Chapter 2: First Errand

The day Samuel Bronnwyn woke up to was going to be his first day in DWMA. Today, he was going to be
a meister. That revelation came with a half-eaten corndog for a snack. Having climbed the flight of stairs,
Sam marvels at the sight of DWMA. How the candles lit up, the skulls fulfilling ornamental and functional
stuffs. Not to mention huge.

“… Right. Onwards and upwards.” Sam says psyching himself up to find Lord Death and his domain.

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Sam walked around the academy and through its halls, with zero knowledge about where Lord Death
was. Coming up to what seemed like the boy’s lavatory, Sam looks around the doorway as he went
through it and noticing some of its stains.

Wading deeper into the lavatory, Sam looks for the piss pot and lets loose. As the sounds of pissing filled
his ear in the day, Sam orients himself for the day to come.

Has he brought his forms to give to Lord Death? Yes, after checking in his knapsack.

Did he eat breakfast? Yes after checking in his head.

Now… all that was left to do is to have a talk with Death. Question is: fucking where is he?

The stress that this miniscule morning has put him through has pushed Sam’s patience, pushing him to
swirl his fingers by his temples as he waded for a wash in front of the mirror.

The water drips to his face and down his chin, and Sam leans down to the sink and gazes at himself. His
eyes glaze over his neck with the thought of his mother’s spell weakening.

Suddenly, a rift swirls in the mirror and Sam’s eyes roll away from his neck to look at it. His look widens
as the rift forms into a figure that resembled a poorly-made trophy figure. Extensions of itself shot out
by the sides and forms plastic gloves on both; a mask extends out of the top, forming into a kiddy skull
with three points for teeth.

Immediately, Sam recognizes the figure to be Lord Death himself.

“Found you~” Death coyly spoke as his gloves went for Sam, making him stagger from surprise. Sam’s
query turned into shambled mishaps of a sentence as he was pulled into the mirror.

The bathroom he was in turned into another world, Death’s world, and he was neatly placed in front of
Lord Death. Feeling dazed from the sudden pull, Sam braces his hands against his had dizzying. His eyes
roll ecstatic throughout the room from the whiplash. Eventually, Sam’s eyes land on Death’s face.

“… Yo.” Death comically waved a gloved hand at Sam, bidding hello.

Sam represses a grunt from the dizzy he felt as it began to die down. “Damn. Got to work on the
entrance, Death.” Sam cursed as he advised Lord Death.

Death chuckled before placing his hand around his chin. “You’re right. Samuel Bronwynn.” Death
remarks, invoking his name.
“Oh. News of me arriving has spread, hasn’t it?”

“Nono. I was just awaiting your arrival, that’s all. You are a curious first-year.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, Absolutely,” Lord Death says before getting out of the way to reveal an elegant table and chair for
two. “Now, would you like for some tea?”

Sam looks to Lord Death, presenting to him a chair just manifested before him. Sam, grimacing to the
chair and table, says “Oh thank you. Thank you very much.” Stepping towards it and sitting down, going
for a chat with Death.

“Now, I understand why you were so late. Coming from Ireland and all,” Death says, pouring Sam’s
teacup for a sip. “Then, there is the matter of your situation. As you know, witches and humans have
been unified, thanks to my son.”

“Ah. Death the Kid, wasn’t it?” Sam murmurs into his cup as he listens intently.

“Indeed. And in such odd style, I must say. The British Island was where it happened, after all.” Death
sums up the last five years of life in DWMA. If Sam could recall, Ireland has been conscripted for their
meisters for defense from any witch skirmish that erupted within or beyond. And there were. Many.

“Well, good thing that that’s all past, now.” Sam said as he sipped for another, and tasting the blunt of
the tea’s sting thereafter. The tea earns Sam a bitter tongue, “blech!”

“Words to live by. Words to live by.” Death murmurs a passing quote, taking a sip as well. “Now, since
we are on the topic, I am curious to hear about your village, Mr. Bronwynn.” Death said, placing down
his cup and shimmying his chair to listen to Sam.

“Baltward, sir? … Well, that union thing didn’t really change much for us. The village just threw a grand
party, actually.”

Lord Death chuckled to that. “Very good. Last time I was in Ireland, I was rounding up some Kishin with
my colleagues. I hope that didn’t do something bad to your village.”

“Oh, you actually helped us a bit in cleaning up. We were scared of those Kishin to do business, and
thanks to you, we could sell our fish out to sea again.”

“Ah, your welcome.” Death salutes smally across Sam, making him chuckle how kiddie he looked and is
acting. Sam sipped once more, and he found the teacup to be empty.

