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snorlaxlovesme · 1 month

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if my heart was a compass, you'd be north

Asymmetry is Death the Kid’s main weakness, and Black Star knows it. When he sees Kid’s arm get blown off by Noah in Baba Yaga’s Castle, he knows that Kid won’t be able to fight back. Jumping between them is easier than breathing, and getting trapped in the Book of Eibon is something he believes he can endure. And maybe he can, so long as he believes rescue is coming. But what happens when no one at the DWMA seems to find Black Star’s rescue mission as important as Kid does? Pairings: Death the Kid / Black Star Warnings: violence, suicide ideation, panic attacks, depression Ao3 link: [x] Partners' artwork: @drowsystarlight Neeks [x] @vin420 Vin [x] Happy Chibiverb '24!! In the spirit of signing up for a cute and fun mini-bang in the fandom, my dumb ass wrote 23k words 💀But that's because I had such wonderful partners, with fantastic ideas and even more fantastic art! Make sure to like and reblog their work as well! If for some reason you want to read the whole thing in one insanely long tumblr post, here it is! If not, please use the the ao3 link above

prologue

Inanely, the first thing Black Star thinks as he watches Mifune fall to the ground is this should feel better.

He doesn’t even fully know what he means by that. But when he looks at his adversary, his rival, dead on the ground before him, he expects a sense of completion to wash over him that never comes. Will it ever come?

Tsubaki transforms, holding Black Star by the shoulders as she gently lowers him to the ground. His wounds must look worse than they are, because concern paints her features as she looks him over, like she can’t quite decide which injury to treat first. Luckily, Sid is close by. The bastard was probably watching the whole fight and doing dumb commentary like he did when Black Star fought Kid last. He doesn’t say anything, no congratulations or kind words, just gives him a once over with his dead zombie eyes before holding out his knife and letting Nygus transform. She gets to work bandaging him immediately.

“You okay?” she asks kindly. She’s probably worried about how he would feel after taking out Mifune. And sure, that’s part of it, but not all of it.

Black Star can’t help instinctually posturing. “Of course, I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” he asks. He can’t see Nygus’s full face beneath the mask of bandages she wears, but he sees her expression shift when she sees his petulant frown. She has the decency not to comment on it, at least.

Sure, it’s a very loose definition of “okay.” The slice on his foot hurts like a motherfucker, and his eye and cheek are starting to swell up from Mifune’s onslaught of attacks. The wounds on his arms are mostly superficial, but Nygus finishes wrapping them with care before reaching into her medipack for a cold compress for his head. He’s probably not concussed, but whatever.

Tsubaki crouches down and gives Black Star that good natured-smile she always does when she can tell he’s lying to himself. “Of course you are,” she says. Then her tone shifts ever so slightly. A little bit more serious. This question isn’t one she wants answered with a lie. “But are you satisfied?”

That is a better question. And the answer is simple: no.

Will he ever be?

“Tsubaki,” Black Star says quietly, turning to look at where Mifune lays. “Do you think I’m closer to beating God, now?”

She lays a hand on his shoulder, right next to the slash mark through his tattoo.

“You’ve never been closer,” she says matter-of-factly.

That may be so.

But that’s not good enough.

He can still remember the crater in the ground, the rubber heel of a leather shoe crushing him into the concrete.

He looks at Tsubaki, his good eye blazing with determination.

There’s one more person Black Star still has to face.

---

“Where do you think he’d be?” Black Star asks as he races through Baba Yaga’s Castle.

It was easier than he thought to slip away from Sid and Nygus. For all their care, they were never the most observant guardians, and with the battle raging on around them it was easy to wait for them to focus on their comms so Tsubaki and Black Star could slip away.

“I don’t know,” Tsubaki says from her ninja sword form. Her wavelength is equal parts supportive and worried. She knows that Black Star needs this closure, but she’s still concerned about his injuries. Before she transformed, she offered to carry Black Star at least until they got inside the castle, but he laughed right in her face. Injury or not, the great Black Star doesn’t need to be carried.

He still has adrenaline pumping through him from his fight with Mifune. He might be limping a bit from the wound on his foot, but he’s still capable of moving on his own, and most of the grunts in Baba Yaga’s Castle look like they’ve been taken care of already. He sees dark clothed mounds lying on the ground in every corridor he takes, so at least he knows the rest of the teams were doing something while he crushed every other fighter outside.

“Sid mentioned that they still needed to destroy the moral manipulation machine,” Tsubaki says from her weapon form. “If I had to guess, that’s probably where Kid is heading.”

Black Star has no idea where that might be. He never bothered to look at those maps and blueprints that Sid and Nygus had scattered between them. Black Star was a big man, he didn’t need some stupid map.

Soul Perception would be nice in this moment, but that was like the one meister ability that Black Star didn’t have. Not that he needed it. He had his ninja intuition, which some might say was better than Soul Perception anyway.

“Kid’s a god, right? And gods don’t mess around with mini bosses. There’s no way he’s dicking around in one of these spindly spider legs. If he’s anywhere, he’s going to the heart.”

My heart is different than a human heart, Black Star. Maybe shinigamis just feel differently than humans do.

“Black Star?”

Black Star blinks. Without even realizing, he had skidded to a halt.

“Sorry,” he says, breaking into a run again. “Like I said, he’s probably in the heart of the castle.”

Whatever, Black Star thinks, shaking the memory from mind like it was one of the cobwebs that covered every corner of this castle. That stuff was in the past, and this was the present. He’d prove to Kid now just how big of a man he’d become, even with his stupid human heart.

He gets to the heart faster than he would have thought. The corridor he’s been running through opens up into a large room, and at the center sits a complicated looking machine.

“You think that’s it?” Black Star asks Tsubaki.

She doesn’t get the chance to answer, because at that second Black Star hears Kid’s voice, coming from one of the other hallways leading to this giant room.

“Who are you?” Kid asks, and he sounds…scared? That can’t be right. But he sounds rattled, and that is enough to put Black Star back on high alert. He’s been in battle with Kid enough times to know that he’s an extremely even-tempered fighter.

Black Star almost charges ahead, but a sharp feeling from Tsubaki slows him down. He can feel through her wavelength that she’s still nervous about his injuries. And if this person is strong enough to make Kid sound like that, Black Star needs to tread lightly.

It’s not Black Star’s style, and he wants to object, but he’s leaving bloody footprints behind from where the bandage on his foot has already been soaked through. His right eye is almost entirely swollen shut now.

He reluctantly blends in with the shadows, erasing his breath.

“My name isn’t important,” comes a deep voice. “But I know yours, Death the Kid.”

From Black Star’s vantage point, he can see Kid’s expression tense. It’s not unrealistic that someone would know of Kid, he’s the son of Lord Death, but something about this man’s tone doesn’t sound like he knows Kid superficially.

A hand reaches out, and that’s about all Black Star sees before one of Kid’s arms is blown clean off.

Black Star freezes.

In all their training together, Black Star has barely been able to lay a hand on Kid. This man ripped his arm off like he was flicking lint off Kid’s suit.

“Death the Kid,” the man says as Kid falls to the ground, gasping. Black Star can hear the tinny echoes of Liz and Patti calling out for him in their weapon forms. Kid doesn’t move from where he lays.

His adversary finally comes into view. A tall, dark-skinned man with a knowing smile on his face steps from the shadows and looks down his nose at Kid.

“I know all about you, little fragment,” he says smugly. He kicks Kid roughly, flipping him onto his back with his boot. Kid is still immobile, eyes glued to where his arm used to be, hardly breathing. “I know that you value order more than anything. And that all it takes is someone ruining your symmetry to render you incapacitated.”

Liz and Patti’s cries get louder.

“Tsubaki,” Black Star hisses through gritted teeth.

“He could kill you,” Tsubaki whispers back. She sounds terrified. “You have to call for back-up.”

But she knows Black Star would never do that. And even if he did, there’d be no time. This guy could kill Kid. And he might do it now.

“Shuriken mode,” he hisses again, barely able to stop a yell from ripping out of him.

“Black Star, no.”

There’s the shuffling sound of movement and voices coming from the corridor Black Star took to get here. It’s faint, but it could be allies approaching.

But Kid still isn’t moving. His breathing is getting loud and reedy, and his eyes are wide with panic. It’s written all over his face. His symmetry. His symmetry. His symmetry. He’s not going to fight back, and right now there’s no one else around to fight for him.

The mage holds up his hand again, and when Black Star sees a glint of metal, he knows he doesn’t have time to wait.

“Black Star don’t do this—” comes from behind him, because Black Star has dropped Tsubaki to the ground.

It almost feels like he’s seeing himself from outside his body. Black Star leaps from the shadows, red-soaked bandages trailing behind him as he skids between Kid and the enemy. His arm is already cocked back, prepared to punch this asshole in the face—

But something happens. The man seems to register the situation at hand in record time. His eyes flick to the far corridor, then Black Star, then Kid, and within the span of an instant makes a choice. Lightning fast, his grip locks around Black Star’s wrist, catching his punch before he’s even finished his wind-up. Black Star hears Tsubaki scream and flinches, waiting for the pain of his own arm being blown away, but instead a shackle locks onto him.

“What the—”

The other wrist. The metal clamps down and within seconds of Black Star’s approach he’s been neatly detained. He doesn’t even have a moment to process the situation before the man holds up a piece of paper.

A symbol in the center of it glows brightly.

That’s the last thing Black Star sees before he disappears.

2. death the kid

The time that passes by feels like an eternity.

DWMA medics approach, immediately working on wrapping up Kid and preparing to ship him back the academy for surgery.

Eternity.

Kid opening his eyes post-operation, seeing Liz and Patti sitting beside him.

Eternity.

Black Star officially being declared missing in action.

Eternity.

If Kid had to describe the mood of the scene before him, he’d describe it, bafflingly, as cheerful.

DWMA students whoop and holler in the gym as the impromptu sparring tournament wages on, the losers propped up against the wall with bloody noses and cold compresses pressed to their faces while the remaining contestants re-wrap their fingers.

In one swift kick, Patti drops another adversary, Kim falling flat on her back. Patti presses a knee into her chest and grins down at her like the devil.

“Okay, okay!” Kim wheezes, still struggling to take in a full breath. “I give, God! Get off me!”

Kid can tell from her expression that Patti hoped Kim would last longer. For making it this many rounds she seemed to give up remarkably easy.

“Who’s next?!” she shouts triumphantly, which only makes the crowd gathered around the ring roar louder.

Kid slinks farther back into the crowd, lest someone ask him to participate.

He hasn’t sparred with anyone one-on-one since his last fight with Black Star. Somehow it doesn’t feel right to participate in this kind of playful tomfoolery when he thinks about the condition Black Star could be in right now.

It’s been two weeks since the attack on Baba Yaga’s Castle. Kid only got to see Black Star for but a moment, his shadow casting down on Kid as he leapt in between Kid and the mage who had blown off his arm. Kid saw the determined arch of his back, the fist he had been prepared to throw, the bloodied bandages trailing behind him like scarves, and then in the space between breaths—

He was gone.

Kid picks up the pace, leaving the gym and heading straight for the Death Room.

Lord Death has been cagey about the investigation at best. Not like Kid expected anything different from him, but for this particular case it feels especially egregious. Black Star was already so injured from his fight with Mifune. When he disappeared all he left behind was bloodied footprints in the corridors and Tsubaki’s anguished cries.

He could be anywhere right now, and everyone else is having fun?

The sound of Tsubaki’s voice causes Kid to jump a little, so caught in his own reverie he hadn’t noticed he was passing by the DWMA infirmary.

“Come on, Angela. You have to eat your food, not just play with it,” she says softly.

The adolescent witch Mifune had been guarding is now being protected by the DWMA. Every day it feels like the world is tipping a little further on its axis. Kid used to be able to keep up with these kind of changes, but now it feels like the world continues to spin while Kid is stuck in place.

“I’m saving some for Mifune!” he hears Angela call from her bed. “Will he be here soon?”

Tsubaki doesn’t miss a beat. “He won’t be coming ‘til later, so you have to eat your food by yourself, okay?”

The academy decided it was best to forego telling Angela about Mifune’s fate. With her being so young, the pull of madness caused by her magic was still a very real possibility, and telling her traumatic news like that without a safeguard prepared was too dangerous, especially considering all the other issues the DWMA was dealing with for the moment.

Angela, in all her innocence, doesn’t miss a beat.

“Should we save some for Black Star?”

Ice flows through Kid’s veins.

It takes a lot longer for Tsubaki’s response this time. Quiet and choked, she murmurs. “Your food will get cold if you wait for him. Eat what you can, okay?”

Tsubaki politely excuses herself for a moment, and Kid doesn’t have time to pull himself together before Tsubaki is hurrying out of the Infirmary and almost crashing into him.

She stops short, stumbling backwards.

Kid looks at her.

Tsubaki looks at him.

For a few moments, neither of them seem to be able to speak. Kid feels his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling to put together words that he’s had two weeks to tell her and still hasn’t had the guts to. Tsubaki’s blank stare is carefully constructed, not a single bit of emotion finding its way through.

Tsubaki quietly passes him, leaving just as quickly as she came.

Shame burns through Kid. He continues walking.

He gets to the Death Room just as his father appears to be finishing up a briefing. Professor Stein and Miss Marie have returned from wherever the hell they’ve been, and in true Lord Death fashion, it seems like he’s forgiven their transgressions instantly.

Kid silently slinks into the room, taking his spot on the throne-like chair Lord Death had constructed for him for a birthday not long ago. Kid felt he needed something regal to suit his position as a shinigami. He cringes now as he sits down upon it.

They finish their briefing, believing that Justin Law is the culprit who killed Joe Butataki, a meister who had a unique Soul Perception ability that made him a human lie detector.

“We believe Justin killed BJ to prevent the DWMA from being able to interrogate captured enemies,” Stein says clinically as he lights up a cigarette. “We also believe that other meisters with similar Soul Perception abilities will become targets for Justin and the Clowns moving forward.”

