A/N Sorry it's been a while! I now have an automatic back-up system so that I'll never lose my files again. No worries! Go ahead and start; I'll see you at the end of the chapter in the bottom A/N! Don't forget to stay tuned for the last in the Fusion series, centered around Maka and Soul!
Just a few things you should know before you read this:
1) This chapter takes place a while after the others. It's similar to how I did the first story in this Fusion collection (Admiration). This happens as the Kishin's madness is spreading and beginning to affect those who are most susceptible to it.
2) Also, there is a special effect in the way I wrote Black*Star's dialogue in this chapter. It took forever, but I feel that it gets the point across nicely.
Black*Star #5: With Stars in His Eyes
We'll walk this road together, through the storm
Whatever weather, cold or warm
Just let you know that, you're not alone
~Not Afraid; Eminem
"…Black*Star?"
She hates it when the madness would strike him like this. How dare it tear her meister to pieces like this? Hasn't he been through enough already? Did it really have to try so hard to destroy him?!
"TSUBAKI…" His voice is distorted and gargled, grotesque and mutilated. She sits on the floor, next to the table where he collapsed before his fork touched his dinner. Now he's just lying there, hands clenching and unclenching, face down, fighting off the demons. He is resisting the illusions only he can see. She reaches out to place her hand on his shoulder, but removes it when he flinches violently, shying away from her touch.
"DON'T! GET BACK!" His body spasms painfully from the energy spent in movement and speech, convulsing, fighting that terrible thing that threatens to overtake him.
"I'm sorry," she apologizes for making it harder on him. She wants to do something, anything, to help him, but it isn't as though he's in any condition to tell her what would actually do some good. Shouldn't she know? She's his weapon for God's sake!
"GO! I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU!" He heaves his face off the ground so that he is on all fours and can breathe more easily. But he doesn't truly breathe in the full sense of the word: he pants short puffs of air in and out. Tsubaki can't help but wonder how much of that air actually ever reaches his lungs.
"Don't worry about me. If it comes to that, I won't let you hurt me." She knows that she may not, and most likely will not, be able to fulfill that promise. She expects that in his current state, though, he will accept it for the truth. He always takes everything she says as truth when he's like this; he has no other choice.
Decisions and discernments require a presence of mind, however slight. He doesn't have the sanity to think for himself.
What he does next breaks Tsubaki's heart; he makes a sound that she never thought she'd hear from her spunky, give-it-your-250% meister. From the strongest, surest, most confident person that she can think of, comes a sound of brokenness and failure.
He whimpers in terror and pain.
She reaches out to him with the utmost care, terrified of making this ordeal any worse for him than it already is, yet determined to make it easier. She places her hand gently on his back and begins to rub it softly.
It's so sad the way he looks back frantically to make sure it's real. His whole body heaves again, and he looks at something in wide-eyed terror that's over his weapon partner's shoulder.
There's nothing there but the kitchen counter.
He stares for a few seconds, horrified, and then his eyes are enveloped in spinning stars of madness.
"PLEASE, GOD, NO." She keeps rubbing his tensing muscles as whatever he sees drags him further into the insanity. To call to a God he despises, he must be completely frantic; he must be totally out of his mind in panic.
"GOD, YOU MAY HAVE FORGOTTEN ME, BUT I KNOW YOU STILL CARE ABOUT TSUBAKI!" he cries out, head thrown back to scream at the ceiling. Tsubaki freezes. What is the tortured boy seeing?
"NO!" he screeches. Tsubaki finally comes back to her senses. She grabs the boy's grief-ridden face and yanks it around so that he faces her full on. She doesn't care about the dangers she's been warned about: that when he's like this he could mistake her for anyone, even the kishin himself; he won't hold back if he sees something that isn't there, he will attack without any recognition of who she is.
She's been warned time and again by her friends, her teachers, Lord Death, and even Black*Star himself.
She. Doesn't. Care.
"Black*Star, I'm right here! I'm fine! Don't you see me?" She hugs his face against her neck. "Please, Black*Star, don't you see that I'm okay?" She thinks she's gotten through to him, but it's only taking a few seconds for him to kick her across the room.
"YOU DID THIS!" he accuses, screaming and pointing to the floor, motioning to something that only he sees. "YOU'RE THE REASON TSUBAKI'S LYING THERE!"
"Black*Star, that's not me!" But it doesn't matter what she says, he doesn't hear her.
"I'LL KILL YOU, YOU WORTHLESS,TINY PIECE OF SCUZ!" He runs at her, planting his hands in the middle of her chest to deliver his Black*Star Big Wave.
