Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Nope, nope, nope, nuh uh, not okay with this,” Asura mutters, trembling as nervous jitters creep into his voice. He folds his arms across his chest, shivering in the chilly early morning breeze. “Why are we doing this again? Why can't we just have a normal sleepover?”

Kid absentmindedly slices through the seams of the humongous plush bear with a steak knife, ripping sounds emanating from it as the threads come undone. “We gotta, Asu, or Black☆Star’ll break the cone again. I don't wanna fix it again.” Asura frowns, stammering in response until he comes up with something intelligible, “I- I can fix the cone for you!” Kid pauses, knife inanimate in his hand, pondering before looking back down and finishing the cut, “You’ll just half-ass it, I know it.”

He turns back towards Asura, deadpanning in response to Asura gawping like a codfish. Asura blinks, his eyes darting to Soul, “Soul, help me.”

Soul briefly looks up from his phone, only to shrug as a response, and looks back down, much to Asura’s dismay. Kid gracefully stands from his seat, nimbly walking to the bags of rice by the balcony door, “Plus, I can't let Black☆Star win.” Remark is quickly met with a thumbs up and, “true ‘dat, bro,” from Soul as a reply, again, to Asura’s dismay. Asura hunches over, visibly frowning, almost pouting . “You’re all heathens, summoning demons with four feet tall stuffed bears at 3AM. We’re all gon’ die,” he sniffs, side-eying Kid as he carries the bag of rice over to the bear, a smug expression on the younger shinigami's face. “Don't be ridiculous, Asura, a stuffed toy can't kill a human, let alone a shinigami.”

“If I suffocated Soul with that damn bear I could probably kill him,” Asura retorts. Soul stands abruptly, frowning angrily, “Ass, the fuck ?” Asura leans further back in his chair, the chair balancing on its hind legs, “I’m just sayin’.”

Soul sits back down, his face returning to its regular, stoic expression. “Damn, Ass it’s been six hours and you're already plotting my murder?” Asura rolls his eyes, “The bear’ll probs beat me to the job.”

“That's if it works,” Kid quips, pouring the rice into the de-stuffed bear.

“What do you mean if ?!? I’ll bet my bottom dollar that not only will it come to life, but it’ll stab one of us.”

“Don't worry, it's not going to come to life and stab anyone,” Soul reassures, placing a hand on Asura’s shoulder, “It’s probably only some dumb fake story Black☆Star got off the creepypasta forums.” Asura holds his arm, leaning his head back and looking to the night sky, “Eeeh hhhyeeaaaah hhhhhhh, I’m not confident on that.”

Kid hastily places a crowbar against his chair, the metals of the tool and furniture clanging against each other, “If it actually does come to life I brought this crowbar so we can actually defend ourselves.”

“Where did you get a crowbar,” Asura questions.

“We’re rich, Asu, I can get whatever I want from wherever.”

Asura looks away, placing his hands on his knee, somewhat surprised, but not questioning it further.

Kid outstretches a hand, pointing to the red string beside Soul, making a hand-grabby motion, “Pass the string.”

“Why is it red?” Asura asks, watching the string like a hawk. Kid shrugs, mumbling something about Black☆Star’s instructions specifying red string. Asura grimaces, “It’s like it's a blood vessel or something, y’know? Like not literally, but, metaphorically, I guess. Like the strings are supposed be like, uh, a blood vessel that stops the spirit from leaving the host body or something, I dunno.”

“Mmhm, interesting,” Kid responds absentmindedly, more focused on re-sewing the stuffed plush with utmost precision. “You didn't even listen to a word I said!”

“I did! You said something about a blood vault, right?”

Asura groans loudly, covering his face with his hands, standing up to bend back until he couldn't bend back anymore, and then bending forward and sitting back down. He rests his elbows onto his knees, still groaning with an annoyance that can only be conveyed through gruff and unintelligible sounds. “This is it. This is how we all die,” Asura gibbers, still holding his head in his hands, “Local shinigami and death scythe found dead at 4th Street, witnesses say they were violently stabbed to death by a plush bear stuffed with rice.”

