CHAPTER 6

The trip was far quicker than he had anticipated, despite time zone differences. As Kid flew east on Beelzebub, he enjoyed the view from above: the dots of light on the towns below lifted even his spirits at this time of year. He smiled, and inhaled the air deeply-because for once, he had determined the perfect gifts for Liz and Patty. He would need help to procure them, though: Kristopher had his aids putting the finishing touches on one of the gifts to deposit at his home by midnight tonight-assuming, of course, there was still a Christmas, should Black Star and Kristopher fail at their mission.

At least Kid could procure the second gift, should his associate be amenable to his request-although he did not seem so cooperative in their most recent correspondence. He was amazed to hear such descriptive insults: he did not think half of those bodily descriptions were physically possible.

As he ruminated, Kid barely missed crashing into a bridge. He swerved in time through the suspension cables, sailing down across some irate pedestrians, almost colliding with a yellow taxi. The repeated shouts of "You fucking moron!" echoed through his ears. He shrugged it off: he heard worse from his weapons before.

That was apt, of course, as this was where they were born.

He landed on the shore of Long Island, replaced Beelzebub back into the palm of his hand, and turned to admire the view from that spot. The Brooklyn Bridge he had just crossed looked all the more magnificent from further away, if only because he did not have to contend with such irate New Yorkers this distance away.

CLICK.

He felt the pistol's barrel pressed against his lower back.

Well, so much for that, Kid thought.

"Money, now, Mack. And wherever you just hid that fancy skateboard."

"Oh, you want to see where I keep that fancy skateboard, eh?" Kid said, turning with hands up to face his mugger. "Here, then."

Kid proceeded to slap the mugger across the face, and before the assailant could pull the trigger, hold his right hand frozen as he twisted his trigger finger enough that he let out a wail of pain and dropped the weapon. But before it collided with the sidewalk, Kid scooped it up, and in a fluid movement, not only removed its cartridge, but disassembled most of the device, which except for the magazine he flipped through the air, all landing in separate garbage cans that just happen to be in the area where he had touched down.

Then Kid slapped the assailant with his other hand to effect symmetry, and walked away. "Merry Christmas, you disgusting brute," he shouted. He then tossed the magazine over his head, sending it into the river below. He glanced at the terrified individual and added, "May you live so long to see New Year."

o-o-o

"And in China?"

"Dun Che Lao Ren."

"Who makes the toys-you, elves, or outsourced labor?"

"All of the above."

"If you are old friend's with Lord Death, does that make you one of the Great Old Ones?"

"Yep! I'm the Madness of Charity! Here, have a candy cane!"

"Thanks! Oh, I keep hearing something on TV: are you white or black?"

"Filipino, actually."

Rupert's eye was twitching. He was not sure which was more annoying: Black Star's incessant questions, or Santa's mix of honest and fallacious answers-ever the trickster, that jolly old elf, Rupert thought.

"Why don't you deliver toys in poor neighborhoods?"

"The holiday season should encounter charity in all people! Look to yourself, young Black Star, and give out of your own sense of concern for your fellow-"

"What do you do if a place doesn't have a chimney?"

"I fit through the mail slot," Santa continued, not at all seemingly offended by the interruption.

"What if there isn't one?"

"I break a window and let myself in. Ho, the number of times I had the cops chasing me-my mug shot is plastered across half the globe! Shh...don't call the cops: I still have some unpaid traffic. Lord criminy, the mess flying reindeers make, woo!"

"You're so cool, Santa!"

"Thanks!" He reached into his coat. "Here, have a protractor!"

Black Star stared at the flimsy plastic geometry tool. "Um, thanks?"

"Enough with this prattling!" Steam was coming out of the short man's ears. "Stop with the questions, stop with the answers, and stop with the cheap gifts, Santa, or I swear, I will turn this spinning top around, you two!"

Santa and Black Star's smiles disappeared, as they mumbled, "Yes, Rupert."

After placing the pathetic math instrument into his pocket, Black Star looked over the edge of the spinning platform, at the multi-colored dots littering the awful blackness below. "I never thought I'd be so bored seeing sparkly Christmas lights," he muttered into his hand, before his eyes brightened. "Hey! That's my house there!"

"No, it's not," Rupert said to Black Star. "Nor was the previous house, or the previous 28 ones we passed. We are already in Nova Scotia-we are so far removed from Death City, that you might as well point at the clouds and say that you live there."

"Well, I am a big star." Black Star crossed his arms, applauding himself for his wordplay.

