…and once the blinding light had vanished from the street, Jeanne lowered the guillotine scythe to her side and looked at the ball-shaped soul resting in the place where the evil human had been a few seconds ago. She pointed the tip of the scythe at the hitodama and watched as her partner absorbed the would-be Kishin soul into his weapon form.
"Number 34. Spring Heeled Jack," she declared, smiling. "I do believe we're making fine progress, love…"
On cue, the cross-shaped handle disintegrated in her clutches and the particles rearranged themselves in the figure of a young human boy. Yet despite having just won the battle, Justin was pale in the face and looked sick. Jeanne immediately became concerned.
"Ah! Are you alright? I was unaware that Silver Gun took so much strength out of you…"
Justin shook his head. "I'm fine. I just… I don't like this form that much." He pressed his fingers to his temples as if to ward off a headache.
She tilted her head. "Justin?" There was uncertainty in her voice.
"I can't hear my music like this."
"Justin…"
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "It's not your fault, but…" He looked down. "I hate being a demon weapon with a meister. I hate being used by someone else."
The silence that hung in the air following his words was deafening.
Justin immediately realized he had said something wrong. "I didn't mean to imply that you were doing a poor job—"
"Ta gueule!" Her eyes brimmed with hurt. "You…you're a bastard, you know that?" She looked like she wanted to kill him.
He winced, regretting what he said. "Sorry, Jeanne… I didn't mean it like that."
"Those were cruel words. You shouldn't be saying things like that to a girl." Jeanne sighed, and then regained her calm countenance. "But it's alright. You're my partner, Justin. We'll have to try something else, then." She stuck out her hand, her fingers unfurling to reveal an open palm. "Give me your headphones."
He didn't move.
"Your headphones, mon chéri."
He hesitated for a second longer before forfeiting them over to her. But rather than watching them disappear from sight, Justin stared as Jeanne slipped the buds into her own ears.
"Now give me your hand," she said, her voice relaxed. "We're going to try something new. Try to perform soul resonance with me while still in your human form."
And he did.
"… …No, no. Don't try to level with my soul. Can you feel me pushing against your wavelength? Push back…with all your might. Try to overwhelm me."
And he did.
"Jeanne…I don't think…"
She cut him off with her soothing voice.
"Have faith, love."
There was a flash of light, and the next thing Justin knew, he was—
(he couldn't even explain what he felt in words
he felt like his soul was ripped from his body
and then suddenly
he wasn't there anymore.)
'I…I can hear my music.'
Jeanne smiled.
'Where am I?'
"You're inside me," she murmured softly. "You're in control now. I'll be the weapon, and you be the meister."
crossing thyself with acid
"…and I insist that you call me at least once a month. Traveling all over Europe… just imagine all the things you'll see! I'm so jealous! I want to hear about everything that happens to you so keep me updated, alright? Justin? Justin?"
Her response was a blink and some absentminded nodding. Justin's earphones bobbed up and down in rhythm to his nods, the techno beats blasting loud enough to be heard by anyone standing within a twenty feet radius of the thirteen-year-old kid. It was obvious where his mind had been for the past three minutes she was talking.
Jeanne frowned. "Were you even listening?"
"Yes." (Lies.) "Yes. I'll call you. For sure."
"Do you swear?"
"Yes, yes, I swear."
"Very good. Don't forget." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at the brochures in her hand. "Now while we're on the topic of you traveling Europe…"
Justin let out a vague 'hmm' in response and took a sip of his soft drink, looking off into the distance.
"…you must take pictures Vienna—I heard they have the most gorgeous Baroque architecture—okay Justin? Justin? Justin!"
Justin was somewhere else again. Specifically, his own little world.
"JUS—…are you humming Ave Maria?"
Seconds before Jeanne was about throttle the boy, Justin sprung back to reality and looked at her as if she had just called his name for the first time.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Jeanne." A perfectly placid smile. "What can I do you for?"
"… …you're an idiot, I hope you know."
"The who in the what now?"
"My grandmammy has better hearing than you and she's seventy-three."
"Ah?"
"You're so deaf you couldn't hear a train ready to run you over at a hundred and fifty miles per hour."
His eyebrows furrowed. "Jeanne, I'm afraid you'll have to speak up. I can't understand a word of what you're saying."
Exasperated, she threw her arms into the air. "Fine, ignore me!"
"Alright then."
Justin went back to ignoring her.
An indignant sputter. "A-ah! I didn't mean that!"
Too late. She could already hear the familiar ZUN ZUN ZUN of his headphones.
Clenching her teeth, Jeanne grounded the palm of her hand into her forehead. How? Just how? Justin Law had to be the most infuriating person on the face of the earth…how did she put up with him for so long? Such a rude brat! Normal people wouldn't wear earphones during a conversation! Normal people wouldn't have an attention span of a flea! Normal people wouldn't be Justin Law.
…then again, Justin wasn't exactly the traditional definition of 'normal'. He was a child prodigy, an autonomous demon weapon, the newly ordained Death Scythe of Europe, and a dozen things on top of that. He talked twenty decibels louder than the standard conversational level. His religious motific earphones were practically super-glued to his ear canals. His choice weapon of battle was the impractical, improbable, and impossible guillotine. If Justin was normal, than Jeanne was secretly an alien.
She highly doubted she was an alien.
"Oi. Justin. Before we leave, I have one last thing to say."
Justin rounded towards her with a curious expression. "…?"
Jeanne hesitated, as if mentally weighing the pros and cons of revealing the other thing she had on her mind. "I just…I don't want to see you killed or anything," she finally admitted after a moment of thought. "You may be a prodigy, but you're only thirteen."
Justin tilted his head. His eyes turned playful and teasing. "Yes, mother."
She gave him a sour look. "Don't give me that. You haven't even gone through puberty yet."
A smug smile bloomed on his face. "And yet, I've managed to achieve the status of a Death Scythe in my present state. I'd like to think I'm capable of taking care of myself."