She knows that if she lets him do that, if she succumbs to her meister's mindless wishes, it'll kill him when he washes the stars from his eyes. And she knows that, as his weapon, it's her duty to prevent him from running out of this house and hurting anyone else. If she doesn't stop him, the chances of him doing just that are enormous.
She gathers her strength and kicks him, exactly the way he did to her, and he flies backward across the table, dragging the tablecloth with him and dumping their dinners on the floor. Tsubaki doesn't care; she'll clean it up later, just like when he decides to practice indoors and breaks something. It's just practice, she lies to herself. Maybe, if she doesn't truly believe this is actually happening, she can complete her task. Just practice, just practice, practicepracticepracticeprac tice…
He lands on the floor, but as soon as he looks at her with those star-eyes, she knows he's still not himself. He's still under the insanity's control as it dances in his eyes, spinning the stars in endless, meaningless circles. Running nowhere, like a tiger in the zoo that paces around and around in its pen, it's inevitable…
He growls viciously, animalistic, and it brings her back to herself.
She will not give in when Black*Star has no one else to depend on. He needs her right now; this is the least she can do for the boy who's given her a whole new life!
She doesn't give him the chance to rise. She races over, picks him up by the shoulders, and slams him into the wall so hard the plaster cracks. She notices, in absolute delirium, that the cracks almost make a five-point star.
But it's not laughing, spinning, dancing;
Leering, lashing, lunging;
Stabbing, severing, slaughtering;
Demented, deranged, dying.
"Black*Star, don't let the madness take me too!" she begs, shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of the thoughts not her own. The thoughts aren't going anywhere, though: they're sewn in place with stitches of insanity. And he's glaring at her with a hatred—a loathing—that words can't possibly even begin to describe.
And the stars zip around, never gaining ground, always turning in those same circles. Will they keep rotating forever?
She is beginning to lose faith in her once strong resolve.
"Black*Star, you PROMISED ME!" she gives one last try, pleading with him to stop, to remember, to see that the girl kneeling here in front of him is the weapon partner he'd sworn to protect.
The eyes do not change, but they mock her. They twirl merrily as they taunt her.
You will never smile again. You will never dance again. You will never laugh again…
He leans closer, a wide, mad smile spreading across his lips.
Never hug again, never comfort again, never play basketball again…
Their mouths are at each other's ears as his hand draws back, crackling with his wavelength.
Or clap for him again, or fight his foes again, or cook for him again…
With what she believes to be her last seconds alive, she grips his shoulders as tightly as she can.
Nor trust him, nor stand proudly by his side, nor eat the souls he provides…
And with what she believes to be her last words, she whispers in his ear:
"You are not to blame, Black*Star. Surpass God for me someday."
But you will watch over him from another place, you will long for him, you will miss him terribly…
Those words are what finally bring him back to his senses. He slumps down, out of her hands, his eyes their natural, round shape once more.
"Tsubaki…" He shakes his head in shame. "I…I'm so sorry." She sits next to him. She's still shaky, but she can't even start to fathom how he must feel.
She had been prepared to die, but he had been prepared to kill.
"I'm fine," she murmurs. She's searching for ways to cheer him up when she comes across the bump on the back of his head; the one she caused.
"Could it be," she smiles, "that I'm stronger than the man who will surpass God?"
Black*Star leaps to his feet.
"Never!" He looks around the room for some inspiration for a contest of strength. His eyes land on the table that was swept clean as he slid across it.
"You, me, kitchen table. Right now: arm-wrestling." In a flash, he's sitting in one of the kitchen chairs; he never even considers giving her the chance to decline. She goes over and puts her hand in his and her elbow on the table, just to humor him.
He wins, of course.
But when he slams her hand down on the table victoriously, he holds it there for a few extra seconds and squeezes it gently.
"Thanks, Tsubaki," she just barely hears him whisper. But she's pretty sure he's only saying those words for himself, so she doesn't comment.
Instead, she just squeezes back.
A/N So there it is, the last chapter of Complexity! It's been a great run and I've really enjoyed this one. Next up, as you all know, is the last in the Fusion collection (If you don't understand what I'm talking about go check out my profile, there's an explanation there) centered around Maka and Soul. I have the first chapter in the editing process already!
I would like to point out that very few people are commenting. I hate it when writer's push to get their work commented on, but honestly guys? This is kinda sad. Put in more of an effort.
That's all! Can't wait until the next Fusion comes out! (Shouldn't be too long now that my computer's back in working order!)
~Rhythm Weaver~