“Like who?” Lord Death says, cocking his head to the side playfully.

“Me, probably,” Stein says, though he hardly looks concerned. “Maka Albarn.” Death Scythe leaps from his seat at that. “And Kid too, no doubt.”

The hollow eyes of Lord Death’s mask do not betray his emotions, if he feels anything at all.

“Well,” he says seriously, taking a breath. Kid thinks for a moment that he might actually be showing some sort of concern or serious decorum, but within an instant his voice has switched back to bright and zany. “I guess we’ll just have to be on high alert!”

Kid scoffs.

“Stein, you and Marie will remain on the case to continue looking for Justin and find out what he’s up to. Spirit, let me know if you find anymore information about Medusa’s research or the whereabouts of the Demon Sword. That will be all! Dismissed!”

They all nod and file out solemnly, leaving Kid alone with his father, who has pointedly ignored his flabbergasted expression.

“That’s it?” Kid asks, heated.

Lord Death turns to face him. “Kid! You’re so quiet I hardly noticed you come in! What is it?”

“What do you mean ‘what is it’? Are you not even looking for that mage?”

Lord Death nods solemnly like he understands where Kid is coming from. “I’m no less upset than you are about the man who hurt you, Kid, but there will be a time and a place for you take out your frustrations.”

“I don’t care about me!” Kid shouts. He waves his arms in the air to prove it. The reattachment of his arm was a success, and being a shinigami means that it was completely healed within a few days. “That man took Black Star with him! Are you even looking for him?”

Lord Death fixes him with that blank stare again. Kid expects another stupid mood shift, but for once his voice remains even.

“Like I said, Kid. There will be a time and place.”

Time and place, his ass.

It’s been a month and a half, and progress on Black Star’s case is as slow as it’s ever been.

Be reasonable, a part of Kid thinks. The DWMA has about fifty different cases open right now. The Kishin is out there somewhere, amplifying the madness of the world just with his presence alone. Medusa has escaped DWMA custody once more after taking over Arachne’s corpse. Crona is still missing. Justin Law is still at large after killing BJ. Black Star’s case is just one of many, and there’s only so many directions the academy can focus its attention without spreading its forces too thin.

But the larger part of Kid thinks FUCK reasonable.

He tears through the academy library like the perpetrator lies within the pages of the dusty books lining the shelves. Black Star’s condition is still unknown. He could be anywhere. They could be doing anything to him. That’s if he’s even alive. He rips more books from the shelves of the restricted sections and throws them on the oak desk he’s been occupying for the past several weeks.

He hates this. He could be out there searching for Black Star, doing something to help him since no one else seems to give a damn. But he doesn’t know where to look. The mage that captured him is unknown to the academy, so now here Kid is, another night at the library attacking precarious stacks of books before him like he has an agenda against them specifically.

If he could just find some iota of helpful information, he could jumpstart the investigation. But most of the witches within these texts are long dead, and any material on Medusa or Arachne is surely being safeguarded by Sid right now, as he spearheads every other mission possible besides the one to save his foster son. Kid clenches his fists, struggling against the urge to sweep all the books off the desk and scream.

He hisses through his teeth and lets his fingers creep in front of him until they collide with a disposable paper coffee cup. He takes a long drink of the tepid contents inside. It was an offering from Liz and Patti, who are allergic to quiet, stuffy libraries but wanted to show their support in his efforts. The seat across from him was occupied by Maka a few hours ago, but she had to leave to go train with Soul, probably practicing their new Death Scythe techniques.

If this was a normal day, it would be Black Star would be sitting across from him. He was always somehow finding Kid when he was in the middle of studying and doing everything humanly possible to get him to stop. He’d crunch loudly on a snack not suited for library consumption and swipe sips of Kid’s coffee when he thought he wasn’t looking. Pencil tapping, idle humming, leg jittering, he’d last maybe ten minutes before loudly complaining that whatever Kid was learning in his textbook Black Star could teach him with his fists twice as fast.

“Soul Theory: A Study of Resonance Through the Ages?” Kid asked, one of the last time Black Star found him at this very desk. “You can teach me that with fighting?”

“Pff, sure I can,” Black Star said dismissively. He’d probably never opened that textbook in his life. “All that soul theory is junk anyway. Resonance is all about trusting your partner. You don’t need to read a book to know that, right?”

And, somehow, that worked. Kid found himself being dragged from the library by the wrist, Black Star cackling like a maniac for winning the war on Kid’s studies yet again (he was currently undefeated). They ended up in the weight room wailing on one of the more heavy-duty punching bags, then switching to bare-handed combination work when Nygus yelled at them to stop damaging the equipment.

Kid threw a punch at Black Star, hard enough to slice the air. It probably would have killed a normal human, but Black Star braced himself and caught Kid’s fist, holding tightly and absorbing the impact.

“Jeez, Kid, I had no idea you were that strong!” Kilik called from the corner of the gym.

Kid ducked under one of Black Star’s swings and glanced in Kilik’s direction, where he was examining the bag that would have to be re-stuffed sometime later.

Black Star dropped his hands, turning an ugly face to Kilik. “Um, hello? Your god is right here. Where’s Black Star’s praise?”

Kilik waved him off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, we know you’re strong. But I didn’t know Kid was so good at hand-to-hand! Why don’t you do more close combat fighting, Kid? I know the Thompsons are guns, but if you wanted, you could practice with Fire and Thunder for a bit, just to see how it feels.”

Kid didn’t know what to say. He’d never trade in his partners for someone else’s, but he appreciated Kilik’s compliment and his offer. He was about to tell him so when Black Star butted in.

“You wanna know why Kid doesn’t do close combat? I’ll show ya.”

In a blink he was at Kid’s side. Kid put up his fists to block, so focused on an oncoming attack he wasn’t mentally prepared for Black Star pinching the sleeve of his shirt at the elbow and neatly ripping it off in one swift motion.

Kid fell to the floor instantly, eyes full of tears.

Black Star cackled.

“See? When Kid gets in close with an enemy, he runs the risk of getting his symmetry all screwed up.”

“Ohhh, so that’s why he fights with Liz and Patti.”

“That’s why he has me,” Black Star said confidently. “I do all the dirty work so Kid can focus on the battle. It’s simple stuff, really.” Black Star rubbed his nose smugly.

Kilik nodded. “I guess when you put it like that, you guys make a pretty good Resonance Team.”

Black Star snorted. “’Course we do. Any team with me on it is the best, after all.” He turned to Kid, who hadn’t stopped weeping in the fetal position during the entire exchange. “You wanna go get lunch? I’m starved.”

Kid’s crying continued.

Black Star rolled his eyes. He bent down and grabbed the other sleeve, ripping it more carefully to ensure it matched the first.

Kid’s crying stopped.

“Lunch?” Black Star asked again, standing up to his full height and reaching a grabby hand towards Kid.

Kid can still remember the warmth of that hand, and the warmth of that statement.

It’s simple stuff, really.

But it wasn’t. Kid was the most powerful meister at the DWMA. He didn’t advertise that he had such a glaringly obvious weakness. In fact, he’d gone so far as to never articulate it, which made it all the more meaningful that Black Star had so easily clocked it and always covered Kid without a second thought. Even during their battle for Brew, when Mosquito came barreling towards Kid, Black Star was there in an instant, taking the brunt of the damage. He’d pushed himself to the limit with the Uncanny Sword, all to keep Mosquito’s eyes on him. When Kid launched that final attack, it felt like a victory for both of them, with Kid emerging unscathed while Black Star could hardly stand.

But in turn, that memory always bumped into an uglier one. Not a sleeve, but an arm ripped from its socket, laying limp on the cobbled castle floor before him. It must have hurt, but Kid couldn’t even recall the pain. It was the asymmetry. The imbalance had him spiraling. It wasn’t a sleeve that time. He couldn’t be re-balanced in that moment, and he was going to be killed. Kid had been so certain of it, lying there on the ground, watching that menacing hand reach for him.

See? When Kid gets in close with an enemy, he runs the risk of getting his symmetry all screwed up.

It was going to be the end of him, and that’s all there was to it. It’s simple stuff, really. The trait that made him Death the Kid going to be his downfall, and in a way that seemed fitting.

In his shock, he barely saw Black Star leap between him and the mage. Kid only saw Black Star’s battered silhouette for one heart-stopping moment before he was gone.

And now Kid sits here, in the quiet library, waiting for someone to disturb his peace like always. But Black Star isn’t here.

Kid hangs his head low, the text on the dusty book before him beginning to blur. He rubs his eyes and slams the book shut.

This one-man search is running Kid ragged. He’s been at it for days—weeks, even—and his search is yielding no results.

If Kid thought sleep would help, it doesn’t. Probably because sleep hardly comes. He lays in his bed at the Gallows Mansion and stares at the ceiling bitterly, waiting for rest to wash over him, but his eyes stay stubbornly open.

It’s not like it would do him much good anyway. His dreams are often occupied by Black Star. Finding him too late, dead. Finding him on time, but he’s angry at Kid. Seeing the curl of his lip as he looks at Kid, just like the last time he saw him, the last proper time, when Black Star had come up to him and picked a fight with him in the DWMA courtyard after defiling the academy’s symmetry once again. There was a darkness growing within Black Star that Kid had been pointedly ignoring for some time, and when it all came to a hilt Kid pounded him into the ground, which only seemed to make matters worse.

Kid dreams of that too.

It seems unfair that, as a shinigami, he isn’t able to use his godly powers to control the narrative of his dreams. What’s the point of having all this power if he can’t even will his unconscious mind to draw up Black Star’s smile?

He gives up. There’s no point in lying here if nothing is going to happen. He leaps off his bed, stalking to the corner of the room and flicking the light switch, letting the ornate chandelier in the center of the room illuminate the endless night. Liz and Patti are in their rooms down the hall, so he doesn’t bother waking them. Someone around here should get some rest, even if it can’t be him.

His father won’t be home, but he doesn’t expect him to be. It’s a rare occasion to see Lord Death hover down the halls of the Gallows Mansion, and frankly it’s kind of creepy when he does. Kid can’t remember the last time he’s seen his father sleep. Has he ever slept? Would Kid know if he had?

It doesn’t matter.

He goes to his backpack and pulls out one of the offending books from the library. He has a clearer head now, exhausted as he feels. He was just reading up on Eibon, the magic user Kid and his friends saw during the Battle for Brew. He’s one of the few recorded mages in history powerful enough capture an Ancient One, someone like Lord Death, and imprison them in a place where they would be undetected. Lord Death claims Eibon has been dead for hundreds of years, but maybe someone is using one of his techniques to remain hidden from the DWMA?

Kid rubs his eyes, and jots down frantic notes about Eibon to ask his father the next time he sees him. He looks at the clock. Three a.m. He wonders what horrible dream will await him when he finally falls asleep. A good memory, he pleads with his brain as he feels his eyelids begin to droop. He folds his arms on his desk for a moment and rests his head on them. He turns his face and looks at his bed, blinking slowly. He knows he should get up, walk the couple feet to his mattress and fall into the nothingness, but his eyes linger on the edge of his bedframe.

It was the last place he saw Black Star smile, before everything turned to shit…

“Me and Tsubaki were thinking about leaving for a bit,” Black Star said seriously. Kid stopped his meticulous work and snapped his head to attention. “Taking a trip to Japan, maybe.”

It was a typical night for the two of them. Tsubaki and the Thompsons were having a Girls Night back at Black Star’s apartment, leaving the boys to themselves at the Gallows Mansion. Boys Night was supposed to be serious. Kid and Black Star had an upcoming Meister Exam they should’ve been studying for, and Kid had gravely promised to tutor Black Star. They’d donned their pajamas, Black Star in a muscle tank and shorts, and Kid in a silk black matched button-down set, and cracked open their books for all of 15 seconds before Kid saw Black Star’s dog-eared and crumpled book and promptly had a meltdown about it.

So there they were, Black Star was doing 800 elevated one-armed push-ups, while Kid had pulled the binding from Black Star’s textbook and was now painstakingly ironing each of the pages with a steamer. He placed each leaf of paper under a towel on the ironing board before him and pressed the iron down on them, then delicately stacked them beside him.

Kid looked at Black Star, where he hadn’t stopped working out, lowering his body to the floor in even, measured reps.

“You’re leaving?” Kid asked, doing his best to sound curious instead of concerned. “What, like on a sabbatical?”

“What? No. Just like, a vacation. Kind of. So we can learn more about her weapon form.”

Kid rolled his eyes. “Black Star, you just described a sabbatical.”

“Whatever, man.”

Kid nodded. He felt a little better, knowing there was a reason behind Black Star’s sudden decision to leave. He’d felt…off lately. The past couple battles they’d been in had resulted in losses. Kid had read Black Star’s file before, he knew that he and Tsubaki only had a handful of souls to their names, but for some reason those recent losses seemed to have been weighing on Black Star more heavily than others.

Kid picked up another page of Black Star’s textbook and placed it under the towel. “Are you going to Japan to meet Tsubaki’s family?” He clicked the steam button several times.

Black Star slowed down his reps slightly. “Yeah. Figured they might be able to help. She says they’re good people. They might know something about the Uncanny Sword that we don’t. Maybe it’ll help me conquer it.”

“Seems like a good idea to me,” Kid said, lifting a corner of the towel to peek at the page. Still a tad wrinkled. He also took a peek at Black Star, whose expression was similarly crumpled. “So why do you seem nervous?”

“Who says I’m nervous?” Black Star snapped defensively, lip curled.

Kid’s eyebrows shot up.

When Black Star saw his expression, he looked apologetic. He pulled his feet from the edge of the mattress and sat on the floor against the bedframe. “Fine. Maybe I’m feeling off.” He scratched the back of his head and looked at the floor. “The last time Tsubaki and I went to Japan didn’t go well. The Star Clan wreaked a lot of havoc there. They’re not exactly my biggest fans.”

The fingers of his left hand crawled up his right arm, unconsciously covering his tattoo.

“It feels like everything I do is attached to him, somehow. Like even when I do good things, it doesn’t make up for what he did.”

