These characters are under copyright by Atsushi Ōkubo, Squar Enix, Yen Press, Shōnen,
Akatsuki Yamatoya. Madman Entertainment, Manga Entertainment, Funimation, and/or others. This is a work of fanfiction, for no monetary gain.
Chapter 4 – Unlikely Saviors: Is She Really a Witch?
Kid awoke abruptly, dragged from dreamless sleep by a wave of pain. His eyes snapped open to an unfamiliar but aesthetically pleasing ceiling, made of interlocking tiles in an intricate geometric pattern. He lay admiring the perfect symmetry for a few blissful moments before the sharp bite of the pain yanked him from his serene contemplation.
He raised his left hand to his face, trying to figure out why it hurt so terribly and was shocked by the heaviness, until he saw the cast encasing his arm from his elbow to his fingertips. Why is…?
Memory flared, sharp and bright and he bolted upright, his heart hammering, gasping at the pain in his side as his tortured muscles and ribs protested. He'd exchanged one prison cell for another, one cruel keeper for a deceptive one. He remembered the soft apology, and then blackness. But… he wasn't chained, or bound in any way. The room, though Spartan, was not bare like the cell.
Kid realized he was lying on a thin sheet covered futon pad on a frame close to the ground. There was a nightstand to either side of the bed, with identical rectangular paper lamps, of Japanese design, and a bamboo chest at the foot of the bed. A writing desk was centered against the opposite wall, a single wooden chair with four slats on the back bisecting it perfectly, with three desk drawers visible on either side of it. There were two doors, directly opposite from one another, and no windows.
He let out a heavy sigh of contentment, and his hammering heart began to calm, the debilitating panic attack averted. Symmetrical. Everything in the room is perfectly symmetrical.
Kid frowned, looking from his left hand to his right. Everything except me. He swung his legs over the bed and rose, and was surprised to see he was wearing an unfamiliar pair of silk pajamas, black, with white trim, the additional white of bandages peeking out from underneath. Someone had tended to his injuries and replaced his ruined clothes.
But there would be nothing they could do about his horrid hair. His right hand automatically went to the butchered mass and his fingers froze when he touched short, smooth softness, instead of the torn and knotted remnants he expected to find. A mirror. I have to find a mirror.
He stood on the bare wooden floor and padded over to the door on the right and opened it. A bathroom, just as he'd hoped. He frowned when he saw the single roll of toilet paper, but his sudden tension eased as he realized the paper was folded to a perfect triangular point.
Kid looked around the small bathroom and discovered two immaculate white hand towels on the towel bar, both exactly folded, hanging at precisely the same length. He turned to inspect the rest of the room and froze as he saw the mirror, staring at his reflection.
He was not nearly as hideous as he had feared. His injuries were all concealed by bandages and the pajamas, and his hair… Someone had done a remarkably efficient job of cutting it as he slept, evening out the mess it must have been. It was neatly trimmed all over, a good four centimeters shorter than before, but uniform once again, save for the white on black remnants of the hated stripes. He looked younger, with it so short, but he didn't mind. At least he could look in the mirror without wanting to vomit or smash it.
The mirror!
He wasn't at all sure he could communicate with his father merely using his Soul Wavelength, the shape he was in, but he could definitely do so with the mirror. He breathed onto the flawlessly clear glass, fogging it, and wrote with his finger, 42-42-564 and waited eagerly for the connection, frowning when the mirror's surface never wavered.
"That's not right. Is something blocking the transmission?"
He tried again, to no avail. Focusing his Soul Wavelength produced the same lack of result, but also made him nearly faint. It shouldn't have weakened him that much. Something was definitely affecting soul communications in the room. Scowling, he headed back out into the bedroom and then for the other door.
He expected to find it locked, and was both surprised and suspicious to find it opened easily, and that there was no guard on the other side, though it led to an open hallway, to the right. To the left was a wall. He frowned at the asymmetry and resolutely turned and padded down the hall. He abruptly froze when he heard a soft murmur of voices.
Should I go towards the voices, or back into the room?
"Oh! He's awake! He's in the hall!" the same child's voice from earlier said happily.
His heart rate skyrocketed.
"It's alright, kid. You can come out. I told you, we're not going to harm you," the gentle voiced stranger assured him, but Kid knew better than to trust the man. This was his target, Mifune, and he'd knocked him out, as soon as he escaped.
"We're not your enemy, kid. Someone set us up, to make it look like Angela was the one to kill all those people. Angela is a Witch, but she's a good Witch. She'd never harm anyone," the man assured him.