"I'm sure Headmaster Shinigami has his reasons for allowing you to be a Death Scythe, but I still don't think you're completely ready for combat as an autonomous weapon. It's different fighting in your own body as I'm sure you know, love. I wish I could have trained you more…" she trailed off with a frown, crossing her arms. "Don't forget—I won't be there to amplify your wavelength so you'll have to find other means to manipulate it."
He looked at her innocently as his smile widened. "Jeanne, are you telling me how to fight?"
"…I can kick your ass, you know."
"Hmm~"
"Justin."
ZUN ZUN ZUN, went his headphones.
"Justin."
He was ignoring her again. If Jeanne had better control of her own wavelength, she would have blasted him with it right now. Instead, she stuck her foot out and kicked him in the groin.
…he somehow avoided it.
Damn him for knowing her movements so well! They lived together for a year—what else did she expect? She was like an open book.
"…Just watch out of yourself," Jeanne muttered. "You've always been loud and reckless."
Apparently he heard those words because he replied with a cheerful, "And why shouldn't I be loud? Through my voice, the Lord's words will reach all ears!"
Even during the process of something sentimental, such as exchanging goodbyes, Justin still had to be a snarky little bastard and a missionary wannabe. Nevertheless, Jeanne found herself smiling. She'd miss him, for sure.
She swung around, her bags flying about on her arms, "Don't forget to call me! Stay in touch, mon chéri~!"
Justin smiled and waved.
As Jeanne boarded the plane that was going to fly back to her homeland, she had a momentarily pang of doubt if the decision she made was the correct one. Leaving DWMA after a single year had not been in her plans when she first applied to the school. But now, it seemed as if she had no other option. After all…what was a meister supposed to do without their weapon?
She tried not to worry too much about it.
Of course he would remember her! After all, who could forget somebody as beautiful as Jeanne Arnett?
"Where do you want the blade to appear?"
'On the arm.'
"Alright. Dismantle your weapon form until all you have is the guillotine's blade. Then concentrate on the part of the body you want to have it impaled. Now imagine the blade pushing through the skin."
He took a breath—
"Slicing."
—and concentrated.
"Ripping through muscles and tendons."
Through Jeanne's eyes, Justin could see a thin metal blade jutting out of her forearm.
"There," he heard her say.
When Justin was fourteen, he had forgotten completely about Jeanne Arnett.
…
…
…
Yeah.
He never called her like he had promised to. He never wrote her letters, he didn't bother emailing or texting her—as a matter of fact, it had been a year since he had any contact with her whatsoever.
Justin royally sucked at keeping his promises.
Well, it was hardly his fault. The adjustment from being a student at school to a protector of a whole continent has been a tough one. When he wasn't executing sinners for their crimes, he was praying to the Lord for spiritual guidance. Who could blame him if he didn't have time to spare for trivial things like girls?
And frankly, it wasn't as if Jeanne was that important in Justin's life to begin with. Though he had lived with her for several months, he never read too much into it. There was nothing special about their arrangement as all meisters and weapons lived together by the request of Shinigami-sama. Their relationship was nothing more than one of mutualism. It was simply…customary.
And Jeanne. What to even make of Jeanne…?
Jeanne Arnett was a bitch, to summarize up her personality in one word. Jeanne was the hugest bitch on the face of the earth. She was arrogant and stubborn, insanely motivated by pride and the overarching desire to be the best at everything. She was extremely attractive—blonde hair and green eyes, an hourglass waist and the legs of a runway model. She carried herself as if she were of divinity and spoke to others in a language of 'love', addressing both boys and girls with implications of love, not necessarily of the romantic brand, though more than enough people read it the wrong way.
Jeanne arrested everyone's attention, both good and bad, just by the way she walked, the way she talked, the way she twirled her hair.
Everyone's attention except Justin's. He simply wasn't interested in female beauty and sexual appeal. It never caught his eye.
And maybe that was why she asked to be his partner.
("My name…it's Jeanne Arnett. I think I like you. Would you be my partner?"
A beat. "My weapon form is a guillotine. It's a strange weapon to wield…"
"Ah~ Well, I'm French. My people invented you, mon chéri.)
Had Justin been capable of being a self-sufficient weapon at the time, he would have given her a flat-out 'no'. But back then, he was still several months away from being fully autonomous and there was something about being the one chosen by this attractive girl so many guys wanted to partner up with that really just sorta appealed to him (oh merciful Lord forgive him for his sinful pride and ego)—
—so he accepted, fully knowing that it was a temporary contract.
In retrospect, Justin would admit that it wasn't all that bad. The eight months they spent together wasn't as painful as he had expected them to be.
Surprisingly enough, they were well suited for each other. Their wavelengths complemented one another and they lived together in (estranged) harmony.
Justin soon learned that Jeanne's flirty personality was little more than a facade she wore in public. In reality, she was as aloof to people as he was, which was a relief for him, really. Justin quickly got used to her romantic way of speaking and learned not to read too deeply into her pet names for him. He had originally mistaken her as the type who was emotionally clingy, but realized she preferred solitude as much as he did. Jeanne left him alone most of the time, and he entirely appreciated this.
As a matter of fact, they rarely spent time together outside of class and missions. Justin spent most of his days in his room, poring over scriptures and homework with his music set to max and his mind centered on God. Jeanne cooked and cleaned. Justin was perfectly capable of throwing together a meal for himself, but she insisted on cooking for him. She was decent at it, and he didn't care enough to argue with her. When Jeanne wasn't doing chores, she was either studying or training on her own.
She was a very strange meister. As far as ranking went, she classified as a one-star meister. Her soul-reading perception was just… abysmal.
But compare that to the way she fought…
He wasn't even sure where half her physical strength came from. She was older than him by two years. Perhaps that was it?
