Warning for: Language
Death the Kid, reigning Lord of Death, leaned over his desk, shoulders sagging from stress and exhaustion.
He let out a long sigh and flexed his fingers before splaying them over the documents he had neatly arranged in two very precise piles before him.
He was not looking forward to this conversation, and it was clear that Liz and Patty had caught on to his bad mood, because they had declined his offer to let them go back to the Gallows without him and remained by his side.
He had been subtly trying to get them to leave so that he could speak privately with Soul, because if he had told them outright, it would have led to a barrage of questions that he didn't feel like answering until after the meeting was over.
It was unusual for him to keep things from his weapons, but in this case he felt discretion was neccessary as the matter related to their friends, and he knew that Liz and Patty's sense of loyalty to their friends might prompt them to argue with his decision, whether because they truly disagreed or because they felt they ought to protest out of solidarity with Soul and Maka. And he wanted to spare them the effort and the worry and just get it over with.
He was already going to be the source of enough grief today...
He felt his face twitch slightly with the telltale sign that he had overlooked something, and he jumped to his feet, heart racing. He looked around, but everything seemed to be in order.
Since his ascension to the throne, the Death Room had changed considerably in appearance. In his father's day, the room had been open and airy, with windows and clouds lazily curling by into a seemingly endless horizon.
Kid's room was flooded with an almost painfully flourescent light, and the walls and floor were impossibly white, glowing with an ethereal haze that only soul-spaces could attain.
The ceilings were curved and ribbed with black, Gothic beams, giving visitors the impression of being drawn within the belly of a great, skeletal beast. A narrow black carpet bisected the room, leading to a pair of rich velvet curtains which were drawn to reveal an inky desk and a multitude of symmetrically placed filing cabinets.
It was here that Kid paced, frantic to find the missing puzzle piece in his carefully constructed plane of existence.
Was it one of the chandeliers? Each had exactly eight spires with black flame merrily flickering and casting skull-shaped shadows.
No... it was... Something else? He scratched his head, before understanding dawned on him.
"Liz!? Did you tuck some of your hair behind your ear again and forget to do it to the other side?"
Her sigh echoed through the impossibly large space. "Please, Kid. That was only once. I'm not stupid enough to trigger you with something like thatagain."
Patty laughed riotously from beside her sister. "It was pretty funny though!" She chortled.
"Why don't you do some meditating? You look especially stressed today. It can't be good for your nerves," Liz admonished.
"Yeah, Kid, your face is goin all screwy, like when you forgot to reset the clocks for Darkness Savings Time!"
"Patty, please don't remind me about that", he sighed. "I think you're right, Liz, some meditating would do me good. It's this situation with the Nordic witches and preparing for Spirit's reassignment as North American Death Scythe."
They looked at him sympathetically, and Patty tripped forward and placed a hug around his shoulders from behind. He patted her hand gratefully.
"Do you want us to stay?" Liz asked, more out of politeness than curiosity. He usually preferred to be alone during his meditation.
"No, thank you. Why don't you ladies head home, and I'll be sure to come by as soon as my meetings are over for the day".
"When will that be?" Patty asked rather sadly. They hadn't gotten to see a lot of their Meister since this trouble had started, and it was wearing on all three of them.
"Patty..." Kid said sternly. "You know that my duties as the Lord of Death mean I have to stay late some nights. But I'll be back by eight o' clock tonight, you have my word."
Patty pouted a little at the news that her Meister would be absent for the rest of the afternoon, but at Liz' beckoning, she left the death room, lured by Liz' promises that they would make the maid set up a tea party for the three of them, plus Patty's band of stuffed giraffes.
After they left, Kid realized that he never had solved the mystery of what was amiss in the Death Room. He smiled faintly, appreciating the affirmation that being around the girls soothed his neuroses, and making a promise to himself that he would set aside more time for them in the upcoming weeks. It was, he supposed, a matter of international, and even celestial, security.
