Chapter II: Stupid, Shiny Things
The next few days brought about a variety of odd happenings that left Black Star confounded and oftentimes fading in and out of conversation with the vaguest expression on his face. At first, his friends said nothing, chalking it up to the assassin's usual, weird self, but then the boy would go quiet. Not a contemplative quiet, like he was absorbed in their conversations, oh no. Black Star was never that invested in anything his friends said. No, this bewildering silence from the boy was… unsettling, because if he wasn't fixated on their words or studies, then what had him so captivated?
As for Black Star, he was just as confounded as his friends. He couldn't focus and often found himself staring blankly at his friends any time they successfully grabbed his attention. Tsubaki would ask if he was okay, and he'd say 'Yeah, duh,' what kind of man did they take him for, and tell them not to make a fuss. They'd roll their eyes and normalcy would return… for about two minutes, and then suddenly Soul was snapping his fingers in front of the assassin's face, and once again, Black Star would be struggling to catch up with the conversation.
It was positively maddening, and what was worse, the blue-haired meister could never recall what his mind had been stuck on. Like a toddler, he'd grow distracted by something, and then immediately be redirected to something else, completely forgetting what had enticed him in the first place. Was he going crazy? Was the battle with Asura below the Academy starting to have some effect on him? It had been weeks since that time, but he was Black Star! If he was to have some kind of reaction to madness, if any, of course it would delayed because he was just so awesome.
With this conclusion, the assassin devoted himself to a more conscience mindset, doing his best to hone in on every detail of his surroundings, every word in conversation, just to prove he couldn't be distracted so easily. He wasn't some common raven, having his flight pattern disrupted by stupid, shiny things. Oh no. He was something bigger than that, better, like an eagle—No. A dragon. He was a mighty dragon and would burn down every distraction in his way.
Satisfied with this resolve, when asked if the assassin would join his friends for a study group at Maka and Soul's apartment, the assassin found it to be the perfect time to prove himself as the most attentive. Truthfully, the boy found no joy in studying, but this was another battle entirely. This was a battle of the brain, to be victorious and place himself back in charge of his own mind, wandering thoughts be damned.
The study session began like any other, them chattering about events of their morning before diving into the tedious chore of learning. The subject was the Nyarlathotep Ages, and they were all struggling for ways to remember the succession of Grand Witches during the dark time. Patty had made up a truly peculiar acronym, somehow involving broccoli and penguins that only confused everyone even more. Upon her fourth attempt explaining it, Soul had cried out in frustration and was on the verge of tears. In response, the younger Thompson sister rolled her eyes and blew a raspberry at the scythe.
This was not out of the ordinary for the young weapon, and while she giggled at Soul's exasperation, her meister shook his head in defeat with a rare, soft smile that made Black Star forget to laugh along at Soul's pain. It was a subtle thing, and not one of the shinigami's annoying smirks either. It was a genuine smile that disrupted the boy's usual, serious expression.
The sight was odd, Black Star decided, frowning in contemplation. But not a bad kind of odd. It was a different kind of odd, but before the assassin could brand it with a label, he'd been given a quick Maka-Chop to the head and was scolded for not paying attention again. This resulted in frustrated sighs from the others, a burning headache, and Kid once again staring back at him with that confounded smirk.
As he rubbed the sore spot across his temple, Black Star began to wonder if he'd imagined the gentle smile and if he truly was going insane?
—- —- —-
The pavement was cool against his back, and Black Star welcomed the sensation to counter the harsh, Nevada sun from earlier that afternoon. Twilight in Death City always offered a cool breeze as the drooling sun melted into the horizon, providing the city dwellers some relief.
The assassin stared up at the orange sky with its touches of pink and bleeding crimson, failing at any attempts to stop his wandering mind. He couldn't help it, not with how the past days had gone, and not with the way the sunlight's last rays curled around the clouds and glistened gold.
