59. Challenged is a sequel to prompt 53. Future and 60. Exhaustion is a sequel to prompt 55. Separation!
56. Everything For You | Crona
Everything blurred around her. The distorted image of her mother's body laid limp on the ground before her, a dark red pool of blood slowly encircling her. Breathing heavily, the arm holding Ragnarok up, shook, trembling with shock the longer she stared at the body. She could hear a multitude of voices erupting around her in harsh succession, all shouting only to be dulled by the beating of her heart in her ears. She couldn't tear her gaze away, dark spots blotting the area around her eyes, blinding her peripheral completely.
It was a strange mix of relief and horror stirring inside of her—both feelings stemming from the fact that Medusa was dead. The woman who raised her, albeit in the worst possible way, the woman who crafted her to be the perfect kinshin, the woman who was aiming to murder—
She was jerked out of her thoughts by two hands planting themselves onto her thin shoulders, whirling her around in the opposite direction the cooling corpse was placed. In a haze, she blinked slowly at the person who interrupted her spiraling thoughts. The first thing that caught her eye was the golden hues of his eyes, then his dark hair encircled by three white stripes.
Gasping at the realization that he was fine, she shakily raised the hand not holding Ragnarok. Swallowing roughly, her gaze flicked downward to her hand as it approached his pale chin, halting it immediately. Her hand was stained with dark blood—red. Exhaling, her gaze drifted back toward Medusa, as if to confirm that this was indeed her blood. Her head barely moved before the soft hands on her shoulders slid up and gripped her face, forcing her gaze back toward him.
Her head shook on its own accord, muddled words tumbling out of her mouth like a baby babbling for the first time. Ragnarok silently slipped back inside of her body, comfortably settling against her spine. She paid little attention to her companion that resided inside of her, only quietly taking note he offered a reassuring thought to pass between them. Swallowing thickly, she observed the male before her, her emotions getting the best of her.
"Kid…" she sighed, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes, blurring even more of her vision. "She… she was going to kill you."
"I know," he replied, brows pinching down at the seriousness in her statement.
"I-I had no choice..."
Sputtering, the hand covered in blood pressed against her own chest, fingers digging into the fabric of her dark dress, clutching over her own heart. Her wide eyes fell downward, staring blankly at the front of Kid's shirt, where a noticeable tear was shown over his midsection. Shakily, her hand fell from her chest, fingers idly tracing the outside of the slash that would have ended his life if she had not intervened. She raised her blurry eyes to meet his, a hollow feeling carving its way into her heart.
"I know," he softly whispered, pulling her closer.
Her body fit into his arms perfectly, her slim form pressing as close as she could. Her head dropped, resting against his shoulder, her hair falling haphazardly around her. His arms looped around her body, securing themselves around her thin waist and over her back. Clutching the front of his shirt, she clung to him, unable to stop the tears from falling freely.
She killed her mother—to save him. No one else in the vicinity would have made it in time, wasn't as quick as she was with her black blood to intervene in time. It had to be her. It still hurt all the same. Even as she silently reminded herself it was all for him—everything was.
57. Slow Down | Kid
"Come on guys, hurry up!"
A blur of blue and black rushed by, the wind rustling clothes from the movement. BlackStar galloped ahead, exerting all his energy in the first mile of their run. It mattered not how fast he moved in the current moment, he would tire out before they even reached the end of the route.
"Not so fast!"
The cheer from Maka echoed down the road, getting further away the harder she pushed herself to move. Seeing her pigtails flop in the wind did motivate him to move faster, if not only to prove he could keep the same pace. He pushed harder, stepping from his fast walking to a jog, planning to go into a full sprint but was stopped by a raspy sound from behind.
Slowing his movements back down, he cocked his head behind him catching sight of their pink haired friend, sweating and panting.
"Crona?" he questioned, the concern for them overtaking the competitiveness that consumed him seconds ago.
At the sound of their name, they lifted their head up from the downward angle. Pink strands of hair clung to their forehead as a few beads of sweat glistened down the side of their face and off their skin, landing on the ground below. He was honestly surprised to see the hot flush against their cheeks as they struggled to keep up with the other meisters.
"Are you okay?"
With concern lacing his words, he faced them and placed a hand against their shoulder, if only to keep them steady throughout their labored breathing. He dragged his eyes up and down their body, taking particular note of the long sleeved jacket and pants that encompassed their body, covering any skin that would be otherwise shown. He wouldn't have taken note otherwise, except for the fact that it was an extremely hot day in Death City.
"F-fine…" they exhaled, leaning into his touch to better support themselves.
"Really? You don't look fine to me," he mused, tilting his head.