“Right, right. I’ll just give to you this and I’ll bug off for the day.” Sam said, waving his enrolment forms
around Death.

“Ohp! Before you leave,” Death says, swiping away the enrolment forms. “Tradition here in DWMA, you
will have to meet our candidates to be your weapon.”

Sam looks credulously at Lord Death as he pulled out three folders from his back. Sam walks over to
Death and is handed those three files, and he scans through the papers. “Now, choosing one of these
three will take some time. And, quite the troublesome matter, you came late. So you will have to take
special commissions to catch up with the others.”

Not really minding taking commissions, Sam scans at the personality files and sees to it himself as to
who he will be reviewing.

The papers were only presented to be names and pictures. The first, aptly named Slammer, was a
woman with auburn-brown hair. Her jawline evoked a strong figure, one that had Sam speculate that
she had more muscle and broad shoulders. The second, Smithers Jean, had raven-black hair and that
was the only feature Sam saw in the plain guy. The last, was Pippin Sloan. She had bleach-blonde hair
but dull eyes which contrasted the hair.

“See anyone you like?”

Sam only looked up, unsurprised but wagging an eyebrow at Lord Death’s query. Sam hums at the sight
of the three chosen for him.

Sam only looked back at the files in silence and decided on… “Can’t I have a go on ‘em three?”

The question earned a tick with Lord Death. “Shinigami Chop!” He shouts before he delivers a bonk to
Sam’s head. Sam stumbles and his rear falls to the ground, and he massages the pain on his head
thereafter.

“Nope! Only one at a time. Your soul can’t handle even two, so one will be enough for you.”

“Yeesh. Sorry, milord. Gah!” Sam sasses with a curse directed at Death as he stood. “Fine, then. I’ll do
errmmm… Pippin Sloan.”

“Good. You’re starting now.” Death announced, eliciting a dumb “What?” from Sam before Death’s
arms stretched over to the mirror, and it swirls as he looked like he was pulling something in. Sam peers
through the mirror, seeing the ripples of a living room. Then, he sees a splurge of color until Death pulls
out a woman and places her before Sam’s eyes.

Sam’s eyes widen as Pippin was a blonde when he thought the picture was just really old, and she was
only staring back with the same expression. What he also saw was that Pippin had been brandishing
makeup on her face, as evident as a trail of lipstick had painted on her face from her lower lip to her
chin.

“… You uh… got some splatter of red there, vamp.” Sam grimaced, joking to Pippin’s lips. Upon that
remark, Pippin sharply gasps aback from Sam before she turns herself to Death’s mirror and eyes down
her lips. After getting a good look, Pippin wipes the red off her chin until it hardly became noticeable.

“Ah. There she is.” Sam grins at the flustered blonde huffing to him, her feet stomping. Sam takes no
step back but leans backward as Pippin fumed her grinding face until she was only an inch away from
him.

“Ng!”

“Do you know how hard I worked out with this lipstick?” Pippin spoke between her teeth, heat
emanating and bursting as Sam could feel from where he’s standing.
“I’d guess half an hour?” Sam murmurs before his nostrils catch whiff of a flowery smell. “Smells good.
You used tonic?” Sam points out, catching Pippin off-guard and her fluster made her cheeks red. From
the background, Lord Death guffaws in laughter at them both.

“I’m beginning to see that your souls are resonating immediately. More reason to get you two on your
first assignment.” Death remarks at Sam and Pippin, before he snaps his fingers again for the mirror and
the reflection swirls to another place. Sam and Pippin’s eyes peer together and through the mirror to
somewhere like a town square. “Right,” Lord Death bursts before placing his gloves onto both Sam and
Pippin and starts to push them both towards the mirror.

“But stow it! Ain’t this a bit rush?”

“Yeah? What am I doing here anyway?” Pippin remarked and Sam pointed out.

“Nonono. I insist.” Death dejected. “You need to be oriented to this,” Death dejected, referring to Sam,
“and you need to –“ Death stopped in his sentence and step for an excuse, making Sam and Pippin look
up to him to finish the sentence. “get out more.” Death spurted, “Nice, young souls like yourselves
should enjoy life to the fullest, after all.” Death reasoned as he pushed Sam and Pippin through the
mirror.

Sam and Pippin hop through the mirror and onto the pavement of the street. Pippin and Sam both saw
that it was midday at a town square. Sam turned around to ask Lord Death, “Oi! Why us? The hell are we
anyway” Sam barks, ticked off that this suddenly happened.

Before Lord Death answers, he pulls out a flare gun and shoots to the sky. The flare rockets to the sky
until it peaks and explodes. Sam and Pippin yelp at the boom in their ears. “You two are in Germany.”
Lord Death announces, catching Sam’s and Pippin’s attention. “A friend of mine needs help with a
special errand his town has and it’s got something to do with a Kishin.”

