A/N: I have a feeling you guys will like the next chapter (the one after this one. This one is still sad). Had to compensate for the grimness of this chapter and the previous one after all. Thanks for reading and enjoy!
Review Responses:
fanficlove2014, Morgan was going to do exactly that, but as for the rest of your questions, they will all be explained very soon, mwahaha. I think it's fair to say that the plot has definitely arrived. Thanks for reading and enjoy this chapter!
Guest, thanks! Sorry about Ophelia. She was always slated to die, but that didn't mean I liked doing it!
Diana Raven, I'm sorry. I hope this chapter makes it better, but if not, next chapter might.
AmyNChan, I'm really glad you're enjoying the story, and I'm really enjoying your reactions to the characters. It means I'm doing a halfway decent job of making them human. Sorry about Ophelia, though! And yes, Shelley totally did put her medical training to use by doing the autopsy so Stein wouldn't have to. As for the rest of your questions, you'll have to wait and see.
What2do, thanks! I actually haven't been considering that, mainly because despite knowing how the manga ends, I haven't finished reading it yet. Good catch!
Guest(2), thank you! I thankfully haven't run into any haters, but I appreciate the support.
Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
On the Edge of Change
Elaine crashed through the castle's front doors, the great wooden doors splintering in her wake as she careened into the stone wall on the opposite side of the foyer. Micah's eyes widened from where he stood on the stairs, and he vaulted over the banister, landing lightly on the ground and running towards her.
She was thrashing against the foyer's marble tiles, holding her head in her hands and letting out huge gulps of air. Her eyes from behind her mask were wide, the pupils contracted to tiny points and staring unseeing at the vaulted ceilings above. Her clothes were soaked with blood, her own, a line of pink light along the length of the wound seeming to be the only thing that held her together, but the sight of the gash was not as unnerving to Micah as the sight of Elaine clawing at herself like a madwoman, her back arched in agony as she stared at the sky.
"My son—," she said, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her voice hoarse from years of disuse. "My son—I have to get—my son—."
Micah blinked at her, momentarily unsure what to do. He placed his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to calm her, crouching down so that he could look into her eyes. "Hey," he said. "Get a hold of yourself."
Elaine screamed and twisted in protest, slamming a foot into his chest. Micah let out a grunt as he stumbled back, thrown against the stone tiles. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, winded, and looked up at the sound of footsteps. Mordred was running down the staircase, taking them two at a time, his coat flaring out behind him.
"What's wrong?" he asked, running to Elaine's side.
"I don't know," Micah said. He coughed and tasted blood in his mouth, realized that he had bitten his lip while he was being thrown back. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at Mordred. "She just started freaking out."
Mordred looked over at Elaine, who was still convulsing and screaming, her back arching as she muttered "my son" over and over again. He swept his hand through the air, and a circle of light flared up on the floor around Elaine, glowing runes inscribed into the ground beneath her. An identical circle traced itself into the air above her head, forming a wall of light around Elaine. She thrashed as the light suffused her, screaming and lashing out at Mordred, but the wall stopped her, her kicks and blows slamming against it with dull thumps. Her mask clattered to the ground, revealing a face contorted in rage and pain.
Mordred winced as her foot crashed against the wall, forming cracks in the light that were quickly healed. He held out his hand, palm down, then quickly closed it into a fist.
"Enough," he said, authority in his tone.
He turned his wrist, rotating his fist so that the knuckles were pointing down. The light around Elaine changed in color from white to black and she arched her back, her mouth opening in a soundless scream before all the tension left her in an instant and she went limp.
Her eyes closed, and she slumped against the ground, her breathing slowly evening out. The pink light across her middle continued to pulse, keeping the wound together. Mordred held his hand over her for a moment more before he exhaled, lowering his fist. The light around her faded, the wall seeming to fold into itself before it disappeared from sight, leaving Elaine lying on the ground.
Micah stared at her before slowly getting to his feet. Mordred watched Elaine for a little while longer, his expression unreadable, before he turned towards Micah. "Get her into bed and do what you can for her," he said, walking away. "It's probably best that you let her sleep for now."