They averted their gaze back toward the ground as if they were embarrassed by his statement. Which was understandable considering they did not usually like attention of any kind—happier to have suffered in silence than alert one of their friends. At that thought, he glanced back toward the other two, only catching sight of their fading backs as they raced down the path.
"You know," he mumbled, keeping his voice low and steady, his grip lifting their shoulders upward, causing their eyes to raise and meet his own. "You don't have to go at the pace the others are going. It's okay to slow down."
Swallowing roughly, they simply stared at him, processing what he had explained. Slowly, their breathing fell to a calm tempo, the flush on their face slowly diminishing. It was only then that they opened their mouth to speak.
"Is.. is that really okay?"
He couldn't stop the twitch of his lips, a smile forming on his face at their question. It was an odd feeling surging within him from the combination of their big, blue eyes staring innocently up at him and the soft tone of their voice—it left a fluttering feeling inside.
It was unusual.
"Yeah, it is completely fine."
As they considered his words, their lips pressed together into a thin line. A moment passes and their lips slid into a small smile, causing him to freeze. His hand fell off their shoulder as they stood to their full height, one of their hands wrapping around the elbow of their arm. He watched, eyes wide, as they breezed past him, the smile never leaving their face. Warmth spread onto his cheeks, for another reason other than from the desert heat.
They were cute.
58. Heartfelt Apology | Crona
There he was, casually standing down the hall from her with neither of his pistols in sight to deter her from her objective. Despite that, her feet stayed glued to the floor, partially hidden behind the corner as she continued her silent observation.
There was mild annoyance as Ragnarok internally prodded her to move forward with no success on his part. She willed him away, focusing most of her energy on keeping him subdued as per their agreement over this—she would buy him a whole bag of candy if he resisted the urge to pop out and ruin her well thought out plan.
A plan that was going nowhere as she hugged the wall, hip pressed against the cold brick donning the surface. There was another insistent pinch in her side, prompting a gasp out of her chapped lips. It was a small noise, one that would be ignored in normal situations. Alas, she was being shady and as her voice drifted down the hall, it alerted the Shinigami, his head tilting in her direction.
Sucking in a quick breath, she plastered herself against the wall, hopefully avoiding his view all together. Her heart pounded in her chest and she fought off the bothersome laughter bubbling inside her blood as Ragnarok teased her. She was pathetic, standing in an almost empty hallway, waiting for her perfect moment to approach him, only to get cold feet when given the chance.
"Crona?"
Her soul departed from her body as the familiar, deep voice of the very person she had been spying on, spoke her name. Tensing, she jerked her head in his direction, eyes wide as his dark head came into view, followed shortly by his half-lidded, golden eyes. She couldn't answer, words caught in her throat, only able to stare down at him as if she was caught doing something she shouldn't have. And she might as well have been, staring suspiciously at him for an unspecified amount of time.
"What are you doing?"
Her shoulders relaxed, slipping downward back to their original positions at the friendly expression on his face. Exhaling roughly, she dug her fingers into her black dress, a memory resurfacing within her. His eyes held the same kindness as when he hosted that party and although he withheld his hand this time, she still felt the warmth radiating off her shoulder where he had placed it before. That is what urged her on.
"K-Kid…" she muttered shakily, attempting to form confidence that wasn't there. "Can we talk?"
It was a miracle she managed to speak at all, with the lump forming in her throat. His friendly concern took a serious turn at her words, brow pinching downward.
"Of course," he replied, shifting his position to stand more upright.
She swallowed roughly, mimicking his movements to stand at her full height as well. Unable to stop, one of her hands found the crook of her elbow, clutching around the bulb of bone that resided there and pulling the arm taught to her body as if to hide—it brought little comfort for her.
"I...I," she mumbled, stumbling over her words while she scrambled to form a proper sentence.
She felt foolish for not preparing herself for this moment, subconsciously thinking she wouldn't have gotten this far to begin with if Ragnarok hadn't encouraged her yelp to reach the ears of Kid.
"It's okay,"
At his words, her eyes raised to meet his, becoming lost in the honey swirl of color within. His voice was soothing, soft and low as he spoke, reassuring her. Closing her eyes momentarily, she sucked in a deep breath, allowing the extra oxygen paired with his calming voice to give her a sense of relief and encouragement. As she reopened them, she met his gaze with a new found determination, squaring her shoulders.
"I want to apologize," she finally muttered, a weight lifting off her shoulders despite only saying a few words.
She was prepared for her nerves to get the best of her, delaying whatever mute words she wanted to voice, not expecting them to slip out so easily after a few reassuring words from him.
"Whatever for?" Kid exhaled, head tipping in one direction.