Why aren't they charging into the hall and attacking me? Why did they leave me free to escape in the first place? Could they be telling the truth? Even if they're just trying to trick me, I have to move forward, to find a way out.
He took a deep breath and set an authoritative scowl on his face, as he strode forward. He found himself in a living room that immediately grated on his nerves. The room was tidy, but completely asymmetrical, with a reclining chair angled off a futon, and a huge tatami mat covering a good portion of the floor. The man he knew must be Mifune rose politely from the futon, and a tiny girl dressed in a Witch's hat and robe rose from the chair.
"Welcome to our home, Death the Kid," the little girl said politely. "My name is Angela Leon, and this is my guardian Mifune."
Kid stiffened as the Witch confirmed their identities.
Mifune quickly moved in front of Angela, though he made no other threatening moves, and drew no weapon, though he was armed. "I can't allow you to harm Angela. And you don't really have any reason to, other than the fact she is, by birth, a Witch. Angela has never harmed anyone, and will never harm anyone. Her magic consists of protective wards and spells and healing magic. She's no threat to humans or the DWMA. And we did just save your life, and tend to your injuries, after all."
"Mifune, it's alright. I'm certain such a pretty and gentle looking boy with such kind eyes would never harm me," Angela assured her bodyguard.
"I… you think I'm pretty?" Kid asked in shock. No one's ever called me that before. How can they, when I'm such a freak, when I have these hideous stripes on only half my head?
"I think your stripes are cute," his father's voice echoed in his mind.
You have to say that, because you're my father. But she… they're trying to get in my good graces, to influence me and you through me, Father. Kid's eyes narrowed in suspicion and he tensed.
Angela suddenly looked sad. "You don't want to be my friend, do you? You hate me just because I'm a Witch, even though I've never done anything bad or wrong. Why are you so cold and hateful and bigoted?"
Kid froze. "You think I'm cold and hateful and bigoted?" Why would she say that, if she's trying to flatter me into helping them?
"Angela's still a child. She hasn't learned how to lie to get her way," Mifune said, as if he could hear his thoughts. "I hope she never learns. That's what I like about children. They're innocent of the ways of deceit that adults without honor thrive in."
"And are you deceitful?" Kid challenged.
"Mifune is the most kind and wonderful and honest man I've ever met!" Angela defended staunchly and indignantly, with a scowl that looked adorable, rather than fierce.
"He knocked me unconscious, after tricking me into thinking I'd escaped," Kid challenged.
Angela looked shocked. "But he didn't make you sleep! I did. He just apologized for me, because he knew I had to do it. We needed to get away quickly, and you wouldn't have let Mifune carry you, or would have either fought him or maybe tried to help him fight. Besides, we needed to treat your wounds, and I didn't want to cause you pain. Especially because I already knew we needed to re-break the bones in your hand, before we could set them so they would heal properly," she said, her voice sweet and innocent sounding, and her eyes welling with tears as she indicated his cast.
He frowned. "You set the bones?"
"Why of course! It never would heal properly otherwise. Although Mifune did that part, but only because when I tried, it made me cry, even though I knew I had to hurt you in order to help you," she explained, wiping at her eyes and smiling up at him.
"You were very brave. And after everything you did to tend to me, you shouldn't have to do anything like that again," Mifune soothed.
He looked up at Kid. "The reason Giriko tried to set you up to go after me and Angela was because we've been too hard for him and the Witch Esmeralda to catch on their own. Esmeralda is Angela's aunt, but she's nothing like her sister was, or her niece. She murdered the Witch Umbra, Angela's mother.
"If it wasn't for my friend Michiko's divination, I'd have been killed three weeks ago, and Angela would be their prisoner, or dead, as soon as they got what they're after. I still might die, though we're trying to change what she saw. Not for my sake, but for Angela's.
"Who will protect her, if I'm gone? I can't allow them to take Angela. And if I was their prisoner instead, they'd force her to do something terrible, or if I'm dead, hurt her until she obeyed."
"The DWMA…" Kid began.
"The DWMA hunts Witches, they don't protect them. You're our greatest enemy, though we wish it was otherwise," Mifune said with a sigh.
"So then I am your prisoner," Kid said in somewhat twisted satisfaction.
Mifune scowled. "Of course not. You're free to leave at any time. But the moment you leave the protection of Angela's wards, your soul will be visible again, and that maniac Giriko and that murderous Witch Esmeralda will come after you again. Originally you might have been nothing more than bait for their trap, but now that you've escaped, they'll hunt you down without mercy. Not that they showed you mercy before, but now it's personal.
