My future has always occurred to me as unknown – a blank piece of paper with nothing to be found on either side of the sheet. I have always tried to be strong. I have always tried to be brave, and I most certainly have always tried to be the best I can possibly be in this world, but is that enough? Is that enough to uncover the clandestine fragment – the one jagged piece missing in the puzzle?
What is to become of me? What am I destined to be in this world? What is my purpose? Why am I here? These سوالات rattle around in my brain, unhinged and unyielding. But I hope that today is the دن that all of the سوالات – all of my uncertainties – are finally taken care of and answered once and for all.
The sun beats down on my tiny form as the platform beneath my feet slowly inches me up through the cylinder tube and into the wide expanse of the golden arena. The sky is amazingly blue – so very, very blue. The clouds lazily drift along, at ease with their own fluffy selves. I look up at the sun. It hasn’t changed since this morning: hyperventilating and greedily gobbling up whatever is in the atmosphere. I look around at the meisters that have found themselves in the same arena as I. We’re all here for the same reason: to finally earn a place at Death Weapon Meister Academy in the student body. The school is renowned for its reputation of annihilating anyone who strays from the human path for the path of the kishin.
I grip my bow tightly, rubbing my thumb along the slender, black steel to lend myself comfort.
“Jordan?” my sister demands in weapon form. “Are آپ okay?”
I nod, gripping her with my right hand. “Yes. It’s almost time. There’s…so many people.”
“We’re going to do just fine. آپ know as well as I do that we have what it takes to make it in.”
I grimace and look at the obstacles ahead of us: sandpits with javelins, climbing walls, sparring dummies, bulls-eye targets, and a whole array of other atrocities. It’s not that I don’t believe I can overcome these obstacles. It’s the fear of doing so. It’s the fear of failure.
“There’s a lot of other meisters that want to get in, Adrienne,” I warn. “It’s possible we may not be chosen.”
“Stop being so cynical. We’re here to do our best, and if we don’t make it in this year, we can try again اگلے year.”
I clench my teeth. “I don’t want to wait until اگلے year. I want this now.”
“Then دکھائیں them.”
The announcer’s voice suddenly booms throughout the stadium, and the crowd’s crescendo of cries finally die down to a lull. “Hello, everyone! Welcome to the DWMA’s Annual Physical Skills Exam! Ten of آپ lucky meisters and weapons will be selected سے طرف کی the end of the دن to become a part of the student body here at the Academy! We wish آپ all good luck.”
The crowd cheers, and I glower at the ground. What are we? Some sort of zoo spectacle?
The first test rolls around the corner, and it’s pretty simple. In twenty seconds, I’m over the climbing wall, up the rope ladder, and across the monkey bars. Agility is something I’m quite good at. But come the سیکنڈ test, I groan with despair. The javelin toss kills me. I’m not one for upper strength, but I do my best to throw the javelin as far as my arm will allow. It doesn’t even come close to the other competitors’ throws, and I walk away feeling terribly sheepish.
The third test is a breeze. Since my sister is basically multiple long-distance weapons, I don’t need to pick up the bow and arrows یا the throwing knives the Academy has provided.
“Throwing knives, now!” I holler above the din.
My sister transforms, and I quickly take my stance. I can feel the sun beating down on my shoulders, and a drop of sweat trickles down my cheek as I look beyond the distance and directly at the bulls-eye target. I take a deep breath and let the چھری fly, tossing it at a sideways angle and watching it burry itself point first in the center of the target.
The crowd goes wild, and I smile at them, thankful for their praise, even though I still don’t necessarily know why they’re here. Evidently, I’ve had a few یا perhaps a lot of people watching me. Maybe I really don’t have cause to worry. That was an excellent throw.
The last test is simple. Our only job is to expand our souls beyond our physical capacity, and keep it that way for at least three minutes. The first time I tried to do this, my dad was instructing me. I wasn’t very patient, and I couldn’t get the hang of it, so I quickly gave up یا became ill-tempered. Naturally, I don’t consider myself the most patient person in the world.