"W-well…" she sighed, eyes trailing after a lone strand of hair flattening against one of his cheeks. "It's from before."
She found she couldn't meet his eyes anymore, her own gaze drifting downward until their shoes appeared in her view. Her eyes frantically flickered between his sleek, shiny shoes and her scuffed ones. He was silent, patiently waiting for her to finish the amends she wanted to make. But she couldn't, words collecting inside of her and blocking any passage for a coherent sentence. She stood, mouth parting as she struggled to form the proper words. It was only when Kid gently placed his hand against her shoulder, the same one he had done so before, that she raised her eyes to meet his.
Her breath caught in her throat at the complete understanding lingering in his vibrant eyes as he held her gaze. Swallowing the blockage, the words spilled out of her mouth. She shakily explained how she couldn't even remember the boat at first, an awful feeling filling her up at the mere thought of it—that she blocked out those memories in some form of self defense. It was only when she finally faced those horrid events, that the weight of guilt crushed her— so much that the only conclusion she came to was to properly apologize to the one she failed the most that day.
That was what she was apologizing for— for the horrible events that took place upon that boat, that she felt agonizing defeat over all the human souls she stole that day. That she couldn't believe he would even want to be around her after all the damage she caused in the world.
The words were tumbling out of her at a fast pace now, her gaze once more shifted to the floor. Her mouth only shut when Kid tightened his grip on her shoulder, prompting her to glance shyly back up at him.
"It's okay, I forgive you." Kid's voice was soft as he spoke, as if he was consoling a child— he might as well have been. "It was clear as day that wasn't who you were."
"But—"
"But nothing," he quickly interrupted her, stepping closer to her as his other hand found her other shoulder. "You're with us now, that's all that matters."
She felt small again, even as she towered over him. His soft, comforting words were all she needed. She didn't feel a hundred percent better, but it was a start. If the son of Death himself could forgive her, maybe she had a chance at redeeming herself.
59. Challenged | Kid
He simply stared at her. She refused to meet his eye, gaze focused solely on the plate of food in front of her—food she barely touched to begin with. Besides the scraping of utensils against plates, the clock ticking was the only sound in the room. His eyes lit up when she lifted her head to finally meet his gaze.
"May I be excused?"
He did not hide the disappointment at her question, nor for the fact that she wasn't actually meeting his gaze and instead staring off at something over his shoulder. He fought the urge to turn around and take a look for himself, instead tightening his fingers around his fork.
"Of course," he responded in kind, teeth scraping together.
She quickly wiped her mouth and departed as if she was never there, footsteps light enough to not be heard. She was like a ghost living amongst the halls of his manor.
That was the first strike against his patience. The second followed shortly a few days later.
It was a spur of the moment, something he usually didn't do. He had plucked eight identical flowers from the garden and bundled them perfectly together with a ribbon that complimented the colors. Once satisfied, he asked a few of his staff the whereabouts of Crona and set out to find her.
It was a mere chance that she happened to be walking down the staircase he was going up. He could hardly hold back the elation bubbling up inside when he spotted her familiar, pink hair, albeit how messy it was. He even took the stairs two at a time until he reached her midway down them, blocking her path.
She couldn't hide the surprise when he appeared in front of her, flowers raised toward her, bow facing her. Her eyebrows pinched down in confusion as she observed the bouquet. He waited silently, a hopeful smile plastered onto his face. It had been difficult persuading Crona to open up to him. He expected a gift would soften her hard exterior and allow him a peek inside her heart, if only a little bit.
Those wishful dreams were crushed the second her nose scrunched up—as if she was disgusted by his present. With a grunt, she pushed past him, rushing down the stairs as she pressed a hand to her face.
He quietly wondered what he did wrong, the bouquet hanging limp in his hand.
He hadn't given up hope.
He still held an ounce of it as he presented her one of the finest necklaces in the market. He held it up, laying it delicately against her neck, lining it perfectly along her collarbone. Cradled between the ends of her collarbone, a gem at the end of the thin chain settled there, hanging just above her sternum.
It was dazzling against her pale skin and he couldn't help but continue to admire it through the mirror a while longer than necessary. As he brought his eyes upward, he was met with a scowl from her, her eyes a darker shade of blue the longer they kept eye contact. His expression fell, a frown working its way onto his face, matching the one he saw on her face through the mirror.
"Is it not to your liking?"
For once, it seemed she considered his words, eyes drifting downward to where the necklace lay. He felt the same giddy, hopefulness budding inside of him at the gesture. It completely consumed him, so much so that he leaned down, one of his hands resting against one of her shoulders. It was that barest of touch that set something off in Crona, something he hadn't seen coming—something that happened too fast and ended within seconds.
