Hallo, hallo! Star here! This is my first Soul Eater fanfic, and, of course, it had to be about Shinigami-sama. I am a total fangirl. XD This is actually one of my newer ideas for him- I had others, but this one was just begging to be written. I mean, really.
Anywho, I always found Shinigami and Kid's relationship very underappreciated, and I absolutely adore it. And yes, this story will differ slightlyfrom the canon, but I will do my best to keep it in line. *puts on army gear and salutes*
Hope you enjoy it! And also, I got the title from Dead By April's song "Painting Shadows". Please, not to be shooting me. Oh, and, uh, Shinigami-sama/Death and Death the Kid (it never says the child's name in the story, but, come on, if you're a real SE fan, you would tell. Also, you probably could tell by the character filter.) belong to Studio Bones, FUNimation(because it's just so FUN), blah blah, etc. NOT TO ME. Duh.
--
"Where's the kid!?"
"He's still in the castle! Death!"
"Yes!"
A black shadow dashed like lightning across the stone floor. The rush of wind cut through the air, candles flickered as the shade shot past, yet there were no footsteps heard, and no flames vanished. The phantom suddenly stopped short as he sensed someone. He turned to the right and tore the door open with black claws.
Inside, there was a very unusual baby nursery. There was a red and black "sky" that dotted the landscape, while apparently extremely strong bandages made the baby's crib. On the bloodied dirt floor, a little boy was playing with a wooden sailboat. His was dressed only in a loose red shirt and a diaper. When he heard the intruder, he flung his head around, startled. His black hair swayed wildly. The shadow could tell that his aura had changed into fear.
The shadow known as Death itself extended his dark claws, his signature gleaming. Eibon had always told him his handwriting was like chicken scratch- indecipherable and barely able to be classified as "writing". Death had only waved him off, gruffly warning that if he didn't get back to his post, there will be hell to pay. He could have sworn he heard Eibon grinning as he strode away.
The child responded to the threat by filling his golden eyes with tears and crushing his unpainted sailboat close to his tiny chest. Death advanced forward, then froze.
Amidst the darkness, a lone orange soul floated where the child once was. The soul was shaking wildly, "tears" running down its cheeks. Then the child with three odd stripes in his jet black hair appeared once again, mirroring his soul's tears. Death tried to push his soul-detecting abilities (and his conscience) aside. This child was a demon. He needed to die, for the order of the world. As a shinigami, this was his duty. He could not, would not, let anything disturb the world's balance. A demon, child or otherwise, had to be destroyed.
For the good of the world.
As Death raised his claws, the child clutched his toy tighter. He didn't dare start to bawl, afraid that the pointy shadow would hurt him. He did, however, start to sniffle and let out a choked sob every so often. He didn't know where his mommy and daddy were. He wished for them to come and save him from the big, scary man. As the man started to move his arm, the child shut his eyes tightly. Maybe it was just a bad dream. Maybe he would suddenly wake up in mommy's arms.
The child heard a crack, but it wasn't his bones. He opened one yellow eye to find the stranger's black claws buried in the earth, causing breaks in the ground. The child opened the other eye and looked up into the grim skull mask. The shade was silent, glaring at the dirt and dust. The baby stared at him for a while. Eventually, Death glanced at him. The other's breath caught in his throat at being spotted, but Death still didn't move. "I cannot kill you," he finally admitted. "You are an innocent child and I cannot take your life away."
The child did not know what that meant, but he sensed the stranger's rage fading and being replaced with distress and sorrow. He loosened his hold on the boat and crawled closer to the (now not so scary) man. Death watched as the child edged closer to him, his soul curious but hesitant. His claws vanished and spindly claw-like fingers replaced them. The child gazed at this in astonishment. He yelped suddenly as those same fingers picked him up by the back of his red shirt and brought him in front of the skull man's mask. His toy slipped from the baby's stubby fingers and fell to the floor with a clang. Then the boy proceeded to burst into tears, the pent up fear and uncertainty finally released. Death could only stare, shifting the bawling child into the palm of his other hand. With his now free hand, his picked up the toy and gave it to the child.