Micah nodded numbly, walking over to Elaine. He scooped her up in his arms—she weighed almost nothing—and her head lolled against his shoulder, her chest moving with the slow rise and fall of her breath. In sleep, all of the tension had gone from her face, but she didn't look peaceful. She frowned, her brow twitching as she sank deeper into her dreams.
Maka did not want to wake up to teach class that morning. But doing so was just part of being at the DWMA—life went on. She and Soul got up and dressed in silence, putting out breakfast for the twins and getting ready to bring them to school without a word. Cori and Annie watched them, concern in their expressions, but neither of the twins spoke that much this morning, as if sensing the need for silence.
It was only when Maka tied the black mourning band around her arm, her expression grim, that Cori spoke up, tugging at her skirt.
"Why?" she asked, pointing at the band.
Maka looked down into her daughter's eyes, wide and questioning, and felt something tug at her chest, poking at a place in her heart that was already so close to breaking. She sucked in a ragged breath and turned towards Cori, placing both of her hands on the girl's shoulders and crouching down so that they were at eye level. Annie hovered uncertainly over her sister's shoulders, looking between the two of them, and Maka met her eyes as well, drawing her into the conversation without touching her.
She wanted to lie, to preserve the innocence she saw in both their eyes, but she also knew better than that. She felt Soul's presence behind her, silent and grim, but there for her, and she drew strength from him.
"Someone died last night," she said, her voice soft. "Someone—a student of mine."
Annie let out a little gasp, her hand clutched tight over her chest, but Cori said nothing, only stared at Maka with that same look of grim resolution, her eyes watering as if she had known the answer all along. The tears didn't fall. Cori Evans clenched her fists, meeting her mother's eyes head on, and Maka noticed a strength and hardness in her daughter that made her proud and broke her heart all at the same time.
"…Did you catch who did it?" Cori asked after a while, her voice soft.
"No," said Maka, her breath catching on the word. Tears stung at her eyes, and Cori's eyes widened, seeing them.
"You're sad," she said, reaching out and placing one small hand against Maka's cheek.
"Yes," Maka said, reaching out and covering Cori's hand with her own. "I'm very sad."
"The guy who did this…he was one of the bad guys, wasn't he?"
"Yes," Maka said again. "Very bad."
"Don't worry, Mama," said Cori, her tone earnest. "When I grow up, I'm going to be strong enough to beat all the bad guys, so you won't ever have to be sad again."
The innocence in Cori's voice, the certainty in her eyes, was almost Maka's undoing. She remembered being that age, being so convinced that that was what she was going to do, that she was going to grow up to defeat all the monsters. And then it turned out that no matter how many monsters she defeated, there would always be more.
She drew Cori to herself, holding her tight. The girl's shoulders shook as Maka wrapped her arms around her, burying her face in her silver hair and inhaling her scent. "I know you will, Corpore," she said. "But first you have to worry about being a kid, okay? Let your papa and I worry about the bad guys. Focus on school, and take care of your sister, okay. You can do that for me, can't you?"
She pulled away, looking Cori in the eyes. Cori nodded solemnly, her hand pressed lightly to her chest. Maka smiled in spite of herself and stroked Cori's hair once, straightening up.
"Good," she said. "I'm counting on you."
Soul reached over as the twins walked past them, placing a hand on Annie's head as she trailed behind Cori. He grabbed Maka's hand as the girls reached the door, and Maka squeezed his hand tightly, realizing that her fingers were cold.
Angela stood in front of the mirror, feeling slightly uncomfortable in her formal witch's dress. She knew on a mental level that everyone at DWMA knew she was a witch. She'd grown up at the school and had never put on a Soul Protect—her status had never been a secret. Still, coming straight from a Witch's Mass to the small room set aside for her at the Assembly so that she could report to Shinigami felt deceitful, and she couldn't even tell which side she was deceiving.
She breathed deep and held her hands out in front of her, light forming in them.
"Kama, kami, chamille, chameleon…" she muttered under her breath, whispering into her cupped hands. Light spread outwards from them, washing over the room and forming a thin circle that encompassed both her and the mirror.
