My mother is a weapon. She studied at the Academy, but she never found a partner she could resonate with, because she has severe obsessive-compulsive disorder. Growing up around her caused me to inherit some of the disorder, though I don't quite have it to as crippling of a degree as she does. That's all I got from her. I ended up with mostly my dad's DNA. I have his face, or so everyone tells me. I also inherited his metabolism, something many of my friends are jealous of.

My father is a human, which is partially why I don't have an entirely weapon soul. My soul has some traces of weapon in it, but something else overpowered it. Any human who chooses to have a child plays a game of odds, and my parents lost. A witch can be born to anyone with a weak human soul. Meisters' and weapons' souls are stronger, so they win the battle over witch-hood every time. Humans are weaker, though. I don't really understand why I wasn't born with a weapon's soul, like my mother, but perhaps since I had so much more in common with my father, his soul wavelength could bond to my body more easily.

All through my mother's pregnancy my father could sense that something was wrong. For a human, he has an uncanny ability to perceive souls. Only three months into the pregnancy, he knew what was growing inside my mother's womb. Fearing that Lord Death would take action to rid my parents of the burden I would be, they ran from Death City, fleeing to a small village about twenty miles from the city. Maybe they didn't go far enough, but their only concern was getting out of the city and finding a new home as quickly as possible.

My life was very carefully supervised by my parents. I was rarely allowed to play with any children unless my father's soul perception deemed them weak enough to not notice what I was. Mostly I survived my childhood without incident. Eventually though, my soul started asserting itself, and my true nature began to emerge. Many witches begin to show signs of what they are at a very young age, usually at three or four years old. It wasn't until I was ten that I started changing. I blame that on my diluted soul.

Kudos to my mom for teaching me spells without actually knowing anything about magic. She taught me how to use the spell Soul Protect. I remember the lesson clearly. She said to search inside myself for my soul. When I told her I found it, she asked me to see if I could find a way to cover it up. She said to imagine throwing a blanket over it, sweeping it under the carpet, or locking it away in a box. The last one worked, and I learned Soul Protect. She told me to never, ever let my witch's soul out of its box.

After that, my weapon's soul became stronger, and I learned that with great concentration I could turn into a sturdy, two-handed sword. Armed with this information, my mother took me back to Death City, where I enrolled in the Death Weapon Meister Academy. My mom thought her plan was foolproof; I, a hidden witch, would learn to be a weapon, and never have to reveal my nature. She had dreams that I would become a Death-Scythe. Those dreams would turn out to be impossible, though. After all, the strongest part of my soul was locked away in a box, and if my soul was hidden, I would never be able to resonate with anyone.

To compensate for my incompetence as a weapon, I threw myself into my studies. I was a very smart child, and my introverted nature allowed me much free time to study. But I couldn't stay hidden forever. About a month into my first year at the Academy, I became very close friends with the one student I should have stayed as far away from as possible; Death the Kid.

A.N. If you hate reading OCs, please tell me. If enough of you complain I'll refrain from posting any other chapters.