"You damaged their egos. After the way they all but obliterated yours, I'm glad we were able to strike a blow against them. It was some small retaliation for what they did to you. I don't normally believe in vengeance, from what I've seen, it only leads to more sorrow, but you're still a kid. Besides, Esmeralda murdered her own sister, in order to gain her power. She needs to be stopped."
Kid wanted to argue that his ego wasn't badly damaged at all by his captivity, but he knew it was a lie. He'd been reduced to a cowering, sobbing, trembling, pathetic weakling.
He jumped as a tiny hand clutched his right hand. "Why are you so hard on yourself?" Angela asked, as if she could hear his disparaging thoughts. They must have been written all over his face. "Why can't you see how wonderful you are?"
That's something Maka or my father would say. But it isn't true. I'm asymmetrical garbage, my hair, even my hand now. He held up the cast and glared at it, and then began clawing at it with his right hand, trying to rip the plaster off.
"Hey! Stop that!" Mifune ordered. "Angela and I went through a lot to re-break your bones so we could set your fingers so they would heal right. She cried her eyes out, over you, even though she knew we were helping you. Don't you dare make her go through that again.
"We can put a cast on your other hand, if you want us to. We almost did before, but then you'd be all but helpless, unable to even hold a fork or chopsticks to feed yourself. We made sure your bedroom was completely symmetrical, so it wouldn't upset you, but there's only so much we can do, kid," Mifune chastised.
Kid felt terrible as he saw Angela's eyes were welling with tears again, and he heard the compassion and frustration in Mifune's voice.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you did all that for me. I noticed the room, of course, but I thought it was just always that way and… I should have realized no one else would have a room like that, a house like that. I'm sorry I'm so pathetic, that I'm such a burden to you," Kid said meekly, cowed and humiliated, bowing his head in shame.
Mifune sighed. "Stop that, kid. You just have a few little personality quirks and foibles, that's all. Everyone does, to one extent or another, pet peeves, things that bug them, you know? I knew a guy once that couldn't stand it when his coffee mug handles weren't all turned to the right in the cupboard, all pointing in one direction. And another guy who organized all his books by color instead of by author, in rainbow order, red to purple, and the clothes in his closet that way too. Other people knock on wood or step over cracks. There are all kinds of things that to others seem like nonsensical habits.
"Me, I sharpen my swords, whenever I'm feeling anxious, no matter how perfect the edges already are. It calms me, makes me feel as prepared as possible, but the sound drives some people crazy. I find it soothing, reassuring. I live in a world full of guns that can kill me from dozens of meters away, but I rely on weapons invented thousands of years ago and hundreds of years obsolete," he said with a slight smile and a shake of his head at his own folly.
"Swords have elegance and honor and beauty. Very few guns can claim that distinction," Kid argued. "Mine do, though," he added softly, and closed his eyes. Liz. Please be alright.
"Hey, are you alright? You're not going to pass out, are you?" Mifune asked in concern. "You should eat something. Your body needs food and rest to heal. I've made some ramen. Soup is always good, when you're injured, easy to chew."
Kid shook his head. "I can't eat soup, only puree. I can't stand the randomness of noodles or chunks of vegetables in a puddle of liquid," he said with a shudder.
"It sounds to me like you never saw a proper bowl of ramen before. True ramen is an art form, kid, like a rock garden, raked and arranged to perfection. Why don't you let me make you a bowl, and then we'll see, alright?"
"I don't like wasting food," Kid cautioned.
"Trust me. You'll want to eat what I prepare," Mifune assured him. "Come on. We'll eat in the dining room, even though it's just the three of us. The only thing in that room is a low table and four cushions to sit on, centered in the room. We usually eat in the kitchen, but you probably wouldn't be able to relax enough in there."
"There are only three of us," Kid said anxiously. "At home, we have two dining rooms, one with an equilateral triangle table, for when I eat with just Liz and Patty, and one with a square, when my father eats with us."
His eyes started moving from Mifune to Angela to the asymmetrical living room around him, and then to the cast on his hand; he could feel the tension building.
"Breathe, kid. Calm down. Angela, why don't you get your markers and draw on his cast?" Mifune suggested.
Kid recoiled in horror, at the thought of a childish drawing and he began shaking, his breath coming in rapid gasps, pain knifing through him from his healing ribs, as his fragile control, which was already slipping, began to disintegrate more rapidly.
Angela ran to the edge of the large tatami mat and began tugging on it.
"Angela, don't!" Mifune warned.
