I really need to apologize to everyone for not updating any of my stories lately. I've just been REALLY busy with school work and band. I feel like I never get a day off... That doesn't mean I'm not still writing, though! It just means the work is coming along very, VERY slowly. I'm gonna try working on one story at a time, so I probably won't be working on anything else until I finish this one. I just don't want to get overwhelmed, and this is the only one I can work on at school.

So, please R&R, leave comments, PM me, etc.! And remember...

^^THe SHaDoWPuPPeTTe iS aLWaYS WaTCHiNG!^^


Previously on 'The Death Games"...

"What do you want to do today?" I ask.

"We can hunt, fish, and gather," Soul ponders. "Why don't we go hunting? I can finish making the new fishing poles later, and it looks like you have plenty of fruit. You go one way, I'll go another, and we'll meet up at old man Shinigami's."

As we turn to go our separate ways, he smiles at me and softly speaks, "Remember to bring something nice for tonight."


Tonight, just like every year, most of the families for Sector 12 will celebrate, thankful that their children have been spared for another year. On the other hand, two families, maybe more, will enclose themselves in their houses and mentally prepare themselves for the torture that will last several weeks.

Our morning is spent like this: if I know Soul, he'll probably go fishing (without his pole...), I'm going to gather more fruit, and we're both hunting. Some time later, we meet at Shinigami's doorstep at the same time. The only difference is, he's sopping wet.

The fish were probably teasing him, I thought. Too bad I never get to watch him fish "the cool way."

Just as I suspected, he has not only a few squirrels, but also about a dozen fish in a bag slung over his shoulder. I ended up with a gallon of berries, a sack of greens, and I caught a wild dog for Old Shinigami. We do all of our trading with him; he trades with everyone in Sector 12, and he has everything you could need. He works in an underground booth on the outskirts of Arachnophobia, the black market that operates in an abandoned warehouse. Most businesses are closed on Reaping Day, but "The Death Room" is always open. Oh, another thing about Shinigami, he likes to go by 'Lord Death', hence the name of his trading post.

"Hey, hi, hello!" says a nasal voice as we enter. As always, Lord Death has a friendly voice for customers, acquaintances, and relatives. There's a rumor that I've heard all my life that he has a deep, deadly, and terrifying voice as well... whatever, I've never heard him use it. "I'm only opened until noon, I'll have to watch the Reaping. I sure hope that my top customers don't get drawn today, it would be such a shame!"

Twice my height, cloaked in black, and wearing a white comedic skull mask to top off the look, Death hops, literally, from behind a bookshelf. As soon as he sees us, he waves a gigantic, white gloved hand in our direction.

"Maka! Soul!" he greets us. "It's good to see you! How've you been, what's life like? Get anything good today?"

Soul sweat-drops in annoyance as he replies, "Why do you ask that everyday? Nothing has changed since yesterday. In fact, nothing has changed for the past seventy-four years... do you even remember where you live?"

This is how our day always starts. At first, we do our usual trading routine. In return for half the greens, eight fish, the berries, and the dog, we earned bread, salt, paraffin, and some money. Then, we just chat; there isn't anything to chat about, though.

"So," Soul questions hesitantly. "What's with all these crosses you've got? They're everywhere!"

"Good luck," Death replies solemnly, turning away. "I buy them, trade for them, even make them. I feel like I need them in a way. I just don't know what I would do if I lost my beloved son to the Reaping. He's all I have left."

There was a dismal, yet tense, pause before Soul decided to speak up.

"He's not going to Death City," Soul scoffs. Angry crimson eyes glance at the skull shaped pins, rings, and buttons that lay on a dresser. "What does he have, five entries? I had six when I was only twelve."

"That's not his fault." I snap at him.

"I wasn't blaming anybody," he replies coolly. "It's just... luck."

He turns and walks out the door, leaving me with the poor man. I look at him apologetically, but before I can say anything, he whispers, "It's alright, Maka."

"Lord Death, he still shouldn't-"

"No apologies for the poor boy. He's been through too much in his life already, and the Reaping doesn't help. His soul is troubled, which is why I'm glad he has a good friend like you. I wish my son could've met you, but now it seems you're too old."

"Actually," I start hesitantly, rubbing the back of my neck. "I might have me-"

"I have to close up shop, kid. We can talk after the Reaping," I think he would've smiled at me, but I couldn't see his face. Now that I think about it, I've never seen it in all the years I've known him. "Good luck to you, and Soul as well. You're going to need it with that many entries."

"Thank you, Lord Death. Good luck to your son!" I smile as I exit the booth.