As the elf Rupert growled at this interloper, Santa Claus placed a gentle hand on his old partner, smiled, and gestured that he continue his excellent work focusing on navigating the spinning top platform to their destination at the North Pole.

"Black Star, my boy," Santa said, "you do understand what is ahead of you, yes?"

"Not really," he blurted, scratching the bandages still around his forehead. "I kind of lost focus about the whole 'Christmas is doomed!' talk."

"Ho?" Santa asked. "You don't take such talk seriously?"

"Not with us on the job! You're freaking Santa! How can Christmas ever end with you around? You're like everyone's crazy awesome grandpa!" He paused. "Hey, how old are you, anyway?"
"Ho, ho, ho!" Santa laughed, as he continued his pleasant tone: "If you don't stop asking such rude questions, I will knock you over this platform just to listen to you scream and admire the mess you make on the ground."

"How can you not love this guy?!" Black Star cried, hearing only the tone and not the content of Santa's message. "But you said it was something about reindeer zombies, right? And I heard Lord Death said to kill them if necessary, but then Kid said that wasn't cool, so you want me to save these guys from zombie-fication, right?"

Santa stared, his eyes shutting as he chuckled. "Amazing! You do listen!"

"Listen to what?" Black Star asked confused.

"Ho, ho, ho...You really are hopeless, aren't you?"

"Aw, I love you too, Santa!"

Hearing such a delightful conversation, Rupert considered how much less painful it would be if he simply leapt from the spinning platform and allowed his body to crash against the welcoming embrace of the earth below. Remembering the oath to protect his partner, however, he silenced the thought, and adjusted the trajectory. "North Pole in a half hour, gentlemen. I suggest you prepare yourselves."

"Ready, Black Star?" Santa asked.

"Hell yeah I am! I've been practicing some camouflage tactics-trust me, the reindeer won't see me, and we'll find out whoever is controlling those animals and get them back to get your gifts out to all the good girls and boys!"

"Good man!" Santa said, his tone and content finally corresponding with each other as he patted Black Star on the back. "Onward, Rupert!"

"Right-o, Santa."

o-o-o

Liz stretched her arms behind her head, as she was curled up on the couch, shoes kicked off, having just changed into a warm and fashionable sweater after the nice hot shower she had. She reached for the coffee waiting for her on the side table, when a crash echoed throughout the hallway, spilling the contents onto the floor.

"I told you to stay out of the bookstore!"

Liz glared from her seat out to the hallway, then at her tipped drink. She sighed: if Kid really was not so worried about properly arranged decorations, he probably wouldn't notice carpet stains until morning.

"You don't get to mark your territory wherever you want, bookworm!"

"Could you be any more crass?!"

"Yes!"

Liz sighed. After what Tsubaki had told her about Maka's mother, and based on what she figured out about Soul while sorting papers for Lord Death, she was getting really tired of their shit.

"Oh, hi, guys!" Tsubaki called out from the kitchen. She was dressed in an apron, as she was struggling to coordinate four different tasks simultaneously in preparing a Christmas Day meal for Kid and the Thompsons-her early gift to them. "How was shopping?" Her expression did not do well to cover the apparent knowledge she had that the answer was going to be a depressing one.

Tsubaki backed up a step once Maka's gaze fell upon her. "This moron could not follow directions if his life depended on it!" Maka glared at her partner. "What was that you said earlier, that you already finished your holiday shopping?!"

"I am finished!" Soul protested. "It just doesn't hurt to double-check in case I'm missing anything."

Liz rolled her eyes.

"I wanted to search the bookstore before you found any gift there!" Maka shouted.

"Bullshit!" Soul replied. "Like I'd find anything for myself at that store! And why were you there? See, this is why it is always so difficult to shop for you-you find the gifts you want before I ever do, then you buy them for yourself, then I'm stuck having to come up with a new gift!"

Yep, getting real tired of their shit, Liz thought.

"I wasn't going to buy anything for myself, Soul! I have more self-control than you!"

Soul avoided eye contact. "No idea what you mean."

"I could see you at the record store, Soul! Why were you there?"

He did not answer. Liz and Tsubaki cringed, looking at each other. The former slowly stood, and backed up out of the living room and then dashed for the kitchen: she did not want to be caught in the inevitable Maka Chop jamboree about to commence. As she entered, Tsubaki closed the separation between the kitchen and the living room. Despite their desire not to get involved, however, she and Liz found themselves still leaning against the barrier, waiting to hear the argument boil over.