School was one of the few times they were together. But even though they were physically close, their minds were worlds apart. Justin was a natural-born genius and simply listened to his earphones during class while Jeanne was scribbling down notes and recording the professor's lectures. Their different approaches achieved the same result—they were two of the highest achieving students in their class.
And every Sunday, they attended mass together. ("Que Dieu vous bénisse et vous garde," she would always say to him before every mission.)
They lived a generally peaceful life…apart.
And because of this, Justin was able to tolerate Jeanne to the point where he might have even liked her as a friend. She was pretty. She was intelligent. She had motivation and drive. She was worthy of being Justin's trophy partner for the little while they were on the same level, until she fell behind and then he no longer needed her.
Those words summarized everything she was to him. Because when push came to shove, Jeanne Arnett was little more than a milestone on his holy quest as the executioner of God.
And that was that.
So as his first year as a Death Scythe passed, Justin slowly forgot about her.
In general, people's faces and identities rarely left a lasting imprint in his mind. Justin was not a type of person who cared more than they were required, which was why he erased people's identities from his mental files once he was certain they'd no longer have an impact on his life. A month after he became a Death Scythe, Justin came to the conclusion that he would probably never again cross paths with his former technician. So Jeanne's file was shoved to the back of his head, put in the disposal bin that was automated to be emptied out every couple of months or so.
Except. Well.
Their paths did cross again.
It happened without warning; he hadn't seen it coming from a million miles away. It had been sometime in…April. Was it April? Perhaps it was May. He wasn't too sure.
Justin had just completed his mission in Germany and had just come out of a lovely café where he had his lunch—when all of a sudden, he found himself face to face with a familiar somebody in the middle of a busy street in Munich. Green eyes and flowing golden hair; she looked like some actress right out of a movie.
"Justin Law, why didn't you ever call me?" were her greeting words.
Justin arched both eyebrows. He was surprised, to say the least. He had never expected to see Jeanne ever again and suddenly—here she was! Completely out of the blue! Well, wasn't this awkward. How was he supposed to respond to such a blatant question? Should he run away? He couldn't just ignore her. They had history…and God forbade him from being rude to others…
People were staring at them. Time to make more people stare…
Justin took a deep breath.
"OHHH! LONG TIME NO SEE~ I WASN'T EXPECTING TO MEET YOU HERE. HOW HAVE YOU BEEN FARING?"
Jeanne's mouth drew into a thin, tight line.
"WHAT WAS THAT? WHAT? YOU DON'T SEEM TO BE SAYING ANYTHING. Have you lost your ability of speech…?" He looked horrified.
"… … …"
"OH, YOU HAVE INDEED BECOME MUTE! HOW UNFORTUNATE! ALAS, IF IT IS HIS WILL, THEN WHO ARE WE MORTALS TO QUESTION HIM? AFTER ALL, GOD WORKS IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS…"
"Justin. I haven't lost my ability to speak."
He blinked. "…oh! Well, forgive me for assuming the worst… It has been a while, hasn't it? A year has more or less passed since we last saw each other."
"… Yes."
"AH, SPEAKING OF WHICH…WE SHOULD THANK GOD FOR ALLOWING OUR PATHS TO CROSS AGAIN. I BELIEVE A PRAYER IS IN ORDER, YES?"
Ignoring Jeanne's absolutely horror-struck expression, Justin raised his arms to the heavens.
"OH, GRACIOUS GOD! I THANK THEE FOR BLESSING US…"
He continued on for thirty seconds. Nearing the end of his prayer, Jeanne saw that bystanders were purposely going out of their way to avoid walking close to the clearly disturbed Justin. As a matter of fact, there was a considerable amount of space between the two of them and the rest of the crowd. Justin either did not notice, or did not care.
"…IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER, THE SON, AND THE HOLY SPIRIT, AMEN." He concluded the prayer by closing his eyes and bowing his head. A pause for dramatic effect.
Jeanne simply regarded him with yet another wall of ellipses. She had spent enough time with Justin to know how to deal with his absurd theatrics. Justin was like a child—if you ignored him, he stopped being loud after a while due to lack of attention…or something like that anyway. Had they been alone, she would have kicked him in the stomach for being a bible-thumper, but they were in the middle of the street and Jeanne was a stickler for proper social etiquette in public.
Finally, Justin started to act like a normal person, much to her relief.
"Ah…Jeanne. It really has been such a long time. So how are you doing? I pray that the Lord has been watching over you these past months."
"Thank you, He has," she replied automatically. "And I presume your recent mission went well?"
A flicker of his surprise crossed his face. "Hmm? How do you know about that?"
"The same way I found out your exact location despite not having kept in contact."
"Oh~? Do tell."
Smiling, Jeanne twirled a strand of hair with her forefinger. "Are you busy right now? We can catch up over some lunch."
"Actually, I just ate—"
"Lunch it is! Let's go, Justin. I read of a great café around here in the traveler's digest."
"But—!"
Growling, she aimed a kick at his stomach. Justin inevitably avoided it—only to be grabbed by the arm and towed away the next moment. Clearly, she had anticipated his actions. Damn. They really did know each others' movements too well.
And once they settled down in a nice window seat corner of the café, Jeanne wasted no time getting down to business, starting off with, "You have not called me once—I am hurt, Justin Law. Do you not care for me anymore?"
A sheepish look. "Ah…"
Her eyes saddened. "Well, that's too bad. Here I was, wishing that a strong man would take me away in his arms."
"Err…"
"So many lonely nights I spent alone, wishing to be in the warm embrace of another person and you didn't even care enough to call me."
He was starting to blush now. Right. He'd almost forgotten how she was sometimes. "I was preoccupied. I'm sorry, Jeanne. I didn't mean to forget to call you. I thought about you too," Justin said as earnestly as possible.
She surveyed his expression like a hawk. "You lie like a rug, Justin," she said flatly. Her expression softened. "But thanks for trying to make me feel better, at least."
She could always read him too well—which made Justin slightly uncomfortable. Independence was his strength.
