Soul Eater: Hazing
Oct. 22nd, 2022 05:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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prose_alchemistTitle: Hazing
Author: Jordanna Morgan
Archive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: Mild PG.
Characters: Maka, Soul, Black Star, unnamed OCs.
Setting: General.
Summary: Sometimes, Maka’s partner and his best friend could be jerks.
Disclaimer: They belong to Atsushi Okubo. I’m just playing with them.
Notes: Written for the prompt of “Wrong Number” atfan_flashworks.
Sometimes, Maka’s partner and his best friend could just be straight-up jerks.
“So what happens if you write the wrong number on the glass when you’re trying to contact Lord Death?”
Maka peeked around the doorway of the cafeteria. She recognized the voice of a new student recently introduced at the DWMA: the meister of a tanto blade, apparently very talented, but also very young and wide-eyed and painfully new to the whole wielding a human weapon for the Grim Reaper thing. He was seated at a table with his female partner, but the lunch trays in front of them were still mostly untouched.
And across from them sat Soul and Black Star, smirking at each other like the smug idiots they too often were.
“Weeell…” Soul drew out the word with an absurd amount of relish, hunching his shoulders in a perfectly calculated squirm of reluctance. “I’d like to tell you the answer to that, but we don’t exactly know. The truth is…” His voice became filled with a gleefully ominous tone. “No one’s ever found a trace of the few meisters that accidentally got the number wrong.”
“Except for the blood, you mean,” Black Star chimed in, his grave expression belied by the devilish gleam in his eyes.
“That’s true.” Soul leaned back in his chair, casually regarding the two freshmen whose eyes were now visibly bulging in horror. “So yeah. Best we can figure it, if you make a mistake in trying to call Lord Death, you’ll end up opening a portal straight to Hell—and we can only guess at what happens after that. But it obviously isn’t pretty.”
“Are you serious?” the young meister gasped, while his rapidly paling partner clapped a hand over her mouth and shoved away her lunch tray.
Maka had heard enough. Indulging herself in the act of physically slapping a hand to her forehead, she let out a huff and barged angrily into the room.
“Soul! Black Star! You should be ashamed of yourselves. You know nothing actually happens if you try using the wrong number to reach Lord Death. Stop getting your giggles by lying to the new students!”
“Aww, Maaa-ka…” Soul whined, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. Meanwhile, the two freshmen looked back and forth between the weapon and his meister with sudden uneasy uncertainty—while Black Star remained the very picture of grinning unrepentance.
“No,” Maka ground out. “You leave these two alone right now! …I’m so sorry,” she apologized as her gaze shifted to the freshmen. “Don’t listen to a word these two idiots have to say. They’re just trying to scare you.”
“Uh… thanks?” the young meister murmured as he hastily fumbled upward from his chair, prompting his partner to follow his lead. “We were just leaving for our next class anyway…”
There was no more to be seen of them then but their retreating backs as they hurried out of the cafeteria.
Soul cackled. “Looks like you scared ’em more than we did…”
Heaving a sigh, Maka put her hands on her hips and glared at the two boys still lounging at the table. “Well? What have you got to say for yourselves?”
“Come on, we were just joking with them!” Black Star protested.
“Besides, you can think of it this way,” Soul suggested. “As long as they’re not completely sure we weren’t telling the truth, they’re gonna make real sure they remember the right number to call Lord Death. And that could make a big difference for them in an emergency, right? So when you look at it like that, we were actually helping them learn something.”
Maka stewed over that reasoning for a long moment. Her hands slowly dropped from her hips, her posture relaxing… but her eyes remained narrowed in a seething glower.
“…You’re still a couple of jerks.”
© 2022 Jordanna Morgan
Author: Jordanna Morgan
Archive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: Mild PG.
Characters: Maka, Soul, Black Star, unnamed OCs.
Setting: General.
Summary: Sometimes, Maka’s partner and his best friend could be jerks.
Disclaimer: They belong to Atsushi Okubo. I’m just playing with them.
Notes: Written for the prompt of “Wrong Number” at
fan_flashworks.Sometimes, Maka’s partner and his best friend could just be straight-up jerks.
“So what happens if you write the wrong number on the glass when you’re trying to contact Lord Death?”
Maka peeked around the doorway of the cafeteria. She recognized the voice of a new student recently introduced at the DWMA: the meister of a tanto blade, apparently very talented, but also very young and wide-eyed and painfully new to the whole wielding a human weapon for the Grim Reaper thing. He was seated at a table with his female partner, but the lunch trays in front of them were still mostly untouched.
And across from them sat Soul and Black Star, smirking at each other like the smug idiots they too often were.
“Weeell…” Soul drew out the word with an absurd amount of relish, hunching his shoulders in a perfectly calculated squirm of reluctance. “I’d like to tell you the answer to that, but we don’t exactly know. The truth is…” His voice became filled with a gleefully ominous tone. “No one’s ever found a trace of the few meisters that accidentally got the number wrong.”
“Except for the blood, you mean,” Black Star chimed in, his grave expression belied by the devilish gleam in his eyes.
“That’s true.” Soul leaned back in his chair, casually regarding the two freshmen whose eyes were now visibly bulging in horror. “So yeah. Best we can figure it, if you make a mistake in trying to call Lord Death, you’ll end up opening a portal straight to Hell—and we can only guess at what happens after that. But it obviously isn’t pretty.”
“Are you serious?” the young meister gasped, while his rapidly paling partner clapped a hand over her mouth and shoved away her lunch tray.
Maka had heard enough. Indulging herself in the act of physically slapping a hand to her forehead, she let out a huff and barged angrily into the room.
“Soul! Black Star! You should be ashamed of yourselves. You know nothing actually happens if you try using the wrong number to reach Lord Death. Stop getting your giggles by lying to the new students!”
“Aww, Maaa-ka…” Soul whined, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. Meanwhile, the two freshmen looked back and forth between the weapon and his meister with sudden uneasy uncertainty—while Black Star remained the very picture of grinning unrepentance.
“No,” Maka ground out. “You leave these two alone right now! …I’m so sorry,” she apologized as her gaze shifted to the freshmen. “Don’t listen to a word these two idiots have to say. They’re just trying to scare you.”
“Uh… thanks?” the young meister murmured as he hastily fumbled upward from his chair, prompting his partner to follow his lead. “We were just leaving for our next class anyway…”
There was no more to be seen of them then but their retreating backs as they hurried out of the cafeteria.
Soul cackled. “Looks like you scared ’em more than we did…”
Heaving a sigh, Maka put her hands on her hips and glared at the two boys still lounging at the table. “Well? What have you got to say for yourselves?”
“Come on, we were just joking with them!” Black Star protested.
“Besides, you can think of it this way,” Soul suggested. “As long as they’re not completely sure we weren’t telling the truth, they’re gonna make real sure they remember the right number to call Lord Death. And that could make a big difference for them in an emergency, right? So when you look at it like that, we were actually helping them learn something.”
Maka stewed over that reasoning for a long moment. Her hands slowly dropped from her hips, her posture relaxing… but her eyes remained narrowed in a seething glower.
“…You’re still a couple of jerks.”
© 2022 Jordanna Morgan