It might have felt deceitful, but she knew for a fact that just as DWMA used her to get intelligence on the witches, the witches tried to listen in on her conversations to get information on the DWMA. She knew the witches would suspect something if she didn't report back, especially considering the news she had heard from Shelley, but the spell she had set up would fool the senses of anyone listening in, making it so that every time Angela or Shinigami said something that might be considered 'sensitive', the listener would only hear something horribly inane: "How's the weather?" or "I've heard the gardenias are growing out of season," or something ridiculous like that.
Preparations complete, she reached forward and traced numbers onto the surface of the mirror: 42-42-564. The mirror flashed as a connection was established, and then Shinigami appeared on the scene.
He was sitting in the Death Room and looked exhausted, as though he hadn't gotten any sleep last night. He was still dressed in the symmetrical white suit that Angela assumed he had worn to the Anniversary Ball, the white broken up only by the black mourning bands he wore on each arm, two to maintain symmetry. He had dark circles under his eyes as he tried to restore order to the mess of paperwork on his desk. Angela watched him with sympathy—she could already see that it would be a losing battle. She wondered why one of the Thompson sisters hadn't already shown up to try and drag him off to bed.
"You have something to report?" Shinigami asked, his tone unusually brusque as he looked up at the mirror. Given the circumstances, she didn't take it personally.
"The council went into recess yesterday," Angela said, mentally urging her spell to translate this into something mundane. "We went straight into a Witch's Mass, so I haven't been able to make my report." She had no doubt that the timing was intentional—the Assembly must have known that she would have gone straight home for the Anniversary Ball otherwise. "Of course, there's some things I can't share with you—."
Shinigami waved his hand impatiently, signaling that the awkward subject of her divided loyalties was something that could be best left for another time. She interpreted it as a sure sign of his exhaustion that he only gestured at her with one hand, and refrained from pointing it out. The last thing she wanted was to send Shinigami into a downward spiral.
"Don't worry about that," he said. "What can you tell me?"
Angela took a deep breath, launching straight into her report. "The Assembly knows something, but they're very good at keeping it quiet. Something seems to be bothering the Old Witch, but they've made it a point to exclude me or Kim from those conversations. I've been trying to hang out with the younger witches during breaks, but if they know something, they're not telling me. They don't seem to know anything about Micah Cole."
She felt a twinge of guilt, because she thoughtshe knew something about Micah, did know something about the Morrigan that she hadn't told anyone about except Mifune. But she knew that now wasn't the place to tell Shinigami about this. Now might be a good time to tell him what was really going on, but that conversation was something that needed to be held face to face. Besides, Mifune knew. If he hadn't already told Shinigami, then there had to be a reason behind it.
She couldn't quite bring herself to believe that Micah and the Morrigan were unrelated, though. Not if she considered what she knew about him, about the way he had left them.
Shinigami frowned at her, noticing that she had been silent for too long. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
She looked up at him sharply, her eyes widening. "Uh—no," she said. "No, sir. Just—thinking. You already have Kim here. I might be of more use to you there, back at the DWMA."
"I'd been considering that," said Kid, in a clipped manner that told her that he had only started considering it a little while ago, in the long hours of the night. "For the moment, I'd like you to remain where you are. You said the council hasn't finished its meeting. I'd like you to continue listening in to those meetings, along with Kim, and let me know if you hear anything useful. Use your discretion and see if you can impart our concern about these issues with the council. It might be that we have a common enemy."
"But—." But what about Shelley? The words died on her tongue. Her concern for her partner, for what Shelley might do or feel all alone in their apartment, was something that she knew Shinigami would understand on a normal day, but it wasn't a normal day. She dropped her eyes to the ground, nodding grimly. If she were here for any other reason, she might have asked Shelley to come with her, but outsiders weren't allowed at council meetings. There would be nothing for her weapon to do here other than hang out with Jackie all day, and since the two of them weren't particularly close, it would be almost worse than leaving her in Death City.
"I understand," she said. "I'll let you know what I find."
"Thank you," said Shinigami.
The connection dropped between them, Shinigami's eyes dropping back to his work. Angela stood in the silence of her room for several long moments before she sighed, waving her hand and dispersing her spell.
