Author's Note: Good gravy, this took awhile. Apologies for the huge delay; I'm working and doing my Master's Degree stuff and it's a nightmare to balance it all, so I've been chipping away at this for weeks.
As always, feel free to comment! I like responding to comments and seeing your feedback!
Thanks again for reading, and hopefully I can get another chapter to you soon!
Chapter 16:
Condolences
"Why does this keep happening?" Shinigami-sama wondered aloud.
About twenty feet away, Patty was in an intense slugfest with one of his best instructors next to Maka, a woman by the name of Jeanene McLoughlin. She was a lithe black woman with straight dark hair, bright green eyes, and Gaelic tattoos covering her arms. A bit younger than most of her colleagues at just thirty three years old, Shinigami-sama had hired her after the passing of her weapon a few years prior, and her colorful language and no-nonsense demeanor made her popular with students.
He hadn't seen her throw even a playful punch since he had hired her, and now she was furiously striking at Patty with everything she had like a woman possessed.
"Jeanene!" he called out, but to no avail.
She was locked onto Patty like a heat seeking missile, rushing forward fast enough to leave a dusty trail in her wake.
"Get her, Pattyyyyy!" Liz cried, cheering her sister on from the sidelines as she weathered a storm of attacks.
Two punches, a sweep, three knee strikes and a roundhouse were thrown in rapid succession, Professor McLoughlin growling like a bear as she kept Patty on the defensive. But Patty stood stalwart, deflecting each blow and even striking back when an opportunity presented itself. With a grunt, she ducked down to dodge a jab and nailed her opponent with an uppercut, grinning wildly as her fist made contact.
Professor McLoughlin stumbled back momentarily, her eyes hidden behind loose strands of hair. This emboldened Liz to try and tackle the Resonance 202 instructor from behind, but a quick sidestep and a judo throw put the taller of the two sisters flat on her back. As Liz cartoonishly crawled out of the ensuing dust cloud, defeated, the Irishwoman's imposing silhouette remained.
But not for long.
In an instant, she rushed out of the cloud, leg coiled and ready to strike, but something stopped her.
"Professor?" The voice was familiar, with a slight Cockney accent.
Her rage and aggression melted in an instant. Though her momentum carried her forward, she dug her foot into the ground and came to an immediate halt, a small spray of dirt and rocks getting kicked up as a result. Patty was still braced for an attack, but none came.
"Trevor…?"
No one was fast enough to stop McLoughlin from rushing over and enveloping the grieving boy in the tightest hug. Shinigami-sama let out a sigh of relief as Trevor accepted the embrace, Stein simply opting to tiredly sit back down in his chair. The energy in the chamber suddenly became somewhat subdued and bittersweet, tears from Trevor's wide eyes striking the white stone of the floor.
"I'm so sorry, my boy," she whispered, hoarse from her angry shouting and battle cries. "I'm so sorry…I heard about Arika and for a moment, I…I thought I'd lost you, too."
Trevor didn't have the energy to respond. He just sobbed into her shoulders, suddenly overwhelmed by the stress and emotional whiplash of everything that had happened to him over the last thirty six hours. Though he was much taller than her, he crumpled and sank in a way that made him seem small, as if all of his burdens had fallen onto him all at once.
Liz felt a tear come to her eye, too, something about the boy's misery striking a chord with her. "Poor kid…"
With a grunt, Patty dusted herself off and rubbed the soreness out of her arms. Jeanene was no slouch, despite not having a weapon. Then again, the pistol thought to herself with a grin, she was pretty capable without a weapon, too.
As she and her sister approached to take their places to the left and right of Shinigami-sama, Jeanene and Trevor finally separated, a sad smile on her face and a tearful but hopeful look on his.
"You'll be alright, son," Jeanene said. "I know it's hard, but I'm here for ya, never doubt that."
Trevor nodded. "Thank you…thank you…"
Shinigami-sama took the opportunity to clear his throat, prompting both of them to look at him.
"Jeanene," he said calmly. "Am I right in assuming that you're here because you got a DWMA email about the situation at hand?"
"That you are," she said flatly, suddenly all business. "Imagine my surprise when I find out that one of my favorite students was killed in action. By email, boss. A fuckin' email!"
"That is…unfortunate. My sincerest apologies for not informing you personally. We had our reasons for keeping details about the incident limited, but I wasn't aware of how close you were with young Arika."
She closed her eyes and let a long sigh out through her nose. "It's not your fault, Shinigami-sama, I know that. Ever since Davy died, I've wanted to pass on some of my knowledge on shootin' to someone, and Arika was one of the few people who went out of her way to learn from me."
"Davy?" Trevor probed, confused.
"Davy C. Rockett," Stein explained, "Professor McLoughlin's old weapon partner."
Shinigami-sama nodded. "He became a student at the Academy to honor his granddaughter, and still holds the record for oldest EAT student graduate at 68 years old."