"Anyway, I should probably explain how I found you down before you chop me in half for thinking I'm an espionner of some sort. I met this man in a bear's mask…"
"You mean Tezca Tlipoca? The Death Scythe of South America."
Right, that guy. Tezca had left a rather big impression on Jeanne. If the gigantic bear mask covering his face hadn't already scared her away, then his monkey partner surely did the trick.
"Well… I had a feeling that you were going to be a disappointment" (Justin just frowned) "so I took extra precautions and got his contact info behind your back. I didn't want to bother Lord Shinigami with something as mundane as your location and I figured Tezca would know as much—you're both Death Scythes, after all. He informed me that you were on a mission in Munich and here we are! Face to face again after a full year."
"Did he now?" Justin replied stiffly, "I'm a bit surprised, to be honest…"
She read his mind. "I know, I know—safety issues and what not. I told him I was your former partner and he caved in."
"Huh."
"So you've been doing stuff on witches or something…sounds terribly interesting. Now look at us! Here we are, eleven months later. Tell me everything that has happened to you between today and the last time I saw you."
Justin regarded her with a bland look. "Alright. Where should I start?"
Jeanne folded her hands on her lap. "Surprise me."
Justin was not someone who talked a lot. He was a quiet boy—a quiet boy with loud music. In a conversation, he preferred to be the listener rather than the talker. He had private thoughts that he solely shared with God and he wasn't that entirely apt to…well… gossiping? Yeah, gossiping was the right word. So perhaps it was the way Justin portrayed his adventures—in a manner that suggested he was reading a documentary—that was the reason why Jeanne ultimately seemed unimpressed.
"You left DWMA for this? Honestly, Justin, all of this sounds…" she trailed off. Her raised eyebrow and crossed arms were enough of an answer per se.
"My assignments should not be taken lightly," he replied seriously. "They are highly dangerous and potentially lethal."
"On your last mission, you killed a frog."
"I can assure you that frog was a threat to the peace and order. It was a witch in disguise."
Jeanne's eyebrow went up even further. "…still crazy as always, Justin. You really haven't changed at all."
Justin felt a spike of annoyance. He started to say something, only to be cut off when Jeanne pried the left earphone out of his ear without forewarning.
"See?" Techno rhythms blasted from the bud. "This is the same music you listened to back at DWMA. It's like—what is this? Swedish techno?"
"Yes, well… Please—don't do that—" Frowning, Justin took back his earphone and returned it to its proper place. He strained to keep his irritation from showing too much. "In any case, what have you done in the past year?"
"Oh, nothing much. You know, just the usual. Hanging out with friends, studying my academics. I'm also at the top of my class—surprise~" The pride thick in her voice. "I'll be attending university next year~"
He took a sip of his tea. "Hmm, it's a shame that you left DWMA. You had always been an excellent student."
"Don't try to flatter me, love. You know how hard it is for me to perform Soul Resonance with a weapon."
"We were capable of doing it."
She smiled sadly. "Yes, but you—" you weren't happy with it "—you were probably the only one I could only resonate with. Once you became fully autonomous, I was left without a weapon and I couldn't find anyone else with a wavelength compatible with mine. No amount of A's could make up for that in a school like DWMA."
"I'm sorry." Justin was not sorry. "But I truly thank you for your help."
Sighing, Jeanne swirled the grainy bits around the bottom of her mug, lost in thought, her eyes fixed on the coffee residue as if they held all the answers to the world. Justin kept silent as she brooded.
Switching gears, Jeanne decided to turn the conversation in a more favorable direction. "So do you enjoy being a Death Scythe?"
"There's no greater happiness in my life than to serve my lord."
"I'm happy for you," she said with a smile, although her eyes were wistful, sad almost.
Justin looked at her for a moment, before breaking out into a genuine smile of his own. "Thank you."
…
They talked for some while longer.
"I think we should get going now. It's been a fun talk, Justin. 'twas real good to see you."
"Likewise."
"Now you have to get back to being a Death Scythe while the rest of us let a fourteen-year-old boy protect all of Europe from…frogs."
He chuckled. "Don't you have faith in me?"
"No," she replied seriously. "I'm still taller than you."
He sighed and rolled his eyes towards the heavens.
"You know, Justin, I forgot to mention this before…but…"
He let out a vague 'hm' to indicate he was listening.
"When you get a chance, I'd like to spar with you. To see how strong you've gotten and all. No blades though or anything. You know I can't block them with my bare arms."
At this, Justin absolutely could not keep the smugness out of his voice. "Jeanne. I don't believe you realize what you're getting yourself into. I would recommend retracting your challenge if you—"
Without warning, Jeanne jammed her foot between his legs. Justin keeled over in an instant.
"…ow…"
"Hahaha shut up. Yeah! So about that sparring?"
"… …okay. Maybe. Soon."
"How soon?"
"…IDK."
"Soon." She crossed her arms, huffing. "Yeah, that's right. Soon."
When Justin was fifteen, he had forgotten Jeanne all over again.
Sorta.
Goddammit, Justin.
When Justin was fifteen, Jeanne was somewhere else, dealing with crazy hysterical South American furry Death Scythes.
"Ahahaha—Enrique—hah—that—that's not appropriate—ah—ahem—excuse me, Miss Jeanne —as I was saying—"
A monkey interrupted him with a string of noises which made the man with a bear mask covering his head burst into even more laughter.
"Bwhahaha—there's—a lady—present! Control yourself, Enrique! Ahahahaha!"
Enrique's only response was another string of 'Gaugau ga ga gauga gau'. Tezca Tlipoca fell to the ground, clutching his stomach and kicking his legs, paralyzed with roaring laughter.
"THAT IS—bwhaha—NOT—ahaha—APPROPRIATE!"
Enrique raised a paw. "Gaugaugau~ Ga gauu~" A sparkle of mischief glistened in his eye. "Gau~!"
Tezca nearly died laughing.
