Sona Bordot
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Everyday, the infamous Death The Kid orders black bubble tea on his way to the DMWA. He gets his friends their favorite drinks as well, and carries all eight cups by himself. I've admired him since the attack of Asura- the one no one mentions in Death City as to not spread 'bad luck'- and have never once had a non-work related conversation with him.
As I watch him enter, the bell above the door ringing me awake, I wonder how he looks so alive and well at six in the morning. He's sporting his usual neatly ironed black suit, the white lines of sanzu prominently contrasting his jet-black hair and burnt-honey eyes.
"Good morning! Welcome to Pinky's Bubble Tea cafe!", I grin toothily, adjusting my apron proudly.
"Good morning", He nods his head in acknowledgement. "May I please-"
"The usual?", I ask, starting to type it in. "Black for you, honeydew for Maka, passion fruit for Soul, taro for Blackstar, ginger for Liz and Patty, plum for Tsubaki, and strawberry for Crona?"
I start to make his order before he responds, and glance up only for a second to see if his expression had wavered. From neutral to impressed, he rests his chin on his palm, leaning against the counter and watching. I don't mind. It's not as if there's much else to do while you wait.
"Eight boba pearls for your drink, right?", I ask, counting the pearls carefully.
"Yes ma'am", He mumbles fondly, just loud enough for me to hear.
It doesn't take long for me to finish up his order. I set the drinks in their holders the precise way he likes- The first tray has Blackstar's, Tsubaki's, Maka's, and Soul's drinks, and the second has his, Liz, Patty's, and Crona's drinks. I don't ask about the order in which they have to be placed, I just do it. I don't get paid to disregard the customer's interest.
"Here you go", I chime as he takes the trays, slipping cash across the counter. "Have a nice day!"
"You as well", He picks up the trays, carefully balancing them as he walks, and makes his departure.
The bell rings of his absence, cuing my morning nap. The cafe doesn't get busy until mid-afternoon, which is also when my manager decides to come to work. Managing the cafe isn't hard work, I mean, making boba tea is simple- but it'd be nice to have some company every once in a while.
My eyelids flutter closed, yet the bell snaps me out of my sleepy trance. I shoot back up, and stare at the door in disbelief- who would come to a bubble tea shop at six in the morning besides Kid??
"Good morning! Welcome to-"
"Help me."
I stare at the man with hair as dark as the night, features as intimidating as I remember, and cower behind the counter, taking a step back to try and compose myself. The owner, the one who had sworn me to secrecy all those years ago, stands before me, blood dripping from his chin to his mud-stained boots.
"Clyde... No, no, you can't do this in broad daylight! Do you have any idea who just walked in here? The heir to Lord Death! What if I had forgotten a straw and he came waltzing back in and saw you?"
"Then you'd be an incompetent barista and I'd have your blood on me too", He snaps, jumping over the counter and wiping his face with the new towels I specifically bought for the cafe. "Get me my spare clothes from the back."
I give one last glance towards the door, before unlocking the back door and plunging myself into the deep, empty darkness. I whip out my phone, flicking on the flashlight, and shine it on the barren shelves until I spot Clyde's box of spare clothes.
As I lug the box outside, shivering while re-locking the door, I look over at him. He's sat under the counter, his blood-soaked shirt clutched close to his chest, red stains on the corners of his mouth. I try not to stare as he changes clothes, but can't help but grimace when the blood from his pants stains the tile.
"I don't get a thank you?", I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
"I own you", He hisses, suddenly jerking his hand towards my throat.
His hand covers over my neck, and I whimper ever so sightly. Eyebrows furrowed, lips in a fine line, he brushes his fingers against my neck gently, leaning in close.
"This beautiful throat is all mine", He purrs, kissing my jawline.
I grimace, my bottom lip quivering in fear and disgust. When he pulls away, I let out an inaudible breath of relief; yet, the trembling in my legs refuses to cease. His eyes trail down my waist, to my legs, and shoot back up to meet my gaze.
"Quit shaking. You look pathetic", He kneels down, gripping my legs tight, his nails sinking deep in my skin. "If it weren't for me, you'd still be on the streets. Isn't that right?"
"Yes, sir", I whisper, tightening my muscles as response from the pain. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize", His nails sink even deeper, and I feel him pierce my skin. "It's not your fault you're a dimwitted little girl."
I roll my eyes back, drying my eyes. He doesn't like it when I cry. When he finally lets me go, I rub the raw marks on my legs, biting my lip to prevent from whimpering again. The tapping of his footsteps fades as he makes his way towards the exit, prompting me to look over the counter. His expression is cold and stern- the same expression I see in my nightmares.
"Clyde!", I call, quickly jumping over the counter, a wet rag in hand.
He tilts his head, and I cautiously approach him, setting one hand on jawline and using the other to wipe his cheek. The blood smears before subsiding, leaving only the scent of iron and fear. He stares at me endearingly, and smiles gently.
"Thank you", He whispers, taking his hand in mine. "You can leave early. Have that stupid manager Elise run the cafe today"
With that, his fingertips slide from my palm, and he retreats into the blinding sunlight. I stare out the glass doors for a moment longer, listening to the fading ring of the bell. I hear the jingle when I lay in bed at night, when all is silent and calm. It ruins me inside.
Quickly, I snag a few bucks from the register, and head out to my apartment. The heat is enough to get caught in my throat, to make the babyhairs stick to my forehead, but I don't dare take a moment to rest. People like Clyde are everywhere, stalking the street corners for a quick, traceless meal.
His first attack was on my brother. We had been roaming the streets for fireflies, when we were called to the cafe, drawn in with free bubble tea and snacks. I was young, but he was old enough to know better. Being of weapon blood, he was the more important one- he was forced to mature quicker than me.
We were the only ones there. The bell above the door chimed as we walked in, and that was the it. I was too frail, too scared to do anything. All I remember is dropping my cup, and watching blood mix with tea. After he was done with my brother, he made his way towards me. That's when he introduced himself to me- That's when the name Clyde burned into my brain. He didn't kill me, because he fell in love with me. Ten years my elder, he made sure I was his.
When my parents left Death City- abandoned me on the streets- He was the one who took me in. At first, I lived in the back room, and worked until I was too exhausted to stand. My parents always wanted a weapon or a meister in the family. Unfortunately, I wasn't born with weapon blood, and I wasn't bred to be a meister- they say it comes instinctively. It didn't for me. So, I was deemed worthless, and they retreated to some far away city. I never even get postcards.
I owe everything to Clyde. Even if I wanted to, I can't get out of it. If I try to run away, try to leave him- he'll kill me. It's not as bad as it may seem. He doesn't stalk me. He let's me live by myself. He's kind to me most of the time. I'd be delusional to think of him as a threat. Well- he kills. He kills humans for food. He has this insatiable hunger, and no matter what I cook or bake him, he's never satisfied; unless it has flesh and screams for mercy.
As I approach my apartment building, I steal a glance of the DWMA, the sunlight glaring against one of it's multiple castle-like pillars. I wish I could enroll. I'm fifteen, old enough to get into high school- but I'm not a weapon or a meister. I've heard they get to go on jobs involving Kishin eggs, ancient monsters.. It sounds like so much fun. Even better, they have the one and only Maka Albarn! I've only read about her in books and newspapers, but she's the one who defeated the kishin Asura. I admire her.
I hope one day I can have as much bravery as her.