"I remember that guy," Patty said. "He was an asshole, but a good guy deep down."
"Heh," McLoughlin chuckled. "That he was." Her expression softened, despite herself. "He was also my best friend."
"I, uh…I don't think I ever met him," Trevor lamented.
His professor just smiled. "Oh, he passed away long before you got here, lad. But he would have liked you."
"Because he was a mid-range firearm, like Trevor?" Kim-sensei wondered aloud.
Everyone turned to look at her.
"He was a musket, and Trevor is a rifle…it only makes sense. Arika was your way of passing on Mr. Rockett's legacy," she realized.
"Doesn't take a genius to figure that out," McLoughlin fired back. "And Arika wasn't just a way to pass the torch, pinky. She was a good kid. A good kid who died far away from home, murdered by someone or something I know nothing about." She turned to Shinigami-sama. "So are you gonna tell me what happened? Or am I gonna have to throw my teaching credential away and beat it out of ye?"
The death god's eyes narrowed, but not in a way that conveyed malice, just sternness. "Understand, Jeanene, Arika's death is the most recent case in an ongoing investigation that very few are privy to the details of. A top secret investigation."
"Top secret?" she repeated. "What the fuck is going on? Who did this to Arika and Trevor? What are we up against?"
Stein stood up at that point, the artificial light of the Death Room glinting off his glasses.
"A new threat," he said.
Maka grimaced as she read the second of two company emails to appear on her phone. The first one had told her that a student had been killed in action, a girl from Class Dark Moon, but it hadn't told her what she was supposed to do in the wake of such a tragedy. It had been a long while since she'd read the policy pertaining to student deaths.
In order to answer questions the faculty had about the incident, a second follow-up email had just been sent to all instructors, a missive from Shinigami-sama himself.
"Normally," he wrote, "the responsibility of explaining this situation to the students would fall on me or our homeroom teachers. But due to extenuating circumstances, it must be our Resonance 101 and 202 instructors that break the news to them, answer their questions, and assuage their doubts. They must also be the ones to honor Arika Morishita's passing, both for the students who know her and those who don't."
Her eyes narrowed. Maka obviously knew all about the so-called "extenuating circumstances"; she knew about Kid's suspension, Mosquito's reappearance and subsequent "hiring", and the prospect of dealing with the Grimms and their anti-DWMA cell. But that brought up a difficult question: what could she tell her students?
Her children?
She had an answer in her mind, but she read on anyway, not wanting to break policy by accident.
"N.O.T. instructors must take great care to both console our younger students and strengthen their resolve. Some students may waiver or opt to leave the Academy altogether, and if they do, that is their choice. It would be unethical and inadvisable to try and convince them otherwise."
While she was confident in Specter and Nina's skills, Maka almost wished they were still N.O.T. students. That she could pull them out of the Academy, keep them from facing a threat like the Grimms. But her kids were just like her. They were E.A.T. students and proud of it. Neither of them would run from a fight.
For better or worse, they were a part of the DWMA's reserves, soldiers, not just students. They could, and probably would, be called to serve. To fight.
She kept reading.
"Our E.A.T. instructors have a similar but different responsibility: to remind their students that death is a real threat, that all missions should be taken seriously, and that neither fear nor vengeance should rule their hearts. Some students will be afraid, or will want to fight back. That is normal, and can't be prevented. But no E.A.T. student can afford to have their will broken by the death of a comrade, nor can they rush into battle. Both of these things can lead to more student deaths, which we want to avoid at all costs."
Maka nodded in agreement as if Shinigami-sama were speaking the words directly to her.
"Finally, it shouldn't need to be said, but likewise must be said that it is everyone's responsibility, be they staff, instructors, students, or even parents and guardians, to protect the survivor of the tragedy that took Arika Morishita from us at all costs. Her weapon partner, Trevor Axion, will soon be integrated back into regular E.A.T. classes, and however unlikely it may be, he may suffer verbal abuse or worse from his fellow students. If you see this behavior, stop it and report it immediately.Remind our students that any discrimination against any student for any reason is grounds for disciplinary action, up to and including expulsion. Any students that break the Academy's trust in this way will deal with me personally."
It saddened Maka to think that any of her students could be so cruel to a boy who had lost his meister, but she knew how impulsive and vindictive young people could be. She had been an impulsive, vindictive young person once. All she could do was hope that her students were better than that.
The email wasn't much longer.
"Neither I nor you as instructors can answer any questions regarding specifics about the operation that resulted in the death of Arika Morishita, including target, location, and any other details. This information is considered classified, and cannot in any way be commented on by instructors at this time, even by those who are privy to such details. Any breach of conduct for any reason will result in disciplinary action, up to and including termination.
