They all knew where he went when he was gone. When he said 'no, sorry, I can't make it,' or 'I really am busy tomorrow...' They knew, and yet they didn't want to. They'd seen him collect the souls of the dead, but none wanted to imagine reaping a living one. She often waited up for him, but he was always silent. Being out all night left him a bit tired sometimes. But he didn't complain. Shinigami-sama was always kind when he noticed his son's exhaustion, sending him home to Gallows mansion after remarking on his cute stripes. It was infrequent, but Liz still noticed. A strange amount of concern in Lord Death's voice, and it took her years, but she finally placed it.

Guilt.

She felt it was something she shouldn't know. That the knowledge should be off-limits, somehow. But of course it wasn't, and it sat in her brain all the while she waited for him to return. The question burned on her tongue as they sat in silence.

"Is something bothering you, Liz?" Kid's golden eyes shifted to a concerned look. She looked at him, weighing her question.

"Doesn't Lord Death act oddly when you get tired from reaping all night?" Her blue eyes were determined, now. She did deserve an answer, didn't she? She cared about both Shinigamis, after all. His expression shifted a bit. From shame, (probably from showing weakness,) to surprise, to hurt, before settling on his usual blank stare.

"I don't think so." She knew now that he was lying to her.

"...is he guilty?" He only slumped in his chair. She was a bit surprised, and he usually defended his father's honor with ferocity, as well as her and Patty's. It was a trait she liked about him, that he cared so much about his loved ones. He let out a bitter chuckle, and offered her a morose smile.

"I suppose he is. And now that you've figured it out, you want to know why, right?" She nodded, to curious to be overly cautious. "It is my purpose. I was born to bring death to the world. I am the only Shinigami who can leave Death City, after all. That's why father feels bad about it." She was quiet for a moment.

"Does it make you feel bad?" It certainly made her feel bad.

"Don't pity me, Liz. I couldn't take that. Not from you." He sighed. "I get enough pity from Spirit. I've had my fill."

"Spirit doesn't pity you. I think he also feels bad about it. But I think he admires you for handling it so well."

"What's to handle? Knowing your purpose makes life easy, not difficult." She frowned at his obvious dismissal of his true feelings.

"Don't lie. It's okay if it bothers you." She may have imagined it, but it looked like his cat-like eyes watered with unshed tears for a moment.

"But it does bother me. So fucking much." She stood up and gave him a hug, and two tears slid symmetrically down his cheeks. "I don't understand. Why does it matter so much? It shouldn't...not to me..." She knew why it mattered. Just as it had mattered on the streets to her and Patty. Freedom. She whispered the word in his ear, and only then did he return her hug. The freedom to decide his own fate was something he'd been born without. A deficiency, perhaps. Or a disorder. She realized something sad about god: he was the only one with a set path. No god had ever lived a life of their own choosing. Gods were born to rule, and so was the one she hugged to herself now. Divine right. The irony was sickening.

"I know my fate, too, then. It is to always be your weapon, no matter what happens."