He found himself a few steps away, hand raised in her direction as if to protect himself. His eyes glanced between her—who now stood facing him, appearance completely disheveled with one of her hands off to her right—and the dark streak of oozing magic that trailed its way to the nearby window. His gaze went past the dark mark and to the window, which was now broken into a million little pieces.
Swallowing roughly, he brought his attention back toward her. Her arm shook as she kept it held in the air, her pale skin marked with black coils that wrapped around her arm like veins. As his mind raced to put together what transpired, it came to his sudden realization that it was her veins—she had black blood.
She was a witch. This was going to be more of a challenge than he realized.
60. Exhaustion | Crona
She was exhausted.
Dirt, grass, and bark flew past her as she curled in on herself, nestling into a convenient hole under a large tree nearby. She barely had a moment to breathe before the monstrosity reached the tree she ducked under for safety. For a moment, she thought this was it, wrapping herself into a tight ball, forcing Ragnarok back into her body. He let out a gruff protest, bubbling inside of her as he hardened the blood circulating in her back to, hopefully, soften the blow from the massive beast.
But, it never came.
She waited another moment. Then another, straining her ears for sound. The roaring above didn't stop, nor did the destruction of dirt being flung about did either. Cautiously, she peered over her shoulder, squinting from the darkness through the small slither of light filtering in.
It was odd. She could clearly see the monster flailing above her, tearing through trees and ground alike, but it never reached her. It only took her another moment to realize this beast couldn't comprehend how to reach her under the thick roots sprouting from the trunk, acting as her shield. It slashed and pulled at the tree itself, ripping bark and moss, but never low enough to expose her vulnerable body.
Slowly, she unfurled herself, beckoning Ragnarok back into her hand. Digging her knees into the ground below, she readied herself, observing the beast's movements. It seemed impossible to act between the cramp space she found herself in and the erratic movements of the beast itself. Her hand tightened around the handle of Ragnarok, eyes frantically searching for some sort of opening to strike.
She was brought out of her thoughts when the beast suddenly screeched out in pain, its arms halting midair from shock. Then she saw it, the skin stretching around its head, neck, and midsection as if impacted by a strong force. She knew immediately who had come to her aid and not a moment too late.
She readied herself, pushing out from the hole and arcing Ragnarok upward, releasing a shriek of dark blood toward the weak points. The monster could not hold itself together, splitting in two, each half falling on opposite sides with a loud thud. She fell to her knees, clutching Ragnarok loosely in her arms as she stared past where the monstrosity once stood. A small laugh slipped past her lips at the welcomed sight of Kid, hovering not far off on his skateboard, both pistols aimed in her direction. His own face held a look of relief to see her, slowly drifting down to her.
By the time Kid touched the ground, the monster's body was evaporating into the air, leaving behind a bundle of three, bright red souls in its place. Kid tossed his weapons forward, them both transforming back into human form and landing safely onto their feet. Both of them stretched and sighed, the tension of the situation leaving them.
Patty, Liz, and Kid spoke amongst themselves near the souls, but Crona paid no mind to them, attempting to catch her breath. Ragnarok slipped into her shoulder where she had him pressed against, traveling to her back where he popped back out, resting his hands against the top of her head. She felt her brain hadn't caught up with the fact that they were okay—that they did in fact defeat the kishin that was disrupting the locales.
Out of focus, a pair of black shoes came into view, prompting her to raise her head to meet a pair of golden hues. He held out one of the glowing souls to Ragnarok, who greedily slurped it up, belching, and disappearing back into her spine. He was being surprisingly behaved. There was a small nudge against her ribs as he wrestled his way near her heart, assisting in calming her heart rate—that she only realized was pounding at an accelerated pace. She mentally gave him thanks, attempting to assist while slowing her breathing.
When she lifted her gaze back upward, Kid was still standing there. Not wanting to make them wait any longer on her, she readied to raise herself to a stand. Alas, she hadn't noticed how numb her legs felt until she stumbled forward, both arms raised as if to catch herself. With a grunt, a hand grabbed her under one of her elbows, saving her from becoming even more covered in grim. Her blue eyes instantly locked with Kid's golden ones.
"You okay?" he softly asked, eyes searching her for any harm done to her.
She felt her heart rate pick back up, her head nodding on its own as he helped her into a standing position. Once he was sure she was stable enough, his fingers slipped from her arm, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. Her hand replaced where his was, squeezing the ball of her elbow. He turned his back to her to approach his twin pistols, discussing a way back to the town. She couldn't keep her eyes off him, roaming up and down from his broad shoulders to—
Ragnarok pinched her from inside.