I thank you all for your strength and professionalism during this difficult time. An official memorial for Arika will be made at a later date, and the entire E.A.T. class will be invited to her funeral once arrangements have been made. Mourning bands have been supplied to all instructors, so feel free to distribute them to students as you see fit. Please follow all policies relating to student death and classified information.
Sincerely,
Shinigami-sama"
Maka frowned. She was one of the few who was privy to everything that had been happening in and around the DWMA. The thought of keeping all of that information secret from her colleagues that weren't in the know, her students, and her children was daunting, to say the least. Her instincts as a mother to protect her children were at odds with her duties as an instructor. But ultimately, she knew it was best to keep everyone in the dark.
Panic was the enemy of organized responses, after all.
It was then that the bell rang. Maka blinked. She was still in the teacher's lounge, and Class Half Moon was a fair distance away.
Shit!
She took off in a sprint, almost clocking Ox with the lounge door on her way out.
Everyone Class Half Moon was conversing in hushed whispers as the clock ticked a good fifteen minutes past the start time of Resonance 202. It wasn't like Maka-sensei to be late, and they all knew it. Specter and Nina were especially surprised, as it was their mother who had always told them that being early was on time, being on time was too late, and being too late was being way too late.
Specter could hear so much of the gossip spreading around, most of it coming from people outside his friend group.
"Did you hear about the girl from class Dark Moon?" a girl said.
"Someone died!" another girl said exasperatedly, eliciting gasps and more hushed whispers from her friends.
"Do we know who it was?" Male, younger.
Another male, a weapon two rows down. "No clue, they're not from our class."
"Where did it go down?" Guy in the top row, jock type.
"The teachers are keeping it hush hush, bro." His meister, a girl with intricate braids.
"I think it's a huge cover-up. Why aren't they telling us what's going on?" A girl two seats away.
One of her friends chimed in. "Yeah, we have a right to know!"
"Fuck…someone actually died." Just above him, barely audible amidst the sea of voices.
"Guess that's what happens when you don't take a mission seriously…" A mutter from their neighbor.
"Shut the fuck up! You don't know what happened, you can't say that shit," their friend snapped back.
"Sorry…"
"Hey. Hey! Earth to moron!"
Specter blinked as his vision refocused. A familiar voice cut through the conversations bubbling and forming around him, snapping him out of his trance. It turned out that the voice belonged to his sister, who was now tapping him aggressively on the shoulder.
"Yeah?" he said, shaking everything he had just heard out of his head.
"Where's mom?"
He raised an eyebrow, perplexed. "Why do you care?"
"So?"
"So," she scoffed, "That's a bad fuckin' sign. She's never late. Ever."
"You think it's got something to do with that kid we saw getting escorted by the suits?"
A nod. "Everyone's talking about it."
"Yeah, no shit."
She shot him an annoyed look. "I'm just saying that if somebody's really dead and mom is late, something's wrong. Like, we're under attack, wrong."
"I mean…are we?"
She shrugged. She didn't know. Nobody really knew what all the rumors meant. They were spinning their wheels trying to make sense of it all. And failing.
Specter closed his eyes for a moment, blocking out everything, everyone in the room, even his sister. When his eyes flicked open again, he was seeing through a new lens. The world was blue, but faded at the edges, as if his vision had a vignette.
What he saw actually gave him some measure of relief, and he sat back in his chair with a knowing smirk on his face. Nina gave him a questioning look, but before she could probe him for an answer, the door to Class Half Moon opened abruptly. Standing in the frame was none other than their mother, Maka-sensei.
Prim and proper as ever, she silenced the chatter permeating the amphitheater with a snap of her fingers, walking into the center of the floor with a serious aura about her.
"Alright, everyone, listen up," she said, her voice sharp and precise in a way that demanded respect and attention from even the most rebellious of the students among the crowd.
Specter and company all perked their ears up, knowing that she meant business and that something big was coming. Answers, more questions, orders. Something.
"I'm sure rumors have been circulating about recent events, but as long as you are in the halls of the DWMA, they will not find purchase among the students of this class. Is that understood?"
"Yes sensei!" No one dared challenge her in the classroom.
She nodded. "Good. Now, I need to cover exactly what's been going on around the Academy and abroad, so listen close."
Everyone in the room tensed. She let out a sigh, registering the weight of the words she was about to deliver. Ultimately, she was able to steel herself.
"Less than twenty four hours ago, an E.A.T. meister from Class Dark Moon was killed in action during a routine soul collecting mission."
The announcement immediately sent waves of chatter through the crowd, but Maka silenced them with another snap of her fingers.
"Her name was Arika Morishita." Maka paused for any requisite tears to be shed or gasps realization on behalf of any friends of the deceased. Apparently, there were a few. "She was a meister who specialized in firearm combat, and was a high-achieving student at the top of her class."
A hand shot up, one belonging to a young woman named Ingrid, who was very visibly upset by the news of her friend's death, tears brimming in her eyes.