Kid would never say it aloud, but he liked this side of Black Star. It didn’t come out often, and normally when it did, he was in a bad mood, but there was something intriguing about quiet, pensive Black Star. Kid had never needed to ask Black Star his feelings before. Any other day he’d already be scaling a building to shout them to the entire world. But the dip in his eyebrows were a foreign language that Kid longed to be fluent in. At that moment, he could only guess what thoughts were swirling through Black Star’s head.

“You want your good deeds to balance out his bad ones? That sounds—”

Black Star groaned. “Don’t say ‘like symmetry—’”

Kid met his eyes. “I was going to say ‘unfair.’”

That stopped Black Star short.

Kid put down his iron and sat on the floor by Black Star. The pages could wait.

“You aren’t your father, Black Star. You shouldn’t compare yourself to him.”

Black Star scoffed. “Like you don’t?”

Kid opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. It doesn’t matter if your parents are gods or murderers. People look at you and can’t help but think of them. Of what you should be.”

Kid understood. He’d spent his whole life being “Lord Death’s son.” Human adults looked at him reverently, knowing the power he held despite his youthful appearance. The students at the DWMA looked at him with envy, seeing how accomplished he was as a meister while hardly trying. Even when Black Star first met him, his first thought was to attack him and test his strength.

“It’s different for me, though,” Kid said. “No one wants you to be like your father. For me, people don’t just want me to be like mine, it’s expected.” This wasn’t where he anticipated this conversation to go, but once it came out, he surprised himself with the emotion packed in the statement. “I will be Lord Death one day. And everyone assumes I’ll be just like him. But I’m not.”

He spun a skull shaped ring on his right index finger. Then the one on his left.

“No one understands my need for balance. They think I’ll grow out of it one day, and maybe I will. But I don’t want to. It feels like what I was made for, somehow.”

He clasped his hands together tightly.

“But no one understands it.”

“Well, can’t you just be a shinigami that focuses on balance? That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Kid stopped the tremor that threatened to run through him at how much he wanted it. How much he craved to be allowed to act the way he desired without being shamed for it. It was a thought no one ever allowed him to entertain. It was always stop being so neurotic, Kid. Pull yourself together, Kid. You’ll never be anything if you keep acting this way, Kid. Black Star might have been one of the few people that didn’t talk to him that way, in fact.

But it didn’t change who he was.

Kid slumped heavily against the bedframe beside Black Star. “I can long for order all I want. But when it comes down to it, my name is Death too.”

Black Star matched his pose, staring forlornly at the ceiling. “Guess we’re both fucked, then.”

Kid closed his eyes and let a breath out of his nose, close to a laugh.

There was something comforting about Black Star relating to his shinigami problems. Or, perhaps more specifically, being related to at all. Kid thought he’d gotten so used to being separate from humanity. For the majority of his life, he’d been told that he wasn’t like the people he would be serving one day. Being able to relate to Black Star proved that Kid might not be as “other” as he had been led to believe.

Kid thought about how otherworldly Lord Death—his own father— felt, even to him, and cringed at the thought that this moment might one day feel like a distant memory. Being shoulder to shoulder with Black Star in their pajamas, commiserating about their parents like two teenage boys afraid of growing up. What would it feel like, when he’s Lord Death one day? Would Black Star feel further away? Would it feel like that moment minutes ago, when Black Star said he’d be leaving? His stomach swooped again at the thought of it.

He wanted to revel in it. This closeness. He leaned heavily to his left, knocking shoulders with Black Star. The warmth of his skin against Kid’s was comforting. The contact was familiar.

“I’m sure the others feel like that too. Maka feels pressure because of her parents, surely.”

Black Star bore the weight of Kid easily, not bothering to push him away.

“Yeah, but the difference is Maka loves her parents, despite how she acts.” Black Star said matter-of-factly. Kid felt inclined to agree.

How Black Star felt about his father went without saying. He turned a little to face Kid. “Do you love your old man?”

It stopped Kid short. Kid chewed on the question for a while. He wasn’t sure.

They weren’t particularly affectionate with one another. He’d hardly even felt the desire to spend time with his father as of late. Maybe it was just because he finally had other friends. He had Liz and Patti, partners who loved him and complemented him better than anyone else in the world. He had Soul and Maka, who always treated him so warmly, inviting him to their apartment for tea and gossip like any other student. He had Stein and Miss Marie and Sid, authority figures that treated him like a child instead of a prince. And he had…

He looked at Black Star quickly, then looked away.

“I don’t know,” he said, answering Black Star’s question. “Maybe shinigamis love differently than humans do. He always feels so far away. I can never guess what he’s feeling.”

“Well,” Black Star said softly, shifting a little. His fingers twitched, brushing against Kid’s. “That sounds pretty human to me.”

Maybe that’s what this feeling was. Humanity. Kid didn’t want to let go of it. The comfort of being surrounded by humans, of being treated as fallible. Of being protected. Of being loved. As a shinigami, he was taught not to expect any of these things, and Kid was afraid of going back to that kind of coldness.

His fingers gripped Black Star’s, a hand almost as familiar to Kid as his own partners’.

This is what I want to hold on to, he thought. This is the sort of feeling that doesn’t require balance.

When he turned and leaned in to Black Star, he expected to see surprise on his face, but it wasn’t there. The look in his eyes was inviting and calm, that quiet part of Black Star that so few got to see. His soul was spiking nervously, but Kid imagined that in this moment his probably looked the same. It didn’t stop him from leaning in. Kid tilted his face to the side, nose brushing up against Black Star’s, feeling his breath on his cheek and marveling at how good it felt. He didn’t want to rush it, but he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather do. Their lips just barely grazed each other when—

Black Star jerked away like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him.

Kid leaned back, panting.

The moment felt peaceful just a second ago, but now Black Star was skittering away on the floor before leaping to his feet and pacing across the room.

“Is something wrong?” Kid asked, stupidly. Clearly something was wrong, but he didn’t know what.

“No,” Black Star said, clearly lying. “I mean. It’s just—I can’t—” He folded his arms behind his head and turned away. Kid couldn’t see his face, but at that moment, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

Black Star took a shaky breath. “It’s just too much, you know?”

Rejection washed through Kid, cold and sharp. It was not usual for him to feel like he was too much. Plenty of people couldn’t handle Kid; they’d even told him to his face. He just never expected one of those people to be Black Star.

His fingers felt numb as he twisted the ring on his right index finger, then the one on the left.

“Right,” he agreed quietly. “As I said, my heart is different. Maybe shinigamis just feel differently than humans do.”

Kid wakes with a sudden start.

Of course, his mind would conjure up the worst sort of dream. He hadn’t thought about that for months. It was too painful to think about the sweetness of that moment, the bright hopefulness Kid felt as he’d leaned in toward Black Star, right before he pulled away. Black Star had left not long after that, and something about Kid’s room has felt haunted with the memory ever since.

Kid gets up, dresses in his suit, and leaves the Gallows Mansion. He can’t stay here, not with that memory lingering in his mind, not with the hollow silence of the mansion pressing down on him. Death City is most alive at nighttime, so Kid walks toward the city, hoping the bustling sound of night life will help clear his head.

Clubs boom with bass-heavy music, and Kid side-steps around tipsy humans stumbling down the street. It’s the sort of fun he’s never been familiar with, but the people look happy all the same. Humans put their bodies through so much just for a few hours of forgetfulness, and in this moment, Kid can’t blame them.

Unconsciously, his body marches him right toward Death Weapon Meister Academy. Even when he’s trying to avoid harsh memories, he seems to lead himself right to them.

Kid sighs and begins to climb the staircase.

The academy has always been like a second home to him. Being Lord Death’s son means the DWMA was always his playground. He’s roamed this campus more than all the students and teachers combined. It wasn’t until a few years ago, when his father told him of his duty to one day take over as the world’s Lord Death, that Kid had stopped stalking the halls of the academy and confined himself to the Death Room with his father. He’d had that silly throne built, convinced that he needed a proper place to perch for when he eventually ruled over death. He’d sat and observed his father’s actions for years, until the day he’d watched an extra lesson with a group of students almost get them killed.

Kid shakes his head.

God, it was always Black Star. His mind couldn’t conjure up anything else lately. Even from the beginning, the idea to join the academy at all was because he’d seen Stein use his wavelength to electrocute Black Star. The cruelty of the supposed “lesson” had Kid leaping to his feet, ready to break through the mirror and help him. It had always been Black Star.

Even if he didn’t feel the same way.

Kid reaches the top of the colossal staircase. The last place he’d spoken to Black Star.

After Black Star left that night, Kid had no idea where he went. He thought of using his Soul Perception to look for him in the city, but had respected Black Star’s need for space. He let him leave the Gallows Mansion in a frustrated huff. As much as Kid wanted to try and smooth things over somehow, he wouldn’t have known what to say. That he was sorry? That he took it back?

If Kid had a choice, he probably would have spent the next week avoiding eye contact with Black Star after his failed attempt at connection. But Black Star never did what people wanted him to do.

He cornered Kid in one of the classrooms the following day, a mean glint in his eye that had left Kid reeling when he commanded Kid to come outside. Kid followed him soundlessly, expecting perhaps a second round of rejection, and instead witnessed Black Star lightly walk to the end of that right spike and slam his fist down. Kid watched the spike crash down into the courtyard below, not understanding what was going on until Black Star challenged him to a fight.

And maybe Kid had been too harsh. But the hurt that had built up inside him over the past day was making his fists itch, and if Black Star wanted a way to take out his problems, Kid wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. It’s not like Black Star cared if he hurt him, so why should Kid give a shit?

It was symmetry, obviously. For every painful pulse of Kid’s heart, he laid into Black Star, not caring about his turmoil. Even when the fight was decidedly over, Kid placed a foot on the back of his head and smashed him into the ground, a crater forming around them both from the impact.

Weak.

None of Kid’s blows would have had a lasting effect on Black Star. But that one word would.

It was petty, and maybe a little mean, but it worked. Kid had won the fight, and he felt no better than he did when the day had started.

And yet somehow, when all the chips were down, it was Black Star who saved him from that mage in Baba Yaga’s Castle. The unsteady beating of Kid’s heart quickens at the thought of it. His arm, lying in a pool of blood in front of him. His body, frozen in place from the imbalance. That hand, reaching for him, to capture him, to kill him, to prove Kid’s glaring weakness would always be his downfall.

And somehow, Black Star was there. Kid didn’t even know he’d returned from Japan, but suddenly he was in front of him, saving him when Kid had been nothing but cruel to him the last time they spoke.

It’s simple stuff, really. Black Star had once said.

That’s why he has me.

Kid’s vision blurs as he looks at that spike. From where he stands, no one would ever be able to tell that a ninja had destroyed it.

Weak.

The only weak person here is Kid.

Kid’s equilibrium has always been impeccable. That’s not the reason he’s swaying right now, as he takes slow and measured steps to the edge of the red spike. It’s not the height either, though the courtyard at the summit of the DWMA’s colossal staircase lies 50 feet below him. But he feels himself swaying all the same, the heavy mallet in his grip pulsing like its alive. It’s a dead thing, a normal inanimate tool, but the potential destruction lying within it is the same as any weapon student at this academy.

As the sun rises, Kid walks toward the tip of the decorative spike. Through his blurred vision he can just make out the heavy duty bolts he had hammered into it but a few months ago. The neat lines of melted solder is his handiwork as well, bringing out a soldering gun Kid purchased with his own funds to reattach the spike that Black Star had cruelly destroyed for a second time.

Maybe symmetry had always been Kid’s problem. If this was the one way he could prove to himself that he didn’t need it, maybe it would change something. Maybe Black Star’s investigation would finally become important, maybe Kid’s research would finally be fruitful, maybe the hollow feeling in his chest would finally stop gaping wider and wider, the guilt clawing at the edges of the cavity painfully.

Kid raises the mallet.

Symmetry doesn’t matter. Order isn’t important. Kid is a god, he will not be held down—held back—by such insignificant notions anymore. He rears the mallet back, not acknowledging how his hands shake, how his eyes sting, because that doesn’t matter. He will destroy this stupid, decorative spike and prove once and for all that he isn’t a liability.

It’s simple stuff, really.

It’s not. He doesn’t need protection, he doesn’t to be saved. He’s Death the fucking Kid, he just needs to bring this stupid mallet down—

His breath hitches high, his shoulders going numb.

He just needs to bring this stupid mallet down—

He just needs to—

He just—

“Kid?”

Kid hauls in a gasp. The spike shakes, the even vibrations of footsteps quickly approaching. Someone is pulling the mallet gently from his grip, fingers closing around his shoulders and pulling him back toward solid ground. Kid can hardly see through his tears.

“Kid?” Tsubaki says again.

“I’m sorry,” he lets out, before falling to pieces.

He’s not sure how long he cries for. Tsubaki, in all her gentle patience, holds him through all of it, pressing his face into her shoulder, though she must loathe him. Kid sure does, so he can’t see why Tsubaki wouldn’t. It makes him cry harder, to think that in all of this he hasn’t thought of her feelings. He’s been so caught up in his own grief he’s barely had time to think about how hard these last few months has been on her, how the soul she was so intrinsically connected to is gone.

But she holds him tightly, her arms a warm and comforting embrace, her fingers gently combing through his hair as his sobs taper off into pathetic hiccups.

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, but it’s just as weak as before.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks earnestly. “And what were you even doing up there?”

Kid tries his best to explain. Between stuttering breaths and continuously swallowing down the lump in his throat, Kid tells her how this whole thing, this whole stupid mess is his fault. How he tried to fix it, tried to fix him, by intentionally destroying.

Tsubaki looks shocked at that. “You were destroying the symmetry of the academy? Why would you punish yourself like that?”

Kid has nothing to say to that. The answer is clear.

“Kid? Kid look at me.” With effort, Kid does. It’s the most eye contact he’s made with her in months. The cavern in his heart grows wider.

She lays a hand on his cheek. “This isn’t your fault.”