Silence persisted. Then they heard footsteps depart out of the living room, and the front door to the mansion open, yet not close. The two weapons looked at each other, then peered through a crack in the separation. They saw Maka sitting on the couch, fuming, her chin held by her hands as her elbows rested between her legs.

"Huh. That was anticlimactic. Not even a kick to the shins, a punch to the gut, a-?"

"Liz-focus!" Tsubaki continued to peep. "They didn't get anything for each other? They were gone for two hours!"

"Soul got her something, I know it," Liz said. "But Maka? I'm not sure she got him anything."

"Oh, I disagree," Tsubaki said. "In all the years I've known Maka, she is the more prepared for these gift-giving occasions."

"You don't think Soul got her anything?"

"No, no, he was prepared-he did get her a gift." Tsubaki paused. "Which...may explain why Maka is so nervous."

"How so?"

"If Soul did so well this year, then maybe Maka feels her gift is not adequate."

Liz sighed. "Idiots." She smirked. "I could think of something she could give Soul."

Tsubaki blushed. "Gutter brain!"

"Hey, you thought of it too, perv!"

Tsubaki crossed her arms, avoiding eye contact. "Whatever." She cleared her throat to change the subject. "Where is Patty?"

"She said she had writing to finish."

Tsubaki blinked. "No, really, where is she? I thought she was helping you cook."

"I'm not lying, Tsu! She snatched my laptop and darted for her room! I think she was serious on this one."

Tsubaki's eyes widened, and she blushed harder. "Oh boy."

"What is it?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all!" Tsubaki shouted, as she waved her hands before her.

Liz smiled, deciding to drop the subject for now. "So, returning to our happy couple out there, I don't suppose you got gifts for them that you may want to give early to smooth out the hostility?"

"I do not tend to give gifts early-my parents engrained that rule in me," Tsubaki started. "You know, barring the meal I am preparing for all of us."

"Much appreciated, by the way."

"Nevertheless, I consider it my gift to the rest of us if I can just keep the peace for this evening. We do not want a repeat of previous holiday get togethers: Thanksgiving a year ago, Halloween before that."

"The horrifying experience of Easter?"

Tsubaki and Liz simultaneously shuddered. "Too much chocolate," the former said.

Liz then patted Tsubaki on the shoulder. "Let me try to mend some fences. Focus on whipping up some food for tomorrow's dinner, and see whether you could rope Maka into helping out, okay? You know, take her mind off of things. I'm going to borrow Soul for a bit of a midnight run."

Tsubaki did not get a chance to clarify what Liz meant, her friend already walking out of the kitchen and into the hallway. She tiptoed past the living room entrance-not that it mattered, Maka could not only sense her soul but still see her out the corner of her eye-and out the still opened front door to the mansion, where she found Soul sitting on the front step.

The Death Scythe's head was pressed against his knees, as if he was blocking out the entire world from him. Set next to him was a bottle of cola-he must have bought it at the mall, Liz thought-and the cap was removed yet Soul had barely drunk any of it. All he heard was someone sit next to him.

"Maka, I-"

"Wrong girl."

He lifted his head with a start.

"Hey!"

His sad eyes resumed their usual cold stare. "Hey."

"So, Christmastime, huh?"

Soul studied her. "Yeah?" He took the cola bottle to his lips. She let the silence hang for a moment. She waited until he sipped on his drink.

"So, one sibling to another-"

Soul started to choke.

"-You write to your brother yet this year?"

Soul spit up his drink. "W-wha—?!" He held his nose. "Gah, the carbonization burns! Ug! How did you know about-?"

Liz held up a hand. "Who do you think delivered that first letter-the first you wrote to him since you came to the Academy-while you were recovering from that…well, Crona's first attack?" Liz's voice trailed off towards the end, not wanting to bring up their still missing former colleague.

Soul's eyes softened a bit, as he avoided eye contact, not wanting to bring zher up either. "I only told Tsubaki about him-I thought she delivered it!"

"She was preoccupied that day, so she had me send it." She stretched back her arms. "Actually, I only looked at the address, nothing more. I didn't figure out he was your brother back then-I didn't think that some letter addressed to the musician Wes Evans had anything to do with you, the almighty Soul Eater."

Soul grimaced. "Wes...Someone else I can't bring home for the holidays," he muttered. Then he raised his voice. "But how would you piece together—"

"Please. Another white haired, red-eyed musically inclined guy, and you think half the DWMA can't figure it out?"

Soul glared at her. "No, especially not you."

