of her hand, a gold line appeared, slipping beneath Micah's strikes, inside his guard and straight through his ribs.
Stein took the opportunity immediately, ducking beneath the blow. He spun the scalpel around to orient the blade in the right direction, aiming for Micah's chest. Micah held up the Hierophant card before Stein's strike could connect, a domed shield rising up in front of him and pushing Stein back. Stein didn't stumble, jumping back and landing lightly on his feet a little ways away. His free hand crackled with energy as he moved through the cracked tunnel, kicking off of the rubble beneath him as he moved to flank Micah.
Micah had been expecting that. He looked over his shoulder as Stein came at him from behind, a card in his hand. The Hanged Man. Shadows coalesced behind Stein, forming a creature that looked like a bound man hanging upside down, blades extending from it as it arched towards them. Stein glanced at it out of the corner of his eye.
"Shelley."
Shelley nodded, reaching for the wind.
"I was kind of wondering…" Micah said, looking up at her from the pile of books and papers that had been spread out across the library table between them. "When you use the wind in your weapon form, are you actually using the wind, or are you just creating force?"
Shelley frowned, looking up over the essay she was working on. "I haven't thought about it before," she said. "Why do you ask?"
"It's just interesting, isn't it?" asked Micah, tilting his chair back and propping his feet up on the table. He stared up at the ceiling. "All of these things that Demon Weapons can do…it's really fascinating to me. I kind of want to know how they work. You know what I mean?"
"No," said Shelley, looking back down at her work. "Not really."
Micah's eyes widened at her response, and he nearly toppled over backwards in surprise. "Not really?!" he asked. "But your dad's a scientist, Shell! And you're brilliant! You must have helped with dozens of experiments!"
Shelley pursed her lips together tightly, looking back down at her work. She could feel her face starting to heat up again. "I just help," she said. "I can do math really well, and I'm good with organizing things…I do stuff like that. But I don't actually…" She trailed off, scribbling down an answer with a little more force than was required.
"…think about stuff?" Micah finished for her, sitting back up.
"I guess…"
Micah watched her for a moment, his gaze seeming to linger, and she flushed brighter, trying to concentrate on her homework. After a while, she felt his gaze drift away from her, heard the sound of rustling paper as he went back to his work. She gripped her pen tighter, trying to write, but the words wouldn't come. The silence stretched on between them, and finally Shelley let out a sigh, setting her pen down.
"I think it's the wind," she said. "But then again, it's always the air directly around my weapon form, so it might actually be me, and maybe I don't know it…"
The wind swirled around the scalpel as Stein thrust it at the Hanged Man, then pushed outward into a thousand tiny scalpel blades. The blades tore the Hanged Man apart, shadows scattering as the wind tore through it. Shelley clenched her fists tighter and blinked tears out of her eyes, trying not to cry.
In the physical world, Micah had launched himself at Stein while he was distracted with the Hanged Man, grabbing at him with one hand as he aimed the sword at Stein's chest. Stein reached out with his free hand, the hand still crackling with energy, and reached for him. Micah darted back, away from the blow, and Stein let out a pulse of his own wavelength, forming a small blast that knocked Micah back further. He landed crouched on the ground in the gloom of the tunnel, and Stein slammed his hand down onto the ground between him and Micah.
Thin strands of wavelength sprang up between him and Micah like thread, rooting him into and stitching him to the ground. Micah's eyes widened in fear and he struggled, trying to break free, but the stitches held fast. Stein turned to face him, his head tilted oddly to the side, and spun the scalpel in his hand, preparing for the final strike.
A hundred different possibilities distilled themselves down into one, a gold line snaking from the scalpel to Micah's throat.
Micah's eyes widened, staring at Stein in fear as he leaped forward, the blade held out. Shelley clenched her fists tighter as Micah's face filled her vision, as his eyes, wide and fearful, met hers, seeming to bore into her own soul. She could do this, she told herself, tears trickling down her cheeks as she stared into those eyes. Remember Luna. Remember Luna.
"If you want to go to that stupid dance so badly, then go!" Shelley yelled, whirling onto him with narrowed eyes and a face flush with anger. Micah advanced towards her, frowning down at her as if seeing her for the first time.