Kid jerks away bitterly. “Even you don’t believe that.”

It takes a moment before she responds again. Tsubaki takes a deep breath.

“You’re right.”

Kid’s eyes cut to hers.

Tsubaki’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You’re right. Part of me thinks it’s your fault. I haven’t been able to speak to you this whole time because I didn’t want to say it.”

Kid nods. It’s what he deserves to hear. He lets his heart crumble, the emptiness feeling all consuming—

But Tsubaki grips his hands in hers, hard.

“But Black Star doesn’t think that.”

Kid’s voice is small. “What?”

Tsubaki rubs her thumbs over Kid’s knuckles. “I know my partner better than anyone. Black Star would never for a second blame you for the predicament he’s in now. It was his choice to jump between you and that man. And he didn’t do it because you were too weak,” Tsubaki says with a sad smile. “He did it because he’s Black Star. He’d never willingly stand aside if you were going to be hurt. That’s just the kind of person he is.”

The pressure inside of Kid lightens, just a little bit.

“He’s an idiot,” Kid says, mirroring Tsubaki’s sad smile.

A little laugh escapes her. “I know that better than anyone, too.” She swings their hands between them gently. “So, if you can forgive my partner for being an idiot and getting himself into trouble, you can forgive yourself too, right? Neither of you can help who you are.”

The smile stays on Kid’s face until that last part. But what she said has helped him. He’s made his mind up.

“You’re right, Tsubaki,” he says, feeling more sure of himself than he has all day.

He can’t help who he is.

Kid marches into the Death Room, set on finally having an honest talk with his father. He’s waited long enough for the nebulous “time and place” to rescue Black Star. If Lord Death himself wasn’t going to spearhead the search, Kid would do it himself.

At least, that was the conversation he planned on having. But instead of finding his father sitting idly at his tea table, when Kid enters the Death Room, he sees, of all things, a party.

Raucous music thumps through the chamber. There are three scantily clad Chupa Cabra’s employees distributing booze to Spirit Albarn, Professor Stein, and Miss Marie. Even his father holds a cup, liquid sloshing over the side as he raises his arm with the others in a hearty cheer. For some reason, Maka and Soul are here too, standing a few paces back, looking just as baffled as Kid and Tsubaki.

Kid feels like he walked into another dimension.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Lord Death tips his head back to look around Spirit, whose tie is wound around his head like a headband.

“Kid! Perfect timing! Come join the party!”

The party.

The

party.

The low-hanging misty clouds in the Death Room start to darken.

“Kid?”

His father’s silly voice comes out confused. Like he couldn’t possibly gather why this joyous celebration of life might not be appropriate, given the situation. All of the situations.

“Is now really the time, Father?” Kid asks, voice low.

“Come, sit down, have some food! I was just going to tell—”

“No,” Kid says.

Thunder claps loudly. The whole room flinches. Kid doesn’t care.

“I’m going to tell you something. Your nonchalance for the past few months has been shameful. One of your students was kidnapped on one of your missions, and you’ve done nothing for him. And now you audaciously throw a party when the GOD OF MADNESS is bringing the world to ruin, something else that YOU CAUSED—”

The thunder bellows again, and when lightning flashes across the Death Room, all the inhabitants instinctively duck.

Lord Death stands up and hovers over Kid at his full height, the soulless eyes of his mask looking down at him intimidatingly.

“Kid, stop.”

And for once, he doesn’t use his silly voice.

Kid doesn’t back down, but he takes a deep, slow breath. The clouds in the Death Room dissipate, and the room slowly starts to brighten. Kid looks at his father.

Lord Death’s voice is calm. He reaches a large, gloved hand backwards. Maka steps forward gingerly and places a thick white book in his over-sized palm.

“We were celebrating because—” he holds the book out to Kid ��—we found him.”

Kid gasps.

Like flicking on a light, the Chupa Cabra employee’s souls light up, powerful magic radiating from them. Kid blinks at the realization. They’ve released Soul Protect. They’re witches.

None of the other meisters in the room look surprised. Stein and Sid watch the women carefully, and Maka’s eyes are on the book in Lord Death’s hands, guilt clouding her expression.

Lord Death ignores everyone else’s reactions, eyes boring into Kid’s and Kid’s only.

“We found Black Star. Extraction begins tomorrow.”

3. black star

It takes Black Star longer than it probably should to realize what’s happened to him.

He remembers Baba Yaga’s Castle. He remembers Kid’s panic, his arm splattering to the floor, a few feet from the rest of him. He remembers a menacing hand, reaching for him once more, this time with the intent to do much worse than remove an arm. He remembers running. And then--?

He shakes his head a little, the movement causing a loud clanking sound above his head. The sound stirs his memory a bit more, and as his thoughts start to clear his senses return to him. There’s an awkward stretch to his arms, his shoulders rotated uncomfortably. His pulse pounds in his ears. And he feels heavy.

Finally, Black Star peels his eyes open.

This doesn’t look like Baba Yaga’s Castle.

It’s darker than he expected. He’s in a large room, or at least he assumes it’s a room. Beneath his feet is a dusty black and white tiled floor, and before him he sees an ornate table and a matching set of chairs. When he cranes his neck he can see a high vaulted ceiling above him, but even when he squints into the darkness beyond the table set, he can’t make out the opposing wall that must be there. The only light in the room comes from somewhere behind him. A stained-glass window shines a colored pattern on the tiled floor.

Black Star himself seems to be suspended in the middle of the room. The shackles that were slapped on his wrists moments ago (when was that? Minutes ago? Hours? How long was he out?) are still on him, now attached to a long chain hanging from the ceiling. Black Star’s arms have been yanked above his head, so here he hangs, his bare and bandaged feet just barely able to touch the floor. How the hell did he get here?

“Hello?” Black Star croaks into the empty air. He grimaces at the sound of his own voice, clears his throat and tries again. “HELLO?”

Nothing.

Where the hell is he? How long was he out?

“HELLOOOOO? ANYBODY HOME?” he shouts, his voice stretching and echoing in the dimly lit chamber.

A hard blow to his back, right between his shoulder blades, alerts Black Star that he is not alone in this room. The breath he just sucked in to prepare for another shout is abruptly punched out of him. Black Star flounders for a moment before pulling in a gasp.

“Silence, captive! You’re disturbing Noah-sama’s peace!” his assailant says, squeaky and irritated.

“Who the fuck are you?” Black Star growls.

A boy not much older than Black Star, with slicked back hair and an impressive frown comes into view.

“My name is no concern of yours, captive,” he says.

A much more intimidating voice speaks next. “So your name is of no concern, but you dare to speak mine?”

The boy shivers, his upper half snapping downward into a deep bow.

“I deeply apologize, Noah-sama!”

A dark hand reaches out and strikes the boy abruptly on the back of the head. His bow deepens. It’s that hand that has Black Star on alert. This is the man who hurt Kid with a single touch. He twists in his restraints, pulling his hands apart and testing the strength of the iron when—

“AUGHH!!!”

A shock like a bolt of lightning runs through Black Star.

He hangs limply for a moment, panting. The pain surprised him so much that he doesn’t have the energy to cower when Noah steps into his line of sight. Through the haze of pain Black Star eyes him, a tall, dark-skinned man in a military cap and black jacket. His clothing doesn’t hold Black Star’s attention though. All he can fixate on is the smug grin on his face.

“Do you like your restraints? I made them myself.”

Black Star grits his teeth.

“No? A shame. They’re a fine creation. A bona fide Magic Tool worthy of Eibon himself.” He paces around Black Star, just out of his line of vision. Try as he might to twist his neck to look over his shoulder, the angle of Black Star’s arms above his head limits his range of moment. Noah’s deep voice continues to speak somewhere behind him. “Unfortunately, those cuffs were not meant for you. You’re an unexpected complication to my plans.”

Black Star doesn’t like the sound of that. An “unexpected complication” sounds a lot like “collateral damage.” He can’t see the man’s hands. He has no way to block him if Noah touches him.

“You see,” he continues calmly. “There was a certain person I was expecting to add to my collection. A god, if you will.”

Kid.

Black Star twists again, trying to track Noah’s movements.

“And I was this close to having him in my grasp. That is until someone—”

Suddenly he’s in front of Black Star, fist rearing back. Black Star lifts his legs up, forcing himself to hang heavily from his restraints to protect himself, but Noah reacquaints Black Star with his superhuman speed, easily connecting his fist to Black Star’s stomach before his knees can guard his core. The blow is so much worse than his servant’s last hit. Black Star swings back on his restraints, almost perpendicular with the ground, before heavily flopping back down, his full weight snapping against the place where his wrists touch the cuffs.

“—decided to take his place. It was very rude of you to ruin my plans, boy.”

It takes a moment for Black Star to even remember how to cough, much less breathe. He rasps out a dry breath, surprising himself that he hasn’t thrown up. His restraints clank together loudly for several long moments, until Black Star finally stops swinging.

Noah looks down his nose at Black Star like he’s an insect needing to be squashed.

“Now I have to decide what to do with you.”

“Kill him, Noah-sama. We have no need for him,” the younger boy calls petulantly.

“Silence, Gopher,” Noah snaps, rearing back to look at the boy. Gopher cowers in fear yet again.

Noah turns his attention back to Black Star. “My insulant servant makes a point,” he says to Black Star, continuing his slow pacing once more. “I have no need for humans in my collection. I’m aiming my attention much higher.”

Black Star’s blood boils at the insinuation of his own weakness. Against his better judgement, he speaks up. “You think I’m not worth keeping around? I’m not just a human. I’m the man who will defeat GOD,” he says with his whole chest.

Noah’s eyebrows rise in surprise, hidden under the shadow of his cap. “Oh?”

He rears back his fist again. Black Star knew speaking out of turn would have consequences, but if this man was going to kill him anyway, the least Black Star could do was not be a fucking wimp about it. He braces himself for the blow—

But it never comes.

Noah’s fist stops centimeters from his face, the veins popping in his arms from restraint.

He lowers his arm slowly. “You think you will defeat God?”

Black Star spits at his feet, a small bit of blood mixed into his saliva. “I know I will.”

Noah appraises him. His silence is just as intimidating as his yelling. Black Star does his best not to wince or tense just feeling Noah’s gaze fall on him. Something in Noah’s expression changes, like the flip of a switch, from intensity to calm neutrality.

A small flame lights inside of Black Star. Maybe this man won’t kill him.

Suddenly, that all-encompassing electric current runs through his body again, a cobra strike of unadulterated pain.

Black Star screams. It only lasts a moment, but it’s just as powerful as the first time, and just as surprising. All of Black Star’s nerve endings feel fried.

Black Star cracks open an eyelid he barely remembers closing, and when his vision clears, he sees Noah’s face, directly in front of his.

“You think you will defeat God.” A smug grin splits his face in two as he watches Black Star tremble. Black Star can feel Noah’s breath on his face as whispers with a vindictive kind of glee. “You can’t even get yourself out of those cuffs.”

Black Star lunges at him, but is stopped short by his restraints.

When the shock rips through his body this time, he expects it.

Black Star is left alive, but only just.

He’s not sure where he is, but it doesn’t seem like the reality he’s used to. He hasn’t had a crumb of food or a drop to water in what feels like days, but somehow, he’s still kicking.

And kicking he is, aiming a wild shot at Gopher, the servant boy who seems to have been tasked with watching over him while Noah is away. Black Star isn’t close enough to make contact unless he swings back on his cuffs to give him more leverage. His wrists have been rubbed raw a long time ago, and it hurts like a motherfucker to do so, but Black Star opts to swing anyway.

He clips him with his foot, probably not hard enough to hurt, but he rocks back a little in surprise. It makes him mad, which is the real goal.

“Quit it!” he shouts, sounding like a child trying to appeal to an older sibling to stop bullying him. All of his tough-guy bravado seems to evaporate the second Noah leaves, which is interesting, since he’s a submissive little bitch the second Noah opens his mouth around him anyway.

“Make me,” Black Star says with a laugh. It’s easier to feel optimistic when the freak mage is away. Noah has opted not to kill Black Star—for now—saying that he’s using him as experimentation for the cuffs. All’s well for Black Star, who spends his time optimistically tormenting his guard. He doesn’t have to figure out the cuffs. That sounds like a Maka job, maybe a Stein one. His mind skirts off Kid’s name and swoops away from it, not wanting to think about Kid too hard. Last time Black Star saw him he was down one arm. Even if they did manage to patch Kid up to make him ready for a rescue mission, the last time they spoke to each other…

Whatever. Black Star elects not to think about it. He taunts Gopher in the meantime, knowing rescue will come soon.

A shock wave hits his body again, hard and fast. Black Star grits his teeth, shaking his arms in frustration. The chains above him clang together, taunting him.

“Ha!” Gopher mocks gleefully, now a safe distance away from Black Star. He sits on the table and stares at Black Star. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

The pain doesn’t go away once the cuffs stop shocking him. His whole body retains the sting. Every skin cell, every strand of hair, every muscle, every bone. It takes more effort than he’d like to admit to appear unaffected, but Black Star tries. He won’t let this coward see him down.

“Don’t have to be cocky to know I’m stronger than you,” Black Star says, his voice hoarse. His vocal chords get fried too, and god forbid these people give him water. “That’s not ego talking; it’s a fact.”

Black Star doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone frown so aggressively. Maybe Kid, when Soul sacrificed the Gallows Mansion décor as punishment during a game of pick-up basketball. When Soul said they’d move all the picture frames 2 centimeters if their team lost, Kid looked like he’d been shot. But even that hilarious expression has nothing on this guy.

Gopher stands up suddenly—on top of the table, of all places—and holds his arms out wide. Before Black Star can ask what the hell he’s doing, Gopher is jumping high, and inky black wings are shooting from his back and gliding him right towards Black Star. He gets a fist to his face for his smart mouth, and in one smooth motion Gopher has glided back to the table and landed lightly on his feet.

The whole thing lasted maybe 3 seconds.

His frown is replaced by a cocky grin, which looks wrong on his face, like his facial muscles aren’t used to turning his mouth upwards.