Luckily, my dad was willing to get me past that, despite all my attempts to quit. He taught me to never give up – to keep trying, no matter how hard it may seem. That has stuck with me, and my parents are out there watching right now…somewhere. I cannot fail.
I expand my soul like my father taught me, and I hold it there. It almost feels like a muscle that you’re trying to keep flexed, but with your mind rather than your body. I hold my concentration for all three minutes, and I could have gone longer, but three منٹ are all they require out of me.
We line up at the grading posts and await our results. Time ticks سے طرف کی – tick, tick, tick – but I can’t seem to get a hold of myself. I feel sick with anxiety.
If I don’t make it in, what do I do then? What do I say? Do I just walk away and accept defeat? No… No, I refuse.
The announcer walks out and stands in front of us with a few able-bodied security guards beside him. What do they need security guards for here? He looks slim and well-dressed with a white tuxedo and a comb-over hair-do; he kind of reminds me of the guy آپ see on those Kentucky fried chicken buckets minus the beard.
“Congratulations, all of you! Each of آپ passed the exam. However, only ten of آپ have qualified for entry and enrollment into the Academy. If آپ have been accepted, I will shake your hand.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, the Kentucky fried chicken man walks سے طرف کی us one سے طرف کی one. He stops to shake a few hands and skips a few, leaving behind faces of joy and faces of sorrow. Eventually…he makes his way to me…but he does not shake my hand.
I gasp and look at the dirt ground, eyes open wide.
“What?” Adrienne exclaims. “How?”
I don’t reply. I can’t. I’m too tongue-tied to say anything. I might as well be brain-tied as well, because I can’t لپیٹ, لفاف کریں my head around what just happened. I was denied?
I leap out in front of everyone and clench my fists. “How…How did I not make it in?”
I probably sound like a stuck-up brat that you’d find on one of those sweet sixteen shows they premiere on MTV with the girly prom-dressed Barbie dolls that desire ponies and diamonds for their oh-so-glorious birthdays, but I don’t care at this point. I’m not letting this slip out of my hands.
The announcer turns and looks at me incredulously. “Sweetie, آپ were exemplary in your exam, but you’re not exactly the strongest meister.”
“So this is about strength?” I demand. “You’ve got to be joking! I excelled in everything except the strength division! It’s not a big deal! Being a meister isn’t all about strength. Strength only plays a fraction of being a meister.”
He smiles, shrugging and raising his eyebrows. “Those are the rules, sweet pea. If آپ don’t pass all the divisions, then آپ don’t pass at all. Besides, your skills were impressive, but they’re definitely mediocre. آپ still have a long ways to go before آپ get into this Academy. You’d be killed on your first mission.”
“You don’t know that! آپ don’t know me!” I step forward, raising a fist, but a security guard grabs me سے طرف کی the arm and pulls me back. I try to wrench myself free of him, but another security guard grabs my other arm, restraining me from moving آگے any further.
I haven’t been paying much attention to my surroundings, but it seems the audience is getting a kick out of the drama.
“Get her out of here before she hurts herself.” The announcer turns away and continues with his tedious task of crushing students’ dreams.
I scream and kick, already feeling the tears springing to my eyes. This cannot be happening! I’ve worked too hard for this! And now it’s being dragged away from me, further and further away, when suddenly a voice rings out.
“Stop!”
The security guards gaze around, wondering where the voice came from. I look across the yellow expanse of dirt floor. The mirage of heat lengthens up from the ground, making the arena appear to be some sort of Arabian desert. A black figure strides across the expanse and stops a few feet away from the announcer.
“Tell them to let her go,” the mysteriously wavy figure orders.
“On whose authority?” the announcer asks with contempt.
The boy’s mouth twitches up into a smile. “On Lord Death’s authority.”
The announcer lets out a small huff of laughter. “You’re joking. آپ really expect me to believe you’re Lord Death? I mean, I know the guy barely shows himself, but I’m not stupid, whoever آپ are.”