"Yes, Ms. Williams?"
"Maka-sensei…what about her partner, Trevor?" She wiped away a few tears. "Is he…?"
"Arika's weapon, Trevor Axion, is alive and well," Maka said confidently.
This time, relief washed over the students. Specter and company, too, though their curiosity was piqued. They now had a name to place on the blonde boy who the DMWA's finest were undoubtedly escorting straight to the Death Room.
Specter, in particular, recalled what his father had said.
"Last thing I need is Shinigami-sama finding out that I let need-to-know information slip."
"Right now, we're just making sure the press and the people of Death City don't get the…full picture."
What exactly was need-to-know about this kid? Maybe Nina was right, he mused. Maybe they were under attack.
"Trevor will be coming back to class in the coming days," his mother continued. "But I do want to stress something to all of you."
Her expression turned deadly serious, and with everything she had, her soul expanded to fill the space around her, sending successive shockwaves rippling through the air.
"If I hear a word about anyone in this room speaking ill of that boy, to his face or otherwise, I will bring you to Shinigami-sama in a bodybag. Am I clear?"
Many students knew that Maka-sensei had a reputation for being strict, but when she got serious, she got very serious. Sometimes, this was a good thing. Her determination made her a strong leader when they needed her guidance.
But in moments like this, her threats carried weight comparable to Shinigami-sama.
Everyone nodded or muttered something in affirmation.
"Am I clear!?" she repeated, more forceful.
"Yes, sensei!" Nobody dared stay silent.
Maka breathed a sigh out through her nose. "Good. I shouldn't have to say any of this, but I have to reinforce our policy against discrimination. Some people don't get the message, but I'm counting on you to support your fellow students in their time of need."
Another hand got raised, this one belonging to one of the tougher guys in the class. "Sensei," he said, "Are, uh…are we in danger?"
"Yeah," a girl two rows above him chimed in, "Who's responsible for all this? We need to know what we're up against."
"Are they gonna stop us from going on missions?" Another student asked.
Someone from the other side of the room piped up. "But if they do that, we can't graduate!"
"We can't graduate if we're dead!" Their partner declared.
Maka frowned as the class devolved into endless chatter and shouting. They wanted answers, but she had been told not to give them any. If there was to be order, she had to think very carefully about what she said and how she said it.
"Alright, settle down!" she said after a minute or so, snapping her fingers to get everyone's attention back. "Now, while I wish I could answer all your questions, I can't."
Max raised his hand.
"Yes, Max?"
"What can you tell us, sensei?" he asked simply.
She just sighed. "I can tell you that we are not suspending E.A.T. student missions at this time, but that we are restricting travel to the region Arika and Trevor were sent…for obvious reasons."
Murmurs spread through the chamber again, only to be silenced by Maka's snap.
"More importantly, everything pertaining to what happened and who is responsible is classified. But if the details are ever declassified, you may be called to action. Those of you who want revenge, I understand, but I'm not going to lose any more students. For those of you who are worried, you have every right to be, but at the end of the day, as E.A.T. students, you are expected to engage any enemy to world peace in the event of a crisis."
When no one responded to that, she nodded in resolution.
"Right, then. If that's all your questions, it's time to get back to work. The work we do in this class could save your life in a combat situation, and now more than ever, we need to remember that. If you need a moment to collect yourselves or any accommodations, come talk to me. Otherwise, expect more focused team-based exercises in the future."
Specter's eyes widened as some students immediately moved toward her desk while others went to their usual spots to practice resonance. Team exercises? What exactly were they planning?
And more importantly, what exactly were they planning for?
"We've taken to calling them magic-touched souls," Shinigami-sama explained. "Evil or not, they're souls that are polluted with magic to the point that the body that holds them is irreparably altered."
"That doesn't answer my question," McLoughlin said crossly. "I'm not askin' ya what these fuckers are. I'm askin' ya who they are."
Kim shook her head. "The truth is, we just don't know."
"We have theories," Stein added, "But that's all they are: theories."
Shinigami-sama nodded. "Even if we did know exactly who and what we were dealing with, it's all part of an ongoing investigation. As someone who has personal ties to the deceased, I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to."
"Why? Because I'd go off and hunt them down without a weapon?" McLoughlin said flatly. "I'm a fool, not an idiot."
"It's just policy, Jeanene," Shinigami said, putting his hands up in a way he hoped was disarming. "Don't take it personally."
She made to retort, but stopped suddenly as she felt a hand on her shoulder. To her surprise, it was Trevor's. He was shaking, but his expression was determined.
"It's alright, professor…I'll get them. For both of us. I promise."
For a moment, moisture welled up in the corners of her eyes, but she steeled herself and they vanished, a grin spreading slowly across her face.