“Impressed now, captive?”

Finally, some entertainment.

Black Star spits out a bit of blood.

“Not even a little bit.”

It goes on like that for a while. Black Star taunting Gopher, Gopher taking out his inadequate fighting prowess on Black Star, rinse, repeat. Maybe Black Star shouldn’t be goading the enemy on, but he’s fought toddlers stronger than this guy, and it keeps things interesting. It’s better than hanging here, alone with his thoughts.

That’s a much more dangerous game. Because then his mind begins to wander.

How many days has it been?

How long until someone comes looking for him?

Is Tsubaki doing okay without him?

How is Kid’s arm? Is he recovering okay?

Has the search party already started?

Are they mad at him for getting caught?

Is anyone taking care of Angela?

Does Kid still hate him because of their last fight?

When will help come?

It’s exhausting. Black Star doesn’t like wallowing in his self-pity, but being stuck here has given him plenty of wallowing time. Just when he thought he was getting over that hump, passing through the storm that had been raging in his mind, he finds himself kidnapped and waiting for rescue. Another feather to add to the Black Star dunce cap.

It’s not that he hasn’t tried freeing himself. Gopher isn’t always around, and he hasn’t seen Noah since that first day. (How many days has it been?) When Black Star isn’t being watched by that brat he goes to work, using all the strength he can muster to twist his hands back and forth in their shackles, to push and pull and push and pull like he might be wriggle out or weaken his bonds somehow.

But whenever Black Star feels he’s making progress, his sweaty hand dipping a little lower in the cuff or the metal groaning a tiny bit under his force, a blast of electric energy ripples through his entire body, like it’s a lightning bolt designated to strike right when Black Star’s hope is at its peak.

The shock always takes him out, losing his concentration in escape and sometimes just making him lose consciousness altogether.

When he comes to, he’s back where he started, hanging limply in the dim light of the room, with dark thoughts rolling in.

It’s hard to know how long he’s been here. After this long, Black Star has at least been able to deduce that it’s not the same reality he’s used to. Enough time has passed for Black Star to either be dead from starvation or dehydration, and yet neither have done him in. He also notes that injuries don’t seem to heal wherever he is, or if they do, it’s much slower.

The bandages Nygus carefully wove around his head and feet fell away ages ago, and Black Star has watched the blood steadily pool beneath his feet for what feels like centuries. He watches the slow drips spatter into dark pools on the tile below him and invents meaning for the different shapes to pass the time.

A fist that looks oddly like Fire or Thunder.

A swoop that sort of resembles Soul’s scythe form.

A skull shape that looks the rings Kid wears on each index finger.

It’s not the most entertaining way to pass the time, but it’s a change in scenery. Sometime Black Star wakes up from another round of shocking and the blood is gone. It’s hard to tell if it’s the logic of this strange place that eliminates it or if Gopher has come and cleaned it up. Black Star hopes it’s the latter, if only for the hilarious image he has in his head of Gopher crawling beneath him with a cloth, mopping up his blood and cowering every time Black Star so much as twitches, fearing a kick to the head.

At this point he should have bled out, too. Probably.

But still he lives.

“Having fun in your imprisonment, little Star Clan boy?” Gopher says as he practically skips into view.

Black Star, tracing a pattern of blood on the floor resembling a cat, looks up suddenly at that.

“What did you just say?”

Gopher sneers. “I thought that might get a reaction. Noah-sama is very thorough in researching what’s being kept in his collection.” He sits down on the table and again and crosses his legs primly. He lifts up a clipboard he’s been carrying and reads robotically. “Black Star. Former Star Clan member. Collected by DWMA at age one and monitored regularly by head of the intelligence division. Weapons specialist. Assassin-in-training.”

Black Star rolls his eyes. Well, the one eye that isn’t swollen. “I’m not an ‘assassin-in-training.’ Just an assassin. Period. And what the hell do you mean, ‘monitored’?” Sid and Nygus were his foster parents, not some guard dogs.

Gopher flips through the pages idly. “You didn’t really think the DWMA would just let a Star Clan member run around off-leash, did you?”

“I’m not a Star Clan member. Those idiots were reaped when I was just a brat.”

“And you were the one that wasn’t reaped. Makes sense why they had to keep a close eye on you. Didn’t you just say you were an assassin?”

“It’s not the same thing,” Black Star growls. “I’m not like them.”

Gopher crosses his arms behind his back and smiles. “Sounds the same to me.”

Black Star wants nothing more than to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. He wants to kick him in the nuts and pound his stupid face until it’s black and blue. He wants rip his stupid oily hair out of his stupid oily head and hit him with his Soul Force—

A bolt of electricity rips through his body, shocking him from fingertips to feet.

“FUCK,” Black Star shouts. “God. Fuck.”

Gopher looks exceedingly pleased.

Black Star hangs heavily, ignoring Gopher and focusing on the pain, the way his whole body trembles from it.

This should be the easy part. The pain. Black Star has taken a lot of hits in his life, he thought he was accustomed to the feel of it. He was Star Clan after all. A double-edged sword destined to slice himself up at every opportunity. He had inherited the power and skill of his namesake, which made him dangerous, but not the morals, which made him an enigma. People didn’t know how to act around the boy who should have been reaped. He could tell since he was just a brat that every second of his life he would be forced to prove himself, and that motivated him when it would have made others crumble.

Black Star took it in stride. The scrutiny, the apprehension, the fear that he’d turn out like the demon that gave him life. He didn’t care why they were looking, all that was important was that all eyes were on him. Gathering adoring fans was that much easier when he already had an audience. He’d make sure that no one would be able to associate him with the Star Clan, because every time they heard the name Black Star it would be laced with greatness.

So he trained. He got stronger, faster, louder, bolder, and it really felt like it was working. He partnered with Tsubaki, the most versatile weapon in DWMA history, to further prove the point that he was the fucking best, and no one was able to dispute it. Except—

“Another mission and no souls?” Sid propped his head on his fist and looked at Black Star from across the table. “You botched it again, didn’t you?”

“Did I ask for the color commentary?” Black Star asked around a mouthful of dinner, glaring at Sid over his plate.

“No, but as a teacher I feel like I have the right to give it,” Sid said evenly.

“We’ll get one, just give it a rest already,” Black Star said, but he was deflecting, and they both knew it. He had the skill to collect souls. He had the drive, but—

He rolled his arm in its socket, his left hand gripping his right shoulder tightly.

Sid watched his motions carefully, eyes tracing Black Star’s tattoo. “If you’re still feeling self-conscious about it, the DWMA has name changing forms in the front office. No one would associate you with him anymore.”

But Black Star hated that idea. Changing his name was as good as giving up. He’d carry the weight of his father’s sins and rise above it, the way he always had—

Gopher’s bitchy little fingers snap sharply, the sound echoing in empty expanse of the dark room.

“Are you even listening to me?” Gopher barks, right up in Black Star’s face.

Black Star blinks.

No, he wasn’t. He doesn’t even remember zoning out, but somewhere along the way he got lost in a memory. The longer he stays here, the harder it is to focus on the here and now.

Gopher does his best to taunt him further, but Black Star’s mind is still back at that dinner table with Sid, wondering if collecting a soul would have made difference either way. Everyone already knew he was the strongest meister at the academy. He could have made Tsubaki a Death Scythe in no time at all if he really put his mind to it.

But there was just something about Black Star, son of White Star, collecting souls…

It was Death the Kid who brought things into focus for Black Star.

Sure, Black Star was strong, anyone with eyes could see that. But proving that he was the best was hard when people like Maka and Soul were so easily besting him in the soul-collecting department. And as much as Maka liked to trot around and act like she was better than everyone for being such a model student, Black Star could see through her shtick. He wasn’t aiming to be a teacher’s pet, he was aiming to be the biggest, strongest guy around. Killing small-fry kishin to rack up 99 souls might have been a quantifiable way to prove greatness, but where was the quality?

Enter: Death the Kid.

Black Star couldn’t have planned anything more perfect. A shinigami was coming to study at the academy. A living, breathing god.

Fuck soul-collecting. Black Star had a new goal. “The man who would defeat God” had a much nicer ring to it than “strongest kid in school,” after all.

Kid was everything he expected a shinigami to be. Powerful, capable, precise. A perfect match-up for someone like Black Star to test his skills on. Except—

Well, he also wasn’t anything like Black Star expected. Neurotic to the point of it being almost embarrassing, Kid dropped like a brick whenever his symmetry was disturbed. Black Star and Soul narrowly won their fight against him on his first day of school, a victory Black Star loved lording over him, but in the long-run it didn’t feel like it meant much. Black Star wanted a proper fight with Kid, and he wanted to win.

After that, Black Star measured himself against Kid at every available opportunity. In height, Kid was 2 centimeters taller than him. In meister skills, Kid had Soul Perception and an unwavering trust between him and his partners that made his power output explosive and deadly. In basketball, he had a killer jump shot.

“Are you just good at everything?” Black Star asked one day, smacking the ball out of his hands after the last play. Kid only smirked at him, which was all the more annoying.

But he was also such a weirdo. The first time they spent together by themselves was their mission to find Excalibur. Black Star couldn’t not go, after finding out his rival was searching to find the strongest weapon in the world, Black Star had to get to it first. To wield it himself or prevent Kid from getting to it, he wasn’t sure. What he didn’t anticipate was carrying Kid piggyback after he refused to walk through a few inches of water, worried about the hems of his suit pants getting damp. Black Star could hardly remember how negotiations went for that, just that suddenly his archrival was seated on his back, his legs looped tightly around Black Star’s waist like he was nervous he’d let him go. Black Star couldn’t make sense of it.

And maybe after that it was a little easier to tolerate him. He was fun to mess with, fucking around with things in the Gallows Mansion just to watch Kid blow a gasket trying to return everything to its proper place. He’d partner with Kid in the gym and show off his strength like it was nothing, only for Kid to make a comment about his superior pinky strength that would send Black Star into a tailspin. They made Patti measure their pinky widths with measuring tape (Kid’s was slightly bigger), and then they both spent the next hour trying to do pull-ups from their pinkies alone.

He was funny, with a wry sense of a humor hidden behind a prim and proper exterior. A sly comment coming from Kid always felt like a gift somehow, an exclusive moment the two of them shared.

And he was strong. Black Star, Maka, and their partners found themselves on Kid’s Resonance Team, and when their souls reached out for one another for the first time, Black Star’s connected with Kid’s with no complications: two Lego bricks clicking together like they were meant to be connected, while Black Star and Maka repelled each other like water and oil, despite being friends since they were little.

The idea of Kid being Black Star’s rival wasn’t at the forefront of his mind anymore, and he didn’t really care. They’d go into a battle together, and Black Star would jump into the fray with the reckless abandon of a man who knew his back was covered. Sometimes he came out a little more battered than necessary, but if it meant keeping his teammates out of harm’s way, Black Star didn’t mind much. Having all eyes on him was more his speed, and the glowing pair of gold ones that always seemed to be following him didn’t hurt, either.

But then things started to shift. Then Kishin was revived. The Uncanny Sword was getting harder to use. Then Black Star lost to Mifune. Then to Mosquito. Loss after loss after loss was piling up on Black Star’s heart, and the pressure was starting to hurt. Why could he not win anymore? He thought he was getting stronger, but all of a sudden every step he took had him backsliding further. Black Star could feel it affecting him, corroding his insides with every passing day. Something needed to change.

“We could go see my family?” Tsubaki said after finally cornering Black Star into confessing what was blackening his mood.

Black Star slammed his open palm into the swinging punching bag before him, not using Soul Force on it this time because Nygus kept harping on him and Kid for “damaging the equipment.”

“What does your family have to do with anything?” he asked crossly.

Tsubaki was more patient with him than he deserved. She always took his dark moods in stride. She smiled politely and caught the bag on an upswing, absorbing the momentum of it and lowering it to a still position carefully.

“They might be able to teach us more about the Uncanny Sword. Don’t you think the Nakatsukasa Clan would be the perfect people to ask?”

Black Star had always assumed every problem could be solved through force of will alone. But it was starting to become clearer that he needed help. He nodded, and Tsubaki let him know she would make the arrangements soon. It might not be enough to make a difference, but it was worth trying. Nothing at the DWMA seemed to be helping, anyway.

Going to Japan again was concerning, but Black Star would get through it the same way he always had. White Star’s mistakes were his to bear now. The hatred he received would fade when the people of Japan bore witness to Black Star’s greatness. Probably.

Kid saw through him easily when he told him about it. Black Star shouldn’t have been surprised. Kid had Soul Perception, so he probably just took a peek in Black Star’s chest and saw how erratic he was feeling. (Though Black Star knew deep down that wasn’t it. That Kid knew him. Better than most, in fact. Kid was always surprising him with how much he knew about Black Star, or how much he could tell just from his silence.) Black Star did what he always ended up doing around Kid: opening up. He wasn’t sure how an over-powered shinigami with a symmetry obsession had that kind of effect on him, but somewhere down the line Black Star had gotten closer to Kid than he ever thought possible.

But something about that closeness felt…wrong.

Getting close to Kid, in that moment, was too much of a mindfuck. Black Star could feel himself teetering on the edge of a dark precipice, and somehow Kid was beside him, talking about how similar they were. They both had issues comparing themselves to their fathers, they both held themselves to higher esteems than other people, and their perfectionism got the best of them. He framed it like it was a good thing, like they were equals, and it made Black Star want to scream.

Because they couldn’t be equals. Not then. Black Star was supposed to defeat God, and now here he was, leaving the academy with his tail between his legs to go find some outside source to help him regain his strength. Kid wasn’t allowed to be this low. He wasn’t supposed to be a fallible person with similar wants and fears. He was a god Black Star was supposed to fucking crush, so why did it feel like a black hole was swallowing him up instead? He wanted to hold Kid’s hand and tell him it would be alright. He wanted to feel the gentle press of Kid’s lips as his face lingered closer and closer, but nothing about Black Star felt gentle in that moment. He was on the verge of shaking apart. It was too fucking much.