“Let me rephrase that, then,” the boy says, a hint of condescension in his voice. “On the authority of me, Death the Kid, Lord Death’s son, and a formal member of the Death family.” He holds up an I.D. with the astonishing emblem of a Reaper’s skull on the back. At this, the announcer is taken aback with shock but readily throws himself to the ground, bowing to the newcomer with as much decency as he can muster.
“I’m terribly, terribly sorry! Please forgive me! I had no idea I was talking to the son of Lord Death himself!” The announcer then turns and frantically gesticulates for the security guards to let me go.
I rub my arm as they soften their grip and release me, but the lingering pain in my arms doesn’t amount to the shock of what Lord Death’s son has just done for me. I don’t even know his name. What is he doing?
With little specks of dust and dirt being kicked up in his wake, he approaches me like a ghost – a shadow that I’ve never had the likes of seeing before. His graceful stride would be considered calm and collected, even if there was an explosion of the worst calamity possible ensuing behind him. I gaze curiously at his figure as he saunters closer and closer.
He’s slim and elegant, clean-cut and dark. His black and white tuxedo stands out here in the bright sun. But what has me entranced is his hair; his hair depicts three, distinct and thick white stripes running horizontally from the middle of his forehead to the back along the left side of his hair. I guess it’s a Grim Reaper thing. My breath is stolen from me as he approaches and his honey eyes lock with mine whimsically.
His voice is just as suave and smooth as his gait.
“Are آپ okay?” he asks with a slight tilt of his head, as if I was hurt beyond belief سے طرف کی the violent struggle.
“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you,” I say gratefully, trying to rub the antagonistic feeling of intrusion those guards left behind on my skin.
“Follow my lead,” he whispers quietly, but before I can answer, he swirls around and announces, “I hereby grant this girl pardon. She passed the exam. She may enroll in the DWMA.”
The crowd gasps. Is he allowed to do that? Well, he must be. He’s the son of the Grim Reaper, the founder of the Academy.
“Now, now, Your Lordship!” the announcer says, stumbling over his own obtrusive tongue. “I am not denying your gracious authority, but granting this girl pardon isn’t exactly up to you. It’s up to me. I’m the one that decides whether یا not these pupils will make it یا break it in the Academy based on the skills they demonstrate. It would be risky, not to mention dangerous, to allow such an…amateur meister to enter the school.”
Lord Death’s son nods, seemingly taking the announcer’s words into consideration. “Thank آپ for your input. It’s much appreciated. But I see potential in this girl. We have to let her in. She can prove her potential to آپ and the entire world later on if it’s needed.”
“I am sorry,” the announcer placates, “but that’s in violation of our code of admission. She could potentially get herself killed, and our decision to let an inexperienced and poorly trained meister like her could look bad on our part if something were to happen to her. We’d be accountable.”
The young Grim Reaper narrows his gaze, no longer emanating a friendly and compromising tone, but rather a fierce and demanding one. “Did آپ not sense her soul wavelength? Could آپ not see how powerful her soul was? She has the potential. In all due respect, you’re wrong.”
“I’m the one who calls the shots in this arena, Your Highness,” the announcer says with a sniff of sheepish disdain, sneezing because of the dust in the atmosphere. “I believe it would be wise for آپ to leave now. I know you’re Lord Death’s son, but you’re not Lord Death yet. I can only grant this girl pardon if Lord Death approves of such an action.”
The boy crosses his arms, nonplussed. He appears to be in deep thought, staring at the ground and holding his right arm سے طرف کی the elbow. My دل goes out to him. He’s doing all he can to help me.
Feeling like I need to say something, I step in. “What if I’m trained?” I ask pleadingly.
They both look up at me, and the boy smiles. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“No, no,” the announcer dismisses. “Let’s not hear of that nonsense. Besides, who on earth would take the time to train a weakling like yourself?”
I grind my teeth and glare at him, seething with irritation. “Excuse me? I’m not a weakling! And…I’m sure I could find someone…”
“All the teachers are busy. The students are busy. There are no trainers at the school. Either آپ come in possessing skill یا آپ don’t. Face it. There’s no one.”