"You've got balls, kiddo, I'll give you that." She turned to Shinigami-sama. "I suppose I can forgive ya for keepin' me in the dark, but what about the students? Can we really afford to keep these magic souls or whatever the fuck a secret?"
Stein adjusted his glasses. "Putting magic-touched souls in the curriculum isn't necessary. Not only would it put extra pressure on students who may never encounter them, but it could also let our enemies know that we're onto them."
"At this point, subterfuge and secrecy are the best weapons we have," Shinigami-sama added. "That's why this investigation is being kept under wraps."
McLoughlin considered the situation with an irritated frown. She wanted nothing more than to be a part of their efforts to find who had killed Arika. But she herself had proven exactly why she couldn't do it. Whether it was her reaction to Arika's death or the fact that she didn't have a weapon, it was clear that the best thing she could do was stay out of all this.
No matter how much it killed her inside.
A guttural growl escaped her throat as she regarded her headmaster. "Fine. I'll get out of yer way. But I swear to God, if this all comes to a head, I'll kill whoever did this myself. Weapon or no weapon."
She turned on her heel and walked away before anyone could say anything. Even Trevor looked a little worried. But the adults stood resolute as the Death Room door opened, then sharply closed.
"Give her time," Kim said. "Trauma affects us all differently."
Trevor nodded. He knew that all too well.
"I have a feeling she'll join the fight one way or another," Shinigami-sama said. "I just hope she recognizes how far reaching the consequences of her actions may be."
"Shinigami-sama," Trevor began timidly. "Do you think that…Professor McLoughlin could use me as her weapon? You know, if I can't find a partner?"
"I don't think that's a good idea," Stein said flatly. When Trevor gave him a questioning look, he continued. "I considered the possibility myself, but I can see it in your souls. You would clash horribly. And even if you did somehow manage to hold a stable resonance, partnerships built on grief usually end in mutual destruction."
The young man's eyes widened, his grip on Arika's jacket tightening. "Mutual…destruction?"
"Don't worry about it," Kim said. "It's not something that happens often. But he's right. Forcing a partnership for any reason never works well."
"But…what if I can't find a partner? A weapon's no good without a meister, 'specially when the weapon is a gun…"
Shinigami-sama put a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "Your value does not hinge on your ability to slay monsters. Besides," he added with a smile, "I believe that if you're determined enough to find a partner, that a partner may just find you."
"I sure hope so," Trevor said with a sigh, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I need a meister. I don't know what I'll do without one."
Kim was about to encourage him when the bells for elective rang.
A frown spread across Shinigami-sama's face. He had hoped to have more time with Trevor, and something told him that simply having him go back to his classes like normal was out of the question. But he also knew that keeping him cooped up in the Death Room couldn't be good for him.
"Um, Shinigami-sama?" Trevor prodded cautiously. "What should I do?"
The death god let out a curt hum as he considered his options. "I don't think it would be wise to send you home or simply keep you here in the Death Room. Perhaps you can join Free's gym class, take some of your energy out on the sparring bags. He doesn't have many students at the moment, and his infectious positivity might just help you."
Trevor nodded slowly. Hitting something didn't sound like a bad idea. And while he hadn't had Free as an instructor before, Arika had always admired him for some reason.
That was enough for him.
"I'll take him there for you, Shinigami-sama," Kim said.
It was then that he realized something.
"Wait," he said suddenly. "I'll escort him personally. Trevor is a high-priority witness, but I don't want to trouble you or any of the other Three-Stars with his protection. You have your own duties to attend to."
Besides, he thought to himself, I've been meaning to have a word with our resident werewolf…our resident magic-touched soul…
Electives at the DWMA were just like electives at other schools: there were art, music and drama classes, but there were also Advanced Placement classes for those who wished (or were forced by their parents) to apply themselves.
Allie was one of those students. Shinigami-sama had personally recommended that she take the class in order to help mitigate the drawbacks of using her more dangerous techniques. As someone who had the Mark of Death on her soul, Allie required special training that went beyond combat drills or katas.
She unconsciously massaged her eye.
As she and Flint walked to the one of the many dojos in the Academy, Allie's mind was on her cousins. Were they doing okay with their suspension? Was anyone giving them trouble?
Even Study Hall could be a minefield for them after what had happened with Kid and Gray Star.
Gray Star…
Her eyes narrowed in frustration. Out of everyone on the planet, Gray Star should have been angry with Kid, or at the very least upset with her. But no, she just had to be the non-confrontational one, she just had to be the better person and not show any emotion whatsoever.
It infuriated her.
How could anyone be friends with someone who attacked them? She knew she had to talk to her sister about everything that had happened at some point, but she honestly didn't know what she would say. Or perhaps, more accurately, how she could get her thoughts across without hurting her.
Lost in her thoughts, she almost didn't notice that someone was coming around the corner. Unconsciously, she stepped out of the way to let them pass. It was only after she had moved that she realized that the person she had almost run into was Shinigami-sama himself.