It was dark in Clark's room, the curtains drawn over the windows to block out the ever-present Nevada sun. He sat at the edge of his bed, staring down at a picture in his hands. It was the one picture that he had from his early childhood. It showed him as a toddler, wrapped up in his father's arms, a blond woman standing next to him and resting her head on his father's shoulder. She smiled at the camera, but her smile had a distracted edge even then, her gray eyes appearing slightly unfocused in the light from the camera flash. He ran his thumb over her face, feeling his heart ache.
It couldn't be true, could it? He was the first meister in his family.
Or so he thought, but when it came down to it, he really didn't know that much about his mother.
Why did you leave?
The question burned in him the same way it had always burned. He felt it like a live coal in his chest as he stared at the picture, his stomach starting to churn with the possibilities. He almost didn't notice when the door to his room opened, when Vayne stuck his head in.
"I'm leaving," his partner said.
Clark nodded and set the picture aside, moving to stand up. Vayne frowned at him.
"You don't have to go," Vayne said. "You heard Maka-sensei. You can take the day off."
Clark shook his head. It was nice of them, really it was, to give him some time to deal with this, but he didn't want that. He didn't want to sit here in this room alone, while everyone else spread rumors about him. He didn't think he could handle it.
"I want to," he said, not quite meeting his partner's eyes.
Vayne said nothing more to that, but nodded, swinging the door open wider for him as he walked towards it.
Ayame and Rei met them at the foot of the DWMA's steps, both wearing mourning bands, and Clark knew from the glances that the two of them exchanged with Vayne that they had been waiting for him there. He couldn't help but feel worse as they fell into formation around him, as though shielding him. When Cassie walked towards them from her seat on the steps, staring out at the city, Clark couldn't meet her eyes.
"Where's Morgan?" Vayne asked, frowning at her as she started walking alongside them.
"Sick," Cassie responded, in the sort of way that told the others it might be true, or it might not, but it didn't really matter in the end. Clark had a feeling that more than a few of DWMA's students would be 'sick' today.
Vayne nodded grimly in response to that. Ayame glanced over at Cassie.
"Ethan?" she asked.
Cassie shrugged. "I broke up with him," she said, her voice flat. "No chemistry."
A few days back, Clark would have been overjoyed to hear those words. They hardly registered now.
They reached the top of the steps and walked into a wave of jeers. N.O.T. students were milling around the courtyard, and the moment they saw him, they turned towards him, a handful of them calling out insults. Clark tried to keep his eyes on the floor, ignoring them. Everyone important already knew that he hadn't had anything to do with Ophelia's death, but that hadn't stopped the rumors. He thought he would have been ready for them.
He wasn't.
"Murderer!" someone shouted.
Movement registered in his peripheral vision, a ball of wadded up paper flying towards him. Clark winced, preparing himself for the impact, but it never came. He looked up to see Ayame's hand out in front of his face, crushing the paper ball in her grip.
"You punks want to start something?" she asked, eyes narrowed at the group of boys standing to their left. Her aura crackled around her, a wave of electricity that Clark could feel even without Rei's Soul Perception. The boys stumbled over themselves in their rush to get away. Ayame snorted in derision, opening her hand and letting the crumpled paper fall to the ground.
"Thought not," she said.
They continued to walk, making it to Class Moonless Night just as the final bell rang. The class went quiet as they walked into the room, heads turning to watch Clark as he made his way down the aisle. He caught sight of Yorick leaning against a wall, glaring at him with hooded eyes, his massive arms folded across his chest. He looked down, settling into his seat.
Maka-sensei watched the scene impatiently from the bottom of the room, her arms folded and her gradebook in her hands. She waited until they were seated, tapping her foot on the ground.
"Alright!" she said. "That's enough! We're going to clear this up right now. Rhythm, Yorick, close the doors."
Rhythm got up from her seat nearest the one of the classroom's doors, shooting Maka a sullen look before pulling the door shut. She looked like she had been crying. Yorick lumbered over to the other door, pulling it closed and standing next to it like a bouncer. The class lapsed into perfect silence, and Maka looked over them for a moment before walking over to her own desk, pulling herself up so that she was sitting on it.
"Come closer," she said, gesturing at them.
They moved forward with some reluctance, hovering around her. Clark tried to linger to the back of the group, but he found himself pushed closer towards its center, his eyes still on the ground as Maka spoke.
