Author's Note: Hey, guys! I just wanted to thank you all for supporting this story. The fact that there are actual people out there in the world who appreciate my work is...way too awesome for me to even comprehend. There's no denying it; you guys are awesome. Thank you for stopping by, and don't be afraid to leave a review and give this story a favorite! Don't forget to check out my other stories, too!

Review Responses:

felcatty: No worries, friend. Procrastination is my middle name, so you have no reason to apologize. As for Kid and the twins, I have to agree with you on that one. I try my best not to give everything away when it comes to my characters. It may be indirect, and in some ways incomplete, but it is intentional. I've been encouraged by my Beta readers not to tip my hand too far when it comes to introducing my characters. Kid being especially important to me, what with her being the daughter of my favorite character from the original series, I didn't want to go too far. The whole point of the introductory chapters was to give you a taste of what's to come. If you can't picture Kid or the twins or anyone else just yet, don't worry. You'll be able to picture them in the future, I promise. I'm glad you liked the fight, and yes, it did drag on. But, what can I do? I love long action sequences. It didn't help that I wanted to use the Zodiac Killer as completely as possible. When it comes to the Omake, it makes my day that it made your day. It was admittedly a last-minute addition, but it was intended to tie the introductory chapters together and add some levity. And yes, the family matters did darken the mood a bit, but I did that on purpose. Good to see that it worked. Oh, and Shinigami-sama is the only one who calls Kid by her real name, which is Angel. Everyone else just calls her Kid, with a few exceptions. I can't say more, for the sake of spoilers. Thanks again for the constructive criticism and the encouragement. I hope you enjoy this next chapter! (Oh, special shoutout to you for putting me on the 'Fanfiction Stories I Recommend' section of your profile. Thank you so much; it's an honor I hardly deserve.)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Soul Eater.

Chapter 4:

Slow Morning

It was a peaceful mid-October morning in Death City, and Specter Evans was still fast asleep, his body only partially covered by his mangled bed sheets. Despite being in a very uncomfortable-looking position, he was blissfully unconscious, as was evidenced by the steady stream of drool that was spilling out of his mouth and onto his pillowcase.

The morning sun did its best to try and wake him up, but Specter's room was a fortress impenetrable, the heavy curtains hanging in the windows enough to keep the light of day at bay. Only when the alarm on his phone began to ring did Specter stir, pressing his face farther into his pillow in an attempt to hide from the noise.

"Shit," he mumbled groggily.

After several seconds of incessant nagging, the alarm's harsh beeping finally drove him to turn over and face it, his eyelids still clamped shut. Stretching out an arm, he tried desperately to silence his phone with a few blind swipes of his finger, unwilling to put in more effort than was necessary.

After several misses, he quickly grabbed his phone and pulled it toward him, bearing the noise just long enough to unlock it and shut off the alarm. Rolling over, he let the phone fall out of his hand and onto the carpet below with a dull thump. He tried to shut his eyes tighter, hoping that it would be enough to keep him from actually waking up, but it was no use.

He was up.

Tossing his covers aside, Specter sat up on the edge of his bed, yawning a miserable, tired yawn. He knew full well that he couldn't fall back asleep now. After all, if the alarm said it was time to get up, he had to get up. Not getting up would defeat the purpose of setting the alarm.

He took a moment to rub the sleep out of his eyes before getting to his feet, picking his phone up off the floor and placing it on his nightstand as he lumbered over to his dresser. Breathing a sigh, he crouched down, opened up the lowest drawer and rifled through its contents before finally settling on a pale blue short-sleeved shirt. Slinging it over his shoulder, he exited the room and made an immediate right, moving past his sister's room and into the bathroom at the end of the hall.

He made sure to lock the door behind him before he tossed his shirt onto the counter and began to undress, last night's jeans and boxers falling to the floor. Walking into the shower, he turned it on and stepped right back out again, knowing full well that the water would be like ice. He silently prayed that the water would heat up faster than it usually did, but of course, it took forever, leaving Specter alone to examine himself in the bathroom mirror.

Moving until he was almost touching the counter, he eyed his reflection warily, rotating his head so he could see his face from different angles. His fingers followed his jawline up and down, his eyes inspecting every detail of his face for no reason in particular.