"Go with Luna" she shouted. "Why do you even care about me?! Just go with Luna!" She lashed out at him in anger as he approached, her hand clenched into a fist. Micah caught her wrist, looking down at her. She looked back up at him, tears in her eyes, her silver hair escaping the braid she had put it in. Her hand beneath his hold was trembling.
Her eyes met his, and she couldn't remember why she had been crying.
"Maybe I don't want to go with Luna," he said, enfolding her into an embrace. "Did you even think of that? Maybe what I wanted was to go with you…"
There was a tear in his eye. Just one, a single tear, gathering at the edge of his right eye. It hadn't fallen yet, just stayed there as he stared her father down, as he stared at her, coming closer. One second until impact…half a second…a quarter of a second. The lines converged as Stein bore down on Micah Cole, the scalpel pointed at his neck—
—then diverged again. Shelley squeezed her eyes shut, pulling away.
The scalpel jerked in Stein's grasp, missing his throat by a mile and cutting a thin line across the side of his cheek instead. Stein blinked in surprise, looking down at the blade in his hand.
Shelley shuddered, crouching down into a ball. She wrapped her arms tight around herself, her soul space beginning to fluctuate around her. There was a flash of light as Micah dug the Chariot card out of his pocket, and then he was gone.
The light swallowed him up, filling his vision. Black Star soared through it, the Severed Shadow gripped tightly in his hand as he rose, moving up and up through the light until he finally burst out…
…into nothing.
Black Star blinked as the light finally faded, leaving him and Tsubaki floating on the inside of what looked like a giant sphere. There was no Morrigan in here, no opponent waiting for a fight. There was, almost literally, nothing, nothing except for an orb that hung in the center of the space, crackling with power.
Black Star flew over to it, frowning down at it in suspicion. The orb hummed, occasionally letting out crackling waves of light. He placed his hand over one as it emanated from the wave, feeling it tingle through his fingertips as it passed through him. It was the same kind of feeling that he sometimes felt before finding a strong opponent, a sense of danger that he had become accustomed to over the years. He had no doubt that this was the same thing that Maka had sensed, when she pointed him in this direction.
He stared at the orb a moment longer, his frown deepening as it continued to crackle and pulse. Then, he let out a disappointed sigh.
"Boring…" he muttered under his breath, raising Severed Shadow and slicing through the orb.
"Mifune!"
Maka swooped down next to Mifune, skidding to a stop as she pulled up on Soul's handle. Next to her, the swordsman was facing the school, a clipboard in one hand. Rolls and rolls of yellow caution tape formed a perimeter around the school building, the DWMA's security forces already beginning to assemble search parties to go into the building and look for any students that might be missing. The oppressive wavelength that had been hanging in the sky was gone now, and the attack on the city had stopped. Maka paused to look up at that fading point of light, shielding her eyes from the sun.
She supposed it was too much to hope that Black Star had managed to defeat the Morrigan for good.
Mifune glanced at her as she leaped off of Soul, her partner beginning to transform back into his human form. Soul stepped away from her without a word, sinking back into his Death Scythe role with some apparent discomfort as he barked at someone to give him an update on the situation, one hand scratching at the back of his head.
"Is your class accounted for?" Mifune asked her.
"They were all out of the building when the blast went off," said Maka, but even as she spoke, she sank back into her Soul Perception, letting her eyes drift closed as she searched the city for her students. She found them, counting off each, single solitary soul, and let out a breath of relief. "They're alright," she told Mifune. "Many of them are heading this way now."
Mifune nodded, half-distractedly, his eyes moving back to the list. Somewhere off to his left, one of his deputies was shouting orders, putting together a volunteer group of students to do a search of the dispensary. The swordsman's eyes drifted towards them for a moment before moving back to her.
"Stay close," he said. "We might need your Soul Perception."
Maka nodded, walking towards the building. It had tilted in the blast, one of its spikes falling off, but still thankfully looked whole, and not in any danger of collapsing anytime soon. In the distance, she could hear Kid's plaintive whines as he crouched in front of the school, his arms stretched out towards it. Liz and Patty hovered over his shoulder, attempting to calm him down as students walked around him, pretending not to see. Behind her, Stein and some of the medics had put up a temporary medical tent, and Maka heard the occasional groan of pain coming from that direction.
