Something I finished a while back. New chapter will be up every Sunday. Eight chapters in total and for once my posting schedule will be consistent.
This fic comes with a full Purity Ring playlist for maximum mood setting! Since is bad and won't ppl link or even copy stuff, the playlist can be found in the channel 'stressed depressed and badly dressed, under 'Parenthood - Soul Eater fanfiction'. Otherwise, just look below for which song goes with each chapter. (Alternatively you can read this in AO3 where full links and embedding is available.)
For this chapter: Purity Ring – Begin Again
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Chapter 1: Pain (Birth)
Giving birth to a Grim Reaper was easier said than done.
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If Death had a proper physical body, it would be sweating, heaving and trembling. For lack of a solid physical form, it was their soul that did the equivalent.
Their soul inadvertently let out a pulse of Wavelength and Death almost fell to their body's equivalent of knees. Still, they gathered their wits, steeled their mind and pulled.
This time Death did find themselves on the floor, staring at the fake sky of the Death Room. They tried to get up, but any attempt of coordination was quickly thwarted by another cramped pulse from their soul.
Holding back a frustrated growl, Death settled on the floor of the Death Room and spent a few moments blankly staring at the fake sky. All around them, the area was empty, devoid of sound, wind or change, as Death had planned.
The Grim Reaper was the only being in the Death Room and had made sure no one else would disturb them by making the entrance and exit inaccessible to the point where even sound couldn't escape. They couldn't risk anyone walking in and getting a full blast of Death's frustrated and pained wavelength, lest they also had to deal with accidentally killing an Academy member.
Still, this… process was taking a long time. So far Death had gone over even their most conservative estimation of how long it would take, and they still weren't anywhere near done.
Who knew fragmenting their soul would be such a pain in the everything?
Well, Death knew. They had done so before, a long time ago. And that fragment…If Death concentrated, they could still sense Asura's soul, heavily obscured and suppressed with the Kishin's own skin and seal that trapped the Grim Reaper on the little patch of land that Death City was founded on…
Why had Death chosen to do this again? Sure, maybe having second thoughts now was a bit too late, having already segregated a part of their soul for the future fragment, but the lack of progress made their mind wander.
If they concentrated, they could think past the haze of pain and frustration and remember vague rationalizations about how, with the DWMA slowly gaining ground over the Witches, a Grim Reaper able to escape the confines of Death City was essential. How Asura's seal had held on for so long that it was safe for Death to do so in the first place. But inwardly…
Death couldn't fear. They had lost the ability to fear when they had chopped off that part of them -it had been so easy, a clean cut like tearing the crust off one side of a piece of toast- to create Asura.
So no, the hesitation Death felt could not be made of simply fear. Its source was avoidance, Death's own aversion of having to deal with the part of their past that was less than stellar. Creating a fragment meant facing their past mistakes, Asura, head on.
Not to mention, how would they explain it to everyone else? The creation of a Grim Reaper would be one of the biggest news to Death City, understandably. People would ask questions, there would be rumors, a need for explanations…
If Death was to explain the process, could humans even understand it? Death knew very little about how life reproduced in general, not even mentioning more complex topics as attraction or the mere concept of gender which had been haphazardly applied to them the moment they bothered to interact with humans. The Grim Reaper roughly understood that in humans, two compatible people were needed to create life and then there was a period of time where one of the humans had to 'gestate' as the new life grew inside them like a parasite. It was an entirely different procedure than what Death was currently trying to do, which they would liken less to 'gestating' and more like 'hacking a limb off'.
But, it was too late to turn back now. Most of the parts of Death's soul that were to make the fragment were already doing the equivalent of hanging off sinews. They could technically be reattached as if nothing had ever happened, with rapid healing spiritual or physical being a perk of being a Great Old One and all, but Death had come too far. A new Grim Reaper was needed. Any explanations demanded from them could be waived off the same way they had waved off so much more.
It was time.
Death gave one final look at the Death Room, which on account of its owner's mind, had cloudy skies and the ground oozing a thick black substance, closed their eyes and pulled.