I catch up to where Soul was waiting for me, and we walk towards the Seam in silence. I can't believe he behaved like that, it was very rude. However, he's right. The Reaping is unfair.

It's a requirement to enter the Reaping when you turn twelve, but your name's only entered once. The next year twice, and the next three times; and so on and so forth until you turn eighteen. That year, your name will be written and entered into the Reaping seven times. It works this way for every soul, in every sector. Unfortunately, there's a catch. If you're as poor and suffering as we are, then you can choose to add your name an extra time in exchange for kishin eggs. Each egg is worth a year's supply of grain and oil; enough for one person. You are allowed to enter one for each of your relatives as well.

So, at age twelve, my name was entered four times; one for me, and three for kishin eggs. I've had to do this every year, and previous years add up. If you do the math, it means that my name has been entered twenty times this year. Soul, on the other hand, supports the orphaned children he hangs out with. This year, Soul's name will be in a total of forty-two times. Shinigami's son works for bakers, miners, and even the mayor on occasions. He doesn't need eggs, and that really gets to Soul.

Some days, when hunting, I can hear him ranting to himself about how the kishin egg is a tool. A tool that Death City uses to cause misery, plant hatred, and provoke distrust between the starving souls of Sector 12.

"Death City wants us to hate each other! It gives them the advantage!" he might say, if I was the only one who could hear it. If it wasn't Reaping Day. If Lord Death wasn't desperate enough to actually believe in luck.

As we're walking, I glance over to see Soul's stony expression and dark eyes; I know he's still upset. I honestly think his fits are ridiculous, but I'll never tell him to his face. It's not that he's wrong, but what's a tantrum going to do about it? It doesn't change anything, and it certainly doesn't feed us. In fact, it just makes life worse. The only reason I let him yell is because it's better to yell in the woods than in the sector.

Soul divides what we have left, leaving two fish, a few loaves of bread, greens, a quart of berries, and a bit of money for each of us.

"See you at Death Square!" I say brightly, trying to lighten his mood.

"Try to make sure you look almost as cool as me." he replies smugly, a flicker of a smile on his face.

When I'm home, I find my sister ready to go. Crona wants me to wear a dress she found in the old apothecary shop. She, on the other hand, is wearing my first reaping outfit, a pink skirt and ruffled white blouse. It's a little bit too big, and she's having trouble keeping the sleeves rolled up. She's still suffering, even after all this time.

I gasp at the steaming bath waiting for me; Crona can be too nice sometimes. I gladly clean myself of the woodland filth and even wash out my hair. To my surprise, there's a velvet dress laid out on my bed. There are even matching shoes beside it. I can feel my brow twitch at the size of the heels.

"Wow," I gasp. Crona must have brought this for me. I wonder how it's still in this condition. She had to have known it was at her former home, but it probably traumatized her. This shows how much she cares about me. I slip the outfit on, amazed at how comfortable it is, then pull my hair back into pig tails. Once I'm done, I grab matching ribbons from my drawer, and tie them into my hair. I can't even recognize myself in the mirror.

"You look beautiful," Crona whispers, making me jump. I love her to Death himself, but I hate how she sneaks around like some kind of snake. "I'm sorry about the shoes, I know you hate heels. But it was dark, and creepy, and I didn't know how to deal with it, so I just grabbed a pair of shoes and ran back home, but you weren't here, and I had to wait with Blair, and Ragnarok was teasing me again, and it hurt, and I didn't know how to deal with it-!"

"Crona!" I hug her tightly, stroking her hair. I know she's going to panic all day, but I need to keep her calm for her first reaping. I understand, it's always horrifying, but she's as safe as Ragnarok the goat. She's only entered once! "It's okay! You're gonna be okay! I know that place is scary, but I need you to listen to me. Medusa is gone, she can't hurt you anymore. Nothing's going to happen to you, and you know I'll always be here to protect you, right? If you want, we can eat Ragnarok tonight once we come home..."

"NO!" she cries. She runs outside and pulls the black, bug-eyed goat into a bear hug. "I know Ragnarok is mean, but he's good on the inside, I promise! He's just playing, see? I'm fine!"

She smiles, and grabs my hand as we walk towards Death Square; well, she walks and I stumble.

"You are beautiful, you know."

"No, you're-whoops!-beautiful. I'm-oof!-average. I mean, who doesn't love-waah!-pink hair and deep violet-ouch!-eyes?"

"Stop it, I don't know how to deal with compliments... Hey, Maka?"

"Yes? Whoa!"

"If you're not beautiful, why does Soul stare at you all the time? And the guy with golden eyes?"

"W-what?"