He left the Gallows Mansion early that night, pacing the streets of Death City and trying to formulate a plan. The foundation of his soul felt shakier than ever, and he needed a way to stabilize his fragile wavelength. So, fuck it. He’d prove how much stronger he’d gotten. He’d prove it to himself, to Kid, to the whole fucking academy that he was indisputably the strongest. He’d leave the academy on a high, then go master the Uncanny Sword with Tsubaki.

The feeling of his head getting ground into the asphalt under Kid’s rubber sole was the final straw.

Weak.

Black Star was a man who contained multitudes, but he couldn’t take that final loss. He pulled himself from the crater in the DWMA’s courtyard and left without a word. He and Tsubaki were on a flight to Japan the very next day.

He hadn’t spoken to Kid since.

All that training, all that growing and healing he’d done in Japan, and Kid never got to see any of it. He’d meant to come back to the academy and surprise Kid with his newfound maturity and purpose. He’d apologize for the way he acted back then, and maybe, if Kid forgave him—

But that didn’t happen. Instead, Black Star hangs from the shackles in this mysterious, otherworldly realm, soundly defeated by one man and a pair of magic handcuffs.

Maybe he was weak.

“You are the great and powerful Black Star, and you will not give up.”

Black Star chants it like a mantra. Never when Gopher is around, God no, he’d never let him live it down. But when the shadows of the expansive room start creeping in, Black Star sometimes needs a reminder that he’s no quitter. That someone will come for him. He’ll get a small shock from the cuffs, who seemingly hate any time he tries to have a positive thought of any kind, but he keeps chanting it regardless.

Great and powerful. Don’t give up.

Gopher hasn’t been around much lately. Off doing minion things, or perched dutifully at Noah’s feet like the pathetic lapdog he is, maybe. It’s weird, though, not being guarded. Do they think Black Star doesn’t need a guard anymore? That he has no chance of escape?

It twists something in Black Star’s gut to think the enemy thinks he’s given up. That isn’t something he can accept. So during one of those long stretches of time that Gopher is gone, Black Star goes back to trying to free himself.

It’s slow work. He doesn’t have any tools, and the deep black shackles fit on his wrist almost to the skin. He’s tried slipping a hand out before, but the space is too narrow. Black Star focuses on the second means of escape: breaking the shackles.

He was the strongest student at the DWMA, it shouldn’t be hard. He can punch through walls and climb mountains without equipment, how difficult can it be to shatter some handcuffs?

He gathers all the mental strength he can muster, breathing in deeply, then starts pulling his wrists apart. Sweat and blood run down his face as the metal cuts into his skin. He just needs—to snap—the cuffs—apart—

Black Star cries out when electricity rips through his body.

God, every time. Every fucking time it feels like he’s making progress, the magic in the cuffs electrifies him like he’s metal rod in and open field. Black Star growls low in his throat, the frustration building like it always does. He can’t try again yet, forced to sit and stew while tremors wrack his frame.

“You are the great and powerful Black Star, and you will not give up,” his hoarse voice reminds him. It’s not as convincing as he wants it to be.

He waits for the shaking to subside, for the tingling in his spine to return to the same constant ache, then mentally readies himself for another attempt.

That’s what Black Star is doing when Justin Law suddenly appears before him

A piece of paper like a ripped-out page from a book, flicks into existence in front of Black Star, burning at the edges. Black Star stares at it curiously, watching the orange tinted border creep closer and closer to the center, then a bright flash of light like a portal opens up, and the youngest Death Scythe ever created was walking though.

Black Star can’t believe his eyes.

Finally. After who knows how long, help has arrived. Black Star will get to go home. He’s so struck he’s almost speechless from it.

That only lasts a minute before Black Star is screaming his head off.

“HEY! HEY! OVER HERE!” He wriggles his whole body, rattling his chains together as loudly as possible to get Justin’s attention.

He doesn’t care if Gopher or Noah shows up at this point. He just needs to get out.

It takes a while to get his attention. Black Star can’t fathom what he’d be looking at; the only things in this room are a table and Black Star. And the giant stained-glass window behind him. Justin’s eyes seem to scan right over Black Star, fixating on the large circular window for a long time. Black Star shakes even harder.

“JUSTIN FUCKING LAW. STOP LOOKING AT THE STUPID WINDOW AND HELP.”

Justin’s blue eyes finally flick to Black Star, his expression carefully neutral.

Black Star tries not to let his anger get the best of him. “Finally, jeez. I’m right here. You wanna get to work or what?” He shakes his arms again. “You’re a guillotine aren’t you? I’m sure you could make pretty quick work of these.”

But Justin is still looking at Black Star carefully, not saying anything.

“Helloooooo, Mr. Priest. Can you hear me? What kind of shitty rescuer are you?”

Justin smirks and taps a piece of plastic in his ears. His stupid headphones. He’s wearing them, even now.

“Don’t worry, I can read lips just fine,” he says evenly, though there’s the barest hint of amusement in his voice.

“Then GET TO WORK,” Black Star says, emotion rising within him. What the hell is this guy waiting on?

But Justin is looking behind him again, like Black Star suddenly isn’t the most important thing in this room. Then the hair on the back of his neck raises just a bit. He may be a captive, but he’s still a ninja. He senses that someone else is in the room. Multiple people, even.

He can’t imagine anyone else it could be, so he yells “Justin, RUN!” to an extremely unflappable Justin Law. He doesn’t run, but instead tracks the movement of their two extra guests as they step into view: Gopher, and worse, Noah.

“Good catch,” he says calmly, and it takes a second for Black Star to realize that Justin is talking to Noah, about him. “Taking away the Star Clan member weakens them considerably.”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Noah says seriously, still looking at Black Star like he’s scum. Black Star is still blinking, looking at the man he knows is a DWMA staff member, talking to Noah like they’re best friends.

Another person walks into view, and Black Star really doesn’t know what’s going on. Giriko, one of Arachne’s lackeys, strolls in front of him and stalks toward the table, a beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingers. He sits at one of the chairs, legs spread wide. “I don’t see the point in keeping him alive for this long, Noah. You should have killed him ages ago.”

“Noah-sama,” Gopher squeaks from a corner.

They all ignore Gopher, like they should, and impossibly, Justin goes and takes a seat next to Giriko.

“Yo, what the fuck is going on?” Black hears someone voice his exact sentiment and realizes that the question is coming from himself. “Justin, what are you doing?”

All of the men look at Black Star with different degrees of incredulity, like they’re surprised he had the audacity to speak, given his position. Black Star himself is shocked too, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing.

“You’re from the DWMA, man. You work for Lord Death,” he says desperately. “You fought with us in the battle for Brew.” He nods his head towards Giriko, who hasn’t stopped scowling. “Against him.” He swallows down the burning in his throat. He can’t say the last part. I thought you were here to save me.

Justin is nonplussed as ever. “The only god I serve is Kishin-sama.”

Black Star’s stomach fills with concrete. A person from the DWMA has finally found him but isn’t here to rescue him. And now instead of inhabiting this prison cell with one minion, he’s surrounded by three killers.

“So what are you keeping the brat for?” Giriko asks, pointing his bottle to Black Star, who can do nothing. If they harm him, he can’t fight back. If they decide to kill him, that’ll be it.

Black Star flinches instinctively when Noah looks at him.

“He’d be good bait,” Justin says evenly. “The students and teachers care for him. Use him to draw them out.”

Giriko picks at his teeth. “As if. If he’s been here since the battle at the castle and they haven’t come looking for him yet, what’s the point?” He rolls his neck in slow loops, sighing at the popping sounds it makes. “They probably think he’s dead anyway.”

Black Star does his best not to react to that. As if it hasn’t been a constant thought in the back of his mind this whole fucking time.

But Giriko keeps talking, as if to spite him. He looks directly in his eyes and smiles. “After all, it’s been months.”

Months?

That can’t be right. There’s no way he could have been gone that long, without a whisper of chance at rescue.

But he eyes Justin, the first DWMA member he’s seen this whole time, a man who has no interest in freeing him.

…Months?

No, Black Star thinks. Kid wouldn’t give up on me. He’d know I haven’t given up yet.

Noah ignores Giriko, looking to Justin. “We don’t need bait to draw out the academy’s child soldiers. They prance about in public without any prompting at all.”

Gopher jumps in excitedly. “I found some just last week! Flying through the canyons. The Soul Perception girl and her scythe.” Black Star breathes a little heavier. She and Soul must have been out looking for him, right? Hope flutters like a small bird in his ribcage.

The cuffs zap it out of him, a quick and painful zip. Black Star grits his teeth.

Gopher keeps talking, unaware of Black Star’s pain, or perhaps just not interested in it. “They didn’t even notice my presence at first. Fools. I was able to stalk them as they goofed off for ages before they noticed. I’m sick of all of them. Flying around that canyon in their merriment. Like they’re untouchable.”

Wait, Gopher found them? Goofed off? Bitterness rolls over Black Star in waves. It’s nice to know they’re able to have such a fun time together. He’s been shackled here for months and they’re goofing off—

“Silence!”

Everyone in the room snaps to attention at Noah’s commanding voice.

“What I do with my collection is my business alone,” he says darkly. He stalks up to Black Star, who can’t help but shrink away. It’s no use, he has nowhere to hide, so when Noah stops in front of him, he’s just as vulnerable as ever. “If I want to leave him here to rot, that’s my decision.”

There’s something dead in his eyes, in the way he smiles. A haunting look passes over his face as he reaches above Black Star, grabbing the chain he’s hanging from to pull Black Star closer and swing him directly into Noah’s waiting fist.

“If I wish him harm, that’s my decision.”

Black Star gurgles out a cough at the hit. Noah is making a show of hurting him, just for the amusement of his guests, and Black Star starts to reach a boiling point. After all, he’s been here for months, and no one is coming for him. Now might be his last opportunity to bite back.

Using what little strength he has, he grabs for Noah’s hand, inches above his shackled ones, and releases his Soul Force, as powerful as he can make it. He’ll cook the fuck out of both of them if that’s what it takes. He’ll make Noah regret every taking him in the first place. He’ll—

A light shock leaves his hands, sparking into Noah’s. Barely hotter than bug zapper.

Black Star’s eyes widen in shock. That was barely anything. He can’t even muster up the strength use his own wavelength?

A shadow passes over Black Star. Noah’s stony face has transformed into one of wrath.

“You dare try to harm me?”

He grabs Black Star brutally by the hand, lifting him up until his feet aren’t even touching the ground. The sharp pain in his shoulders mixed with the rawness of his wrist being gripped has him screaming.

That haunting look has returned to his eye, and without warning he’s gripping Black Star’s hand and wrist in both hands and squeezing. Black Star thought he was in agony before, but the white-hot sensation of bones cracking has him choking for breath.

He barely holds onto consciousness when Noah drops him roughly back down, his shattered hand colliding with his shackles.

Black Star pants and shakes. His throat is raw from screaming, lungs paper dry. Tears stream down his face from just the slightest movement of his hand.

Noah looks satisfied.

He turns to the rest of his guests. Black Star’s eyes focus on the floor below them, not interested in their stupid meeting any longer.

Noah’s voice is smug.

“No one is coming for him. If I want to keep him here until he’s begging to be killed, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

They leave him alone, after that. A guard isn’t necessary, because Black Star isn’t trying to escape.

4. two souls connect

“One more chapter and we’ll finally have Black Star back!” Patti hollers encouragingly, wrapping an arm around Tsubaki, who offers up a tense smile.

Kid notes her expression. He feels the same. Traversing through the Book of Eibon hasn’t been at all like how he expected it. When the Chupa Cabra witches (with the help of a captive Eruka the frog) transported Spartoi into the Book, Kid expected to be greeted with another castle, like Baba Yaga’s. Or, at least, a prison. A fortress strong enough to keep Black Star contained, to have apparently kept an Ancient One contained at some point in time.

Instead, he was transformed into a female.

Everyone in their party seemed to have swapped physical sexes, bodies changing to forms opposite their own. It felt like a gag, as his friends guffawed at each other’s new body parts and outfits, almost immediately forgetting their main mission in favor of laughing at each other’s bewildered expressions.

The breasts that hung heavily from Kid’s chest only lasted a few brief minutes, a minor inconvenience that he paid no real mind to, seemingly the only one focused on the mission at hand. It took Kid a while to realize that each of the Chapters was centered around one of the Seven Deadly Sins, each of the new realms designed to ensnare any intruders in their own personal demons. It was an effective way to distract them from their main goal, each chapter they entered making it harder and harder to remember that their purpose was Black Star.

It didn’t help ease Kid’s mind that he couldn’t feel Black Star’s wavelength. Even now, as the group had gotten separated, Maka and Soul getting swept away to the Envy Chapter without the rest of the group, he could still distantly feel their presence, their wavelengths glowing dimly in Kid’s mind like lanterns through a thick fog.

But he can’t feel Black Star’s wavelength at all.

Even now, with one Chapter supposedly to go, Black Star’s boisterous wavelength isn’t something Kid can feel with his Soul Perception, and it’s making him nervous.

They were so sure he was here. When Maka and Soul had fought the boy named Gopher in the canyons, she recognized the symbol on the piece of paper he had jumped into to disappear. It was the same symbol on the Book of Eibon manuscript she had stolen ages ago from the restricted section of the library. The memory boils Kid’s blood a little, to think he was so close to a solution, but the book in question was hiding in Soul and Maka’s apartment under their couch.

Through the witches’ magic, they were able to see the last people who had access to the real Book of Eibon, and both Kid and Tsubaki were able to positively identify that the mage who’d kidnapped Black Star was among them.

So, it stands to reason that Black Star must be in this Book as well, right?

So why couldn’t Kid feel him?

The worry claws at his insides as he follows behind his partners, falling into step with Tsubaki.

“Once we find him, we’ll contact Kim to retrieve us right away,” Kid says, voice low. He hoists his pack a little higher on his shoulders, filled to the brim with medical supplies. “Soul and Maka can handle themselves. They know our first priority is finding Black Star.”