--
"You couldn't kill him?"
Death could only stare at the ground as the child beside him sat next to him, staring up at the owner of the voice. The person was what looked like a glowing white figure seated upon a high throne. The black shadow was quiet for a little bit, choosing his words carefully.
"No. I could not take a life so young and innocent."
"Innocent?" A voice spoke up. The child looked over to see what looked like a man dressed in bright yellow perched atop another throne. "This child is nothing but a demon! As a shinigami, your duty is to--"
"Protect the order of the world," Death finished. "I understand. But this child has done nothing to threaten the world. He should not be punished for the sins of his kin."
"I agree," said a woman in a green dress. Both her body and throne were wrapped in vines. "Death is right. This child is blameless."
"How could you side with him?" a woman enveloped in ice crystals snapped from across the huge white room. "Do you know who this child is!?"
"Enough!" the figure in white yelled. The room immediately went dead silent. Everyone, including the child, turned to the form.
"If you feel so strongly about this," the outline told Death, "then you will be the one responsible for him."
"What?" Death argued, glancing up at the blindingly white body for the first time to glare at him. "Why should I--"
"It's your choice, Death. Either you will care for the child…" the shape turned to the boy, "…or he will die."
The shadow fell silent.
--
Thin gnarled fingers picked up a book, adding it to the bundle of toys in his other hand. The child only watched from the other side of the nursery, confused. Why was this man taking his toys? Just what happened in the big room? Where were mommy and daddy? He couldn't understand. He just wanted things to go back to normal. He wanted this bad dream to end. Frustrated, he started to wail. The shadow turned around to glare at him.
"What are you crying about?" he snapped gruffly, also frustrated. Just because he had let this child live, he now had to take care of him. Since when did the God of Death adopt a son? He didn't even want it. That bastard Light stuck him with this kid just to smite him.
The child could tell that the shadow's aura had turned edgy and dangerous. He froze up and tried to stifle his crying. Death narrowed his eyes in suspicion, then turned back to his task of gathering the toys. The boy tried not to care, his fear of the man overcoming his anger at his toys being taken.
Death finished collecting the toys and dumped them into a sack. He also snatched a few necessities(unfortunately the child was not, how should he say it, housebroken yet, meaning Death now had to learn how to change diapers, something death gods just didn't do) and tossed them into the sack, tightening the rope to seal it shut. He threw the bag over his shoulder and began to walk away.
The child lowered his eyes, frowning. So, this pointy man was going to take his toys and leave him? That wasn't nice. He sniffed.
Death stopped and turned around. "What are you doing? Get up," he grumbled. The child didn't understand and continued to sit there, sniffling. Death scowled. "What's wrong with you, you little brat!? Get up!" he barked. The child sensed something was wrong and flinched at Death's harsh tone. He turned around to see the shadow glaring at him. "Well?" Death growled. "Either come with me or die. Your choice."
The boy frowned and looked down and back to Death. The shadow obviously wanted something, but the child couldn't understand why he was so mad. He shook his head, confused and scared. He started to whimper.
"What? You don't want to go?" Death snarled. "Fine then, die! You're a pain in my ass anyway!" Death turned to go. The boy's eyes widened as he saw this and promptly started to cry. He was afraid of the scary man, but on the other hand, he didn't want to be left alone. He still didn't know where mommy or daddy was, and this scary, pointy man was all he had. Death stopped with a frustrated rumble.
"Are you going to come with me, or not!?" he snapped, losing his (already low) patience. The child whined in return. He just did not know what this pointy man wanted.
"Come, you idiot!" Death barked. He extended a skinny hand and waved for the boy to come over. The boy understood this motion. He tumbled over on all fours and started to clamber over to the god. Death watched amusedly as the kid tried to inch over to him at about a foot per minute. Finally, he grew annoyed and strode over to the determined child. His black fingers picked the child up once more, placing him in the palm of his hand. "You're slow, you know that?" he asked, a little calmer.