Silence only follows, remaining between the three boys until a loud, triumphant yell from Kid shatters the silence into pieces. “I finally finished sewing the bear up perfectly,” he affirms, grinning widely. Asura looks down at his watch, unimpressed, “It’s only taken you half an hour.” Kid blows a raspberry, lifting the bear from the table, “C’mon, lets dump this thing in the bathtub and stab it.” Soul throws a fistpump into the air, whooping, “Fuck yeah! Let's do this shit.” He aids Kid in lifting the heavy weight of the plush bear, the duo carrying it like a dead body through the hallways and down the stairs, Asura nonchalantly following them with his hands stuck in his pockets, eyes drooping and lips curved downwards in an unimpressive frown.

The trio make it to the bathroom, Asura being ordered to turn the bathtub tap on. The water gushes out of the tap, quickly filling the squeaky clean bathtub. “I cleaned that yesterday,” Asura huffs, folding his arms and leaning against the door frame. “Well you can clean it again after this,” Kid quips, batting his eyelashes innocently, knowing very well that the gesture makes Asura powerless to snap back. “You’re good at this,” he says.

“I know.”

Soul takes out the knife from his back pocket and hands it to Kid, “So do you gotta stab the bear now?”

“Yeah, but we all gotta chant that the bear is ‘it’, like three times,” Kid answers, curling his fingers tightly around the handle of the knife. The three boys look at each other, exchanging wordless confirmation, before Kid steps forward and holds the knife above the stuffed bear’s head.

“You are it.”

“You are it.”

“You are it.”

“Guess I stab it now,” Kid remarks, holding the knife firm and steady. He stabs the bear precisely four times, each stab calculated and perfect, remaining perfectly calm.

That is, until the lights flicker out.

“What the FUCK,” Asura shrieks, fumbling around his pockets for a torch. Kid hastily stabs the space where he approximates the bear to be four more times before abandoning the knife and hurriedly taking his spot next to Asura, grabbing hold of his free arm. Asura and Soul switch on their torches, facing it towards the bear.

The bear is supposedly inanimate for a few precious moments, but it begins to twitch and tremor in the bathtub. Asura screams, grabbing both Kid and Soul’s hands and rashly running of the bathroom, the two younger boys being dragged for a few steps before they start running in sync. Soul slams the bathroom door shut, as the last person to leave the bathroom. The trio don't stop running until they make it to the other side of the hallway, where they stop to catch their breath.

“I told you,” Asura frowns, attempting to sound annoyed, but failing to keep the fear out of his voice. Kid clings tightly to Asura, shaking violently, “Why did we do this... this… this… this is cursed. Awful. Horrid.”

“Annnnd this is not cool anymore,” Soul remarks, the torch shaking in his trembling hands. Asura hushes Kid, gently caressing his back while scanning over the area around them. He gulps, looking down at the staircase, “We have to go into the basement and flick the power breaker switch back on…” Kid’s face grows pale, almost completely white, “No, no, no, not the basement.” Asura and Kid exchange glances, worried glances “What, what happened in the basement?” Soul asks, carefully. The shinigami brothers fall silent, staring down at the floor. Soul looks away, “Oooohkay then…”

A door squeaks loudly, the creaks and whines of hinges echoing throughout the darkened halls. Asura and Kid freeze, grimacing expressions quickly replacing despondent ones. Soul shines his phone's torch in the direction they came on, peering into the illuminated section of the hallway. The spotlight passes over the hallway, revealing only an empty space. The torch flickers out, provoking Soul to shake it a few times before pointing it towards the the empty halls.

Except the halls weren't empty anymore.

The bear, standing on its feet, stands menacingly in the hallway, triggering another set of screams from the three boys. Asura hastily shoves his companions down the staircase, the three of them tripping and fumbling down the stairs to the second level of the manor. Asura, his senses and drive heightened by adrenaline, forces himself to get up. He pulls Soul and Kid up, and leads them to his room, hurriedly shoving the pair into the room before slamming the door shut behind him.