And a boy that looked familiar.
"Shinigami-sama?" she said, surprised.
"Allie," he greeted her with a smile, "Good to see you. I didn't expect to run into anyone on this side of the Academy at this hour."
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm just taking my charge here to the gym to do some light training with Free," he said, gesturing to the boy next to him. "My hope was to avoid the bulk of the student body by taking a more roundabout way, but I forgot that this is also the fastest way to get to the dojos."
But Allie wasn't paying much attention. She was busy inspecting the tall, lanky fellow with short, curly blonde hair and vibrant violet eyes that stood before her, and the bright red jacket in his arms. Allie's eyes widened in recognition, while Trevor just gulped nervously.
Shinigami-sama, sensing that he had to do something, stepped beside them both.
"I guess some introductions are in order. Trevor, this is Allie Thompson and her weapon partner, Flint Westwood."
"Thompson?" Trevor realized. "As in, Patty Thompson?"
"The very same," she said with a nod.
His voice picked up a little bit, excitement registering on his tired face. "You lot won that duel a while back, out in the courtyard."
"Oh, you saw that?" She smiled a bit at the recognition.
"It was bloody wicked. Mad respect."
"Thanks. And your name is?"
"Trevor. Trevor Axion," he said, his voice faltering a bit.
That name. Now she knew for certain. He was the one everyone was talking about, the student that had lost his meister while on a mission abroad, the person she had seen being escorted into the Academy that morning.
Her eyes immediately became soft and sad, a strained look settling on her face. "Look, uh…I'm so sorry for your loss, man. I can't imagine…"
He waved away her concerns with his hand, too used to condolences from strangers. "It's alright," he said. "I'm just trying to work through it."
Flint took off his hat out of respect for the dead. "It ain't somethin' anyone should hafta work through." He clapped Trevor on the shoulder, making him flinch. "I've been where you are. It does get better. Just hang tight, an' don't do nothin' stupid, alright?"
Allie looked at her weapon, surprised. She'd been his partner for almost two years, and she hadn't heard him say anything about someone dying. Had he lost a partner she didn't know about?
Trevor just nodded, unsure of how he could respond to that.
"Well," Shinigami-sama said as he checked his phone for the time, "we should probably get you to the gym, Trevor."
"Right, sorry." He turned and gave Flint a handshake. "Nice meeting you."
"Likewise."
Allie put her hand out. "Hang in there, man. We're all behind you."
"Thank you, I will," he said, somewhat unsure.
When Trevor took Allie's hand, something like resonance was achieved, a single, subtle wave of energy pulsing through both of them as they connected. Neither of them sensed it, however, and when the handshake was done, Trevor simply waved and followed Shinigami-sama down the hall. Allie and Flint exchanged thoughtful looks.
"That was him, huh? The guy we saw with the suits this mornin'."
"Yeah…" Allie trailed off, unsure of what to make of him.
"He a gun?"
"I think that's what Kilik-sensei said. Why?"
Flint frowned. "Gonna be hard fer him ta find a meister, 'specially one that's skilled enough ta get him back out in the field."
"Yeah…I hope it all works out for him," she said, keeping a sharp eye on Flint's expression.
It apparently worked out for you…
When Shinigami-sama brought Trevor to the gym, there were, as expected, very few students there. Free was in the center of the massive space's lacquered wood floor, whistle and DWMA baseball cap on. He smiled as his boss approached with a fresh face.
"Heya, Shinigami-sama! Got us a new recruit? Or is this guy in for some discipline?" He slammed his fist into his knuckles in a way that was somehow both threatening and respectful at the same time.
"No, no, nothing like that," the Grim Reaper said. "This young man is Trevor Axion."
Free's expression faltered immediately. "Oh, shit. The one from the email?"
"The very same."
The werewolf immediately turned to Trevor. The young Brit gulped nervously. Despite being relatively tall for a nineteen-year-old, Free dwarfed him, easily standing four or five heads above him in height.
"I'm so sorry about your loss, brother," Free said.
Trevor stammered for a second before simply nodding respectfully and saying, "Thank you, sir."
"What can I do for ya, son?"
When the young Brit didn't immediately respond, Shinigami-sama stepped in.
"I was hoping you could supervise him until classes end, perhaps let him run some simple combat drills on the bags," he explained.
Free nodded. "Yeah, no problem. I'll keep him company, show him the ropes."
"Excellent. Thank you, Free. Sid and Naigus will be along when class is over to send him to his new living arrangements, so all you need to do is keep him busy until then."
Trevor's gaze hit the floor. He hadn't even considered that. Going back to his and Arika's old apartment would have been awful, but not going back somehow felt like he was doing his late meister a disservice.
He gripped her jacket tighter.
