Chapter Eight: Untitled

The way how the world was beginning to work was that demon weapon-meister history was steadily growing more popular. Lord Death was invited to interviews and to be featured on podcasts that had previously had no tabs open for the unsettling, the occult, the weird—lest it was those controversial sites and radio programs.

But Lord Death had said, "The pre-kishin are a real force in our world. Sometimes the lay person does not realize that their neighbor has gone down a corrupted path. Sometimes in urban societies we are so used to murder and death that when an instance comes up where someone is killed for their soul, it's thrown in with everything else. But it's very, very different. And what matters is the soul."

The research branches of Shibusen and the concept of the DWMA-CIA was bleeding into blogs, apps, and newspapers. More and more people around the world were growing more aware and began realizing that their anomalies were the result of lineage, of being at the end of an uncharted bloodline of weapon or meister. More and more the global census began to report that, in effect, Arachne had outdone herself.

It was bittersweet irony that the world had an army that could balance out its impurities, its corruptions, and its senseless deaths. Lord Death considered opening schools in other continents. He needed Spirit Albarn to represent him in India; he needed Ox to go to the Russian embassy. Shibusen had its international branches, but its school was in Nevada, USA. They needed another academy in the east to train the influx of incoming students.

Maka and Tsubaki were chatting in Japanese over their lunch. "When you and Black Star had overseen the negotiations in Australia, what was the result?"

"They're drafting up plans for the school already, they've gained approval to. There was a weapon there, not quite a Death Scythe but very powerful, who was elected to be headmaster in Lord Death's stead. There's still the issue of teachers. Shibusen is understaffed where teachers are concerned."

She hummed in recognition. "Students have always been coming to Nevada," Maka replied. "Retired meisters and weapons may be approached to fill the gap."

Tsubaki said, rather hesitantly, "I've always meant to ask you, Maka."

"Hm?"

"Why hadn't your mother ever stayed with Shibusen? I've always heard she was a brilliant meister."

"She is," Maka beamed. "But Mama had other things that she had to do away from Shibusen."

"It would be fantastic if she could become a teacher for one of the foreign branches, don't you think?"

Maka replied pensively, "I can't imagine Mama staying in one place for very long."

When that left her lips Maka thought of herself. Teachers were in demand and she could fit the role perfectly. She was still a senior student, but she filled in for Professor Stein often enough. When she graduated, what would be her next step?

"It's more than just a growing institution," Ox discussed with Havar and Killik and Soul, "it's a growing industry. Humanity had seen the agricultural revolution, the industrial revolution and the information revolution, and now we're living in the age of the fourth—a demon weapon-meister revolution. Organizations are popping up like wildfire, claiming to trace your lineage and test for weapon and meister blood. Unsanctioned schools are being erected, uneducated weapons being employed as bodyguards for the rich and the elite. All this is generating income, and it's dangerous to general safety."

"There was a case a few weeks ago of a witch being assaulted," Havar said grimly. His gaze was over his shoulder and on the hard skyline of Death City. "The person who was arrested reportedly had several souls in his possession, an assemblage of sound and corrupt souls. While awareness is a good thing, it's stabbing DWMA in the back—the school was erected to educate on how to use their powers, how to become stronger and a responsible member of a lesser explored niche of society. Now that education is being misinterpreted and should offenses like that one be repeated, it may not be too long before we have another Last Death Scythe to deal with."

The group was suddenly silent and sober.

"It's no game to become a Death Scythe of course," Ox went on, "even the most highly trained students were killed by witches in the past. But that doesn't mean that people won't try."

"And that'll hurt relations we have with the witches," Killik said, speaking up for the first time.

"Exactly so."

Soul took it all in, his hands in his pockets and his bangs in his face and the wind.

Excalibur was ranting about something.

Elizabeth held her hand out to Patty to shoot it.

Lord Death shouted, "You can't shoot a mystical and legendary weapon in the library!"

In softer tones he said, "I've been considering adding another course to the DWMA syllabus."

Interested, Excalibur asked, "Oh?"

"Magic," he replied. "We need to be properly educated on magic. Perhaps on not how to use it, but on what it is. I want DWMA to bridge the gap between humans and witches. The latter may be prone to destruction, but they are able to create a functional society among themselves. There must be a way for all of us to co-exist: witches have already been enrolled here."

"And you're fine with using this school, which your father went through pains to erect, as a bargaining chip towards that goal?"