The three boys sigh deeply, Kid and Soul falling to the floor and laying down, trying to catch their breath once more. Asura leans against the door, slowly sliding down it until he is sitting on the floor. The room is quiet, set aside the heavy breathing from the three boys, filled with strong, petrifying fear.

Chapter Text

“This was a mistake,” Kid mutters, his hands trembling in his lap. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot stop his hands from shaking. He notices Asura’s anxious movements, how his eyes dart and bounce around the room, looking out for any movements or changes. “Who thought this was a good idea??” Kid whines, pulling a pillow off Asura’s bed and squeezing it tightly. “Black☆Star, and by proxy, you?” Soul answers, fully realising the question was rhetorical but answering it anyway. “Shush, you,” Asura hisses, holding his ear against the door. The sound is barely audible, almost nonexistent, but, it shakes the air particles enough that Asura can just hear it. He quickly stands up and makes a beeline for his desk drawers, rifling through his trinkets and stationary for something, anything that would aid them against the recently animated stuffed bear.

“Asu, what are you doing…” Kid mutters, watching Asura briskly move around the room. He forcibly opens his wardrobe, searching through trash and boxes filled with trash. He takes away exactly one baseball bat from his younger years. Ol’ Reliable, the baseball bat-to-go. Whenever there was a baseball game or a bully to beat the crap out of, Ol’ Reliable was the object Asura favoured greatly. So much, that he earned the moniker of B-Ball Batsura in his younger years, until of course his father confiscated the bat for a month for being too violent with it. It's not Asura’s fault half of the people they met kept picking on his little brother.

No one messes with Death the Kid and gets away with it. No one.

Asura tightens his grip on the bat, sitting down on the bed. “We have one weapon at the moment,” he says, a crisp and clear tone, as if he is debriefing the other two, “The crowbar is still two levels upstairs on the baloney, and the knife is left in the bathroom.”  Kid rapidly shakes his head, “Nuh uh, I am not going back in the bathroom.” A pause. “Or the basement. No way,” he adds. Asura looks down at the ground for a few prolonged moments, before looking at the door, “Soul and I will grab the other weapons and then we'll go down into th-th… into the basement and switch the power back on.”

Soul stands up, grabbing the dropped (but intact) phone on the ground, “Sounds like an easy plan to save our asses.” Asura nods wordlessly, walking towards the door, grasping for the handle--

“Wait!!”

Asura’s hand falls to his side, his head turning back towards Kid. “Don't… don't leave without me,” Kid cries, a hand raised in desperate objection. Asura’s expression softens, cautiously walking back to Kid, placing down his bat. He gently wraps his arms around him in a careful, shaky hug, for the briefest of moments, before stepping back and resting a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, we have a possessed bear to take out,” Asura says, smiling faintly.

For that moment, it seemed that the fear Asura had possessed had vanished, but this was not the case. Truth be told, he was very, very scared. Petrified, terrified, mortified. Like any other negative emotion, Asura has learned to act so well that he can mask his true feelings. Of course, he has to be strong, strong for his brother and friend.

Asura pats Soul on the head before grasping the door handle, “Know what you're doing?” Soul nods, showing off that special smirk. He smiles back, before turning back to face the door, inhaling a deep, shaky breath before exhaling and twisting the door knob. He forces the door open, the trio filing out of the room. Soul uses his phone’s torch to scan over the hallways, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Kid spots a trail of rice from the upward stairs leading downstairs, nudging Asura and Soul gently and pointing at it. Soul glowers at the sight, transforming his left limb into a scythe blade for good measure. With his free hand, he curls his thumb and finger into an ‘ok’ sign, before treading down the stairs with much trepidation. Asura and Kid head upstairs, Asura holding the bat tightly, Kid clenching the pocket torch as if his life depends on it.