Liz shrugged. "And being the Grim Reaper's glorified secretary, I…" she held her hands together, nervously, "may have had occasion, while doing some paperwork 'cause Kid took too long just to write his name, maybe, sort of...peek at your private student file."

"What?!"

"If it's any consolation," she said, holding up her hands, "Soul Evans sounds much better!"

"You went through my file! You looked at my name-change form?!"

"I also found out that Kim's birthday isn't really April 31!"

"Stop going through people's files!" Soul paused. "And that isn't even a real date, you bonehead!"

"Don't get mad at me!"

"You spied on people!"

"Okay, that's actually a fair reason to get mad at me! But seriously! Stop yelling!"

"I'll yell if I-!"

Liz slapped a hand over his mouth. "No, really," she whispered, "you don't want Maka hearing."

Soul's eyes widened, then hardened back to a glare, communicating to Liz that he would keep quiet, for now. She removed her hand. "Really, though, she's your partner-keeping a secret from her is a pretty bad idea."

He sighed.

"Okay." He crossed his arms. "Then maybe you could do me a favor, concerning another family problem."

"What, you mean about you fath—"

"Don't," he whispered, pointing at her, "not that." He lowered his finger. "It's about Maka's family."

"What, because her dad's on a mission?" Liz knew what he meant-she just didn't want to say it.

"Because her mom's on a mission."

She clenched her teeth. "Um, maybe I'm not the best person for that," she started, rubbing the back of her neck. "Last time I was around her, she kind of tried to kill me."

"Misunderstanding." He eyed her. "On your part."

"Not my fault that Kid thought she was a witch—!"

Now it was Soul's turn to cover her mouth. "We really need to practice softer talking."

Liz nodded, then he removed his hand. "But how can I help?"

Soul smiled. "Maka!" he called out. "Is there any cola left?"

"No!" he heard from the kitchen. At least she was talking to him again.

"Get me some!"

"Get off your lazy ass and pick some up!" came a cry from the kitchen.

He smirked, as he sat up, and deposited his hands in his pockets.

Liz returned the smirk. "Hey, Soul, wait up!" she called out to the kitchen. "I need coffee, too, and you won't get the right kind unless someone directs you!"

"Jeez, fine!" Soul feigned being insulted, still calling to the kitchen. "Then come along already!"

"And pick up some more eggnog!" came a slightly slurred shout from the kitchen.

Soul and Liz looked at each other in surprise and shrugged. "Okay, sis!" Liz called.

o-o-o

WRITER'S NOTES: Chapter 6

In my headcanon, Tsubaki and Liz already know about Soul's brother, and not even Maka knows. In my mind, she only found out a bit before the manga ended-and that was because she meets Wes Evans, but that's another story I haven't gotten to. It is drastic to have Soul reveal, on purpose or inadvertently, his real name and his brother before even telling his own partner. Yet I think it fits for a few reasons.

First, as I hint here, Liz works for Kid, and given her personality and skill, I expect she has the motivation and the talent to find information in the DWMA files that she really should not find. I would imagine that the DWMA keeps exhaustive records on its students, especially regarding their real names and keeping track of which names they are using at any time-it would be pretty confusing for students to keep permanent records of grades, accomplishments, and demerits if they could change their names so often. I remember that ocha-no-deathscythe's story "Affinity" suggested the Academy tracks meisters and weapons who do not enroll in the school, so I'm borrowing that idea a bit regarding how Liz learned about Soul's identity. What she meant about Soul's dad, I'm not even sure yet.

Second, I keep working on this story of Soul talking with Tsubaki following her murder of her own brother. I cannot imagine that Soul, seeing a fellow weapon contending with that experience of fratricide, would not compromise his own family shame if he could help her out. And hence, as Liz says here, Soul depends on her: after his near-death injury, he sucks it up and, if he won't tell Wes where he is, he at least will write to let him know he is fine. (And, really, if Soul is so desirous to become such a Death Scythe, he has to know this fame will attract attention of his family when they learn he is at the Academy. Or, maybe his family already knows, and he never kept his enrollment a secret, but rather was keeping this secret from his teachers and classmates so he could stand on his own name and not through nepotism. I'm not sure where I'm going with this idea-we'll see whenever I write the Wes Evans story.)

I dislike the New York parts so far that I'm writing: I just can't figure out what to do with Kid in the Big City. Even that interaction with the mugger feels not only cliché but empty.

Hmm...I wonder what Patty is writing, and why Tsubaki is nervous.