Yep, I thought, 'Since I'm suddenly a miracle Soul Eater character artist person, I may as well take a shot at a story!" So, uhh, here it is I guess~
I'm thinking of also making a SE comic later, once I've mastered the art of writing stories and writing in the POVs of different characters, so look forward to that from me on DeviantART~ (my DA is the same name as my FF username~)
So, here's my first Soul Eater story~
As I walked through the hallway of the DWMA, my blank-paged notebook and pencil case tucked in a bag at my side, I took notice of the symmetry of this particular hallway. I only just checked this very hallway the day before for symmetric flaws, and so far there's been no problems, except for the occasional rubber mark on the floor, caused by the kids who often run recklessly in the hallways.
No one else seemed to understand my need for complete and utter symmetry! I mean, what kind of world would it be without order and perfect, flawless symmetry? I didn't understand why some people, namely Soul and Black Star, who took no care to style their hair symmetrically. Of course, I won't stop being someone's friend if they're suddenly unsymmetrical one day. That would be absurd and it would break both of our hearts.
It's true that I favour the symmetrical and orderly people like Maka to be friends of mine, but that doesn't mean I won't befriend an unsymmetrical man or woman. Take Crona, for example. That disaster of a hairstyle he has drives me crazy, I say! If I had all the power in this world, I'd either have him shaved bald, or give him an officially symmetrical cut, but I can't do that. I respect his hairstyle, no matter what it is, the same way I respect Soul and Black Star's hair, symmetrical or not.
I bent down in front of a small mark on the ground, pulling a small handkerchief out from my pocket. I rubbed the soft cloth against the ground over the mark, and soon, it came right out, leaving some greyish-black stains on the kerchief. I cringed at the asymmetry of the cloth that I now had to carry, asymmetrical to the one in my other pocket, but folded it neatly nonetheless, tucking it back into my pocket. I'll have to remember to switch the dirty handkerchief with a clean one when I returned home.
I stood back up with a small grunt, continuing on down the hallway, examining each square tile on the floor for marks. I somehow figured that Black Star would be one of the people to make such marks, or perhaps Stein's chair would make some markings as well. Some of the marks I even saw them make, Stein with his wheel chair and Black Star with his running in the hallways. I noticed recently, though, that there were fewer marks on the ground. Judging by the slight changes in behavior between Black Star and Tsubaki recently, I guessed her motherly care for him was finally catching up and he was running less in the halls.
Although, there were still marks here and there.
By the time I reached the end of the hallway, I was already considering going home soon as I checked both identical watches, hidden just under my sleeves on both wrists. I shrugged. It wasn't yet 8:00PM, but I quickly did the math in my head and came to the conclusion that if I left the DWMA right now, I could arrive home a few minutes before 8, and if I walked fast, I could make a stop at the store to buy something for Liz. She said she wanted this little pin at the store, and I had to see it before she could buy it, so I might as well go see it now. She'd drawn a sketch of the pin in my book, but I had to be absolutely sure the pin was symmetrical so she could get it!
I walked a little quicker than normal, and as I walked down the staircase on the way to the front doors of the academy, I remembered I had another stop to make, and nearly cursed, but of course a gentleman like myself would never curse out loud, alone or not.
I had a visit to make to Crona's room. Maka was checking up on him often recently, and this evening she was sent off to a mission in Italy. I bet it was Soul who convinced her to take him to Italy for another mission, probably for the pasta. As surprising as it was, Maka asked me of all people to go in her place to check up on him. Since she found out he was secretly cutting himself and that Ragnarok was LETTING him for once, Maka immediately dedicated herself to checking up on him in the morning and evening, just to make sure the habit was dropped.
How did I know this, if Maka was the one to find out? Easy answer, really. Ragnarok hates Maka. Ragnarok will tell anybody about Maka doing something embarrassing, as in walking in on Crona cutting himself.
… I still had no idea why he considered that embarrassing, or even why Maka would be embarrassed (because she was.), and if Ragnarok was a girl I'd have an excuse to blame a girl's mind, but Ragnarok's clearly male, so that's out of the question.