At the word Kishin, Pippin tenses up while Sam dumbly blinks as he picks his nose. “Yeah. Still shiny at
the word Kishin.” Sam pans out, and Pippin ‘hah!’s with surprise at that.

Death guffaws with a chuckle again at Sam’s inexperience. “You two will be fine. With your skill, Samuel
Bronwynn, I’m sure that you’ll ace through this no problem.” Lord Death remarks at Sam, eliciting a
grimace from him and Lord Death steps back to the other side of the mirror. “When you’re done, just
call upon this.” Lord Death says, throwing to Sam a vanity mirror. Sam swipes it mid-air and looks down
upon it to be shaped like a skull. “Well, good luck.” Lord Death says before the mirror swirls into itself
and disappears.

With that, Samuel Bronwynn and Pippin Sloan have been stranded in the middle of Germany. Sam rolls
his eyes to the blondehead Pippin as she stares right back.

“*ahem*, Right. Let’s step back. I am Samuel Bronwynn, I hail from Ireland and I just started today. I
hope I can be a good – er – meister, was it? for you.” Sam introduced with as much flare he can muster.
Pippin’s fluster tones down by how Sam remarked himself.

“Er, likewise.” Pippin awkwardly shuffled her hands away from a handshake before Sam could have
noticed. “S-so, what now?”
“Well…” Sam looks at the environment around him, lastly to the flare that Lord Death shot to the sky.
“Judging from that flare, maybe someone will see and come here to us. So, we’ll just wait.”

Sam’s deduction of the situation impressed Pippin. Even though this rude guy is entirely new, I guess he
isn’t that dumb. “Right.”

“Right.” Sam repeats dumbly at Pippin, and the town square’s ambient noises: the fountain drips, a
pidgeon or two coos behind them, give way to calming the atmosphere as the sun is at its peak. Sam,
looking at the scenery around them, decides to think something up.

“Er…” Sam awkwardly calls, and Pippin rolls her eyes to him. “So, how the hell is this weapon and
meister thing work exactly?”

“Ah. Simply hold out your hand and I’ll uh. come to you.” Pippin answers and Sam presented an open
hand to her direction. Pippin psyches herself up with a breath or two and she emanates with white light.
Her form fluctuates until it beams to Sam’s hand until the light straightens but doesn’t exactly solidify.
Upon Sam’s hand, Pippin outlines her form into a handle, to which Sam assumes she took form of a
blade. But to where the rest of the blade was stayed to a fluid state. A second later, Pippin’s form
actualizes.

Upon the pummel was a cartoonish skull that glared down the handle, which was cross-leathered. The
hilt nicely connects to rubber cables with three single spikes dangling its end. Pippin Sloan formed to a
whip. She arranges the rest of her, the whip’s thong all the way to the end, and twists to Sam’s palm.

Pippin, on the other hand, felt that Sam eyed her down but did not see his face. W-Well? Do I fit your
standards?

Pippin looks up to him only to be met with a face of disgust, only shocked at the face Sam was making
and how disgusted he was. Why?

“… sadist.” Sam murmurs at Pippin’s Weapon form, earning a tick to her mood.

At Sam’s comment, Pippin reforms from the waist-up and pops out from the whip’s popper. “It’s not my
fault! I was born this way!” Pippin shouts down to him excusingly in a fluster while Sam braced his ears
from her.

“Yeah, yeah!” Sam fans away her hissy-fit, “Stop whining and shift back. Can’t be expected to carry your
ass all day, now can I?” Sam offensively calms Pippin, she huffs her face away before she hops away
from his grasp and envelops herself in white light before reforming back and landing onto the
pavement. After, Pippin feels cross with Sam’s attitude and crosses her arms in a huff not feeling to look
his way.

Sam scoffs at her before she wipes his hands away from any semblance of a whip. Absolute mental that
I picked up a whip again. His thoughts went for a curse but he lets it go before he diverts his attention
back to Pippin. “Rrright, then. I’d reckon we should –“ Before Sam could finish his sentence, both him
and Pippin avert their eyes to the sound of black SUVs.

Sam spots little flaglets of German flags on poles by the hood and he deduces that those cars are for
Lord Death’s friend, he presumes. Pippin steps aside the road and beside Sam closely and they both
await the car’s arrival. The SUVs three rounded about the fountain until the middle car stopped just in
front of them. Sam’s attention focused on the middle car as its door opens for a man in a suit steps out
of the car.