⸻

“The crowbar!” Kid whisper-yells, excitedly pointing to it leaning against the chair, exactly where he left it. Asura briskly walks over, Kid closely trailing behind, only stepping in front to claim the crowbar.

Unbeknownst to the brothers, an ominous presence slowly approaches, each slow step up the stairs and closer to them a painfully heavy and gradual process.

⸻

Soul steps cautiously down each step, until he sets foot in the supposed malevolent basement. His arm remains untransformed, Soul returning his arm back to its original form shortly after decending. He fiddles with his phone’s torch, distracted until he hears a loud shink sound echoing from towards the power breaker is supposed to be. Split second reaction time prompts Soul to freeze and hide, including facing the torchlight inwards to minimise the chance of being spotted. Soul carefully begins to turn back, ascending the stairs again, beginning at crawling speed before launching into an uphill run to the second floor.

⸻

A soft footstep. Again, almost inaudible to most, but picked up by Asura. Without saying a word, Asura changes his position and grips his bat tightly, keeping an eye on what Kid is doing, which, right at this moment, is searching through the boxes left underneath the balcony table. A few more footsteps until the presence behind them would be on top of them.

With one swift and decisive motion, Asura swings his bat behind and around him, directly hitting the entity that attempted to sneak up on him. And, boy, did Asura hit hard. The huge stuffed plush bear collapses to the ground like a limp body, lacking any movement. Asura glares at the plush, looking down upon it with great disdain.

“Damn, Asura, that hurt more than I realised it would've.”

Asura shifts, and Kid ceases his rifling. That voice, it sounds exactly like-

“ -dad!? ”

The essence of Lord Death leaves the bear and clumps back together beside it, humanoid form appearing after the essence completely left its vessel.

Death rubs his cheek, genuinely injured by the provoked assault. He couldn't blame Asura for it, however.

No one sneaks up on Asura and succeeds with it. No one .

“Hii, heya, hahaha… bad… bad prank, yeah…” Death says meekly, rubbing the back of his neck. Kid glowers at his father, unimpressed. Asura stares, dumbfounded, before collecting the words he needs. “You. Asshat !!” he yells, his voice cracking, his fingers balled into tightly packed fists. Kid sighs, disappointed, deadpanning his father, “Now what made you think scaring the absolute shit out of us was a good idea?”

Death stammers, looking away from Kid’s intense deadpan, “ Well , I just wanted to pull a prank on you… I didn't think it would—–”

“GUYS!” Soul interjects, panting for breath after dashing up 3 flights of stairs. He pauses to let himself breathe, holding up a hand and waving it, “The basement… the bear... it was… down there with a knife…”

“A what!?” the three shinigami gawk in unison, surprised and concerned. Soul transforms into his weapon form, settling into Kid’s hands. “The bear, its in the basement and it has the knife you left in the bathroom,” Soul answers. “Well, that’s not any good,” Asura remarks, folding his arms. Kid glares at Asura, kicking his foot for good measure, “I panicked, okay?”

“Also what is your dad doing here?” Soul questions, slightly unnerved by the presence of the elder death god. Asura simply shrugs in response, whereas Kid rolls his eyes and quickly explains how Death decided to play a little prank on them on the way downstairs.

⸻

“Right, that makes sense. I guess.” Soul affirms as a response, scratching his head in the soul pocket dimension. Kid fails to continue the conversation, silence befalling the group right to the point they hit the basement floor.

The stuffed bear had been waiting, knife somehow in hand. Kid stepped forward, holding the demon weapon tightly in his hands. Unearthly silence, enough to spook even Lord Death, radiates throughout the cold basement room, the tension so thick a knife could cut through it.

And with a single, sudden movement, the possessed plush toy lunges forward, directly towards Kid, pointed knife still somehow in hand. Reflexes on point, Kid effectively dodges, the bear plunging into the floor where Kid stood mere seconds ago. His brother and father had also scattered, off to the sides, armed with the baseball bat and crowbar respectively. Asura attempts to land a bludgeoning on the bear, the attack missing as it lunges towards Kid again. Death tries to impale the bear with the sharp end of his crowbar, but like Asura, also barely misses. The bear lunges for Kid, and only Kid, singling him out for every attack, yet unable to land a hit. But, miraculously, Kid hasn't succeeded an attack on the bear either, the two parties locked in a stalemate.