"Help me move it! He has to see how well I can draw, how pretty it will look!" she insisted, tugging at the bulky mat, sliding one edge of it across the smooth wooden floor, revealing an arc surrounding strange symbols.
"Alright, stand back, I'll do it. It's too late to keep it concealed now anyway," Mifune said with a sigh. He grabbed one end of the mat and began rolling it up, revealing an amazingly detailed design painted onto the floor in pumpkin orange. It was a multifaceted, spiked circle, perfectly round, with dozens of runes scripted within the boundary of the edges, every detail exquisite, and wonderfully, astonishingly symmetrical.
Kid fell to his knees in front of it, in awe. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. He drank in every detail, his eyes glancing everywhere, looking for some fatal flaw to reveal itself, to destroy the perfection of it, but there was nothing wrong.
"It's a ward: Soul Protect. It's an extremely powerful version, not like the usual ones where you can still see a soul, but just not know if it's a Witch or Kishin Egg or Weapon or Meister or Reaper or regular human. It makes the whole house invisible to anyone using Detection spells or even Soul Projection. It completely conceals us. You wouldn't even be able to use your Soul Wavelength or a mirror to call anyone, unless you damaged the circle," Angela said proudly and innocently.
Kid saw Mifune wince, as she betrayed the way to sabotage it.
"Don't mess up this circle, kid. After Esmeralda and Giriko destroyed Angela's castle, nearly killed me and almost snatched Angela, it took us days to find a safe place far enough away from them that we could hide, while I healed. It took Angela nearly a week to get this circle right, because it's so detailed, and she had to pour a lot of her magic into it to charge and activate it, after she'd already drained herself dangerously healing the worst of my injuries, so I'd survive.
"When I was finally able to crawl out of bed, worried because I hadn't seen her for days, when I knew she'd been so worried about me, I found her unconscious next to the circle, and completely dehydrated. I could see every rib. That was over a week ago, and she's still not fully recovered. I don't want to hurt you, but I can't let you damage it," Mifune threatened.
"Damage it?" Kid asked, appalled. "How could anyone even think to mar such perfection, such beauty, such wonderful symmetry?" Kid asked, his voice worshipful.
Mifune exhaled in relief. "Good. Alright then. This is the kind of thing Angela draws, what she wants to draw on your cast, so that even though you only have one, the one you have will be so pretty you won't be upset by it. She can draw wards without charging them – it won't do anything, unless she wants it to – but it will make you happier, even without putting her magic into it, just because it's so pretty. It's up to you if you let her draw it or not. You can even come up with your own design, if you want, so you're sure we're not trying to trick you to put some kind of bad magic onto you without you knowing what it is."
Kid's eyes widened. He hadn't even thought of that possibility, and he should have. Mifune was right, he should just design something himself for her to draw, but this was so perfect, so wonderful…
"Angela, would you please draw a ward on my cast? Anything you like, as long as it's perfectly symmetrical. But could you please draw it in black? Because the cast is white and my clothes – I mean, the pajamas you lent me – are black and white, and I always wear black and white. It doesn't have to be orange, does it?" Kid asked hopefully.
"No, but orange is my favorite color. It was my mother's color. All her magic was orange. Orange makes me think of her," Angela said, her voice sincere, but also sad and wistful.
"Oh. I understand. But… my father, Lord Death, is black and white. I never thought about it before, but that's probably why those are my two favorite colors, why I like them so much, because they remind me of my father," Kid said thoughtfully.
"Oh! Then of course, I'll make it black!" Angela said happily, and ran out of the room, apparently to get a marker.
"Thank you, for speaking so gently to her, and explaining, instead of ordering. She's used to people demanding she do things she doesn't want to do, and she can be pretty stubborn because of it. Or worse, she gets upset, and seeing that… I don't understand how other people can make children cry. I feel like my heart is going to stop, any time I see her sad," Mifune admitted.
"She's a very sweet gir…" Kid stopped mid word in shock. A girl. She was a Witch, but also just a little girl. And he'd been sent to kill her. Suddenly he felt sick. Were any of the other Witches we killed like her? Innocent?
"Good. I see it's made you think, at least. I don't know if your father will understand, but at least you do, now. Witches aren't evil, just because their parents were Witches, because they were born with the ability to do magic, any more than a Weapon has to become a Kishin Egg, or a human born to Mafia parents has to become a murderer.
"Evil isn't innate, it's learned, taught. Or sometimes embraced, no matter how good your parents were, how happy your life was. Just remember that, alright? Because you know too much about Angela and her magic, now. Everything you know would make it easier for you or your father or Black*Star or one of the other Meisters to kill us. And I don't want Angela to die," Mifune said simply.