"By now all of you know something about what happened last night," said Maka, her eyes drifting from one student to the next, all of them wearing mourning bands. "But there are a lot of rumors flying around. I think you, all of you, deserve the truth, so I'm going to tell it to you. But a lot of this information is still classified, so it never leaves this room. Do you understand me?"
People nodded their heads, their eyes wide with interest as they watched Maka. Clark kept his eyes on the ground.
"Your classmate—Ophelia—was murdered at 10:37 PM last night, on her way home from the Anniversary Ball. Her body was found in the reservoir. You all know that much. Her killer—," and here she paused to give Clark a pointed glance, "—wasn't Clark, but was an enemy that we, your teachers, have known about for a while. We don't know her name yet, but we've been calling her the Assassin. And yes, we know that she is a) a woman, and b) in her mid-to-late thirties. We've caught her practically in the act, so we know that Clark had nothing to do with it."
"Then why interrogate him?" asked someone from the back of the group. Clark didn't turn to see who it was.
"Because, as you might have heard from the rumors, she and Clark have the same wavelength, so we brought Clark back to the school to ask him if he knew who she might be." The way she said it indicated that she wouldn't have brought him back quite so publicly, if she had had much of a say in it. She looked around, meeting all of their eyes. "I can't tell you much more than that. I shouldn't have been able to tell you this much, but I did for two reasons. First, this is the class that was hardest hit by this tragedy. Ophelia was one of us, and we all deserve to know the truth. But second—." She paused again, looking pointedly at the people that stood in the front row. "—Clark is also one of us. I can't stop the rumors going around the whole school, but I can stop them from happening in this classroom. In times like this, it's more important than ever that we all stand together."
Someone in the middle of the room raised their hand. "Yes?" Maka asked, turning towards them.
"What about the rumors that Clark goes mad when he fights?"
In response to that, Maka glanced at him. "Clark?"
"It's true," Clark said, not looking up. "I'm…susceptible to madness. It's triggered by fighting, usually in a competition. It's why I don't enter tournaments. But—." He took a deep breath, clenching his fists and looking up at the room. "—I would never hurt Ophelia. I would never—."
He fell silent, interrupted by Yorick as he strode forward, the other members of their class parting for him. Yorick glared down at him, placing his hand on the back of Clark's head and forcing his face up so that the two of them were looking at each other.
"Look me in the eye," Yorick said. "Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't do it."
Clark let out a rattling breath, meeting Yorick's eyes. "I would never hurt Ophelia," he said. "I would never do this to her."
Yorick held Clark's gaze for a long moment before he released him, pushing him away. "Good enough," he said. "Anyone have a problem with you, tell them they can talk to me."
"And me," said Ayame, stepping forward. Rei said nothing, but moved forward with her, placing a hand on Clark's shoulder and gripping it tight.
"Me," said someone else in the class.
"And me!"
"Me too!"
Their voices rose in chorus, the class grouping around him to voice their support, but Clark barely heard them, his eyes drifting back to the ground. It became too much, too much for him, and he couldn't hold himself together any more.
He broke down and cried.
Cassandra Crane sat in her room for a while after school that day, staring at the book she was reading without actually absorbing anything on the page. Once in a while, her phone would buzz, the sound cutting through the ambient music that she was playing on her headphones, and she would raise her head and shoot it an irritated glare. Normally, reading and listening to music was enough to allow her to block out the world, but it wasn't working today. Instead, the exercise only served to make her more and more annoyed, until she finally scowled and shut off her headphones, setting them down and closing the book.
It looked like this wasn't going to be the sort of reality she could escape from.
Cassie stared at the wall of her room for a few long moments before rubbing at her eyes, taking a deep breath and standing up. She might as well check on Morgan.
She paused at the door, a frown coming onto her face as she remembered her partner's breakdown the night before. Morgan's door had been closed when Cassie had gotten up for school this morning, and had been closed again when Cassie returned, although there was some evidence that Morgan had gotten up and moved around in the interim. She half-expected to find Morgan's door closed a third time, but when she opened her door and looked out in the hallway, Morgan's door was open, and she could hear the sound of her partner moving around in the kitchen.