Or so he thought.

Another lunge towards Kid, and as expected, Kid dashed out of reach. However, this time isn't what he expected, the youngest shinigami dashing straight into a pile of old boxes. Kid ungracefully and clumsily collapses amongst the disrupted pile of boxes, disoriented for a brief moment. He returns to his senses, but far too late, as the bear looms above him, a paw held right in front of his face.

And with a single touch, Kid feels himself losing feeling in his body, forced out of reality. He blinks, and quickly realises what had just happened, as he views his own unconscious body from outside of it.

Kid’s eyes flicker open again, but instead of the glittering golden Asura and Soul had known since the beginning, they reveal gastly red irises, the whites of his eyes faded into pitch black. A wide, unnerving grin stretches across Kid’s face, as he drunkenly rises up from the pile of boxes. The bear by him remains limp and inanimate, the knife still somehow in it’s hand. He picks the blade up without any hesitation. A small laugh, a voice that definitely doesn't belong to Kid.

“Ding, dong, you're not very good at hiding.”

Chapter Text

“Kid…” Asura whispers, looking forward at Kid with disbelief. No, he isn't the Kid he knows and loves now. It’s someone else . He grimaces, taking a few steps back. Soul transforms back to human form, taking advantage of the transformation to retreat next to Asura. Kid, still grinning with a ghastly smile, slowly and gracefully raises his hands to his eyes, covering them with his palms in a poised manner.

“Ding dong, I only want to play a little.”

The room glows with a menacing red, the brightness gradually increasing until a big red flash , and the shinigami and demon weapon find themselves in different locations throughout the house.

⸻

Death, however, found himself in his office at the Shibusen building. He immediately runs to the exit, expecting to push it open with ease, only to slam right into the unmoving door. He stands back up, and tries to open the door from the handle, but quickly finds that is not a viable option either, the door refusing to open. He recalls that he locked the door from the outside a few hours back, after leaving. Frustrated, Death punches the door with all his might and wrath, a loud thunk echoing from the wood. He winces, clasping his fist with his other hand.

Right, he had forgotten about that unbreaking spell he had casted upon that door.

Death leans against the door, staring down at the door, scrunching his nose. He slides down the door and sits against it, defeated. What father lets his own children get trapped in a demon’s web and fails to save them. The little amount of fear that still rests in his soul begins to stir, conjuring many bad-end scenarios that could happen back at the manor. He gulps nervously.

Driven by fear, Death springs back up and searches his office for anything that could help his chances. A fool he was, leaving no escape points in the damned place; no mirrors or windows to escape through.

⸻

Asura tries to stand up, but hits head against the ceiling? He tries to stretch his hand, but hits only walls. He brushes his hands against the close walls, finding a groove on one of them. Digging his fingers into the small gap, he pushes the wall to the side, letting moonlight flood the closet he had been trapped within for a few minutes. Asura stumbles out, slamming face first into the floor with a good, hardy thump . Forcing himself to stand, he looks around the dimly illuminated room, quickly deducing that the bedroom belongs to Kid. Eyes wide, Asura looks out the window, noticing the blood dripping from the moon’s mouth is not only plentiful, but the colour had changed to a magenta-purple. He grimaces in response, tearing his eyes away from the sight. It seemed Asura and his medley band composed of his brother, father and best friend wasn't the only one stuck between a rock and a hard place. He sighs softly, relieved that Vajra had decided to take the sisters out for a weekend out in New York.

Asura begins another room search, looking for any weapons or tools he could use. He notices the calendar, the current date,13th of April, circled neatly with a purple marker, complete with a small crown in the corner.He strikes lucky upon finding Kid’s 3DS, quickly utilising the browser to search for exorcism spells. He pours precious minutes into googling various keywords and phrases, finding only useless and fictional information, until he finds an interesting site.