The child smiled at him.
Death's eye sockets widened. A child had never smiled at him before. In fact, no one really smiled at him. You just don't smile at death. He looked down and back to the boy. "Well, we better get you to your new home," he muttered.
--
"Welcome to my humble home," Death said, snorting. Gallows Mansion was, by no means, humble. "Of course, I suppose it's yours now, too."
The boy gaped in wonder. With much difficult, he pushed himself on his feet. He lost his balance, but with frantic arm waving, he got it back. He looked around the house, enchanted by the cabinets and mirrors that were plastered throughout the entryway. A spiral staircase joined them, its black granite stairs leading up to the unknown. The black-haired boy glowed with excitement. He set off to explore, but was stopped by a loud growl. Death could have sworn it was a large animal, but he soon found the source of the noise as the boy placed a hand on his stomach and grimaced.
"Oh! You're hungry, right?" the shadow took the sack off of his shoulder and began to dig through it. He pulled out a small container of something that looked sickly yellow. Death could have sworn he had disposed of this same substance when he was sick with the stomach virus. He studied the container intensely.
"…how the hell do I cook this?"
--
"Let's see. Making your own baby food- like hell. Baby allergens- kid's a shinigami, he'll live. Starting solids?" Death flipped to the page number indicated and used a scrawny finger to trace down the page. "Babies four to six months are usually ready to begin eating solid foods," he read out loud. He looked back at the child, who was now attempting to eat his own hand. "Aren't you almost one yet?" he asked, mostly to himself. The boy looked up, catching the shadow's stare. Death quickly turned back to the book. "Signs they have begun, blah blah, he can lift his neck and all that shit. Just what the hell do I give a baby? Chocolate?" He scanned the page until he found what he was looking for. "Oh, I'm supposed to give you cereal." He glanced at the jar in his hands and threw it behind his shoulder, causing the delicate glass to shatter. This caused the fragile and still curious young boy to start to howl. Death started and treaded over to him.
"What? What's wrong? Why are you crying?" he snapped. The boy didn't answer, too busy bawling to hear. Death shifted uneasily, wanting to stop him but unsure how to. He paced over to the book and grudgingly searched the book on how to stop a crying child. The kid only wailed louder, confused, scared, hungry, and now lonely as well. Death let out an irritated growl and walked over to the child once more. "What do you want, huh?" he demanded furiously, bony fingers jerking the child's face towards his own mask. The child just screamed and yowled in response to the fierce yanking.
Death let out an infuriated snarl from deep in his chest and released his hold on the boy's face. He raised his gaunt hand.
SMACK.
The child immediately stopped crying at this almost forgotten feeling. He put a tiny hand to his face and withdrew it to see red stuff on his hands. It poured down his face and slid off of his hand. He did not like this feeling. It was a very bad feeling. He began to snivel and sob, afraid of this new liquid that he had leaked.
Meanwhile, Death had retreated a few steps back, clutching his hand tightly. He stared with horror at the fresh wound on the child's face. In hitting the other, the shadow's pointed nails had torn off the sensitive skin on his cheek. He could not help but feel terrible at his outburst. He knew that hitting a child was not even accepted by humans, let alone shinigami. It was unacceptable.
The child could only sob and cry. The pointy man had given him that feeling, and he didn't like it. He also did not know what that red stuff on his face was. He tried tasting it and it tasted rather bitter. It wasn't like the food mommy used to give him. Everything was so confusing to him. He was only playing with his sailboat when the scary pointy man came in and hit the ground. Then the pointy man took him to the colorful people and they yelled at the pointy man. After that, the pointy man brought him back to his room and took all of his toys and him to a new place and gave him a bad feeling, one he didn't like at all. He could sense that the shadow was still there, so he tried to suppress his crying and stole a glance at the other.