He looked to his bright white hair, which was currently standing up in all sorts of weird places, and ran his fingers through it, wincing as some of the strands caught and were pulled taut. Then he looked to his mouth, pulling his lips back with his index fingers and checking his unusually sharp teeth. When he found that they were just as off-white as they usually were, Specter took a few steps back and gave his entire body a once-over.

Finding that everything was in order, he walked back into the shower.

Not that he thought he was going to find anything out of order. It was just a force of habit.

After testing the water and finding that it was finally to his liking, he stepped inside and let the heat consume him. Specter emerged from the shower less than ten minutes later, a thick cloud of steam preceding his exit. He grabbed a fresh towel from the cabinet under the sink and used it to pat himself dry before tossing it haphazardly over the shower door behind him.

As he put his jeans on, Specter noticed that the mirror was misted over thanks to the steam, his wiry sixteen-year-old form barely recognizable in the haze. Realizing that trying to make himself look presentable when the mirror was fogged was a pointless endeavor, he opened the window next to the medicine cabinet and left the bathroom to air out.

The mid-morning chill rushed to greet Specter as he stepped out into the hall, its touch enough to make the water still clinging to his exposed upper body and feet turn to ice. He shivered slightly before shrugging it off, heading out past the sitting room and into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Reaching down into the cabinet between the fridge and the stove, he fumbled around until his hand found the handle of the frying pan he was looking for. Carefully navigating it out past the other cookware, he set it out on the stove before moving to the fridge. It didn't take him long to find what he needed: a few eggs, a couple of slices of Swiss cheese, some leftover ham, a stick of butter, and a package of fresh spinach.

Piling his ingredients next to the stove, he went to work. By the time his sister wandered her way into the kitchen, Specter was already filling their apartment with the smell of omelet, too focused on his masterpiece to notice her presence.

That was why he didn't immediately register what was happening when his very own pale blue short-sleeved shirt draped itself over his head, effectively blinding him.

"Hey, doofus," Nina said flatly, "You left your shirt in the bathroom."

"Thanks," Specter replied, his voice muffled by the fabric of the shirt. "Could you kindly get it off my head so I can continue making your breakfast?"

Specter's sight returned to him in an instant as his sister forcefully yanked the shirt from his head. A wave of static electricity scrambled across his scalp, causing his still-damp hair to stand on end.

He turned to give his sister a meaningful glare, only to find that she had already moved to the sitting room, his shirt lying in a crumpled heap atop the diner-style counter top island that served as their dinner table. Letting out a heavy sigh, he did his best to pat his hair down before putting the finishing touches on his sister's omelet.

"Hey, you get any sleep last night?" he asked over his shoulder.

"What's sleep?" Nina shouted halfheartedly from the couch.

Her question was enough of an answer. Specter rolled his eyes as he reached for a plate to put the first omelet on. The way things were going, it was shaping up to be a long Thursday.

"Soul resonance may seem easy to define on the surface, and in some ways it is. However, back in the late sixteen-hundreds, theories on soul resonance were all but revolutionary. Heretical, even. As we saw yesterday, Bunyan looked to the philosophical and theological aspects of soul resonance, tying it to God and the journey that one must undertake to bond with Him or anyone else. Galileo, on the other hand, analyzed soul resonance from a more scientific angle, eventually creating the now globally-recognized soular principle known as the Orbital Unity Principle. Based on his work in astronomy, this principle gave rise to the idea that..."

Specter was having a really hard time paying attention. Soul Studies wasn't exactly his favorite subject, and the class was going by at a painfully slow pace, just as Homeroom had before it. No one seemed particularly interested in Professor Ford's lecture; some pretended to pay attention, and a select few actually did pay attention, but a vast majority of Class Half Moon couldn't care less about fifteenth-century soul theory.

Nina was undoubtedly the prime example of this fact, considering she was snoring peacefully in her sleep with her face buried in the crook of her arm. Specter couldn't really blame her, either. To say he wasn't a fan of Soul Studies would be the understatement of the century.

The spiral-bound notebook he had dedicated to the class was practically empty. Nina's was empty. It wasn't that hard to figure out. It didn't help that that morning's dose of Soul Studies was especially dull. Everyone in Class Half Moon was feeling the burn of boredom, even the studious types.

Professor Ford didn't seem to be concerned by his class' clear lack of enthusiasm, however. He continued on with his merciless tirade of knowledge, pausing only every so often to make sure at least one person in the class was paying attention before turning back to the blackboard. It was enough to drive someone up the wall.