People were hurt, she thought, but there weren't too many serious injuries. And from what she could see in her flight over the city, while many buildings had been damaged, very few had actually been destroyed. Even the school had gotten out relatively unscathed—relatively. The building was tilted and asymmetrical, but it wasn't like it couldn't be repaired. The Morrigan hadn't even shown up.
All things considered, it could have been so much worse. They had gotten off easy.
So what was the point? Why bother attacking them at all?
She fixed her eyes on the building, a frown on her face. So many things didn't add up. The strange souls of the monsters that attacked them, this whole pointless endeavor. She was beginning to feel a creeping dread that she hadn't felt in years—not since Arachne, not since Medusa—the feeling that someone else was one step ahead of them the entire time.
Her frown deepening, Maka looked back over her shoulder at the medical tent. Stein had backed away from the cots and mattresses that the injured had been laid out in, taking a drink of water. Without any hesitation, Maka made her way over to him.
"Professor Stein."
Stein looked up at her, frowning at her over his bottle of water. His eyes were far off, almost unfocused, as if he wasn't fully there. From Stein, it wasn't a strange expression, but she looked past him anyway, to a darkened corner of the medical tent where Shelley sat hugging her knees, Marie seated on the ground next to her and looking worried. She looked back at Stein.
"Is Shelley alright?" she asked, her brow furrowing in concern.
Stein gave an odd sort of grunt in response, tipping the bottle back and draining it. He turned towards her as if seeing her for the first time. "Something you need?"
"You were in the dungeons, weren't you?"
Stein nodded again, glancing back over his shoulder at Shelley. His eyes focused briefly, for just long enough to land on her, before he looked away, raising a hand to his head to crank at his bolt. Some of the fog lifted as he turned towards Maka. "What about it?" he asked.
"Did you notice anything odd?" Maka asked. "Did you figure out what they were looking for?"
Stein frowned, shaking his head. From the look on his face, he had clearly been wondering the same thing, although his thoughts might not have been following…quite so ordered lines. "There's nothing of interest in the dungeons," he said. "We don't keep anything down there anymore."
"That's what I thought," said Maka, looking back at the school. Could the Morrigan have made a mistake? It didn't seem likely, but it was possible that they were overestimating her. She looked back at Stein, still uneasy, and thought back to the other thing that was still weighing on her mind, the issue of the strange souls. "One more thing…" she said. "Did you notice something strange about the souls of the monsters we were fighting?"
Stein nodded, raising one hand to his bolt before letting it fall back to his side. His expression became far off, contemplative as he considered the problem. "They appeared deformed somehow," he told Maka. "As if they were modified."
Maka nodded. "They seemed that way to me too," she said. "Also…one of the monsters apparently had two souls."
Stein gave her a meaningful look at that, and Maka lowered her eyes to the ground, thinking. "I know we've seen that before," she said. "Once before. But…"
"…If I were doing research on this sort of thing," Stein said. "I wouldn't start from nothing. I'd work with what had already been established, what other people have figured out."
"Do you know something, professor?" Maka asked.
"Just a thought," said Stein. He took another sip of his water, then put a cap on the bottle, setting it aside. "I think your students are here."
Maka nodded, not needing to glance over her shoulder. She could feel them coming up the stairs with her Soul Perception—an entire group of them, carrying one of the injured between them. Yorick, she thought, reading the subtle fluctuations of their souls.
"Excuse me," she told Stein, turning towards them.
Stein nodded, going back to his work as she walked away.
Somewhere in the distance, the Morrigan felt it as the small vessel she had used to carry her power was destroyed, saw it reflected in the mirror she had placed in front of her, saw the disappointed, almost disgusted look in the warrior god's eye as he sliced through the orb. A smile tugged at her lips as she sank back into the cushions of the throne she was sitting on, her eyes on the mirror.
So the ruse had been discovered. Oh well. There were, she thought, quite a few more surprises left in store.