The site describes the very same instructions that Kid had performed a mere hour earlier, additionally, with information on how to end the spirit summoning ritual . Salt mixed into water is what he needs, to hold half the glass’ content in his mouth, half spilt upon the object—well, in this case, Kid —to banish the spirit from the material plane. Asura rests the 3DS beside him, his gaze wandering to a card on the side table next to the bed. Curiosity piqued, Asura grabs the card and starts reading it, finding it addressed to himself, name handwritten perfectly in Times New Roman.

⸻

Soul blinks, once, twice, thrice, sensory responses rushing in, invading his mind. He groans and forces himself to sit upright, scanning over the place he is in. He realises the ground beneath him is soft and plushy, then realises that he isn't on the ground at all.

Standing up from the couch, Soul pulls out his phone and turns the flashlight on again, gazing around the room.

“Ding dong, I can see your light.”

Soul freezes, with an exception to his hand, which rushes to turn the flashlight off. He takes a few cautious steps back, spooked the disembodied voice. He freezes in place once more when he feels a hard surface block his path, what he assumes to be a table.

“Ding dong, did you think you could hide your light from me?”

Forearm transforms into a blade, Soul holding said limb in front of him defensively. “This is not cool.” Phone now in spare hand, Soul switches the torch back on, shining it in front of him. If he could just find Asura or Death…

Soul takes off running, planning to retreat to Asura’s room. He assumes that Asura would be heading there as well, if he isn't already there. Light feet tap tap tap against the floorboards and tiles, Soul being careful to not make too much sound while ascending the stairs.

Nerves on fire, Soul tenses at the sound of creaks and whispers, looking back behind him for something, anything .

Nothing.

He looks back forward, lowering the brightness of his torch. He thinks he sees a light, a dim, warm light emanating from under the door of a bedroom. Soul cautiously, briskly walks up to the door, gripping the handle, looking up at the perfectly carved sign hanging against the door. Death the Kid , engraved in cursive on the beautifully polished mahogany wood. He grimaces as he gently opens the door, loud creaks whining as the hinges move. Warm, yellow light floods out the room, and Soul sees no other than Kid sitting at a desk in the corner, furiously writing something.

“Kid?” Soul speaks, caution apparent in his voice. He takes a few steps with great trepidation, eyes unmoving, locked on the figure of the young shinigami. The swivel chair turns, enough that Kid faces Soul. A smile creeps onto his previously blank face. “Hello, Soul,” he looks up at Soul, glittering golden eyes sparkling under the lamplight.

“You… you’re okay?” he asks, uncertainty in his voice. Kid smiles warmly and nods, however, doesn't answer with words. The smile, a soft, genuine smile, accompanied with soft, benevolent eyes, that glitter like gold. It seems that, somehow, miraculously, Kid is okay. “You’re actually okay…” Soul repeats, relief instead in his voice. “How did you do it? How did you manage to get rid of the spirit?”

Kid laughs, a soft, gentle laugh, “Soul, you're so funny!”

“Wh...what?”

Kid looks directly into Soul’s eyes, with a smile that looks more eerie than kind, “I’m dead.” The ceiling lamp switches to a menacing shade of red, the atmosphere instantly becoming much more sinister, and Kid’s eyes shift from perfect golden stars, to malevolent red rings. A smile contorts into a devilish grin.

“I’m dead,” he repeats, “And you're just dreaming.”

“ Time to wake up, Evans. ”

⸻

Nothing. There is never anything useful kept in an office . Death struck severely unlucky this time, the elder shinigami sitting at his desk in defeat. He fiddles with his pen, worry consuming majority of his thoughts. He prays to the divine beings above even himself that his children will get out of this alive.

His ears perk up, hearing soft footsteps tap against the marble floors of the school. Hastily pressing his face against the small door window, he spots Eibon roaming the hallways, carrying many sheets. Death bangs on the door, loudly, attempting to attract the fellow Old One’s attention.