It seems harsh even to his own ears. They lost Maka and Soul chapters ago and haven’t been able to contact them since. The last thing Spartoi needs is more members going missing. He should be stopping them, calling Index to make them go back. They should be doing this together.

But he thinks of Black Star’s bandages, trailing behind him like red ribbons. The desperate way he jumped between Kid and the mage’s outstretched hand, right before he disappeared.

Kid surges forward.

Black Star is his priority—their priority.

The bridge they walk on feels endless. It seems the nature of the book is that a setting will go on for as long as it requires to feel narratively appropriate, not for any logical reason. Perhaps they’ll be able to move on to the next Chapter when a decision is made?

“What do you think the book wants from us?” Tsubaki asks the group.

Kid nods approvingly, happy that she came to the same conclusion. She’s more clever than most give her credit for, given her quiet nature.

Liz arches a brow. “Doesn’t Index just show up when it wants to, to whisk us away?”

Kid itches at the thought of just waiting. Anything could be happening to Black Star at this very moment, and they were just going to stand around? What if he was hurt? What if something worse was happening to him? Did anyone else even care about Black Star? Or were they just ready to finally leave the book? The more he spirals the more he feels the distance between him and the others growing.

Kid almost doesn’t notice when the wooden plank in front of him disappears. He snaps back into focus, stumbling forward and catching himself on the other side of the gap.

“Hey! I think something is happening—”

The girls are gone.

Kid turns around. Surely he didn’t pass them just now? But they’re not there either.

In fact, when Kid turns around to face forward, the planks in the distance all begin to fall away. One by one, more and more, like dominos, dropping from their fastenings and getting closer and closer to Kid with every second.

“Liz? Patti? Tsubaki? What’s going on?” Kid cries, backing up as fast as he can. But the wooden planks are falling away faster than he can move, and without Beelzebub he has no way to fly. The final board beneath his feet falls away, and Kid feels a moment of weightlessness before plunging into the abyss below.

The falling only lasts a moment.

The same sensation from travelling to a new Chapter swallows Kid up. Like air being punched from lungs. Like paper grazing skin. And within seconds, Kid is standing in an entirely new Chapter of the Book of Eibon. He looks around curiously. They were on their way Greed, but Index wasn’t the one who guided him here. Could this be a different part of the book?

Kid looks above him, but the bridge is long gone, in favor of a vaulted ceiling, tall white columns, and an enormous circular stained-glass window that stops Kid short.

He’s never seen a window so marvelous before. The intricate design, the array of colors! The symmetry! It’s so breathtaking, Kid is completely captivated by it. He approaches it reverently, ready to bask in its symmetrical brilliance indefinitely, when a wounded moan from beneath it snaps him out of it.

There doesn’t appear to be any light here other than the rays streaming through the stained glass, meaning the figure hanging from chains before him is just a silhouette against the colorful light behind him.

But Kid would know that silhouette anywhere. It was the last thing Kid saw, in fact, before he disappeared all those months ago.

Black Star.

Kid’s heart skips a beat. The pain of not knowing Black Star’s condition for the past two months pales in comparison to seeing him now, because it’s so much worse than he imagined.

Hanging limply from a pair of heavy iron-clad shackles, Black Star looks like he’s barely clinging to life. Loose bandages swirl around his neck and legs, having fallen away ages ago, leaving his wounds exposed. His skin is adorned with cuts and bruises, one eye swollen almost completely shut. His right hand doesn’t look broken, it looks mangled, the fingers twisted at odd angles, knuckles swollen and dark.

It takes everything in him to not scream his name. Kid has no idea where Black Star’s captors may be, especially with the rules of this Book being so fickle. The last thing he wants to do is draw attention to himself.

But there doesn’t appear to be anyone else around. Black Star stands alone, bandaged feet just barely grazing the ground as he hangs there.

Kid can hardly bare it. Tossing aside caution, Kid sprints to Black Star.

“Black Star?”

He doesn’t stir. Hanging there limply in the multi-colored light, the shadows distorting his face, he looks like a corpse. A captive long-forgotten, left to rot in his confines.

It’s at that moment Kid finally notices what feels so wrong. Black Star’s soul. He still can’t feel it.

Panic ignites in Kid’s chest, heart beating in triple time. He can’t be, he can’t be—

No, Kid reminds himself as he skids to a halt at Black Star’s side. He heard a noise earlier. The only person in this room is Black Star.

That doesn’t stop Kid’s hand from trembling as he reaches towards him. He’s not even sure where he can touch him without hurting him more. Kid settles for gently tipping Black Star’s chin upwards, bringing his face into the light.

Kid’s eyes flutter close for a moment. His skin is still warm.

Gathering up his nerves, Kid cradles Black Star’s head gently.

“Black Star, can you hear me?”

It takes a while, far too long if Kid has anything to say about it, but Black Star cracks open his one good eye, blinking it a few times before his vision comes into focus.

“Kid?”

His heart pounds loudly in his chest in relief. “Yes,” he breathes, “Black Star, it’s me. We’re here to rescue you.”

“Here,” Kid says, digging through the pack all the Spartoi members were required to bring with them on the mission. It’s a survival pack, filled with a first aid kit, food, and other essentials that could keep them alive depending on how long they were going to be inside the Book. Kid has used none of his supplies, intent on saving it all for the person who really needed them.

Kid pulls out a roll of bandages and some pain medication. He knocks a couple pills into his palm. Then he looks to Black Star’s broken frame and tips out a few more.

“Don’t bother,” Black Star says. His voice is rough. Kid can’t tell if it’s from lack of use or from using it too much. He tries not think about it too hard. Black Star clears his throat. “Wounds don’t really heal here, so there’s no point.”

Maybe it’s the roughness of his voice, but something about the way he’s speaking sounds so foreign to Kid, it’s almost like he’s talking to another person altogether. He eyes Black Star’s injuries again. If what Black Star is saying is true, it means that the injuries currently dripping blood into a small pool beneath him might not even be current. Some of these could have been from his fight with Mifune.

It does something horrible to his heart, to think that Black Star has been in pain for that long. He looks at the supplies before him. The gauze and bandages won’t do much good right now, but he can still try to help the pain subside.

“I don’t care,” Kid says, swallowing the lump in his throat. He brings the palm of pills to Black Star’s mouth, cupping his hand right in front of him until Black Star relents. He accepts the pills and allows Kid to hold a water bottle to his lips to flush them down. Black Star drinks greedily. Kid can’t help but wonder about the last time Black Star had something to drink.

“Now,” Kid says, looking around the large, bare room. Or, at least, he assumes it’s large. The Book only shows you what you need to see, so the farther he looks in the distance, the more the ink fades to cross-hatching nothingness. “Where are the people that took you?”

“Dunno,” Black Star says, eyes on the floor. He’s barely looked at Kid the whole time he’s been here, now that Kid thinks about it. “They stopped coming.”

Maybe that’s a good thing. It means Kid might have more time to liberate Black Star from his shackles. Maybe he can get him out before his captors even know Kid was here.

But they way Black Star said it…

How long has he been alone?

Kid shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll be out of here quickly enough,” Kid says, though he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince: himself or Black Star.

But if Kid thought that the hard part was finding Black Star, he neglected to think about how difficult freeing him would be. Why didn’t it occur to him that the force that was keeping Black Star imprisoned would have to be stronger than Black Star himself?

He eyes the cuffs skeptically. There has to be something about them that’s keeping Black Star detained.

He reaches for one of the cuffs to get a better look. Black Star flinches violently. “Don’t—"

The second Kid’s fingers graze the iron shackles a shock runs through his whole body, frying all his nerves.

Kid cries out before he can stop himself, wrenching his hand away and panting.

“What the hell was that?” Kid asks.

Black Star is panting just as hard. Kid realizes through the haze of pain that he didn’t just shock himself.

“Yeah, those do that. Magic or s’mthin’, I dunno,” Black Star says around gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Kid says quickly, sick with the thought of putting Black Star through more pain. “I won’t do it again.”

His skin tingles from the pain, even after the shock itself has ended. There’s something almost familiar about it, somehow, but Kid can’t quite place it. He can’t focus too long on it, though. He has to find a different way to help Black Star without touching the cuffs.

He looks around the parts of the room he can see. “Is there a key, perhaps?”

“I’ve never seen one if there was,” Black Star says dejectedly, still looking down.

“Maybe if I just look around—”

“Kid,” Black Star says emphatically. It’s the most passion he’s put in his voice the whole time Kid’s been here.

Kid freezes. When Black Star’s face rises to look at his, Kid sees an unrecognizable expression on his face.

“There’s no fucking key, okay?” Black Star says. “There’s no key or magic password or hidden tool that will open these up. You can’t get them off. I’m stuck here.”

Kid blinks.

Black Star curls his lip at Kid’s bewildered expression. “You shouldn’t have come. If Noah finds you, he’ll kill you. Or worse, he’ll lock you up in one of these,” he wriggles a bit, so the shackles binding his wrists jangle together loudly. He shouldn’t have bothered with the demonstration; it just causes his face to twist up in pain. “And then you’ll be stuck here too. Just go.”

Something curdles in Kid’s gut. That’s what’s so unfamiliar here.

Black Star has given up.

“I’m not leaving you here, Black Star,” Kid says sternly, hoping to cover up any other unsavory emotions bubbling up. “I came here to retrieve you and that’s what I intend to do.” Retrieve. That makes it sound so clinical. Rescue. Repent? The semantics don’t matter.

“So you say,” Black Star mutters.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Black Star doesn’t respond. “Black Star?”

Black Star shifts a little, causing his mangled hand to twitch a tiny bit. His whole face crumbles in pain. Kid reaches out a hand—to do what, he’s not sure. To help, to soothe, to make things better.

But Black Star flinches. Kid’s hand stops.

He’s been doing his best to force his thoughts away from what Black Star’s been through while he’s been trapped here. To avoid thinking about the way those people hurt him. The physical injuries are plain to see, but it’s clear his wounds are deeper than that. Kid can’t stand it any longer.

“I’m sorry.”

Black Star opens his eyes. “What?”

He can’t hold it back anymore. The guilt that’s been clawing at his chest for the entire time Black Star has been gone is now threatening to swallow him whole. He looks at Black Star’s broken body miserably. Human bodies are so fragile.

“It should have been me.”

It’s the thing he’s been wanting to say this whole time. Tsubaki knew it. Kid knew it. Black Star surely knew it. Those cuffs were made for him. Black Star is feeling this hopeless because of him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Black Star asks, all the bitterness gone from his voice, replaced by pure confusion.

“Don’t play dumb,” Kid says. Now he sounds like the bitter one. Except his voice is sounding thick, his throat tightening with emotion. “You’re not who they meant to capture.”

“So?”

“So, this is all my fault!”

“Wait, this?” Black Star looks down at himself, indirectly pointing out his injuries. “Or this?” He wriggles his shoulders, jangling the heavy chains attached to his cuffs.

Kid can hardly bear to look at it. “Either. Both. All of it.”

“You’re so stupid,” Black Star says. Somehow, it’s this statement that makes him sound the most like himself. Or, himself before.

But his eye. His hand. The cuts ribboning his arms and torso. He’s never looked more human to Kid. More fragile.

“You can’t beat yourself up about things you literally didn’t do to me, idiot.” Black Star says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If you want to apologize for curb stomping me in the academy courtyard, I’ll accept that.”

That’s so unexpected, Kid finds himself actually snorting. He shouldn’t, he genuinely needs to apologize for that, but somehow he finds his lips curling up instead.

“There,” Black Star says. “Got you smiling. No one should be frowning when looking at the great Black Star.”

It does make Kid feel marginally better. Which is ultimately still frustrating, that the boy dangling in the center of the room in chains is the one doing the comforting. Some rescuer Kid is.

Because, despite everything, Kid still seeks Black Star for comfort. He wants to reach out to him, to feel his warmth and be reminded of those feelings, but refrains. He still remembers that flinch.

He sobers himself. “We’re wasting time. I need to get you out of here.”

It sobers Black Star too. Kid doesn’t even think he realizes it, but every mention of escape has him shrinking into himself.

“Well, like I said. There’s no key,” Black Star says, trying to retain the same cadence to his voice as before, and failing.

Kid steps into Black Star’s space carefully. Black Star’s eyes meet his nervously. “I won’t touch them, I promise.”

He circles Black Star slowly, looking at the cuffs. There’s no keyhole. There doesn’t even appear to be a hinge or a seam. The cuffs circle Black Star’s brutal-looking wrists completely, one continuous iron circle. It must be the magic in them, like Black Star said. Kid could try to wrench them apart, but he doesn’t think he can do that without hurting Black Star, or without causing that horrible shocking. He twists the rings on his fingers idly as he wracks his brain for a solution, and jumps back suddenly when a visible bolt of electricity zips from the cuffs, shaking Black Star.

“Fuck,” Black Star cries out.

Kid panics. “I swear, I didn’t touch—”

“I know you didn’t,” Black Star rasps. He huffs out a few shallow breaths. “That’s not what causes it, usually.”

Kid pauses. “It isn’t?”

“I don’t know what causes the shocks. They just kind of happen at random.”

Kid turns this over in his head. That sort of magic doesn’t sound like Noah’s style. Based on how battered Black Star is, Kid assumed the man was seriously sadistic. Programming the shackles to zap at random doesn’t seem cruel enough. Not from a person who would who kept Black Star strung up here for months, purely to test them.

“Can you think of any of the times went off, specifically?”

Black Star looks like he wants to reply with something snarky, but he sees the expression on Kid’s face and stops himself. Kid might be on to something.

Black Star takes a moment to really think.

“When I was mad, mostly.” Black Star says, discovering a pattern. “When Gopher would say something to piss me off, I’d get zapped.”

“Maybe that means—”

“Well, no. That wasn’t the only time. Sometimes when I was by myself, I’d get shocked too. When I was—"Black Star stops short, like he doesn’t want to say it. There’s something about how he looks right now. A vulnerability that reminds Kid of just how young Black Star is. “When I’d be trying to escape. They’d shock me whenever things started looking up.”