"You wanted to see me, Mother?"
The Morrigan looked up, her eyes landing on the sorcerer that had walked into the room, stopping a respectful distance from her throne. Mordred always moved so silently—but she still wasn't surprised whenever he came to see her. She doubted that anything Mordred did could surprise her anymore.
"You were successful, I see," said the Morrigan, gesturing at the mirror. "Despite certain…complications…"
"Yes," said Mordred. "It was exactly as you said. The Shinigami saw through the ruse. One of them, at any rate."
"Yes," said the Morrigan, frowning in thought. "One of them." She glanced at Mordred out of the corner of her eye. "I must say, however, that I'm disappointed with this boy. Grayson, did you say his name was?"
Mordred nodded, bowing his head. "He shall be punished," he promised.
"See to it," said the Morrigan, smiling. She leaned back into her seat, facing the mirror. "And Elaine? Has our dear Assassin's condition improved?"
"It appears as though she might wake soon," Mordred said. "Micah is with her now."
"Ah…Micah." The Morrigan's smile widened, the tips of her nails brushing against the side of her cheek. "That one amuses me. I trust he isn't injured too badly."
"No, Mother," said Mordred, keeping his head bowed.
"Good…" said the Morrigan, half-distracted. "Send him in to see me when he finishes with Elaine, Mordred. I have some things to discuss with him about his…ties to the DWMA."
"Of course, Mother."
"And…," she added, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, "…begin making the preparations for our next move. It's time for our plans to move into their final stage."
Mordred bowed deeply. "As you wish," he said.
The Morrigan dismissed him with a wave, looking back at her mirror. The DWMA was being careful about mentioning her by name—she seemed to have lost her connection to the happenings in that place. But that didn't mean she didn't have hours and hours of footage to look back through, captured and recorded for her by all of those poor, modified souls she had sent out. She waved her hand vaguely in the air, searching through the wealth of information her servants had collected and finding the ones that she was particularly interested in, the ones involving a classroom, and two silver-haired scythe children.
The mirror froze on an image, one that the Morrigan considered for a long moment, her elbow propped up on the arm of her throne. A small girl, not even nine years old, looking up at the monster and screaming in fear.
And the black blood that surrounded her, poised to strike.
The Morrigan smirked, letting her hand fall back to her side. She drummed against the arm of her throne with slender, graceful fingers, her eyes on the image.
Final phase indeed…
Rei dreamed that he was falling.
He fell, further and further into darkness, his eyes wide and his mouth open in a scream that only he could hear as the darkness swallowed him up, consuming him. He stretched out his hand towards the point of light above him, that one, fleeting, dwindling point of light, but nothing he could possibly do would stop the fall. The darkness swallowed him up, consuming him, drowning him, until he landed on top of something soft and viscous, on top of something almost like water.
Coward…
Shadows reached up from the water, hands grasping at him, heads turning to face him. Sightless eyes stared at him wherever he looked, their voices accusing as they grabbed at him. Rei screamed and tried to jerk back, away from their grasp as he kicked at them, trying to shake them off of him. For each hand that he shook off, two more took its place, grasping him, grabbing at him, pulling him down, down into the depths.
Coward, they chorused, voices high and terrible. Coward…
"I'm not—!" Rei said, his eyes wide as he struggled to escape them. His legs were sinking into the liquid, his arms flailing as they tried to stop them from dragging him down. "Damn you!" he cried, as they dragged him in up to his neck, reaching for his head. "I'm not—I'm not—!"
Blackness filled his lungs as he gasped for breath, then his vision. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He was drowning—
He opened his eyes to the feeling of sunlight on his face, a breeze moving through the air. He was lying on the slope of a hill, in a green, grassy field. Green stretched as far as he could see in any direction, broken only by the hills that bordered him. There were no trees, no other plants, nothing but an endless blue sky and grasses that swayed in the breeze.
A shadow passed over the sun as he lay there, looking down at him. Rei tilted his head back in confusion, looking up, and found himself peering into a set of endless, gold eyes. A creature almost like a stag bent over him, made up of endless shifting patterns of black and white. It stared at him for a long moment, searching him, considering him…
Rei woke with a gasp, sitting up in bed.