Anyways, that aside, I started to walk further down the staircase instead of stopping by the hallway leading directly to the front doors of Death Weapon Meister Academy. I unzipped my bag and reached inside, grabbing the notebook and pulling it out carefully, reclosing the bag. My hand opened to the first page, and I began to examine and look at the random little doodles and notes in the book.
This kind of asymmetry was okay, I'd decided long ago. It was impossible to duplicate every single little nick of a pencil on a page symmetrically on the other side, so I had to control myself not to take a month to make each page absolutely symmetrical. My feet carried me further down the stairs as the lights faded and were replaced by candlelight, as my eyes scanned from a doodle of a flower (Patty), a random mess of scribbles that resembled a signature (Black Star), and a strange little grinning face with a mouthful of spiky teeth (Soul). I ignored the outdated notes about Death City's history and founders that helped me to an extent to study for the test.
I glanced in front of myself every once in a while to make a turn or so that I wouldn't trip down the stairs, my eyes always returning to the pages of the book. I'd flipped right through about 3 and a half pages of nothing but study notes, eyes falling onto the one little drawing that Crona had drawn in my entire book.
It was a small black dragon, drawn in surprising detail. I could see a few scales drawn on the skin for extra detail, and the small horns atop the dragon's head had small nicks in them; signs of battle, I figured. I looked around the small lizard to see poorly drawn replicas of it, as Black Star had started a contest between him and a few others to replicate the stunning little sketch. Of course, none of them were even close to replicating the careful lines keeping the drawing together, but Black Star claimed he won, although his 'dragon' looked more like a turtle or something than a dragon, while the other sketches at least followed the same basic design.
I looked up again, glancing to the very bottom of the staircase where the floor was seen. I finally made it to the basement, and in good timing; I was running out of pages in my book. I glanced around the other pages as I walked down the hallways to Crona's room.
My eyes got tired of examining the book, which was nearing the last few written-on pages anyways, and I carefully put the notebook back into my bag and began to re-examine the black dragon from memory in my head. I remember wanting to give the drawing a try and duplicating, but it would end up symmetrical and covered with number 8s; also nothing like the original. I focused on the hallway as I came to a fork, take a left turn to go to Crona's room. I felt his 'room' was more prison-like. Father could have at least given him the option of decorating the room, and maybe adding more personal touches. I also remember Crona commenting on the stench of the room when he first set foot inside it. He never asked for anything to change the smell, though. So selfless, that child…
I came to the door and looked at it for a few moments, as if it would open on its' own without my hand. I gently raised my hand and knocked 8 times, each knock placed an exact half-second away from each other. The voice that replied surprised me, though.
"You can come in, Crona's half-dead!" Ragnarok's screeching voice almost yelled from the other side of the door. I knew what he said wasn't entirely true, though. When Ragnarok said someone was 'half-dead', he really meant 'They're sleeping'. I knew this from experience, as did Maka, Soul, Liz, Patty, and the rest of the gang. Only Black Star didn't catch on yet, as he was usually too dense to process the little joke. I wrapped my fingers around the handle and slowly opened the door, glancing inside.
Ragnarok was right, Crona was asleep right now, Ragnarok popped out from his chest instead of his back, but instead of sleeping on the bed provided, he was curled up in the corner of the room behind the door that I'd opened to get inside. What surprised me the most about this though, was that Ragnarok actually let me in instead of barking me away. Maybe he had a trick to pull on me? It seems like the type of thing Ragnarok would do, let someone in then trick them…
"When did he fall asleep?" I asked. "He didn't seem tired at all earlier today."
"He tired himself out trying to write poetry," Ragnarok grumbled. "I don't get why he even bothers writing poems! I mean, writing poems is a Maka idea, and Maka ideas are always terrible!" I sweatdropped.
"Maka killed the Kishin by punching him in the face," I pointed out. "Was that a bad idea if it killed him?"