"Towards the end that goal was also my father's, and he has left me to carry on the baton. I must do so as I see fit." His eyes grew steely when he spoke of the previous Reaper. They were eyes that were doubtful and tried to be resolute, that reflected stress and pain and hope and determination and purpose all at once in something so colossal and moving it was amazing that it existed in a single entity: but that was a god for you.

Patty began shooting.

Lord Death shouted at the Thompson sisters.

"…is the CEO of the car engines' manufacturing company that has made considerable donations to the DWMA European branch in Germany. He's been quoted to say that while demons are a threat to the world, every man should put in his own two cents to create peace. He disagrees with Lord Death's philosophy of equal evil and good existing in the world, that the latter should prevail in order for civilizations to be at peace," the radio host went on and on scarcely catching breath as he continued.

Maka was caught in the motion of watering the plants on the windowsill of the kitchen. She was singing In Other Words softly and her eyes were rheumy with daydreams. When she sat down to read a book, a debate had broken out among the panel of guest speakers on the station about how the psyche responds to perpetual peace and stress, agreeing with, denouncing, or circling Kidd's belief and aim.

"I don't know how the hell you can listen to these old fags and read about old fags at the same time," Soul commented rudely. He clicked the radio off.

"I was listening to that," his partner said with weak venom.

"It's my turn to make dinner?"

"Pasta's in the fridge."

"No more fish?"

She glared at him.

"I'd cook it this time."

"Soul, a lot of things have been happening in the world since Asura and Chrona were sealed in the moon."

He grunted in acknowledgement.

"I think this place looks a lot different from when we first began at DWMA. So many people weren't this involved in what we did. I hadn't thought of it as much of anything before but…being a world apart had its benefits. There were no superficial arguments—though there was enough philosophical discourse."

"English."

"What I mean is," she sat up and said with bite, "there are too many people who don't understand what we do thinking that they're an integral part of this."

With the rim of the beer bottle to his lips he iterated: "This?"

"What we do. Defending the world from kishin. Protecting people and cultures. Doing things that normal people can't do."

"If you draw a map they are a part of it. They're essentially at the bottom of the food chain."

Maka wasn't sure whether to laugh or wince at the inhumanity.

"Whether or not we like it though, we have to deal. Because things are just getting started."

That this was just the beginning seemed almost dreadful.

Soul and Maka were summoned into Lord Death's personal quarters at the dawn of strange news. An old family claiming relations to Soul was offering to invest in Shibusen's European school. They even claimed to be able to find teachers.

Kidd had mentioned, "With the disbanding of the Black Blood research there are a few scholars who are interested in employment in Germany, but I'm not sure whether or not this is a hoax. Soul?"

Soul was not pale, did not have his feet fixed into the ground. His back was not rigid, his eyes were not too fixed or too glazed or too nervous. He did not tremble nor fidget; he did not seem uncomfortable or unsettled. But there was definitely a disturbance in his being, something that made both Maka and Kidd watch him a bit more keenly.

He was not ignorant of their scrutiny. He replied: "It's not a hoax. My father keeps to his promises."

The statement being a dramatic turn of events was useful from Lord Death's perspective. He asked Soul Eater and his partner Maka Albarn to report to the Evans' family's graciousness and invite them personally to the gala to occur in two weeks as a pleasantry event to honor sponsors and mingle. He told them to think of it as a brief vacation, a sort of reprieve before the rush of work that was soon to follow.

Soul wondered if it would be anything but.

"You're curious about my family, right?"

They were in an empty lecture hall because Maka had claimed to be looking for notes. Maka did not reply immediately. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to," she lied.

"It's not about me wanting to. I don't have a choice now. You're going to meet them yourself next week."

Maka looked at him carefully. Her eyes were large and round and she was sincere in her question (but her voice and tone were blunt): "You don't get along with your family?"

"I do with Wes and Uncle Monty. My parents and grandmother are…"

Maka stared at him.

Soul exhaled. "Alright, I'll start from the top. I was born in England six years after my mother quit being a Parisian runway model…"

Author's Note: I apologize for the lateness. This is a pivotal chapter. I'm very happy with how it turned out, though it's a bit short, I was very engaged with what was happening in the world.

When I was reading and watching Soul Eater I got the feeling that what DWMA and the gang did was very different from whatever else was going in the world: particularly when Maka once said of Hero, "If he went to a normal school he'd be popular." Soul had replied, "What matters here is the soul." So I began to wonder if everyone else who has nothing to do with Shibusen or anything that magical or supernatural related would think of these guys as powerful freaks and in some ways threats—as do Anti-Shibusen factions, I surmise.

Thank you for your patience so far and for your supportive reviews.