It was dark, shadows hanging heavy in his bedroom. The moon was high in the sky, and he glanced up through his open window at it, jet black and grinning. A shiver coursed through him as he remembered the dream, his hands tightening their grip on his sheets. Anger followed not a moment after, anger at himself. His shoulders shook with it, and he bent over his sheets.
He stayed there for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, feeling the shudders run through him. Then, he threw the sheet off of himself and stood up, padding quietly past Ayame's sliding door—slightly ajar—and towards the bathroom. He flicked on the light, the harsh white light obliterating his night vision as he stood there, hands on either side of the sink, leaning forward so that he could look into the mirror. The water was running—he'd meant to wash his face—but he couldn't now. His eyes were fixed on the mirror, on himself, on the face that looked back at him.
Red eyes, messy blond hair, a pale face, one filled with fear. A coward's face. In that moment, he was standing in front of Mordred again, hearing Ayame scream at him, telling him to do something. He was standing in front of Grayson again, over a year ago, with Ayame screaming the same thing, with Grayson looking down at him.
Nothing had changed. A year of training, a year of growing stronger, and nothing had changed. He was still a coward.
His grip tightened on the sink and he lowered his head, gritting his teeth.
Rei raised his fist and slammed it into the bathroom wall.
The thud of Rei's fist slamming into the wall echoed throughout the second floor of their apartment, hard enough to make Ayame's wall rattle. She lay on her side, listening as a choked sob drifted through the air, coming from the bathroom. Her fingers gripped her plush starfish closer to herself, her knees drawing up close to her chest from where she lay on the side of her futon.
She waited until she could hear Rei shuffling back to his room, until she could hear the door to his bedroom closing behind him.
Then, miserable, she closed her eyes…
A/N: The last Steins vs. Micah scene is brought to you by Krieg, the OST from Soul Eater, and the Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles OST, particularly Strange Names, Ruthless and Break the Sword of Justice. Flashback scenes in that fight scene were written using (from the same soundtrack): you are my love, if you are my love, and ring your song. I also used Mass Destruction from the Persona 3 OST for the Clark vs. Grayson battle in the last chapter.
Omake
Ayame frowned at Rei in the aftermath of the attack, watching as he walked off somewhere, standing apart from them. She looked back over her shoulder at Cassie.
"Are you gonna explain any of that?" she asked.
"Um…ask Morgan," said Cassie, looking uncomfortable.
In response, Ayame glanced at Morgan. The grimoire meister met her stare head on, her expression like stone. Clearly, she wasn't going to be very forthcoming. Ayame looked back at Cassie, about to ask her for help.
"Hey!" a voice shouted before she could, making her look up. "There you guys are!"
Vayne appeared at the end of the street, making his way over to them. Clark walked beside him, looking up at them sheepishly. As the pair reached them, Vayne reached out a hand, clasping Clark proudly on the shoulder. "Look who's back," he told the others, grinning.
Clark didn't meet their eyes, looking embarrassed. Ayame blinked, looking him over. He definitely looked better than he had in a long while. He was standing taller, prouder, and looked unharmed, except for the purpling bruise on his jaw, as if someone had sucker punched him. As if...as if…
Ayame's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you!" she said, "Ugh, Clark, you can be such a pig!"
Clark blinked in confusion, looking up. "Uh—w-what—?"
In response, Ayame pointed accusingly at the bruise on his face. "That's what," she said. "You tried to hit on someone already?! What the hell?!"
"Huh?" Clark asked, raising one hand lightly towards the bruise on his cheek. His eyes widened. "N-No, wait, that's not—!"
"Ophelia's barely in the ground, you heartless monster—."
"—no, Ayame—it wasn't—I wasn't—a girl—."
"—couldn't even wait more than two weeks—."
"—it was Grayson!"
"You were hitting on Grayson?!" Ayame screeched. Cassie let out a loud gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. Clark's face turned bright red.
"That's not—ugh, you know what, just forget it…"
Vayne shrugged his shoulders as Ayame went on, giving Morgan a quick smile. She eyed him out of the corner of her eye before raising her head, returning it.