If Kid had been there, Specter mused, she probably would have jumped out the nearest window by now. She had last time.

Having given up trying to write notes as fast as Professor Ford could speak nearly a week into his first year at the DWMA, Specter once again settled into his familiar strategy of simply listening to the lecture, tuning out now and again to take mental images of what was on the board.

It was a strategy that worked well for this class, which was essentially a combination of every subject he thought was boring in middle and elementary school. He could pay just enough attention to not go insane while still getting enough of the important stuff to do decently on pop quizzes and exams. This didn't mean it was a perfect strategy, however. It had one major weakness in that Specter's mind had a tendency to wander.

Oftentimes, Specter found himself staring at any given object in a room instead of paying attention, unable to look away or refocus. Whether it was a symptom of the early morning blues or some kind of mental misfire, it was an obstacle that was seldom overcome quickly. It didn't help that whenever he zoned out like this, he usually missed out on something important. It was a good thing Specter had a friend in this class who actually paid attention. He would be screwed otherwise.

That's when Specter realized that he had been staring at the lip of the trash can next to Professor Ford's desk instead of paying attention for several minutes.

Again.

Dammit.

It was at times like these when Specter began to question the idea behind putting the hardest, most multi-disciplinary class at the beginning of the day. He shook his head vigorously, then took a moment to widen his eyes manually with his fingers and thumbs in order to regain his focus. It didn't help much.

He let out a sigh. Perhaps Nina had the right idea, sleeping through this snore-fest of a class. He looked to his textbook, which was sitting unopened on his desk space. Its silky Death City-branded book cover tempted him with its softness, all but asking him to take a nap of his own.

He was just about to put his head down when the bell rang.

Professor Ford immediately stopped writing whatever he was writing on the board and whirled to face his students. "Alright, class, that's all we have time for. I expect you to read pages thirty-four to forty by tomorrow. And don't forget the study questions! Dismissed." With that, he turned right around and went back to scribbling on the chalkboard.

Specter sighed. Study questions. The bane of his existence. He didn't look forward to doing those. While everyone else rushed out of their seats and down the amphitheater steps in order to get out of Class Half Moon, Specter took his time. He slid his textbook off his desk and into the waiting mouth of his faded red vinyl backpack, pushing his notebook in after it.

After that came the hardest task of all: waking his sister. While he was tempted to simply smack her upside the head, he figured it would be more acceptable to simply shake her awake. He was just about to start when he noticed that his friend, the one who actually paid attention in this class and thus helped him survive it, was waiting patiently for him at the bottom of the closest set of steps.

Maximilian Ford, son of Professor Ford himself. He and Max had been friends since they were children, which surprised a majority of the DWMA staff, especially their respective parents. Yet, as time passed, everyone seemed to let it slide. Max had jet black hair like his father, and even boasted two elongated hair spikes on either sides of his head, the genetic remnants of his father's so-called Pillars.

Unlike his father, Max let his hair grow out, and while it was spiky, the pomade he used made sure his mane was far from untamed. He wore normal rounded rectangle glasses, a white shirt with a black tie, black dress pants with a black belt, and long-toed black shoes.

Max's weapon partner was nowhere to be seen. He had likely wandered off somewhere to brood, as he often did when the bell for break rang. This left Max in Class Half Moon with his father, Specter, and Nina. Specter gestured toward his still-snoozing sister, and Max responded by simply smiling and shaking his head.

"I take it she didn't get a lot of sleep last night?" he asked, careful to be quiet for Nina's sake.

"More like none," Specter replied. When Max shot him a confused look, he added, "Anime marathon."

"Ah," Max said, nodding in understanding. "Something over the top and violent, I assume?"

"You assume correctly. I'm pretty sure I heard bones snapping through the wall as I crawled into bed last night."

"Nice," Max grinned. "Any particular reason she thought that choosing entertainment over sleep was a good idea?"

"Nina's in-crowd girlfriends have been shoving lovey-dovey boy toy animes down her throat lately."

"Yikes," Max said, visibly shuddering. "That would take a toll on anyone. If I had to sit through that crap, I'd probably dedicate a night to washing my brain with bleach, too. Do you know what she was watching?"

Specter shrugged. "No clue. I'd ask her, but she's out like a light."