“Death? What on Earth are you doing in your office at three AM?” Death frowns, his eyes glaring through the window, “Same question I could ask you; what are you doing here at the school building at three AM.” Eibon returns the glare, complete with a deadpan expression, “ For your information , I was gathering my old documents and paperwork for my new project.” Death remains expressionless. “Are you going to answer my question now, Death.”

“Well, funny story, actually, Eibon, uhhh, my sons summoned a demon and said demon happened to teleport me into my locked office,” Death blabs, making all sorts of wild hand motions while explaining. Eibon, completely unamused, makes the most deadpanned face to out-deadpan all deadpans. “That sounds like absolute horseshit .”

“No! I’m serious! You gotta open the door for me!” Death pleas, hands and face pressed against the small window. “If this is an April Fools jape, you're two days late.”

“EIBON!”

“No, actually, you can stay trapped in there. Bad, terrible joke, Death,” Eibon replies, turning away from the door, “Thought you were above that.”

“EIBON I SWEAR ON MY MOM—–”

And it is too late. Eibon is already gone, walking out of the building as Death slides down the door, pensive. His eyes drift over that sweet, sweet bottle of whiskey on the shelf. An idea pops into his head. Perhaps escape is possible.

Chapter Text

“I’m dead. And you're just dreaming.”
“Time to wake up, Evans.”

“ Wake up ! WAKE UP , SOUL!”

Soul’s eyes flicker open, his vision quickly adjusting to the new environment. The ceiling is a dull shade of grey, the light above him left unpowered. Light shines from outside of his field of vision, a strong, blue, electric light. He groans softly, and pushes himself to sit up. He finds Asura, sitting at the foot of the bed he himself is laying in, holding a card. He notices a 3DS sitting beside him, the source of all the light in the room.

“I was starting to worry that you wouldn't wake up…” Asura whispers, his voice heavy and cold, his eyes downcast, still looking down at the card. Soul looks at Asura, whose eyes had looked as if he'd been crying. “Are you okay?” he asks. Asura looks back at Soul briefly, quickly turning away once more. He doesn't answer. “What happened? What's that card?” he continues asking, watching Asura carefully. “I heard a thud on the door, and found you passed out right outside,” he answers blankly, his voice quiet, enough that Soul has to strain to hear. A pause, before Asura answers the second question, “It’s an unfinished birthday card.”

“To who?”

“To whom ?” Asura’s eyes flicker towards Soul, “Me.”

Silence, a very awkward one at that. Soul loses his ability to speak, stunned by that piece of information. He doesn't know how to respond, and because of that, he doesn't at all. Asura suddenly stands up, walking over to the desk. He placed the card down exactly where and how he found it, left as it had been untouched. “We have to stop… whatever that thing is.” With a clenched fist to match, Asura wears a determined look on his face. He looks directly at Soul, collecting his thoughts, ready to explain a quickly conceived plan.

“If we're going to exorcise any demon without rare and specific items we need salt,” he discloses, “Luckily we should have some in the kitchen. Or the dining room. Depends where our dad left them last.” Soul nods, without question, “I’ll get the salt. “ Asura shakes his head, “Absolutely not, you're more likely to get killed.”

“ I insist , Asura,” Soul presses, turning to the door.

“Soul, really I—”

“ Besides , I don't know how all that voodoo magic works. That's your element, Ass.” Soul walks back to Asura, setting his hands atop his shoulders, “Trust me, I’ll get the salt. You work on the important magic parts. Kid needs you.” Asura backs down, complying and allowing Soul to leave without further argument. After a long pause, he nods, “Okay. I’m trusting you.” He places his hands upon Soul’s shoulders, “Promise me one thing , Soul.”

“What’sit?”

“Promise me you won't die.”

Soul nods, without hesitation, “I won't. After all, who else will be your stress shamwow?” A small, short burst of laughter from Asura, complete with a dumb smile, “You’re the best stress shamwow a shinigami could ask for.” The pair burst into a cacophony of laughter, grinning stupidly at each other like the village idiots. A loud CRACK disturbs the laughter, the pair falling silent.