Cassie paused, a frown on her face. She opened her mouth to call out, but was stopped by the sound of the doorbell. She watched from the hallway as Morgan reappeared in the living room, walking over to the door. Morgan pulled the door open wide, frowning at the boy on the other side.
"Vayne?" she asked.
"Uh—hi, Morgan," said Vayne, placing a hand on the back of his neck and giving her a sheepish smile. "I heard you weren't feeling well. Thought I'd come by and see how you were doing."
Cassie stepped forward, about to join them in the living room, but stopped in the hallway, her hand on the wall as Morgan smiled, her expression softening as she shook her head.
"I appreciate your concern, but I feel a lot better now," she said. "As you can see."
"Uh, yeah," said Vayne, letting out a nervous chuckle. "I can see that. That's great. So, um, I'm just gonna go…"
He took a step back reluctantly, half-turning towards the street, but he lingered there for a moment, watching Morgan. Cassie blinked in surprise as Morgan rolled her eyes, pulling the door open wider. She was still smiling.
"Would you like to come inside?" she asked. "I'm making tea."
"Sure!" said Vayne a little too quickly, taking a step forward. "Uh—tea would be great."
Cassie watched with some surprise as Morgan stepped aside, giving Vayne space to enter the apartment. Then, she smiled, stepping back and quietly retreating into her room.
Rei, Morgan, and Clark stood in the training forest the next day, forming a triangle so that each of them could see the other two. They locked eyes for a moment, each one holding their weapons, before Rei closed his eyes, sinking back into resonance with Ayame. There was none of the levity of their first try at this, not after what had happened two days ago. Instead, it felt like he was falling, like Ayame's soul was rising up to catch him. Her wavelength wrapped around his, his soul expanding to fill the space between him and the others, the wind kicking up around him and tugging at his hair and jacket.
He felt Clark's and Morgan's wavelengths rise up in turn, as subdued as his, but clear and strong. He reached for their wavelengths and felt the sort of clarity he had never felt with this exercise before, felt Clark's grief and uncertainty and insecurity laid bare, felt Morgan's fear and doubts and all of her secrets and guilt, and knew that they could feel the same from him, could feel the innermost parts of his soul, his shadows all laced up with Ayame's brightness and light until it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.
It was as if, over the past few days, the six of them had made the decision to simply stop hiding from each other.
Their souls touched each other, then flared up, merging into one bright light that shone around them, stronger and greater than the sum of its parts. Rei could see it even with his eyes closed as it swelled to encompass the space around them. He heard it like it was music, a resounding harmony that filtered through the air in the moments before the three of them slowly eased up on it, breaking the connection.
He opened his eyes at the end, almost sorry to be in the real world again. Their eyes met for the span of a breath, and then turned as one to face the man who was leaning beneath one of the trees, watching them.
"Good," said Stein, straightening up. "You've managed a chain resonance, your first step as a real team. And the leader of this team will be…"
His eyes moved over each of them in turn, before landing on his. Rei watched him solemnly, resolved that in this, he wouldn't back down.
"…Rei."
Mifune stood on the balcony of the DWMA, looking out over the city, and considered that a change was coming, an electricity in the air that seemed to touch every soul in Death City, from the least of its citizens to Shinigami himself. He rested his hands on the hilt of his sword, his mind going back to the meeting he had just left, a small gathering in a small room by those who were in the know, that it was finally time to reveal everything to Shinigami.
He studied the desert on the outskirts of the city, his eyes scanning the horizon. Tomorrow, things would change. For better or for worse, the false peace of the last two years would finally be coming to an end.
He thought he saw a line on the horizon as he turned away, a figure running across the barren earth, trailing a cloud of sand behind him.
Omake
Morgan and Cassie's Apartment
Morgan frowned as the doorbell rang a second time, getting up from the book she was reading to answer it. Vayne had left a little while ago, and she didn't think he would be using the same excuse to drop in so readily. She opened the door, prepared to say something about it, then frowned as she saw who was really there.
Ethan stood across from her, a sheepish smile on his face and his hand upraised. "Hey, Morgan," he said. "I was wondering if I could talk to Ca—."
Morgan narrowed her eyes at him. "I never liked you," she said flatly, closing the door.