What the hell was wrong with him? First the study session at Maka and Soul's apartment and his mind playing tricks on him over a theoretical smile. Then there was the whole thing during their physical combat class when everyone watched a training session between Kid and Kilik. Stein had paired them together, wanting to make note of the different build between opponents. Having Kilik's more muscular frame paired against Kid's less-than-impressive one offered just the lesson their professor intended. However, minutes into the fight, the shinigami had managed to get Kilik in a headlock and threw the other boy to the ground without breaking a sweat. Legs twisted around the other boy's torso and lean arms entrapping his neck, the other meister quickly tapped out with a choked gasp.
This defeat brought congratulatory shouts from the rest of the class, followed by sympathetic pats on Kilik's back while others stealthily exchanged money from bets made prior to the fight. If Stein noticed the passing of cash between fingers, he didn't say anything, instead launching into Kid's fighting technique of Reaper Taijutsu. While his classmates focused on Stein's every word, Black Star found himself staring intently at Kid, wondering about the lithe muscle and power beneath such a scrawny frame.
But that was purely from a fighting standpoint. Of course he wanted to know what the shinigami was capable of. That's what classmates did, considered the fighting style and physical prowess of their peers, right?
So what if he couldn't get the image of Kid's focused expression and unnatural flexibility out of his head?
Then there was also the point in the library yesterday, when Black Star had been made to go find a book on 'shutting the hell up', as Sid had so calmly suggested, only to run into Kid. The headmaster's son had looked up from his own book upon spotting Black Star and inquired what the assassin was seeking. Then, with that same infuriating grin, murmured, "Could it be you're taking another swing at Excalibur's writings? Good for you…"
That little jab had left Black Star completely speechless and he stared at Kid with such disbelief the reaper then genuinely asked if something was wrong, commenting the other boy looked feverish. That had been too much for Black Star, and the boy unearthed something of a diabolical cackle (or was it a strangled whimper?), and assured his friend not to worry, he was just fine, how dare he make fun of his complexion and doubt his immune system! He'd then spun on his heel and fled the room, Sid's book be damned, chastising his own pounding heart.
If he believed in illness, he'd blame these strange happenings on a stomach flu. As it so happened, the assassin knew germs were no match against his body, so clearly he wasn't falling victim to sickness. A flushed face, trouble speaking, and sudden shots of adrenaline coursing through him had to be caused by something else. Perhaps not enough calcium in his diet or something equally dumb. Maybe that's why Tsubaki was always trying to get him to eat more veggies?
These events aside, the most baffling one by far had occurred only a few hours prior during one of their usual basketball games. The score had been tied, both teams being fairly even and intent on victory for once. Around and around the basketball went, chased by yelling teens and their immature taunts. When passed to Crona's hands, she'd nearly passed out on the spot, clutching it to her chest while Ragnarok screamed orders to his frozen meister.
Black Star had taken this moment to dive at the trembling student, screeching like a feral cat. Kid, in response, raced to defend Crona, calling for his teammate to pass the ball. Crona, overwhelmed from the sudden attention from either side, eventually did faint then and there. With their target gone, the boys' velocity sent them straight into each other, collapsing painfully in an entanglement of limbs and and pained groans.
The scene played out once more like a broken record in Black Star's mind as the boy stared up at the sky, now a deep violet, and released a low, frustrated sigh.
They were always fighting each other, throwing punches and getting on the other's nerves. The assassin liked irking the shinigami. He enjoyed the other meister's incredulous sputtering and frantic insults. But their unexpected collision on the basketball court had left the assassin more shaken, and damn it all, he couldn't figure out why!
Every detail was stuck like an old piece of gum: The way neither of them moved for a minute, too stunned from the pain. Then, the steady rise and fall of Kid's chest against his own, the way his fingers curled into Black Star's shirt as he attempted to rise. The boy's bangs drifting across his forehead, and his soft breath tickling the assassin's skin. Those gold eyes met his for just a moment, squinting in brief agony, blinked, and then the weight lifted from Black Star and he was left on his back, staring up at the clouds. Kid extended a hand to help him up. Black Star hesitated—but why?—before grabbing it and pulled himself to his feet.