Right on cue, Nina let out a long yawn before nestling her forehead down into her elbow once again. Specter just rolled his eyes. Max stifled a chuckle before giving Specter a look that said 'you know what to do'. Specter opened his mouth to object, but quickly stopped himself, letting out a defeated sigh instead. He was going to get yelled at for this, but he knew that it was the only way he could wake Nina up, especially after an all-night anime marathon.

After checking to make sure Professor Ford wasn't looking his way, Specter quickly brought his leg up and pushed Nina out of her seat with his foot.

She hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, and after hissing in pain, quickly got to her feet and asked, "What the hell is your problem!?"

"We gotta go to break, and you were asleep," Specter said flatly.

"Asshole," she growled. "You know I didn't get any sleep last night."

Specter simply put his hands in the air. "Not my problem. You need to take more naps. That, or get new friends with better taste in shows. Take your pick."

Nina snorted at her brother and rubbed the spot on her side where he had kicked her, but didn't do anything else. Specter eyed her warily, but didn't waver. To most, it would seem that the battle between the two siblings had just begun, but anyone who knew anything about Specter and Nina knew that this behavior was indicative of what was effectively a draw. Max, for instance, knew instantly that their bout had come to an end.

"Well, glad to see that worked itself out," he said from the bottom of the steps. "Where should we go for break? It's a beautiful day out."

Specter grinned. "I know a cool spot."

"Do we really have to go out in the sun? I just woke up," Nina groaned.

"I'm sure your eyes will adjust," Specter scoffed. "Let's just go. Break doesn't last forever."

A hearty mid-October breeze washed over the trio as they made themselves comfortable astride or beside a banister on one of DWMA's high balconies, one with a beautiful view of Death City. Specter sat directly on the banister, facing the sprawling desert metropolis. Max stood next to him, arms braced on the banister. Nina, meanwhile, lay down behind the banister, trying her best to hide from the sun as he laughed his way overhead.

After several minutes spent enjoying the view, Specter said, "I hate study questions."

"I know you do," Max said with a chuckle. "They're tedious and boring, which, to you, is unacceptable."

Specter shook his head. "I don't know how you can stand those things, man, 'cause I sure as hell can't. They're just so..."

"Pointless?" Max finished.

"Yeah. That."

"I like to think of them as practice."

"I like to think of them as pointless...because they are."

Max sighed. "You know, you can't keep dodging study questions forever. I heard dad say that he's going to start taking them for a grade if exam scores don't improve soon."

"If he does take them for a grade, I'll cry."

"Because you never do them?"

"Because I do well on exams without them. I've always said it, man. I work smart, not hard. Skipping study questions is just par for the course."

"That's because you're okay with a B."

"Damn right, I am."

Specter continued to look out at Death City while Max took a moment to look at the clouds drifting by overhead. It really was a beautiful day out. Not too hot, with a nice breeze. It was almost enough to make one forget about their troubles. Almost.

"You know, you could probably get an A if you tried harder," Max said after a while..

Specter whirled to face his long-time friend with a cross look on his face, clearly offended. "I get A's." Then he thought about what he had just said and added, "...occasionally."

"If by 'occasionally' you mean 'only once or twice', maybe," a new voice said from behind them.

Specter and Max turned around to find a girl their age standing in the doorway. She was tall, taller than the two of them, with long bright blonde hair, chalky blue eyes, and fair skin. She wore a red turtleneck with the right sleeve rolled up and a pair of blue jeans tucked into a pair of black knee-high boots.

But perhaps her most notable article of clothing was her hat, a good old-fashioned leather cowboy hat with a bright blue band and a silver death skull pinned to the front. The all-too-familiar insignia shone brightly in the sun, as did the buckle on her belt. There was no mistaking who she was, not if the size of the holster hanging from her right hip was any indication.

"Allie," Max greeted with a grin. "You certainly didn't waste any time getting your licks in. Where's Flint?"

"He's probably nappin' in some dark corner somewhere."

"Yeah, that sounds like Flint," Specter conceded. "Where's your sister?"

"Gray Star? She's probably doin' the same thing, minus the nappin'."

"Yeah, that sounds like Gray Star."

Max sighed and shook his head. "I still find it hard to believe that you two are sisters."

"The fact that I'm not a Star Clan member is what throws people off," Allie said with a shrug. "The fact that we're nothing alike doesn't help, either."

