Another school day, another, class, another bothersome student to the scientifically minded professor of various studies, and even worse, the headmaster, who had the literal title that would give him the authority to kill one for any wrong doing, had to let go of staff due to budget cuts. The famed teacher who had taught the very students, who defeated the Kishin, Asura, was now serving as not only a source of knowledge for a class of unruly teenagers, but now a counselor.
How he detested the thought of having to deal with them even after class had ended. At least he was allowed to grade papers in between the occasional student that would wonder into his office. He usually had slight groan in his voice during such talks on internal matters relating to school, especially if it pertained to the rules. They, at least, had something more worthwhile to say than the random idiots in his classes that made smart remarks.
They weren't all bad, at least. It gave him something to study when he had a shred of down time. Like how in certain cases he'd watch humorously the ones who were having such a hard time getting everything straight with their classes, that they'd break down and cry. Emotionally, he'd display the fake smile of understanding. In the back of his mind, there was the cackling of the sadist finding great joy in other people's sorrow. And then he'd do his best to console them with advice; keeping the madman back at bay in his mind, not once displaying how much he had enjoyed their pain.
A dreary afternoon. The rain beat relentlessly on the Academy's roof. The school day was almost over, lunch had struck. The stitched up man, his silvery hair hanging around his face in a rather messy manner, and even more so around the rest of his head in a slightly greater length, and a large bolt or screw sticking somehow through his head, sat exasperatedly bored at his desk. He didn't feel like grading papers; he could do that later.
A small voice erupted from the entrance of his office. A young girl, who seemed to be part of the Death Weapon Meister Academy's- or DWMA- middle school branch peered into his office with sad looking eyes. Her hair was a mix between grey and purple, and her face graced a will of innocent care for other people. The professor's eyes narrowed behind the large circular glasses at the middle school student.
"Hullo," the child had greeted tentatively. "Is this Dr. Stein's office?" She hugged the door frame slightly. There were tears at the corner of her green cat like eyes.
He recognized her as one of the children of a wealthy restaurant owner that had built it up from Death City expanded it due to charity and the ideal of spreading good wholesome food and kind and healthy life styles around the world. Her name was Cesis Monitormei, daughter of Romulose* Monitormei.
The professor sighed, turning the screw that protruded from his head to regain focus. "You have the right office. What do you wish to speak about," her inquired, leaning forward after the screw had clicked into place. His eyes concentrated on the girl's odd features, ones he had only seen in mutated beings with dragon like abilities; the beings with successfully spliced dragon DNA known as dragon hybrids. Her ears came to a point and he figured that the hair color was a significant sign of her natural mutation.
Cecis crept around the corner of the door frame in her nervous manner toward the grey seat meant for students who needed advice or possible teachers that wished to express their views of his counseling tactics. With a gentle air she sat down, still seemingly distraught from the tears that lingered in her eyes. "I feel trapped…," she whimpered and said nothing more.
The man's face went from indifference to puzzlement. His brow furrowed in slight curiosity and concern. "Why is that," he asked, keeping his voice calm. He had been told by other counselors, that it was always a good idea to keep calm around a distraught student- like he needed that advice.
The girl's tears finally escaped the walls of her eyes and she broke down into a fit of sobs. The tears stained the pink shirt she wore with a purple dragon eye printed on the chest. She clenched her fists on her light blue jeans and wailed loudly. The stitched up scientist wearing the lab coat and sweater with similar stitches seemed at a loss for words for a brief second. His first real emotionally troubled student. It didn't even seem to be about school.
"No one at home pays me any attention! I can't explain anything that happens to me. Especially when it isn't my fault!" She had practically screamed at him, as if he was the accused.
The man behind the desk adjusted his glasses with an eye brow raised. "Back up, Cecis. You're not making any sense. Start from the beginning," he reasoned. "But first of all, calm down."
She cried some more, whimpering, occasionally whining, and then she was silent. "I keep getting written up… And each time it's because of a few girls in my class that always claim that I did something to them. My father finds out and I get in big trouble. He grounds me for it before I can even tell him anything," she moaned, her voice cracking from the stress of her vocal chords.
So it did have something to do with school. He sighed. "But did you," he asked. He saw her shake her head in response. Her soul was in full agreement. "Might I ask a question, little Cecis?"
The girl lifted her head in surprise. A raspy, "huh?" escaped her lips. The man tilted his head, his face displaying pure curiosity. "Why did you come to me, and not one of the middle school counselors," he questioned. "Surely, they would have done the same service of listening to your plight."
She shook her head. "But, you listen to your students… at least you act like it," she muttered. "They would refer me to someone else or they would put off helping me," she began to whimper.
He had just gotten her to calm down. The crying noise she was making was beginning to bug him considerably. But instead of hurting her more by sending her away, he got up from his also stitched up office chair and placed a pale hand on her shoulder. "Ssh, Cecis. I may have a solution," he whispered gently, manipulating his voice just so, so she could calm down and stop crying so much.
She sniffled and looked up at the scientist with her large green eyes, the slits that were her pupils enlarged enough that they seemed human.
"I have a solution. You need a mentor," he suggested, heading back to his office chair. He turned the screw slightly as he sat backwards in it. "Now who… Just who," he questioned himself as he stuck an unlit death stick in his mouth.
Cecis smiled. "Would you be my mentor," she asked hopefully. Another task it would be for the deranged scientist. "I cannot undue what the other staff members have already done, Cecis," he reported, seriousness filling his voice. The girl nodded, understanding fully.
"Fine," he groaned. He made a move to the door after standing up from his office chair. Class time was fast approaching. Just as he was about to drag his stitched up chair which some had dubbed "Patchwork" out of the door of his office, he felt a considerable weight latch to his side. He looked down to notice Cecis hugging him. She rubbed her face into his side. "Thank you, Dr. Stein," she mumbled gratefully, letting go shortly after.
He smiled at her and gave her the customary peace sign with a naturally fond smile. "No problem," he responded, turning shortly and dragging "Patchwork" out of the doorway.
Author's note: I do not own Soul Eater. This was originally going to be my debut for Cecis Monitormei. And at this point in time, there are dragons in Death City. And they is friendly dragons X3 Rom's debut will probably be a little bit longer, probably a story. Soooooo….
*His name is in reference to Roman legend of Romulus who had killed his brother and founded Rome. Legend has it, they were raised by wolves. In a sense it kind of fits this character's theme of starting from nothing and the necessity of an all organic food diet. It has nothing to do with Star Trek. -.-" Even if his more common abbreviated name, "Rom", sounds like a Star Trek name.