"… …" Jeanne looked at the monkey, looked at the bear mask-wearing man, thought back to Justin, and then thought to herself: is psychosis a prerequisite to become a Death Scythe?
Having to deal with Marie and her toilet-marrying anxieties was bad enough as it was. But this…what were they even talking about? She had the strangest feeling their conversation was of a sexual nature and that it may or may not have involved her boobs with the way that Enrique was making gestures to his chest as if he was hauling two grapefruits.
Wiping a bead of tear from his eye, Tezca took a few more moments to cackle before winding down. "That must be the funniest thing I've heard all day…no…all week! You crack me up sometimes…"
He flapped his hand at the cap-wearing monkey before looking back at Jeanne. "I'm sorry, Miss Jeanne. Now…how can I help you again?"
She tried to flash her most charming smile. "Justin Law. Would you be so kind as to tell me where he is, monsieur bear?"
As fate would have it, she must have screwed over karma somewhere because Enrique suddenly burst in with, "Gaugau gau~"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—!"
Jeanne gritted her teeth.
Goddammit, Justin!
When Justin was fifteen, he sorta forgot about Jeanne again, even as Jeanne was batting off perverted bears and molester monkeys.
He had a bad habit of forgetting people who didn't appear in his life on a weekly basis. It was one of Justin's quirks, like listening to music and traveling on the dune buggy he had purchased earlier in the year. It was the best investment he ever made since traveling around various parts of Europe was a hassle on foot, and he honestly despised public transportation. He even bought speakers in the shape of a coffin.
Justin distinctly recalled the day he saw her again. Like before, there was no scheduled rendezvous; Jeanne just appeared in his life without any notice.
It had been a beautiful, sunny day and Justin was relaxing under a tree while his dune buggy was parked nearby, the coffin-shaped speakers pumping out music that sang to his soul. He was laying face-up on the grass with one arm behind his head and the other holding a bible vertically in the air. Justin was enjoying his scriptures, unsuspecting…when completely out nowhere—
There was a girl looming over him.
"Hey. Justin Law. You asshole."
There was only one person who spoke to him in that manner. He didn't even need to look up to recognize the person addressing him.
"What did I say about watching your language, Jeanne?" he chided automatically. Justin got up from the grass and faced her, feeling a little disappointed when he realized he was still an inch shorter than her.
Jeanne huffed and planted her hands on her hips. "Don't give me that sass. Do you know how long it took me to find you? I was planning to see you a whole two months ago."
"My condolences." He didn't look the least bit sympathetic. "I didn't realize I was such a hard person to locate."
"You wouldn't believe the trouble I had to go through. First, I couldn't find Tezca, so I went to Marie instead and ended up having to listen to her for a good six hours as she mourned over her lack of a boyfriend. Six hours, Justin Law, six full hours before she would tell me where to find Tezca. Then when I finally found Tezca, I had to spend a whole afternoon accompanying that bear and his monkey on his absurd excursions around the city before I could wrestle your location out of him. And what did I learn? Only that you've been in France this entire time!" She threw her hands in the air and sighed. "Really! Such waste of time…"
"Why go through all that trouble when you could have contacted me directly? I gave you my cell phone number, didn't I?"
"You never pick up your cell because you clearly can't hear it ring."
"I'm sorry."
"If you ever check that thing be prepared to scroll through a hundred and thirty seven voice-mails."
His eyebrows rose. "Oh my~"
Jeanne was not amused. She stuck an authoritative finger in his face.
"I am a busy woman, Justin Law! You made me waste precious hours I could have spent otherwise in a romantic café or a quaint little chalet with my favorite book."
Justin blinked, staring at her with a blank face.
"In exchange for the time I wasted looking for you, you must spend the rest of the afternoon with me. An eye for an eye—it's only fair, don't you think so?" She made a fake kicking motion at him. "Well, come on! Come on, now! I have so much stuff to tell you that you might even need to stay overnight for me to finish!"
Like a switch flicking on, Justin snapped out of his nonchalance. He immediately went into sanctimonious priest mode and spread out his arms in a theatrical pose.
"ALAS! How unfortunate it is that I am busy the remainder of the afternoon—"
Jeanne literally kicked him this time.
A solid axe-kick to the head sent his earphones flying, followed by the rest of his body, and Justin landed face-first into the grass in an almost comical fashion.
"…owwie…"
"I lived with you for a year. I know what your idea of 'busy' is." Her expression turned serious. "Lying is a sin. Even if it's executed in order to gain free time to worship Headmaster Shinigami."
…or something. Actually, that free time he would have had wasn't going towards Shinigami-sama; Justin just didn't want his afternoon to be tied down with chatter filler—that was all.
Justin got up and slipped his earphones back into their respective homes, earning himself a scowl from Jeanne.
"I suppose I can't argue with your logic," he said, his expression stretched into an exaggerated grimace. "Let us get this 'spending quality time together' over with…"
He sighed dramatically, causing her scowl to deepen.
"Well, I don't want to force you…" she grumbled.
His face brightened. "Oh good~! Well, if that's the case then I'll just be going now~~ —oof!"
…
Still. Regardless of whether or not a single thing she said that afternoon had actually sunk in, Justin accompanied Jeanne for as long as she desired. She didn't ask for much, really. Jeanne was familiar with Justin's level of social fluency and didn't seem to be bothered by the one-sided conversations they engaged in. As stupid as it sounded, she was just happy to have him there.
Justin half-listened, half-watched her as she nattered about the workings of her school and her private life. She talked about how she was adjusting to her college life, the country she had studied abroad the previous semester, the savate championships she won, and her dreams and hopes and aspirations for the future. She talked about the new restaurant she tried out last week and the last time she had to buy milk and the status of her virginity and dear lord could that girl just talk sometimes.
When Justin got bored, she bought him a smoothie at a vendor. Social protocol dictated that there was something strange about a girl paying for the boy, but Justin didn't see a problem since as he was doing her a favor to begin with—and anyway, she was older than him.