Kid wishes he could feel Black Star’s wavelength right now. It would help him decipher what the pinched-up expression on Black Star’s face could mean. Shame, maybe? It’s been so long since he’s been able to decode Black Star. Has he forgotten how?

Wait, Kid thinks. He freezes so suddenly even Black Star flinches a bit from it.

“Black Star,” he says seriously. “What were you thinking just now, when the cuffs electrocuted you?”

Black Star’s eyebrows raise. Is he nervous? Kid realizes he can’t tell. Black Star is standing right in front of him, alive as can be, but he still can’t sense his wavelength.

“Nothing,” Black Star says, but it comes out so defensively, Kid is positive he’s lying.

Kid doesn’t care what the reasoning was, not really. He’s caught up in the thrill of almost having an answer. “Shift your wrists for me, please? I need to be able to see the inside of the shackles.”

Black Star grumbles something unintelligible. Kid only hears something that sounds like “no damn sense…” But he pulls his wrists apart as best has he can manage, so the insides of his wrists aren’t flush with the metal of the cuffs. Kid looks at them closely, watching little shimmers of colorful light bounce off the smooth inner edge.

“Black Star, it’s a mirror.”

“Huh?”

“The magic from the cuffs. It doesn’t send of off a signal to shock you at random intervals, it’s reflecting your wavelength.” Kid is so pleased with this discovery, he can hardly sit still. “That’s why I can’t feel you with my Soul Perception.”

Black Star looks completely lost.

“Look,” Kid says, trying to keep his voice even. “You know how when a witch uses Soul Protect, it prevents her from projecting her magical wavelength out past her body?” Black Star nods. Thank God some of their studying stuck. “The cuffs work the same way. Every time your soul wavelength spikes, the cuffs reflect it back at you in the form of electricity. It’s a mirror.”

Understanding begins to bloom on Black Star’s face. He looks up at the offending restraints, straining his neck backwards to stare at them.

“So you’re telling me, I’ve been holding myself captive this hold time? I’m hurting me?”

Kid nods emphatically, so pleased with himself for solving the mystery that he doesn’t immediately notice that Black Star isn’t sharing in his excitement.

Black Star lets out a single, hollow laugh.

Kid’s happiness simmers down. “Black Star?”

But Black Star just shakes himself a little. “No, that makes sense.” He clears his throat. “So how does that help me get out? I can’t exactly turn off my soul wavelength.”

Another idea pops into Kid’s mind. “We don’t have to turn it off, per se. We just have to neutralize it.” He steps closer to Black Star, craning his neck to look at the chains. “You know how Professor Stein would fight? How he’d appraise someone’s wavelength and adjust his so it was the opposite of his opponent’s?” He meets Black Star’s eyes. “If we use that method, we could cancel out your wavelength so it doesn’t hurt you. Then all we’d have to do is shatter the cuffs.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Black Star says, but something about his expression isn’t right. Just moments ago, Black Star told Kid the electricity would spike whenever he felt close to an escape, but right now Black Star’s wavelength doesn’t appear to be giving the cuffs any juice.

“What’s wrong?” Kid asks.

Black Star shakes his head sullenly and tries to perk up. “Not important. Let’s just spring me, okay? I’m sick of hanging here.”

Kid wants to press him, but Black Star is right. He shouldn’t force Black Star to hang here in pain longer than necessary. They’ll have time to talk after all this is over.

He takes another half-step towards Black Star, minimizing the space between them. Nervousness possesses him suddenly.

“This would be easier with our weapon partners here,” Kid says quietly. Weapons were conduits for meisters’ souls, after all. Resonating with Black Star without Tsubaki or the Thompsons here might be tricky. Doubt creeps in even more. What if he hurts Black Star? “I’ve never done this technique before. It might not be as easy as Stein makes it look—”

“Kid,” Black Star interrupts. He meets Kid’s eyes. “You’re good. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

Kid tries not to look taken aback but such Black Star’s insistent vote of confidence.

He clears his throat. “Okay. I’m going to need you to activate the cuffs. I need a bit your wavelength to resonate with.”

Black Star nods gravely.

Kid slips out of his jacket, then holds it in front of them and rips off one of the sleeves. He holds it in front of Black Star’s face. “Here, this might help.”

Black Star understands easily, opening his mouth and biting down on the sleeve.

Kid breathes out slowly. Black Star mirrors him, exhaling loudly through his nose.

Kid hovers close to Black Star once more. “Okay,” he says gently. “Whenever you’re ready.”

It takes Black Star a few more beats, closing his eyes. It takes incredibly courage, Kid thinks, to actively hurt yourself like this. He gives Black Star as long as he needs.

At last, Black Star opens his eyes, determination blazing behind them. Then, he activates his Soul Force.

The electricity ripples through him. Kid closes his eyes, blocking out Black Star’s pained sounds as he screams through gritted teeth, and zeroes in on his wavelength.

The symmetry of this project would have pleased him if this could have involved anything else but hurting Black Star intentionally. Changing his soul wavelength to reflect Black Star’s is the ultimate act of symmetry. He changes the shape of his soul like crafting a key to a lock. For every spike, Kid becomes a valley. For every over-powered attack in Black Star’s soul, Kid is a graceful block. For every ounce of boundless confidence, Kid projects subtle humility. For every loud, joyous laugh, Kid is restraint.

Kid opens his eyes and steps back.

Black Star stops shocking himself, spitting out the jacket sleeve and panting heavily.

“Did it—” his voice breaks. He swallows and starts over. “Did it work?”

It would have. Kid could tell. If he had continued picking apart Black Star’s soul and molding his own soul to be equal and opposite, he’d have neutralized Black Star’s wavelength.

But he can’t do it.

“No.”

Black Star’s expression is shattered. “No?”

Kid shakes his head. “I can’t do this.”

Black Star starts to tremble, hard. “What do you mean? I’m gonna be stuck here? I thought it was working!” His eyes blaze with panic. “You’re Death the Kid, you can do anything. You can’t tell me you can’t do it. I can’t—” His breath hitches high.

Kid’s heart is breaking. He reaches forward, damning the cuffs, damning Noah, damning Black Star himself for making Black Star feel this way. His hands cup Black Star’s face, before he can fall deeper into a spiral.

“Black Star, we will get you out of here,” he assures steadily. “But it won’t be me freeing you.”

Black Star falters. “You--?”

“You’re going to do it.”

Kid can’t free Black Star this way. Doing so would mean that the key to freeing Black Star from himself is to be everything he’s not. A wavelength that’s mild-mannered. Agreeable. Quiet. Small.

During his captivity, Black Star had been conditioned to believe that every trait that was fundamentally him would get him hurt. Kid can’t stand to think that that’s the key to his freedom as well.

“Kid, I can’t. I—I’m too—”

“Weak?”

Black Star’s mouth snaps shut. He doesn’t answer.

That’s what Kid was afraid of. Kid damns himself most of all.

“Black Star, you could not be further from weak.”

But he can tell that Black Star doesn’t believe him. After months of being alone, stewing on the most hurtful thing Kid has ever said to him, while unable to free himself from his captivity, it’s no wonder Black Star believes it wholeheartedly.

Kid can’t stand it.

“You wanna know the reason why you’re here right now?” Kid says, almost angrily.

Black Star looks taken aback by Kid’s sudden change in attitude.

“You’re here because you made the choice to jump between me and someone who could have killed me with one touch. With no idea what the outcome would be, you sacrificed yourself. There’s nothing weak about that.”

“You’re spinning it to be better than it was,” Black Star insists.

“No. I’m not,” Kid says. “Because that’s how you always are. Fighting for the sake of others. Protecting people.” He swallows. “Protecting me.”

“Kid—”

“You’ve been stuck here this long because your heart is too big, Black Star. Your soul is too powerful to be contained. They weren’t preying on your weakness when they put these shackles on you.” He squeezes Black Star’s face, putting everything he has into the next statement so Black Star will fucking understand. “They were using your strength against you.”

Black Star opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. The wounded expression he’s been wearing has transformed into bewilderment. Kid hopes that means he’s coming around.

“So, no, I will not be neutralizing your wavelength. The great and powerful Black Star that I know would never let himself be dimmed like that,” he says with conviction.

Black Star finds his voice, quiet though it may be. “I am a big star, after all.”

Kid’s soul warms at the sound of it.

He beams back at Black Star.

“The biggest.”

It’s different this time. They both know it will hurt, but instead of fear, both Kid and Black Star are looking at each other with certainty.

Kid’s places a hand on Black Star’s chest, warm and solid, right over his heart.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Black Star assures once more, though Kid knows it’s only a formality. “You don’t have to feel it, too.”

Kid rolls his eyes. “Now who’s being stupid?”

The edges of Black Star’s mouth curl up, just a little.

Kid breathes in deeply, centering himself. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Black Star nods. It takes less time than before, for Black Star to rev up his soul wavelength. The electric current rushes through both of them now, and it hits Kid again just how awful these past few months must have been for Black Star. Electricity rips up and down Kid’s spine, but he grits his teeth and focuses on his job.

His soul grabs onto Black Star’s wavelength, same as before, but this time Kid doesn’t work on countering it, he focuses on supporting it.

His eyes are closed, but Kid can tell without looking how hard Black Star is concentrating, because he can feel it. Despite their lack of weapon partners, Kid and Black Star’s connection remains steady and strong. He can feel how hard Black Star is pushing his wavelength outwards, harder than he’s tried to the entire time he’s been trapped here.

Kid grits his teeth through the hot stabs of pain and simply believes. Believes in Black Star, who’s never given up on anything in his life. The Black Star who’s all obnoxious laughs and cocky grins. The Black Star who shouts to the whole world that he’s the best, and then strives every moment of every day to prove it.

Every time the electricity lets up, the pain starts to fade, Kid’s soul pushes up against Black Star’s insistently, urgently reminding him that giving up is not his nature, and he won’t let it start now.

“C’mon,” Kid says, through gritted teeth. He leans forward, knocking his forehead into Black Star’s. “You can do this. If anyone can, it’s you.”

The pain gets worse, fire blazing all of Kid’s cells. One of them is shaking, or maybe both of them are, and Black Star lets out a roar—

Come on, Black Star. Kid prays. He’s so close. Come on come on come on—

The shaking gets stronger, and Kid knows now that it’s not coming from him. He cracks open one eye, peering above them, where Black Star’s wrists are straining and straining—

Kid shoots all the encouragement he can through his wavelength, hoping it reaches him, hoping he knows—

“YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!”

Quick as a heart attack, the shackles snap, the heavy metal separating and crashing to the ground.

Black Star and Kid come crashing down too. Kid can hardly think through the pain, but instinctually his arms wrap around Black Star and twists, so Kid absorbs most of the impact as they land on the checkered tile in a heap.

Neither of them can speak right away. Black Star lays on Kid’s chest, breathing heavily. They’re both probably fried to hell, but Kid can’t even focus on that. His whole body feels lighter than air. He’s never been so happy to hear one of Black Star’s obnoxious “yahoo”s before.

He sits up after a while, knowing full well that Black Star is in no condition to be supporting himself right now. Thankfully, Kid is always here to help with that.

He props himself up on his elbows, looking down at the length of his body, where Black Star is still covering most of him. Through all the blood and bruises—and looking more than a little fried around the edges—Black Star is smiling brilliantly.

And his wavelength. Kid can finally sense it again. He didn’t know he could miss the feeling of someone’s soul as much as this. He never wants to part from it again.

When Black Star starts to laugh, Kid can’t help but laugh with him.

“We did it,” Black Star says giddily.

Kid shakes his head. “You did it. I knew you could.”

Black Star shuffles a bit, struggling to pull himself up into a sitting position. He tries to move his arms and just ends up wincing. Kid helps, sitting up the rest of the way and pulling Black Star up with him.

Black Star leans on Kid heavily. Kid bares the weight of him easily; he’ll never do anything to push him away again.

“Kid?” Black Star asks.

Kid turns to look at him. “Hm?”

And Black Star kisses him.

It’s short and sweet, over before Kid can even respond, but when Black Star pulls away, Kid’s mouth remembers the warmth of it.

“Thank you,” he says simply.

Kid blinks owlishly. He can feel it. He wants to revel in it, he really does, but he needs to know. “Was that—is that just a thank you kiss?” He feels stupid to even ask, but he can’t misinterpret this again. “Or was it…?”

It’s not encouraging that Black Star has to think about it for a moment.

“That can be a thank you kiss, sure,” Black Star says thoughtfully.

Kid tries not to deflate. He’s so busy schooling his expression he isn’t prepared for when Black Star ducks in and brushes his lips to Kid’s again. He leans back to look Kid in the eyes. “And that was an ‘I’m sorry’ kiss.”

When he leans in a third time, Kid is ready for it. He captures Black Star’s mouth with his, making sure he kisses back with equal fervor.

Black Star pulls back, looking dazed and happy.

“And that one is just because I wanted to,” Black Star says contently.

Kid’s heart is a bird, soaring through blue skies.

Part of him never wants to leave this moment. Sitting in this magic prison, his pantleg soaked through from the puddle of blood they’re sitting in, with Black Star warm in his arms, kissing him just because he wants to. They’ll leave soon, and find help, and finally get out of this stupid Book once and for all. But for a moment Kid wants just this.

He twists the ring on his right index finger, then the one on his left. Black Star watches the action, his soul overflowing with affection.

“What?” Kid asks.

“I love it, when you do that,” he says like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You always make sure to twist both.”

It makes Kid flush, to think about someone would be paying attention to the little things he does like that. Though, he did just spend the last couple minutes beaming into Black Star’s soul all the little things he loves about him. Maybe love goes both ways like that.

Symmetrical, Kid thinks.

He doesn’t say it though. He doesn’t need to.

#chibiverb 2024 #reverb 2024 #death the kid #black star #deathstar #kidstar #soul eater #soul eater manga #my writing #se fic

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