They kept pulling for what felt like forever, their sense of mind in the same muddled state as every other sense.
Like tearing off a fingernail, the fragment dislodged from their soul and Death felt their mind into sharp focus, making them acutely aware of how rough the gravel in the Death Room was and how they felt like they'd been pummeled with a wrecking ball.
Ow.
Still, that means that Death could now stop suppressing their regeneration capability, and they immediately found themselves clear-headed, standing upright.
Just as quickly, Death had to suppress another part of their soul for fear of all their hard work being reintegrated into their soul.
Hoping Death's slip in judgement hadn't cost all their progress so far, the Grim Reaper looked up where the fragment slowly floated down at eye-level.
It was a tiny thing, not even solid enough to be classified as a proper soul yet, with rough edges and leftover hair-thin strands floating aimlessly from where it was fragmented away from Death's soul. The torn parts reached out to each other until all the pieces had coalesced into a roughly spherical shape, like a Play-Doh ball made by a toddler. Even after coalescing into a semi-coherent form, it frantically sent out small pulses of Death's Wavelength, desperate to reach out and reunite with.
When its proto-Wavelength found Death's soul had effectively barred any methods or reintegration -which Death had thankfully remembered to do at the last moment- the strands retreated, the edges were smoothed, and the structure further coalesced into a more stable and uniform form, trying to get some semblance of being.
Death let out a sigh of relief. So far so good; the pieces had managed to consolidate itself into one fragment. Now, the next step was to wait for it to assume a physical form, any form that was capable to interact with the physical world.
Death waited. The fragment floated, seemingly aimlessly.
Death waited more. The small ball floated around the Death room, doing anything but creating a physical form, even one as insubstantial as Death's.
This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all.
Was it too unstable to even create a coherent form? Did it have no desire to create a physical form? Or maybe…
Death let out a sigh.
They had hoped to avoid complications like this. However, they had also prepared for this, having already encountered this difficulty before.
Apparently, the fragment would need an anchor, a prepared form of sorts that it would need to initially integrate until it grew coherent and strong enough to take complete control of its physical form.
The idea of preparing an anchor had come to Death upon remembering Asura's creation. That fragment had been frantic, bouncing from place to place with a manic energy until it burrowed under the Earth. Moments had passed, until a decayed human hand, the rotten skin, torn muscles and broken bones being rapidly healed by black strands characteristic of a Grim Reaper's Wavelength, shot up from the ground. Asura had spent their first moments in utter disorientation, a confusion that lasted until they-
Death shook their head. Why were they thinking about Asura in a time like this? Sure, they were the first fragment, but…
This was different.
It had to be different.
… It didn't feel different. There was more pain this time, but right now a similar approach had to be used…
Actually, the more Death thought about it, the more obvious it became to him that maybe this approach had always been needed. Death's memories of their creation were simply coming into existence fully-formed, never having to deal with a predecessor. Maybe Death's predecessor had also used an anchor of sorts for Death.
In this case, the similarity shouldn't bother them, right?
Well, no matter what the truth was, Death knew what they had to do.
Death walked away from the center of the Death Room and towards the vast sea of crooked crosses, keeping their Soul Perception firmly fixed on the fragment. Part of the ground had been freshly dug, with the rationale that if it wasn't needed, then it would remain buried, as others of its kind were.
There were unfortunate ethical implications of this, Death was sure of it. Not only for its use but for how the Grim Reaper had come by it. In Death's defense, it had been disturbingly easy. There never was a lack of dead children.
Death looked back to the fragment, as it kept coalescing into a smaller ball. Occasionally, it sent out confused pulses of its half-formed Wavelength, alone and stranded.
With renewed determination, Death's hands formed, sharp talon-like fingers, a remnant from their older persona. They dug into the ground until they carefully retrieved a tightly-packed bundle, roughly the size than their palm.
Briefly, Death wondered what the story behind it was.