They sat at the edge of a park, and Jeanne continued talking. At one point, she brought up a subject he was familiar with.
"I've been experimenting with my wavelength. You know how hard it is for me to resonate with others—normally, at least. So I've been trying to manipulate it to make it more versatile."
Oh, he knew. Jeanne's wavelength was strangely…strange. One of the main reasons why she was a one-star meister was due to her restricted ability to resonate with other weapons. Apparently, Jeanne was just incapable of being on the same wavelength with 90% of the demon weapons in the school.
"I'm sure you already know of my healing wavelength," Jeanne continued. "I've had several talks with Miss Marie about it. Her wavelength has a calming effect on the mind, and after studying it I've been able to reproduce the exact same effect with my own wavelength. But I've gone further than that. I've researched how to manipulate my wavelength to distort other people's emotions, for good or for bad."
Justin looked at her interest.
"Someone once told me, 'Everybody's hearts are pitch black inside'," she said.
("It's the truth, no matter what they say.")
"But for there to be darkness, there must also be light. One can't exist without the other, of course. To deny the necessary balance between good and evil is pushing the truth to subconscious of the mind…like a city broken into different social classes, perhaps."
Jeanne paused, playing back what she had just said in her mind, and Justin couldn't help but smile. For some reason, this conversation was considered normal between them. Justin had long since grown accustomed to Jeanne's slightly unbalanced frame of mind and the directions to which her thoughts passed the line of social norm; she just expressed them more with him. In a way, it reflected her trust in him.
"You've sure been busy," Justin commented.
Jeanne closed her eyes and smiled. "You wouldn't know half of it. Now give me your hand, love. I want to try something with you."
Hesitantly, Justin complied, and was struck by a sense of déjà vu.
…what happened next was difficult for Justin to describe using words. Something within disturbed him; like a stone dropping into a perfectly tranquil pond of water, disturbing the stillness and sending wrinkles of waves rippling outward in all directions. He felt a…mass of negativity inside him. He felt oddly…jealous all of a sudden.
What…what was she doing to him?
Justin tried to break away from her, but to his surprise, she wouldn't let go.
"Jeanne. What are you doing?"
"Shush, mon chéri. Have faith in me."
Instantly, his mind cleared up. All the negativity dissipated like alcohol in the sun, and he was left with a strangely calm, clear feeling.
"See? Faith is all you need, love."
Opening his eyes, Justin saw Jeanne smile at him. He swallowed his discomfort. What a weird feeling.
…
Ultimately, Justin kept his promise and more. The afternoon ebbed into evening to actual nightfall before they finally parted ways at ten o'clock.
"Yaaawn…that was a long day, don't you think? My throat is sore…"
"Yes indeed, it was very long."
Jeanne had a high tolerance for his infuriating remarks. But she still kicked him anyway. Justin avoided it.
"I spent the day with you, just as you wanted."
"Yes you did. And I thank you for it." Her expression softened. "Now be safe, alright? Don't make me worry about you, love."
Before Justin could respond, Jeanne encroached on his personal space and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face against his shoulder. It was a strange moment in his life. Nobody ever hugged him before. It felt…strange. When she finally let go, Justin released the breath he didn't know he was holding in.
"Good luck with your Death Scythe duties. Je vous laisse la paix."
"And with you," Justin replied mechanically, still stunned from the hug. He blinked. "Later…"
"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…amen. Law-abiding silver gun."
A thin razor sliver of light sliced through the man's neck, his head shifting to the ground, before his entire body exploded into thin ribbons.
"Number seventy-eight," Jeanne murmured, retracting the blood-soaked blade into her arm. She paused, waiting for a vocal confirmation from her partner, but only heard the bold beat of techno music humming in the distant corner of her mind.
"Alright. We're terminating the synchronization, Justin. Get ready."
She clasped her hands together as if in prayer and closed her eyes, concentrating deeply; a glow of light emerged from her body, and Justin appeared next to her.
"Jeanne…"
"Yes, love?" she replied, not looking at him.
"Why are you helping me?"
"Because you're my partner, of course."
"I would hardly call it that," he mumbled. "On paper, I have no technician—these 99 souls were gathered all by myself. And once I become a Death Scythe, I'll leave you." A beat. "You know all of this. You're not gaining anything from this partnership. So then…why do you continue to put in this effort?"
Jeanne closed her eyes, smiling. "…is it wrong for me to see you happy, my love?"
"I'm not sure if I want to believe that."
Her tranquil expression cracked ever so slightly.
"Jeanne." His tone was more forceful than before.
She opened her eyes and looked at him and Justin could see just a hint of dissonance in those green orbs.
"Because, Justin." Her voice held an undertone of bitterness. "If I can't be the best, then at least I can help you become it."
She put a hand on his head before he could protest and ruffled his hair affectionately.
"And in any case, you're barely thirteen. Someone has to watch out for you, mon petit frère."
When Justin was sixteen, Jeanne had moved from 'semi-memorable person at DWMA' to 'my first experience with a girl' in his mental files. It was a huge step, seeing as she was one of the few people who ever laid even a finger on him outside of battle. Her embrace lingered in his physical memory for much longer than he would have liked it to.
But nevertheless, Justin was totally busy with other things and didn't think much about Jeanne until she appeared in his life once again.
Justin had a habit of doing that.
The next time he had saw her, Jeanne was all grown up. She was now eighteen, an epitome of beauty. Her hair was longer than ever, now cascading past her shoulders like a waterfall of gold.
Justin had changed too. That year, he underwent the growth spurt every boy experienced as a teenager. With the additional inches to his height, Justin decided it was also time for a change in uniform. He wanted his new clothing to show his unwavering dedication for his lord and savior, Shinigami-sama. It was hard to maneuver around on the battlefield wearing a cassock, so he donned a douillette and mozzetta and to top it all off, he found a white zucchetto. His Shinigami cross hung around his neck like always.