Kid had taken Liz' advice and begun meditating shortly after the weapons had made their departure, but he had sensed Soul's imminent arrival long before the Death Scythe made his appearance in the Death Room.
Consequently, when Soul slouched across the expanse of black carpet and chandeliers and into Kid's soul-space, his hands firmly in his pockets and scowl firmly placed on his face, Kid had already cleared his desk and made his preparations for their discussion.
"How nice to see you, Soul. Thank you for making time to see me on such short notice". He said graciously, while waving a hand and summoning a chair into corporeality.
Soul whistled faintly. "Nice trick."
Kid smiled. "Thank you. Manipulation of one's soul space has many benefits, not the least of which are seating arrangements available on-demand." He nodded toward the chair. "Please have a seat."
Kid lowered himself onto his thronelike, if rigid, seat a few steps above Soul's and the Demon Scythe followed his lead, collapsing into the newly-summoned chair behind him.
There was a moment of silence, and then Soul leaned forward. "What's all this about, Kid?"
Kid took a deep, measured breath.
"When my father was alive, he often spoke in riddles. He was deliberately vague, gave few or misleading details, and sometimes procrastinated in dealing with serious situations. I myself witnessed this countless times, and promised myself never to repeat those actions as Shinigami. Because of this, I will be brief, and speak frankly to you."
Soul waited.
"I need your help."
"Huh?"
Kid looked down at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "As a Death Scythe, you have a right to know the state of affairs here at Shibusen as well as around the world. As you are aware, I participated in countless meetings with various forces in order to procure Crona's rescue. What may be less clear is that, in order to secure the witches' support, sacrifices had to be made." Kid paused again.
"Such as?" Soul prompted.
"The witches have Brew". Kid said simply.
"Why? What happened?"
"In order to recapture Asura after Crona's ... extraction, the witches' Soul Protect power was necessary. During the initial battle on the Moon, the witches were willing to help us because the Kishin posed a threat to their lifestyle as well as to the human world. However, to risk reviving the Kishin, releasing him from his captivity, for the rescue of one descended from a family of heretic witches... Well, politically, there was no reason for them to support us. The benefits amounted to nothing, while the risks..." He trailed off.
"So you gave them Brew, and we got Crona. But we're allied with them, so why is it a problem?"
"It's true the witches have held to the treaty we established four years ago. However, there are many on our side who have not abided by the new rules established following the battle on the Moon. In fact, quite a few DWMA affiliates around the world were particularly discontented with my decision to make you the Last Death Scythe. Many questioned the future of Shibusen altogether – for so long our existence has been predicated upon fighting and hunting witches, and training generations of Meisters to create Death Scythes. Furthermore, with the losses of Justin, Tezca, and Tzar Pushka during the events four years ago, many of our international branches have expressed... concern about the security risks of having so few Death Scythes available around the world to combat the terrors still lurking under the residual madness left behind by the Kishin".
"So people think we ought to still be able to hunt witches, and you're worried that with Brew, the witches will retaliate?" Soul asked.
"Yes. And an unsettling number of reports have reached Intelligence of weapons and meisters effectively going "rogue" and attempting to hunt witches under Shibusen's radar, which has done no wonders for our relations with the witches."
"Ah. So you want me and Maka to go take care of these rogues or something? We can definitely handle that," Soul said.
"Not exactly. I believe Maka's Soul Perception abilities will be particularly helpful in finding and prosecuting these errant Meisters, and I plan to speak with Intelligence about placing her, possibly even having her fill Joe Buttataki's position. But I have a different proposal for you."
Soul's expression did not change.
"Eastern Europe has been missing a Death Scythe since Tsar Pushka's death, and it appears that there is a witch clan in Finland which recently lost one of their own due to a witch hunting by rogues. I plan to send you there to represent the DWMA. It will be a good-faith gesture to assure them that Shibusen takes the treaty seriously, plus you will assist with the operations of the European branch of DWMA and help prevent further rogue attacks."