“I’ll train her,” Lord Death’s son says.
I look at him quizzically, and I can’t believe my own ears. Lord Death’s son wants to train me? He کہا that I have potential. What does that mean? What does he see in me that has convinced him I’d be a benefactor to the Academy?
“I’ll train her,” he repeats. “I wouldn’t mind. Being a Grim Reaper, I have no problem setting some time aside to train this girl.”
“I don’t know…” the announcer says speculatively, contemplating the situation. Although I’m sure he’s only trying to appear as if he’s considering the deal. He does not want to grant me entry whatsoever.
“How about this, then?” Lord Death’s son asks. “You don’t grant her entry just yet. Allow me to train her, and then آپ can give her another chance to prove her worth to you.”
“Now that’s something I can agree with.” He turns, brushing some dust off his sleeve. “I’ll make her a temporary visitor identification card. آپ can come to pick it up at the school later. I’ll only give آپ a month. One month. She’s back to prove herself to me یا else she will not enter the Academy.”
“Thank آپ for your cooperation,” the young Grim Reaper says. Then he turns and walks back to me. “Let’s have a talk.”
I follow him to the edge of the arena in the shade, and my sister transforms to walk alongside me. The audience begins to clear out, and I breathe a sigh of relief, glad to be free of the weight that’s been hanging over my head.
The boy leans against the wall, one foot placed upon it to give himself balance. We stare at each other for awhile, and I get the feeling he’s sizing my sister and I up. His expression suggests deep thought. I’m the first one to break the silence.
“Thank آپ for doing what آپ did back there. We probably would have been thrown out had it not been for you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he says, waving it off. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Death the Kid, but آپ can call me Kid. It’s what my دوستوں know me as.” He holds out a hand and smiles slightly, challenging me to shake his hand. I nod and reach out my hand as well, grasping his firmly. “I’m Jordan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kid.”
“Nice to meet you! I’m Adrienne,” my sister says, shaking his hand as well.
A few سیکنڈ pass, and he brings up a question, closing his eyes and sinking his hands into his pockets. “So what made آپ want to enroll in my father’s Academy?”
My sister shrugs. “I’m only joining because of my sister and my dad.”
“They influenced آپ to enroll?”
“Yes.” She tucks her hands behind her in an innocent way, grinning the only way Adrienne can.
“I see. What about you?” He looks at me, and his tone changes dramatically from friendly to desperately curious, as if he absolutely needs to know why I want to شامل میں in order to solve the greatest puzzle known to mankind.
“To be honest,” I start, “I’m searching for something.” I look at the ground and think about my اگلے words carefully. “I don’t know what it is exactly. I’ve always been an adventurous person. I guess I’m trying to find a place in this world. The Academy seemed like the place for me.”
“Oh, I can see you’re an adventurous person. آپ don’t have to point that out. I sensed it when آپ stepped out and spoke up for yourself. Whatever you’re searching for, I hope آپ find it at the Academy. The school has a way of bringing out qualities in us we never knew we possessed.”
Qualities آپ never knew آپ possessed. That sounds like the remedy I need. I’m tired of not knowing who I am. I’m tired of being clueless as to what my purpose is. If the Academy can help excavate the hidden qualities within me, then I’m مزید than willing to give it a try. “You seem positive that we’re going to make it in,” I say, trying to get مزید out of the elusive Grim Reaper.
“With my help, آپ should be able to. I don’t doubt you, and I’m certainly not one to look down on you. Physical strength is something that can be improved. You’ll meet the qualifications in due time.”
“We can’t thank آپ enough,” my sister asserts.
I nod. “We’re thankful for your offer of help, Kid. Your generosity is accepted with willing hands. We’ll do all we can to not let آپ down.”
“No,” Kid says, “You’re not the only ones who have the potential of failure. If آپ fail, we all fail. We’re a team now. So let’s make sure to not let the Academy down.”