Justin was looking forward to seeing her. He wanted to show her how much he changed over the several months they've been apart. Jeanne was always talking about him being the same every year…well now, she didn't have an excuse anymore. He wanted her to see his new clothing, his dedication to their lord—if anybody, she would be one to appreciate it. She would be thrilled, he imagined. Thrilled, ecstatic, and awed that her former partner was another step closer to pure holiness.
Her reaction was anything but awe.
Jeanne was appalled. He could see it in her eyes the moment she saw him.
"Justin…what's up with all of this?" A gesture to his attire. "Are you…?" She couldn't even finish her sentence. Some vague joke about Halloween costumes, but the words were painful even in her head.
A moment passed and he didn't reply.
"Justin?"
"Hm?"
"I asked you a question. What's with all this?" A gesture to his attire.
"What's with what?"
"Your clothing."
"Hm?" Justin looked at Jeanne as if she was speaking Korean.
"Why are you dressed this way? You're not a priest."
He didn't reply. He just turned away. Jeanne got the message.
"My God, Justin—you actually are pretending to be a priest? And I thought you were joking! What's wrong with you? Why are you dressed like this?"
A pause. "… So?"
That single word was enough to nudge her patience over the edge. She exploded in rage, and even the maximum volume of his music couldn't block out the sound of her voice.
"So? So? You sacrilegious idiot! How dare you…I can't even begin…!" She let out a fierce snarl. "You're a Death Scythe!"
For the first time, he deemed her words worthy enough to start reading her lips. The headphones still thrummed with music, but his eyes were alert now.
He hadn't expected opposition from Jeanne of all people. But he would make her understand.
"I am a messenger of God. I have a duty. I am carrying out my God's wishes—to judge those souls unworthy and punish them for sinning. Why should I not wear this vestment?"
"No, you're a demon weapon. You may get your orders from a god—but don't you dare get that confused with the duties of a genuine Catholic priest! You want to be a clergyman so badly? Enroll in seminary and get ordained. You're sixteen, Justin! You're a little too old for dress-up!"
"Faith brings souls to salvation. I only need faith to carry out my holy duty, not man-made rules dictating what how to follow the Lord's words. Wasn't it you who said all you need is faith?"
"Are you kidding me with this—?" And her eyes only held disbelief.
"I'm sorry you feel this way, Jeanne."
It was then that he proceeded to ignore her as she continued talking, ranting now, about her misguided views of God and morality. Out of respect for their past history, Justin didn't just walk away from her—but even though his body was there, his mind had long since drifted off to unknown territories.
Justin was silent as she talked. She didn't know anything. It was a waste of breath to explain things to her. So he took all her verbal abuse in silence, drowning her voice out with his music until he heard a gap, and then he spoke up, lightly,
"Are you done yet?"
Fury boiled in her veins. "Don't pretend to ignore me! I know you can hear me, Justin Law! You've been listening to those same earphones for four years now and you've always been able to hear everything I've said!"
As if to mock her, Justin cupped a hand behind his ear in faux deafness. "Say what now?"
Overwhelmed by anger, Jeanne drew back her arm to slap him—only for Justin to seize her wrist.
"Don't."
His voice was cold, the dull tranquility in his eyes gone and replaced with an icy chill.
He usually didn't welcome the touch of others, and Jeanne had already overstepped her boundaries eons ago. The icy tone was mercy in disguise. Justin rarely cared enough for others to give them a forewarning to the lethal as to how dangerous he truly was. The teasing smile was not the façade. It was danger.
Jeanne stared at him, stunned. A second passed between them before Justin released her wrist and she immediately stepped back, glaring at him like he was the one who slapped her.
"You should go before you really make me angry," he said.
… He couldn't say he was expecting it, but Justin still dodged her kick in one fluid motion.
"Tsk—!" She was so impulsive!—
His thoughts were cut short as another kick was aimed at his head—he blocked it—she whipped around and launched a third kick that connected with his jaw. Justin was thrown back against the wall and slid to the ground.
"Who do you think I am? Who the hell do you think I am to talk down on me like this?" she demanded, practically screaming, and her anger finally reached the point where she could no longer think and she switched to her native tongue. She began ranting in French, cursing such disgusting profanities that barely suited a lady like her—and for the language of love it sounded awful—and Justin understood every word that came out of her mouth—he was the Death Scythe of Europe after all.
"Are you done yet?"
Jeanne immediately shut up.
She watched in stunned silence as Justin slowly rose from the floor and wiped the trail of blood from his mouth.
"… This is your final warning. I'm not going to hold back the next time you attack me."
Jeanne trembled. "Don't look down on me, little boy!" she snarled, lashing a kick at his chest.
The carcan bra was around her leg before it even came in contact with his torso—with a single jerk of his arm, Justin smashed her on the ground, nearly splitting her skull in two from the impact, and sending stars exploding from her eyes. Without missing a beat, the lunette transformed into a blade—and then Justin was on top of her with the blade pressed to her throat.
His face was terrifyingly dark as he loomed over her. There was no longer an icy coldness in his expression, but instead—
He was smiling.
There was a wide smile stretched from ear to ear on Justin's face. His eyes danced with merriment and he gazed down at her like he was watching something enjoyable. He was breathing heavily, and Jeanne felt his warm breath against her face.
"First you insult my god and then you attack me? This is unforgivable," he murmured. "Sinners must be punished."
"Justin…?" There was fear in her eyes.
He stared back at her.
Their gaze locked for a brief moment that seemed to last an eternity; the moment came and went and then Justin finally broke the silence.
"I guess I win, huh?"
Jeanne blinked, unsure if she had heard those words correctly. She couldn't hold back an instinctive gasp when she heard the metallic 'shink' close to her face—but he had merely retracted the blade into his arm. Upon seeing her fear, he flashed her an innocent smile.
"We were just sparring, right? Isn't that what you always wanted to do?"