And that was that.
Kid dusted off his shirt, called out something to Patty who was wrestling the ball from Crona, and walked away. He didn't give it a second thought. He didn't look back at Black Star, didn't notice just how flustered the other boy had become, how the assassin wanted to lay back down on the ground and curse all these complicated feelings.
Like he was now, free from the eyes and concern of his friends.
Black Star had told them he was going to stay behind for some solo practice. Yes, he was totally fine and, nah, he wasn't too hungry. He'd eat when he got home, no worries. They'd said their good-byes and departed together, chatting amongst themselves, waving back at Black Star before disappearing from sight.
The assassin's smile had vanished as soon as they did.
He'd launched the basketball in a high arc towards the hoop, not moving as it bounced off the rim. By the time it had rolled merrily across the court and wedged itself beneath a park bench, Black Star had collapsed onto the cold stone, gaze stuck on the glowing sky.
He hadn't moved from that spot, splayed out like a dying trout and replaying scene after scene behind tired eyes. He was the greatest assassin to ever live, the big man himself, but yet he couldn't figure out why these pointless things stuck with him? Why was he getting so lost in all the little details that made up Death the Kid? The rare laughs and soft smiles, or the delicate figure holding undeniable power? The childish fits over symmetry and the way he would softly rest a hand on Patty's head when she was really excited? Even those tired, exasperated eyes, staring down the assassin every time he snuck into Gallows Manor to frighten the reaper.
Black Star closed his own eyes, suddenly found himself unsteady despite the fact he was laying down. The ground spun beneath him, and he felt as if the cobblestone would swallow him. He was falling, weightless compared to everything around him, and it made his insides twist and his heart jolt.
His soul trembled.
Shit. He really was going crazy, wasn't he?
"What'cha doin'?"
The assassin shot upright, shocked to find Patty standing a few feet away, regarding him with a curious expression.
"Uh…Just trying to… You know, even a big man like me has to lay back and rest, sometimes, otherwise all my awesome star power will get to be too much for the little folk. If I don't hold myself back, who knows what could happen to Death City."
The younger of the two Thompson sisters blinked at him.
Black Star cleared his throat and stood, stretching his arms nonchalantly over his head before asking what brought the demon-pistol back to the court.
"Lost my shoes," Patty responded, lifting a pair of flip-flops for the assassin to see. "But now I found them. Big Sis told me to retrace my steps, she's so smart like that. You should try it when you lose something. First, I went back to that ice cream shop we stopped at, then to the corner where we saw the really fluffy squirrel, then past the staircase on Numbskull Street with the three broken steps Kid always gets mad at. After that, I accidentally took a left instead of a right, and then I wasn't at the park, so I thought maybe it had disappeared and that maybe you'd disappeared with it, but then I remembered I didn't see the weird tree, so I knew I had gone the wrong way. That's when I turned around, and I counted my steps all the way back here. It was four hundred thirteen, which Kid would say is unlucky, because thirteen is unlucky, but I think any number that doesn't have an eight is unlucky for him. He'd once said to me—Hey, hey are you sleeping with your eyes open?"
Black Star shook himself back to reality after his mind had, once again, wandered much too easily. But it was Patty, after all, and her usual ramblings often left him unfocused.
"You look lost," Patty said with a giggle. "Maybe you should retrace your steps, too."
"Retrace my steps?" Black Star echoed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, right. I'm not the one looking for anything."
"You should do it anyway." The girl regarded him with bright eyes, smile stretching even wider. "You never know what you might find."
A/N: Ah, the little nuggets of wisdom spouted by the young Brooklyn Demon. Pay attention, Black Star, these words may prove useful on your quest later...