“Just wait, you can't hide from me!”

“Just wait, I’m coming.”

Asura squints, staring at the door with intense concentration. He brushes his bands out of the way, opening his third, formally hidden eye, closing his other two. The malevolent spirit’s essence is crystal clear through the wall, Asura watching with great trepidation as it moves throughout the house in its chosen husk, the body of Kid. The spirit commands its body to saunter down the staircase on the opposite side of the hallway, it still on the hunt for its prey.

“Now’s your chance,” Asura whispers. He stands up from the bed, adorning Soul with a mysterious amulet pulled out of his pocket. Before Soul can begin to ask, Asura speaks again, his tone low and serious, “This’ll stop the spirit from sensing your soul.” Soul nods, then briskly moves out of the room, only silence following him.

Asura sighs deeply, looking through the cupboard of all the old trinkets Kid stole and hoarded from him and their father… for reasons he has not disclosed yet. He tilts his head, confused, as he finds a half empty bottle of Scotch in the drawer. “Must be Dad’s,” he mutters, placing the alcoholic drink down on the ground beside him. “We can't even get drunk; why would Dad have that in the house,” Asura gibbers to himself, entertaining the question as he searches.

⸻

This is going to be the dumbest idea the Lord of Death has ever conceptualized.

He swipes the whiskey from the top shelf, hastily popping off the corkscrew and holding the rim of the bottle to his lips, hesitating to drink. He lowers the bottle from his mouth, looking down at the heavy glass container, thinking hard, staring intensely at the label.

“Fuck it. What's one sip gonna hurt. Even if it is that special version I can get drunk on,” he says, taking a big sip. A sip turns into a swig, and a swig turns into a chug. And before Death knows what is happening, half the bottle is gone. He smashes the bottle on the ground, surprised by how quickly the drink had disappeared. The spilt liquid make a small puddle on the floor, the moon and stars’ reflections sparkling in the liquid. Death looks into the puddle, his own reflection looking back at him as if he is staring into a mirror.

And a mirror is just what he needs.

Death does not hesitate to use the power of reflected lights to teleport back to the manor, his drunken brain failing to keep a clear destination in mind.

⸻

A hollow thud . Asura jumps, whipping around to look at the source of the sound. He creeps towards the source, the wardrobe, with much trepidation, caution in his every move. He gently opens the door a fraction, hiding behind it before peeking in, fear consuming his very being.

“Ah- Asura there you are… can you be a dear and help your — hic — old man,” Death asks politely, smiling awkwardly as he writhes in his rather uncomfortable and tight position, curled and twisted inside the wardrobe in front of its gigantic fancy mirror. Asura deadpans, his eyes narrowing as he closes the door.

“Asura- PLEASE MY SON!!”

Asura’s expression unchanged, he opens the door once more, opening it completely, allowing Death to tumble out of the closet, his arms and legs sprawled all over the floor before Asura. “Is that…” Asura sniffs the air, recoiling at the scent, “ Alcohol ?”

“I, I can explain.”

“THERE'S A DEMON ON THE LOOSE AND YOU'RE DRINKING !?!” Asura screams, throwing his arms in the air in disbelief, stomping around the room. “That's looouuuud!” Death whines, covering his ears. Asura death-glares at him in response. He sits down on the bed, inhaling deeply, “Damnit…”

⸻

“Where is that salty… salt,” Soul muses, creeping around the dining room. The slightest creak of the hallway enough to scare him into switching off his torch, relying on a sense of touch to navigate. He gropes the incredibly long dining table, patting the silk linen for anything that vaguely resembles the shape of a salt shaker.

He looks into the void of darkness to his left, where the entrance to the kitchen is. He debates going into the kitchen, worried he may get cornered in such a closed off room while searching for the salt. “To salt or to not salt…” Soul asks himself, thinking carefully about what to do.

What will Soul do?