The man's eyes (if he had any) were wide, staring at the boy. He took a couple steps back, then turned and dashed away. The boy screamed, now being left all alone in a big, scary place. He wiped his eyes. This is just like the time mommy and daddy went away for a long time and came back very angry. Except, he still didn't know where his parents were, so the pointy black shadow was his only option. But now, he had gone as well. The boy sniffled. He was still hungry. He decided to search for the pointy man, even though he had given him this bad feeling that he did not like.
He crawled around the mansion, taking in the sights. There was a room with carpet and a fireplace and a painting, and a big hall with a big table, and skulls everywhere. It was mostly dusty in this place, with a candle here or there. He had crawled a long way, but there was still no sign of the black shadow. The boy huffed and sat down, indignant and tired. Then, he felt something shift. He brightened. That had to be the pointy man! He crawled over to a black wooden door and pushed it open with a stubby hand. Inside, he saw the shadow kneeling down across from a fire. He gasped softly, overcome with joy. He had found him!
Death was so overwhelmed with his thoughts that he didn't notice anyone come in until someone tugged on one of his spikes. Startled, he frantically scanned the room. He couldn't find anyone, something he thought was odd. Another tug came, and Death looked down.
The boy smiled at him.
Death stopped. The boy was smiling, but why? Didn't he hurt him? Even as a child, pain was a language everyone shared. And it clearly did not say "you are my friend". Either this kid was merciful or rather stupid.
Damn, that kid was still smiling. Death could see that the wound on his face was already healing, his shinigami body coming in handy for situations like this. The pain had most likely ebbed away by now. The shadow extended an elegant hand to feel if the wound was deep.
The child's soft, reassuring smile turned into a wide beam as Death gently stoked his cut cheek. He was beside himself with happiness. The scary pointy man wasn't so scary after all, just pointy. Mommy hadn't taken care of him after she hit him for crying because he was lonely.
Death froze. The child had been happy when he touched him, even after he had caused him pain. It was illogical. The child should be cowering in a corner in fear. (Not that Death wanted that.) The shade was utterly puzzled by the odd striped boy.
Children were complicated.
--
The two spent the rest of the day together, mostly in silence; the boy could not talk and Death did not want to. Basically, Death just stuck the kid in an enclosed area and started to scrutinize his new parenting books, thanks to Eibon's quick thinking and reasoning. Well, that was the nice way of putting it. Eibon's actual words were "oh, someone save us. For the sake of the child, I will retrieve several books on parenting for you." Death gripped the book firmer, grinding his teeth.
When the boy started to yawn and play with significantly less energy, Death didn't need any books to tell him it was time for bed. He picked up the only half-awake child in his arms and carried him upstairs. He strode down the hall and to the left, entering into a small room. It matched the rest of the house- black and skull-themed. Death shifted the boy to rest on his shoulder, using his free hand to summon a crib out of the ground. It was crafted out of iron gates, similar to those outside of the mansion. Death made his way over to the crib and gently lowered the other into the mass of pillows and blankets. The child, who had closed his eyes, now forced himself to open them to take in the wonder of this new. The shadow noticed this and began to stroke his cheek softly, like the books told him how to. Children became easily excited, especially to new sights and sounds, but they can also as easily be distracted. And right now, the boy bouncing off the walls with excitement was not something Death wanted. He shushed the eager child, putting a clawed hand to his mask. The child mirrored it, putting a stocky finger to his open mouth and giggling.
Death almost could have smiled at this. Almost. But Death was, well, death, and death just simply did not smile. Therefore, he kept a stern face and pulled the covers up to the child's shoulders. The child wiggled and shifted around, and once comfortable, closed his eyes and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Death sighed and turned to the doorway, flicking the light out as he reached it. He stood in the doorway for a minute, thinking to himself. Finally, he shook his head and disappeared into the light of the hallway.
This was going to get interesting.