A/N: Buh-duh-duh-duh! Another chapter! Weird to think this has been going on since 2015, like whaaa? Anyway, hope you enjoy!


Chapter 34: Domestic

As he usually did on every other Thursday night, the assassin Black Star crept through the backyard of Gallows Manor, grinning smugly like the partially unhinged moron he was.

It wasn't his fault. When he had the urge to break into the home of the DWMA's cheery founder and his less-than-cheery son, the assassin had to act. If he didn't honor his spontaneous decisions, then what right did he have to call himself 'The Big Man' or 'World's Greatest' whatever. Without daring break-in's, the little reaper boy's peaceful rest be damned, Black Star would just be a man.

No. He would be less than a man.

Black Star grimaced, gingerly stepping over a tumbleweed that had rolled in from the desert.

He would be a mortal. A sleeping mortal. A sleeping mortal man lost to the abysmal darkness of REM sleep on a Thursday night. How frighteningly mundane.

The assassin suppressed a disgusted shudder, making his way to the side of the manor and staring up towards the single lit window. It wasn't Kid's room, but rather one he recognized leading into the library. Usually the assassin frightened the young reaper in his own room, and to be honest, Black Star preferred it that way. Kid's room had a tree next to it, providing easy access for the blue haired meister to get in and out quickly and efficiently. More than once he'd needed to make a hasty retreat when the older of the two Thompson sister's happened to be chatting with her meister and saw Black Star nosing around the window. She'd only managed to strike him twice; once with a hefty hardcover Kid had been reading, and the other with a stiletto heel she'd launched as a jagged projectile.

Black Star rubbed the back of his head, suddenly remembering the dreaded footwear. For just a moment, he considered going home, then quickly came to his senses and threw himself towards the windowsill above. It was no matter, he could still escape the library fast enough if need be. He'd only been in the large room a few times, but knew the layout well enough.

Slowly, the meister pulled himself partway onto the window ledge, pressing his face to the cold panel and breathing heavily against the glass. He impatiently cleared the mist that formed, glaring into the room beyond.

The array of candles adorning the walls enveloped the library in a warm glow, and although it took a moment for Black Star's eyes to adjust, he quickly spotted his target a few feet from the window, seated in one of the large, plush couches making up part of the symmetrical interior.

Grinning, the assassin tensed, preparing to hurl himself through the window and perform the service of letting everyone know just how much of a great being he was. Seriously, even the sun itself was unworthy of having its light grace the boy's presence. However, before Black Star could spring into action, he faltered, taking in the sight before him.

Kid was leaning back against the arm of the couch, one leg thrown across the cushions while the other dangled lazily over the side. In one hand, he held the bottom of a thick tome, completely immersed in its contents. His other arm rested in his lap, or rather, against the feathered creature that had curled up to him like a damn dog.

Black Star curled a lip in disgust, suddenly remembering the winged monstrosity and the trauma it had caused him. Originally a gift for his friend, the little beast had gone out of its way to make the assassin's life a living hell, playing the role of guard dog to Gallows Manor. Granted, it wouldn't have reason to act so vehemently if the assassin didn't intrude in the first place, but that was beside the point.

The guard goose, on the other hand, appeared quite pleased with itself at the moment, long neck draped over Kid's leg while the shinigami absentmindedly scratched its head. A cup of tea lay on the coffee table beside them, steam curling around the rim, porcelain glowing in the pale candlelight.

From the window, Black Star considered the grim reaper with his books and tea and demon goose. It was an odd sight, one of tranquility not usually recognized in their lives. There was always some studying to be done or missions to plan. Death City was not a place of peace and quiet, not usually, and finding little occurrences such as this were rare.

So, hanging on the window ledge, poised to attack, the assassin arrived at the realization that, strange as this scene was, it granted a sense of serenity. He couldn't think of a time he'd seen the reaper in this particular atmosphere, living a life so domestic. It was like a cheesy little snapshot from a magazine, minus the infernal hellion laying in his friend's lap, of course.

Black Star snorted softly, and, careful not to alert the two souls within, gently lowered himself down from the window and into the sandy grass below. Upon landing, he remained frozen, waiting to hear the window open and Kid's exasperated voice while holding back Montresor who would no doubt sic himself on the assassin, regardless of his master's wishes. However, there came no tired questions or abusive goose honking, only a soft wind against Black Star's face.

Slowly, the blue-haired meister stood, looking up at the closed window and frowned. Every night, he'd find another way to evade the mundane lifestyle expected of him, the one of going to bed early and waking for school the next day, trudging to class, book bag in hand and exhaustion prevalent. It just happened to be some designated Thursdays that led him to Kid's home, away from his own cozy apartment shared with Tsubaki and the savory smell of the ramen she'd cooked that night.

He'd been doing the reaper a service, honestly. He'd also been saving the other boy from a life of monotony, from the tedious nighttime hours that would drag on without the assassin's shining light. How the shinigami managed to survive any other night that wasn't the designated Thursday, Black Star did not know.

However, as he looked back on the picture perfect scene captured in his mind's eye, the assassin couldn't help but smirk to himself, shrug, and begin making his way back across the barren yard of Gallow's Manor.

Perhaps the occasional domestic life wasn't all that bad.