"So," Specter began, "What brings you all the way up here?"

"You, actually." Allie jabbed her finger at Specter for emphasis. "I was talkin' to some of my buddies in Class Crescent, and we got to ponderin' about who could beat who in a fight among the first-years."

"Better than talking about whatever-century soul theory," Specter muttered.

"Fifteenth," Max corrected.

"Shut up, no one cares," Specter hissed.

"I do!" Max hissed back.

"Boys!" Allie barked, snapping her fingers to get their attention. She quickly let a sigh out through her nose before continuing. "Anyway, we got to talkin', and someone bet actual money that Spec here could beat me in a fight. I disagreed," she grinned.

Specter grinned right back at her. "Of course you did."

"Since none of us could rightly figure out who between you and me would win, we decided to have everyone put their money where their mouth is."

"Meaning...?" Max prodded.

"...meaning we made a bet! There's money on both of us, and at least twenty students want to watch us duke it out, weapons and all."

"Isn't putting money on a student duel illegal or something?" Specter asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, but it is against school policy," Max said sharply.

"I'm pretty sure you're the only student in the entire academy who gives a shit about school policy, Maxie," Allie said with a laugh. "And besides, as long as the duel is on campus and approved by an instructor, what people do with their money isn't the DWMA's business. Right?"

Max let out a sigh before reluctantly admitting, "Not unless someone reports it." He turned to Specter. "What do you make of all this?"

Specter took a moment to consider the facts: what he was being asked to participate in, what he was going up against, and most importantly, what the point was.

"I dig it," he said after a while. "But, uh...what do I get if I win?"

"Half of the money in the pot. And braggin' rights," Allie said, not missing a beat.

Specter turned to Max, giving him a look and a gesture that simply said 'dude, don't ruin this for me'.

Seeing this, Max reluctantly relented, saying, "Alright. I suppose I don't have to say anything. Not as long as a DWMA instructor approves the duel and the students betting money are smart about it."

"What happens to them isn't my problem. It's what happens between me and Spec that counts," Allie said with a wink. "And as far as instructors go, I already have someone in mind."

"Oh? And who would that be?" Max asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Kilik-sensei."

"Smart," Specter said with a nod of approval. "He loves watching fights almost as much as he loves being in them. I wouldn't be surprised if he put some money into the pot himself."

"So, are you in?" Allie said, an eager glint in her eyes.

"Hell, yeah. Let's do it."

"Spit shake on it?" Allie immediately spat into her palm and held her hand out expectantly.

Specter couldn't help but grin, the definition of his jagged teeth clearly visible. "Is there any other way?" He then proceeded to spit into his own hand before clasping Allie's in a firm, slimy handshake.

Max averted his eyes. "That's just...wrong."

"That's it!" Nina shouted suddenly from the floor. "I can't take it anymore! Could you guys be any louder?! Christ! I'm trying to sleep down here, God dammit! Just shut up so I can get some sleep before the—"

Of course, it was right at that moment that the bell rang.

Omake

Shinigami-sama was sitting in his chair in the Death Room, quietly enjoying a cup of freshly-brewed tea as the bell that sounded the end of break period rang. He was about to take another sip when an unbelievably loud and incredibly long string of obscenities tore through the air, rattling the windows, shaking the crosses and caltrops, dispersing the clouds, and even causing the coffee table to shudder visibly.

The Grim Reaper almost dropped his teacup in shock, but managed to steady his hand and tighten his grip enough to prevent that disaster from happening.

After several seconds, the profanity died out, leaving the Death Room still and quiet once again. Shinigami-sama blinked.

"Who...or what...was that?" he asked himself. "And, more importantly...did they just say what I think they said?"

Author's Note: Holy shit, I did it! Sorry if it's not as long as my last two chapters. (At this point, you might consider that a blessing. I know I do.) This chapter was originally going to be longer, but I decided to cut my original plan in half, for your sake as well as mine. There was no way I could delay getting this out to you any longer than I already had, so I cut down my workload in order to keep my promise. As of 9/18/2017, you have finally gotten Chapter 4 of this glorious train wreck I call a story. The release date of the next chapter is uncertain, but it will be finalized soon enough. Be sure to check my profile for updates on this story and all the other stories I'm writing or plan to write.

Thanks again for reading!