Angela came running back into the room, a black marker clutched tightly in her hand. "I'm ready! I know just what to draw!" she said happily. "You have to promise not to move though. If you move, I'll mess up," she said intently.
"I won't move. I promise," Kid said.
"Lunch first, alright? It won't take long to eat, and you'll be drawing for hours, right?" Mifune asked.
"OK. Lunch first. Ramen, yea!" Angela squealed excitedly.
"It's usually my job, but you can help set the table," Angela said happily to Kid, as if it was a generous offer.
Kid smiled, he couldn't help himself. "Alright. Thank you."
They went into the kitchen and Kid froze. It was clean, but nowhere near symmetrical.
"Why don't you hand him the chopsticks, spoons, napkins and glasses, and let him set those out, while you get the pitcher of water?" Mifune suggested.
Kid was grateful to him again, for his understanding and compassion. After being pointed to the dining room, he set out the three place settings, putting a napkin on each side of each place, with a single chopstick on each, with the glass centered above where the bowl would go and the spoon centered at the top above it, vertically, instead of horizontally, though it would be awkward to reach. He hoped they wouldn't mind.
When Angela brought the water pitcher she looked at the table in surprise. "I never thought of doing it like that before! It's very unusual, but organized!" she said approvingly.
Kid felt absurdly pleased and relieved. "Would it be alright if I pour the water for everyone? I think I've made it too hard for you to reach the glasses," he said diplomatically. "Although you can move yours closer to your chair," he offered generously.
"OK!" she agreed.
Mifune came in with a large circular tray, with three bowls of ramen arranged in a triangle in the center. Kid's eyes widened in surprise. The eggs, meat, bean sprouts and vegetables were artfully arranged on the curving swirl of noodles not only in his own bowl, but in all of theirs.
"It's almost too pretty to eat," Angela said approvingly.
Kid had to agree, but he was famished. He hadn't thought he'd have an appetite, after what had happened, but he felt more calm and at ease than he could have imagined, away from his own home, which was particularly astonishing, because meals away from home were usually so stressful he found it impossible to eat at all. The sole exception had been the dinner parties at Soul's and Maka's house.
"Thank you for the food. For everything," Kid said earnestly.
"It's our pleasure," Mifune replied, obviously pleased he approved.
Kid ate with his usual slow care, but keeping his left hand below the table, so the sight of it wouldn't upset him, until the asymmetry of it not being visible at all proved worse than looking at the cast. He was able to finish most of the bowl, before he asked to be excused, the cast, the three of them at the table, and the uneven remains in his bowl finally proving too much for him. He needed to retreat to his room.
"Go ahead. Once Angela is finished, she can draw the ward for you, while I do the dishes. And afterwards, we'll figure out a way to safely get a message to the DWMA to let them know you're alright, and to figure out a way to get you to them without endangering either you or Angela," Mifune offered.
Kid bit his lip. "I've been thinking about that. I think the safest thing is for both of you to come with me. You need the DWMA to protect you. You and Angela will both be safe there. I'm going to offer you my personal protection."
Mifune shook his head. "I wish we could do that, but your father would never allow it. In the 900 years he's been a Reaper, he's never once sheltered a Witch. And he'd probably think we cast a spell on you or something. We can't risk Angela like that."
"Once I contact him, I can convince him, I'm sure I can," Kid assured him.
"We'll see. If I think it's safe, then we'll take you up on the offer," Mifune hedged. "When I fought Black*Star and Tsubaki, they told me I'd make an excellent teacher. I've never worked in a school before, but I think that's the most wonderful dream I could ever imagine, to be surrounded by children, teaching, nurturing and protecting them.
"Even better. Then we're agreed. I'll convince my father, and you come to the Academy to teach, and Angela can become a student. Maybe we'll start a new magic class, so we can all learn more about Witches and magic, so we understand one another better," Kid suggested enthusiastically.
"You mean I could go to school?" Angela asked, eyes wide and shining with hope.
"I promise I'll do everything I can to see that you get that chance," Kid swore.
Angela squealed in delight and ran to him and hugged him.
Kid froze, unused to such exuberant displays of affection. Few people ever touched him, knowing how unsettling that was for him, but he found to his surprise that he didn't mind her touch at all. He patted the back of her head awkwardly, the soft hair just below the rim of her Witch's hat.
Then Angela pulled back. "Great! Now it's time to draw!" Angela said eagerly.
For the second time, Kid found himself smiling at the little Witch.