"Gotcha," Free said. He turned to Trevor. "Alright, my man, ready to hit the bags?"
"Actually," Shinigami-sama interjected, "Could I have a word with you?"
"Oh, uh, of course. Go ahead and get started there, Trevor. I'll be with ya in a bit."
Trevor nodded, shook Shinigami-sama's hand, thanked him, then left.
"So…what's this about, boss? I didn't fuck up paperwork again, did I?"
"No, don't worry about it," the Grim Reaper assured him. "I just wanted to give you a warning."
The wolfman tilted his head in confusion. "Warning?"
"You've heard about the new asset we acquired recently, correct?"
"Oh, him. What about him?" He didn't sound pleased.
Given Free's history with Mosquito, Shinigami-sama could forgive his snark.
"Well, he gave us some troubling news, and I just want to make sure you're aware of it."
Free frowned. "What could that buggy bastard possibly have told you?"
"Tell me, Free…are you aware of what you really are? What your soul actually is?"
"Uh…I'm a werewolf. And an immortal. Is there more to it than that?"
Shinigami-sama just smiled to himself. Of course he didn't know. It was as he had predicted.
"Surprisingly, there is more to it. I can't go into details, but suffice to say, you and our asset are cut from the same cloth. Infused with magic."
"So what?"
"I'm just…concerned. He expressed that a…certain organization," he said slowly, not wanting to be direct, "tried to contact him. Tell me, have you…heard anything strange lately? Like music that wasn't there, or a voice telling you to do things you didn't want to do?"
"Nope," Free said simply. He didn't consider his nightmares, or that night the wolf had almost come out and he had destroyed the bathroom sink.
How could he? To him, they were just dreams, or his own magic going haywire. They were problems he could fix, not some outside force manipulating him.
Besides, he didn't remember hearing any music.
"You're certain?" Shinigami-sama asked, his skepticism written all over his face.
The werewolf grinned and jabbed his thumb into his chest. "Nothing can get through to me. I'm immortal! But if I ever hear any weird music or do anything weird, you'll be the first to know, bossman."
Shinigami-sama scoffed and grinned. "I knew I could count on you." They shook hands. "Take good care of Trevor for me. He's been through a great deal."
"Of course."
With that, the two bade each other farewell, Shinigami-sama heading back to the Death Room while Free turned to address his new charge.
"Alrighty, my man" he said as he approached, "What do you wanna start with? Punches? Kicks? Maybe some takedowns?"
He blinked, suddenly realizing that Trevor wasn't really paying any mind to him. The boy was staring at the jacket in his hands, his expression flat and tired. It was as if the jacket had stolen his spirit, his will to keep moving, leaving him an empty shell.
"It's hers, isn't it? Your partner's."
Trevor snapped to attention immediately. "Oh, uh…yeah. It is." His eyes narrowed. "It was."
"You know," Free said, putting a massive hand on Trevor's shoulder, "I don't think your girl Arika would want you to just sit there and stare at her jacket all day."
"You're probably right," he said with a soft chuckle.
But he didn't move an inch. He couldn't take his eyes off of it, as if, were he to look away, the last remnant of his partner would vanish into thin air. Free grimaced.
What could he do?
"I met her, you know," he said after a while.
Trevor snapped to attention immediately. "You did?"
"I didn't know her all that well. But sometimes, she'd run up to me after class, show me all the things she drew in her notebook. Usually doodles of me," he noted with a laugh.
Trevor's eyes widened. "She loved werewolves and monsters and stuff like that."
"Yeah…she was a good kid."
"She was…the best." A tear welled up in his eye. It still hurt so much that she was gone.
People died. Trevor knew that. But no one ever really thought about death until it happened to someone close to them. The reality had set in; she was gone, and he couldn't change it. But thinking about her, remembering her, hearing things about her…it hurt almost as much as it helped.
He stood there for a few moments, just thinking about her. The way she smiled and laughed, the things she took pictures of, the things she drew. Who she was. She really was the best. Someone to look up to.
Free eventually drew him out of his headspace with a clap on the shoulder.
"Come on, chief. Why don't you put that jacket somewhere safe so we can start?"
He pondered the idea for a moment, and actually began to walk toward the bleachers to set it down, but something stopped him.
"No," he said, surprising himself. "I think I know where it needs to be."
A sad smile graced his features as he held the crimson article out in front of him. She had always said he would look good in it. But he had always told her that it was hers, a gift from her mother.
There, in the DWMA gym, Trevor realized that the silly, faux leather jacket that Arika loved so much carried her spirit. He could feel it. And who was he to simply cast her aside?
His arm slipped into the first sleeve, then the other. Dried blood was caked in the places where the claws and weapons of the monsters that had slain her had pierced through, but he didn't care. It was a cutoff jacket fitted for a woman much smaller than him, and barely covered him at all, but he didn't care.