"Yes!" Ragnarok shouted, making Crona twitch and moan as he shifted gently in his sleep, Ragnarok sighing heavily.
"Don't yell," I shushed him, but he just grunted in reply. "If Crona wakes up, it'll be your fault."
"Who cares? Anything that bothers Crona should be my fault!" Ragnarok said proudly. How could he be proud? It still didn't make any sense to me.
"Anything or anyone who bothers or bullies Crona deserves a punishment," I said, getting a little irritated with his desire to torture Crona.
I walked over to Crona's limp body, Ragnarok trying to push me away with his tiny, squishy ball hands, before giving up, giving my hair one harsh tug before melting back into Crona's chest lazily, probably to sleep as well. I cringed at the pain of the tug, but decided to ignore the pain, as trying to sooth it would make my position asymmetrical.
I took one of Crona's wrists and slid the sleeve up so I could see his wrists properly. This was what Maka did to check if he was still cutting. Most of the time, Crona would squirm away first, then he would be egged on by Ragnarok to stop being a baby and just let Maka check. She'd check one wrist, then the other. Sometimes, she'd even ask him to remove his whole robe to check the rest of his body. She'd only do that if he seemed in pain earlier that day, or the day before. Black Star, Blair and Soul all started to think they were in a relationship. I doubted it, though. Maka tells me it takes him a long time just to build up half of the courage he needs to take off his robe in front of her, even when she's looking away.
I saw a few old scabs and black lines across his wrist indicating he'd been cutting a few weeks ago, but I didn't see any brand new scabs. I was surprised to see that Ragnarok didn't heal the cuts all right away, considering he's against Crona going emo. Ragnarok's well aware that when Crona dies, he'll die too, so he often protects Crona for that purpose alone.
I rolled his sleeve back down, tensing slightly when Crona moaned again and twitched, but he didn't wake up. I carefully set his hand back down and grabbed his other one just as carefully, repeating my check. Again I saw some black lines and dried-up black blood, but nothing that was new. I put his hand down again. I decided that I'd put him in his bed instead of him sleeping on the cold floor. He'd probably get sick and Maka would blame me, and I'd get a Maka chop…
I snaked my arms under his thin body, one of my arms behind his back and the other arm hooked under his legs, and slowly lifted him, turning and taking him over to the bed. I tensed before I placed him down, seeing him twitch again. I let out a tiny sigh of relief when he still remained asleep, and placed him down on the bed. I began to walk away when Ragnarok popped out from Crona's chest again. I couldn't tell what his expression was, but it looked like he was smirking.
"Is there something you need, Ragnarok?" I asked confidently.
"Aren't you gonna check the rest of his body?" I could hear the mischievous smile in his voice. I stared at him.
"I don't have to, do I?" I said. Ragnarok shrugged.
"Ya have to." He said. "Plus, when he's asleep like this, there's no way he'll be nervous because he's unconscious!" Ragnarok laughed, then shut up when Crona moaned and shifted to sleeping on his side, causing Ragnarok to melt back into his body then re-emerge from the side of his torso so he could be upright again.
"… Fine, I'll check." I sighed in defeat. What if Maka was disappointed that I didn't check his body as well? I'd get another Maka chop for that… and I'd rather have either no chops, or 8 chops.
I started walking towards Crona again, Ragnarok giving a short thumbs-up to me and then re-melting into his fragile-looking body. As my hand twitched towards the buttons on the collar of Crona's robe, my eyes completely missed how Crona's eyes opened for a moment before he squeaked and closed them again, making it look like he was still asleep.
So, there it is; chapter 1! I'm pleased with the detail I was able to add; most of the time, a chapter like this would be written within only 300 words when I write it, but I managed to add enough details to make it a full 2 600 words long! *cheers*
Anyways, I'd appreciate it if you review, that is, if you want to hear more of where this story goes. It's funny how people always follow the author, favourite the stories, follow the stories…
… but they never review! *pouts* it's reviews that make a writer better, ya know!
So, please review and tell me what you liked, hated, or want me to add in the future chapters of this story~