His face was grizzly. His jawline along to the bottom of his chin had grey bristles so Sam deduced him to
be an old mayor. Obviously. The old mayor smiles at them both, “Hello, Fraulein – Herr Bronnin.
Welcome to Berlin.” in a rigid German accent. Sam and Pippin only stare back blankly with a smile. Not
letting the situation turn awkward, Sam breaths in air before calmly greeting the German chancellor.

“… Guten tag, Bundekanzler.” Sam greets, waving up to him with a toothy grin in the most respectable
voice Sam can muster. “We have come with Death’s regards to aid you in your little problem.” Sam
summed up their reason for being in the middle of Germany. Sam can see that the chancellor was
impressed that he spoke a bit of German.

“Wunderbar! Come, Come. I will tell on the way.” The chancellor Sam glanced to Pippin’s face and sees
that her eyes opened wide in surprise that he even knew German. Clearing his throat, he averts his eyes
away from Pippin’s.

“Right. Onwards.” Sam says to Pippin pointing to the car and walking to it. Pippin scratches her nape
before reluctantly going into the chancellor’s car with Sam. Just like that, Sam and Pippin are on their
way to… wherever the wind takes them.

Minutes later, the SUVs roll around and through Berlin as Sam and Pippin gazed at the sights passing by
the car windows. Sam tuned out the chancellor’s voice as he admired the Brandenburg Gate, the Kaiser
Memorial, the Reichstag and much more. So much (bad) history was imbued into the entire German
capital city and he started getting lost as his eyes basked through the car window.

“So that’s the problem here.”

Sam’s ears pick up the chancellor’s words but still continued to admire the sights until he felt an elbow
poking him out of his daydreaming. Sam rolled his eyes for Pippin, who then gestures her head with her
eyes to the chancellor. Sam sighs quietly as his eyes land onto the chancellor’s trusting smile, innocently
staring back to the foreigners before him.

“… What’s it look like, then? Anything will suffice.” Sam says, alleviating the situation. Pippin shrugs,
averting her gaze away from Sam.

“Oh~” The chancellor awed with a glint in his eye. “was war (what was…)? … Ah, it was a beast. Long
arms, sharp toes, and as breite (wide) as bus. I had my staff and force evacuate a portion of Berlin from
the east and behind.” The chancellor said, glancing outside the car window. “Ah, Schau dir das (Look
there!)” He said, pointing outside.

At his word, Sam and Pippin look through the car window, seeing army camps sectioning off one village
with patrol jeeps circling around the portion with emphasis for the command center to be guarded. The
SUVs park aside it and the aged chancellor stares at both Sam and Pippin, sending them to a cold sweat.

“Word of caution. This biest is ferocious. It nests inside a shopping mall and keeps people there for its
amusement. I hear that its roars could make one’s head explode.” The Bundekanzler’s parting words set
an eerie sound to Sam’s ears. He shot a glance to Pippin, and she just gazed back and they turn back to
the Bundekanzler. “But not to worry. Lord Death’s meisters already weakened it to only the mall, so I
think it would be fine.” He then proceeds to open the door for Sam and Pippin to get out. “Happy
hunting.”

With that, Sam and Pippin stare at the SUVs leaving them onto the command center. Sam just blankly
stared at everything moving before his doped eyes land on Pippin.

“… That guy was cheerful.” Sam darkly remarks on the old fart. Pippin just breathed calmly to psyche
herself up for this mission. The stepping of boots onto cement filled the atmosphere as they stared
down to the border and to the gate, which they both assume that the Kishin lurked behind. “Right.
Onwards, sadist.” Sam motivates him and Pippin, which only infuriated Pippin.

“It’s just who I am, okay?!” She fumed before following Sam into the command center.

“Peh! Don’t get your panties in a twist. Let’s meet their chain of command.” Sam shrugged off Pippin’s
hissy fit as she lagged behind him.

“stupid.” Pippin murmured in defeat, having her arms cross and stepped with him and to the tent that
housed the chain of command that Sam spoke. As he stepped to the tent, he became mindful of his neck
and loosened a button off to grant himself freedom. Sam’s fingers trail along the curvature of his neck
and scratches his nape.

To add to this, his assigned weapon was a whip. As if his destiny wasn’t as obvious enough, fate decided
to make it clearer and clearer. That he, Samuel Bronwynn, was going to be that guy. As if his
responsibility wasn’t as clear as the threat that comes after a year’s time. The pressure was building up
with every second and he was growing tired of it. But he can’t abandon his village to the threat’s every
whim. It was indeed coming to plague it, as the ten-year plague comes and goes.

Right now, Sam psyches himself up for the Kishin. … Onwards, self. Don’t bleat defeat now. This’ll be
pancakes when compared to that shit.

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END