This was how he would carry her into battle.
This was how he would allow her to see her killers before he got his revenge.
This was how he would honor her.
I will never let go…never.
Free crossed his arms and grinned. He hadn't expected that. But he could see it in the kid's posture, could smell it in the air: the jacket gave him confidence.
No, that wasn't it.
Determination.
"It looks good on ya, kid," he said as Trevor turned around. "And I gotta tell ya, it beats the shit out of a mourning band."
Trevor smiled genuinely for the first time in what had felt like ages. "I couldn't agree more, bruv."
About a minute passed as Trevor stood in front of the training bags, seemingly ready for anything as Free just smiled in the background, arms folded, strong and imposing.
Then another minute passed, and something struck both of them.
"Probably could do with a wash, though," Free deadpanned.
Trevor let out a defeated sigh. "Yeah…the blood is…a little much, to be honest."
"Might wanna take it off unless you feel like washing off the bags."
"Yeah, alright."
Omake
"Fuck, I'm bored!" she said loudly.
Post just nodded from his place in the corner, looking at his sister over his tablet. She was a go-getter. They had taken out their target hours ago, but their flight left the next morning, and the interesting places in San José were open air attractions that had closed up in the wake of the constant rain.
Slash eyed her older sibling with a sudden intensity. "Whatcha readin'?"
He signed her his response. "Art book."
"Oh, sick!" She walked over and leaned on his chair, excitedly trying to get a better view. "Is it the art book for Soul Eater? I've been dying to get my hands on that one. Specter keeps telling me that it's weird that I want a book with pictures of his dad in it, but fuck him."
Post shook his head and held up the tablet, letting the images speak for themselves as he swiped the screen to flip through them.
All Slash saw was paintings of nature, bridges, trees, valleys with rivers running through them, the occasional person made of odd-angled brush strokes and tiny dots of yellow meant to be the light from a street lamp.
"Oh, so not my type of art book, huh?"
He nodded.
She chuckled to herself before hopping off the side of his arm chair and flopping onto the couch. "I'm gonna cast my phone to the TV. You wanna watch DeathTube?"
He nodded again, still flipping through the works of a famous painter she didn't know the name of.
"What should we watch?"
Post paused to think about it for a moment. "Concert?" he signed.
"Oh yeah!" Slash said realized with a shout, "That new pop punk band streamed their album release tour, I totally forgot! Good call, P!"
Soon, Slash was blasting the speakers of the TV out while Post just kept flipping through more paintings, taking in the subtleties of each piece as his sister did air guitar on the couch.
Death Weapon Meister Academy
Office of the Registrar
E.A.T. Class Roster Profiles
Year One, Section I
NAME: Specter Soul Evans
AFFILIATION: Death Weapon Meister Academy
RANK and CLASS: E.A.T. Student, 1st Year; 1-Star Meister; Class Half Moon
DESIGNATION: Meister; Partner is Nina Evans
ABILITY: Soul Perception, Soul-Hunt Slash, Soul Portent
HEIGHT: 5' 8"
WEIGHT: 121 lbs.
AGE: 18
BIRTHDAY: January 13th
BLOOD TYPE: B+
NICKNAME: Silver
FAVORITE FOOD: Ramen
FAVORITE MUSIC: Lo-Fi ["Raining in Lofi City" by Lofi in Cities]
FAVORITE COLOR: Gray
HOBBIES: Video games, board games, playing guitar/piano, singing (rarely)
BEST SUBJECT: Soul Studies
FAVORITE SUBJECT: Elective (Music)
WORST SUBJECT: Resonance 202 (margin of 10%)
LEAST FAVORITE SUBJECT: Soul Studies
NAME: Nina Evans
AFFILIATION: Death Weapon Meister Academy
RANK and CLASS: E.A.T. Student, 1st Year; 1-Star Meister; Class Half Moon
DESIGNATION: Weapon (Demon Scythe); Partner is Specter Evans
ABILITY: Soul Resonance, Suspected Hidden or Undiscovered Abilities
HEIGHT: 5' 7"
WEIGHT: 118 lbs.
AGE: 16
BIRTHDAY: November 5th
BLOOD TYPE: AB-
NICKNAME: N/A
FAVORITE FOOD: Hamburgers
FAVORITE MUSIC: Hard Rock/Heavy Metal/Pop Punk ["Might Love Myself" by Beartooth]
FAVORITE COLOR: Red
HOBBIES: Video games, watching anime, watching MMA, going shopping, gossip, partying, playing violin (only when forced to)
BEST SUBJECT: Combat Training
FAVORITE SUBJECT: Combat Training
WORST SUBJECT: Soul Studies (margin of 23%)
LEAST FAVORITE SUBJECT: Soul Studies
Entered By: Tezca Tlipoca, E.A.T. Study Hall Instructor and Official Secretary for Shinigami-sama