Well. Wherever it came from and however it ended up like this wouldn't matter. Everything would change as the fragments soul would initially integrate with the physical anchor until taking full control of it completely, eventually being able to change forms at will, the same way Death could.
Death carefully headed to where the fragment was, the bundle in their lap. It stayed floating in midair, though it had fallen down to the height of the average human.
Death held the bundle by the tip of two of their claws as they placed it to the location of the fragment, the physical form of the bundle able to pass through the spiritual nature of the soul.
The fragment pulsed and moved away, as if surprised by the sudden presence. Death frowned and repositioned the bundle.
After a couple of more tries that had Death feeling like they'd inadvertently joined a game of tag, the fragment ceased fleeing the bundle. Instead it gave off a subdued glow, dark tendrils manifesting into the physical realm until…
Like being picked up by a vacuum, the fragment vanished from sight in the physical realm. Death's Soul Perception picked up countless vein-like tendrils forming across the bundle, as expected-
The bundle jerked, and the cloth ripped at Death's talons. The only reason it didn't crash on the hard floor was because of Death's quick reflexes, the unrolling bundle caught and held carefully on their palm.
A small hand peaked out of the cloth, the fingers clenching and unclenching as the entire bundle shifted until it came to an abrupt stop. Moments later, the hand tightly clenched, forming a tiny fist.
After a few moments of inactivity Death lightly poked the bundle.
No response.
Death's mask distorted into a frown. Was this supposed to happen? Asura had been conscious immediately; then again this was a purposely incomplete fragment, so maybe the lack of activity was the norm.
Death had no idea what they were doing and hated every moment of it.
Careful not to disrupt the bundle too much, Death slowly removed the cloth around it, revealing a head that couldn't be bigger than a melon. What little hair there was on their head was black, with three square-like white markings on the left-most side. The beginnings of the Lines of Sanzu, which would only grow longer, until…
Death refocused on the rest of the features, noticing the eyes were held shut.
…Was it -they sleeping? Everything seemed to be alright soul-wise, so maybe sleep was what they needed. They had just been created after all.
Still… sleep? Was that it?
Death brought their palm close to their torso and looked down at the fragment. They were really small. And they were probably, hopefully, sleeping. On Death's lap.
An unknown fuzzy feeling made Death's shoulder's stoop. They leaned in closer…
The head slightly turned to one side and the sudden movement caused Death to almost jump. A tuft of hair settled on top of their eyes and Death frowned. They brought one of their fingers above the forehead to swipe away the hair…
And immediately brought it back when a thin red line formed upon Death's needle-like fingers came in contact with the skin.
A single drop of blood escaped the line -the wound- and Death felt a wave of numbness wash over them.
What were they thinking? Pairing up sharp claws with soft human skin, what else could possibly happen?
The fragment no, their child, shifted again, and Death guiltily wondered if they'd caused pain. They had no experience with a body before, so how would a cut, even one this small, felt?
Their fears were somewhat assuaged as the red line disappeared, giving way to repaired skin. Fragile or not, they were still a Grim Reaper, Death noted with relief.
Death looked away from the healed forehead brow to meet a golden-eyed gaze and found themselves unable to move.
After an unknown amount of time, with Death unable to look away at the being and sentience that stared back at them, the child looked away. Their gaze became half-lidded as they shifted, rolling in Death's palm so that they curled up against the torso. Their chest moved up and down in a steady, reassuring rhythm.
Death focused on their Soul Perception and noted that their child's soul, now fully settled on a smooth round shape, was slowly turning yellow, finishing up the first cycle of maturation.
Death carefully brought their hands closer, the talon hovering above the child's form like protective branches of a tree. Despite their previous little mishap, nothing catastrophically had happened so far. Obviously though, there were more than a few areas Death had to work on. Death could only hope that they'd learn fast enough, and dread about the looming possibility of failure.
"You better appreciate this."
They didn't mean it in the first place, but, when a tiny disoriented hand reached out and awkwardly clutched onto to their talon-like finger, Death had regretted saying that at all.
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