Crona at his worst

A Story by Winter

Started as a dream.

Maka woke with a start. Eyes fluttering, heart beating, she looked frantically around. Nothing was out of place. Soul slept in his usual position next to her, with his mouth slightly open. (It was peaceful, very unlike the toothy grin he always wore). She stood from the bed carefully, being cautious of the sleeping weapon next to her. She shuffled to the kitchen and opened the fridge. The glare of the light made her eyes strain. Quickly, as to escape the bright box, she grabbed a carton of milk, and drank straight out of it, as Soul always did. He was always too lazy to get a glass. Putting away the milk, she then made her way over to the couch. Sinking into the cushions, she let out a sigh. There was something wrong, somewhere, she just couldn’t put a finger on it.

There was a chair. A wooden chair in the very middle of a dark room. The faintest of moonlight oozed through the ceiling, illuminating the chair in all of its wooden glory. Yet, the chair was not alone. There was someone on the chair. A very lonely and sad soul. One with few friends, and minimum love. It was Crona. As usual, he was clutching a pillow to his chest, crying softly. This was a normal state to find him in, but it still pained Maka. How dry of a wavelength he had. She noticed something else. The presents of another wavelength. Not Ragnaroks, no, it was different. Dry, like Cronas; yet it was old. Maka stepped forward. As she did so, the floor around her feet turned into black blood; gooey and sticky.

“Crona!” Maka yelled. Yet Crona didn’t look up, he just cried harder. “Crona!” she yelled again. He had to hear her. There was something wrong. She couldn’t figure it out yet, but something was wrong. Very wrong. The black blood sucked her in deeper. It was now up to her knees. Cronas weeping echoed in the room. Makas voice got quieter and more muffled. She called out one more time, using all of her strength. This time Crona heard her. Though as he looked up, His eyes were glazed and gone. Pupils were dilated to a small dot and a smile caressed his lips. Maka sank deeper, in a trance from his mad eyes. He stood, staring at something in the distance that no one could see. The pillow dropped to the ground. She sank more. The black blood now up to her waist.

Crona raised his skinny arm, where a mist of black swarmed around his hand, forming itself into a long deadly sword. Ragnarok looked more gruesome then ever, rose red lips forming a horrible smile. Maka started panicking but Crona continued to stare at something unseen. “Crona,” she screamed, desperately “wha-what are you doing!?” A chuckle came from all corners of the room. The young meister cranked her head to see where it came from. Her vision was fuzzy. The black blood was now up to her shoulders. Crona moved slightly. Instead of lunging at Maka with the sword, as she had expected, he held the blade of death at arms length. The lips of Ragnarok smiled wider then ever, blood smearing over its teeth. It reminded Maka of the laughing moon she so desperately wanted to see. Crona let one more tear fall. Right before the black blood covered her eyes, she saw the pink haired lost soul lunge the weapon deep into his skinny chest.

“MAKA!” Soul yelled, right into her face. “Maka wake up NOW!” Her eyes shot open, expecting to be suffocating in a pool of black blood. As her head cleared, she realized that she was only dreaming. Crona was alive, there was no dark room, no chair, no black blood, no faceless chuckling. She threw her arms around Souls neck, something she hardly got the chance to do. “You were just having a bad dream,” he said. His voice a bit softer then usual. He didnt hug her back. “That is really uncool.”

“He killed himself?” Lord Death asked. His usual bouncy attitude had dimmed. You could see a bleeding Spirit in the background from previously getting reaper chopped.
“Yes,” Maka replied, using every ounce of her body to keep her eyes away from her pathetic dad. Soul stood next to her, adjusting his headband in the mirror adjacent. Only he would have the nerve to be in the girls bathroom with her. “I am very worried,” she said. Trying not to get distracted from Soul peaking over bathroom stalls. “Could this mean something? is Crona in trouble?”

“Now, now,” the Shinigami laughed, and clapped his over sized hands together. “It was probably just a silly dream you had. Now run along, Maka, or you will be late for class.” He disconnected the mirror call. Maka could hear Soul and another girl fighting behind her. It was going to be a long day with this eating at her head.