"…yes." The word sounded so strange to her ears. "Of course."
Justin rose from the floor and dusted his priest robes off. "In any case, you should probably get that looked at. I hope I didn't hit you too hard—"
She slapped him.
The blood pounded in her ears. As Justin's head rotated back forward, Jeanne thought she caught a glimpse of the same dark ruthlessness in his eyes, before it was quickly replaced with a look of sour irritation.
"…and what was that for?" He clasped his cheek.
"Justin Law! That hurt! What kind of man are you—?" she slapped him again, this time on the head. "Have you no sense of chivalry? Men aren't supposed to attack girls!"
"Ow!"
Her slaps were nothing more than weak, playful gestures—not meant to hurt, but meant to cover up the discomfort of what just happened. As if to gloss over the raw reality of the truth, they awkwardly resumed their customary roles, artificial as the endeavor was, and Justin handed the reins of power back to Jeanne and willingly allowed himself to be in the submissive role again. He didn't even try to fight back as she whaled on him and made a loud fuss about social protocol and some outdated notion about what a girl's place is supposed to be.
It was a lie, and they both knew it.
"Enough!" he finally threw her off. "Oi…Jeanne…that smarts." Justin cupped a hand to his cheek, frowning. "If you're going to be such a sore loser, then don't challenge me next time."
"Humph. You're such a terrible person~" she sulked. "I hate you."
Once they had finished the bitch-and-hit routine they were so accustomed too, they tried to end their visit on a bright note.
"I'll see you next time, okay?" She forced the brightest smile she could and twirled her hair. "Next year, we'll do something pleasant~"
"Alright, next time."
Jeanne couldn't bring herself to hug him. She just—she didn't want to touch him. Instead, she just blew him a kiss, which to anyone else, seemed like a gesture of affection, but they both knew it was nothing more than a staple to her façade.
"Bye Justin~"
She couldn't read his expression as he waved goodbye to her.
"Goodbye, Jeanne."
She wasn't sure what to make of Justin anymore.
Something had changed within him.
When Justin was seventeen,
- when he was seventeen -
- when he was -
- when -
…
"Somehow," Tezca said between laughs, "I'm not sur-sur-sur-prised!"
It felt inherently wrong to see a mirror image of yourself sprouting bizarre expressions you never knew your face was capable of pulling off. In this case, Jeanne watched on as an exact physical replica of herself laughed itself into a coma.
"Your monkey," she replied, "owes me a new mirror." She nodded at the broken compact mirror lying on the ground, the multiple cracks on the surface resembling a spider web. "I wasn't planning to meet you, Tezca. It was a chance of fate that our paths crossed today. Enrique stole my mirror."
Jeanne wasn't ashamed to admit it—she was vain. She was nineteen-years-old and put a lot of emphasis on her physical looks like most other girls her age. She spent a considerable amount of her paycheck on cosmetics and hair supplies. She kept an expensive hand mirror in her pocketbook. So what?
Jeanne had been reapplying some makeup when out of the blue, a familiar-looking monkey dressed in ghetto clothing appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her mirror. It took her a few seconds to recover, before she chased after the thief. She had found Tezca in the middle of a hysterical existential crisis, howling about reflections and something or another. Something about reflections… made sense his partner sought out a mirror… or something. By default, Tezca ended up reflecting her own image back at her, though unintentionally.
"…and that led me to find you, all crying and whatnot. I'll say it again: You owe me a new compact."
"Fine. But Miss Jeanne…concerning what I just told you about Justin Law…"
She closed her eyes, calmly stating, "Transform back, Tezca Tilpoca. I won't have you walking around looking just like me."
The demon weapon dematerialized from the form of a beautiful blonde girl into the bear mask-wearing man.
"In all seriousness," Tezca said, his expression now somber. "Don't think too deeply into what I just told you. I can't disclose the location of Justin Law to a mere bystander such as yourself, even if you were his partner at one time. He's a criminal fugitive and highly dangerous."
Tezca's words echoed in her head. "…we have recently discovered that Justin Law is responsible for killing the lead member of DWMA's internal affairs division. His true faith lies in the Kishin Asura…"
Asura. What the hell was an 'Asura'? What happened to his catholic priest get-up? Jeanne refused to believe it. They had lived together. He had been inside her. She knew him. She would have known if he was just pretending for the past four years.
(She knew his soul better than anybody else,
or at least that's what she told herself.)
"Okay, I understand." Jeanne nodded. "Thanks for your time, Tezca."
The Death Scythe did a double-take. "What? Whaaaaaaat?"
"I said 'okay'." She turned away, getting ready to leave. "Justin isn't my partner anymore. Whatever he does is little concern of mine."
"Miss Jeanne, if you are planning to go after Justin Law by yourself, you will die."
She chuckled softly under her breath. "You don't seem to understand why I'm here. I'm merely an exchange student from France. I didn't follow Justin to America." A smile, and a twirl of the hair. "I wasn't actively looking for you, Tezca. Not this time." And she started to walk away.
"Wait."
Jeanne stopped. She always had a hard time taking Tezca Tilpoca seriously with his absurd bear mask and sporadic fits of laughter whenever Enrique 'gau'-ed. But even the bear mask covering his head couldn't diminish the dangerous aura that Tezca was radiating this time. He slipped his hands in his pockets and took a few steps towards her.
"I'll tell you where Justin Law is. But I can't be held accountable if you die."
The monkey cocked his head with a 'gau?'
For the first time, Jeanne indifference cracked.
"What? Why? Why are you telling me this?" She swallowed, swerving back to look at him. "I was a former student of DWMA and you're a Death Scythe. You're supposed to stop me and protect me like a teacher should, not send me on reckless missions."
Tezca's voice revealed no emotion as he replied. "Didn't I tell you? I'm a demon mirror that reflects the inner soul. When my mirror reflected your soul…I wasn't surprised at what I saw. Were you?"
She was silent.
"It's solely up to you how you die."