"But... Joe Buttataki was in Oceania... That's not close to Finland," Soul said slowly.
Kid looked at him sympathetically. "No, it's not".
"What– what are you saying, Kid?"
"I am saying that as a Death Scythe, I need you to take an assignment in Finland."
"But I can't weild myself! Maka needs to come too!"
"That's another thing I need to discuss with you. There have been recent graduates from the European branch of Shibusen who are qualified to weild a Death Scythe-level weapon. I can't bend the rules and send you both over there, not when she's needed elsewhere and while there are competent Meisters who can weild you just as well, not without a compelling reason."
"Just as well? Do you have any fucking idea how hard Maka and I worked to get to where we are? Don't I get any say in this? I may be a weapon, but I'm a person too. You can't just chuck me wherever suits you without consulting with us!"
"I was under the impression that was what I was doing now, Soul." Kid said warily.
"Well, I was under the impression that you gave a fuck about the lives of your friends, Kid," Soul spat angrily. "Maka won't stand for this. You can't break us up. She won't allow it."
"Soul", Kid said, in what he hoped was a placating voice. "Maka has known for a long time that making a Death Scythe meant that she would be forfeiting sole partnership of her weapon. Death Scythes rarely stay with their original Meister once they reach that status. It's part of the job."
"Well, screw the job! I don't want any part of this bullshit! It's always been about Maka, Kid. If I can't be with her then I'm out. I won't give up our partnership unless I die or she tells me to."
Kid sighed. He really had hoped it wouldn't come to this. "Soul... You are being selfish. It isn't like you. Haven't you considered how your refusal to take this post would be hurting Maka?"
"What." Soul's voice was flat, rage barely contained, and Kid knew he had to tread carefully.
"Where would I send the two of you? Spirit will be taking Justin's post and overseeing North America. Patty, Liz, and Marie are more than enough to keep Death City safe... Maka has no future at any of the branches I could send you to. If you refuse to give up the partnership for my sake, at least consider how you may be holding her back from her potential, and think about doing it for her sake."
Soul was chuckling now, with a mirthless, almost demonic look in his eyes. "Wow. I knew some people thought I held her back, but I really expected better from you, Kid." He ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but Maka's the one who makes the calls. And like I told you before, unless she tells me I'm holding her back, I'm gonna be by her side. Now if you'll excuse me, my Meister is in the hospital, and I'd really like to see how she's doing." He turned to leave.
"Soul". It was not a request, but an imperative. Soul froze in spite of himself, and turned slowly to face Kid. To face... Lord Death.
The eerie light of the Death Room flickered, the shadows cast by the chandeliers lengthening and stretching, and the room shook with some unseen force. It was as though the beast in whose ribcage they were dwelling was growling, rumbling with fury and power. The chandeliers rattled and the skull-shaped shadows twisted and reached for Soul as a howling noise rose up and began to echo from the rafters. The echoes vibrated through the entire length of the death room and the shadows spread until they were encompassing everything, leaving only Soul and Kid in their respective pools of light. Soul raised his eyes to Kid's, only to see that the Reaper's eyes were closed in what looked like restraint. His fists clenched and unclenched, and his reaper robe swirled dangerously. Soul could see the shadows ebbing from his robes, dancing and leaping in a way that was both horrifically reminiscent of, and yet somehow nothing like, the black blood.
The rattling and shaking grew, as did the screams of the shadows, until Soul found himself fighting to stay on his feet, clutching his head, willing it to stop. Kid's eyes snapped open and he threw his arms out. Everything stilled at once.
It was dark now, so dark and cold, the only light coming from Kid's fiercely glowing, amber eyes.
He spoke into the darkness, his voice, deeper and more dangerous than Soul had ever heard it, ringing out.
"You will do as I command. I am your God." It was the voice of a Reaper. A seriously pissed off Reaper.
Soul stumbled forward, falling onto one knee. The lights flickered back to life.
"Do not trifle with me, Soul Eater Evans." The chandelier shadows danced, hissing back Kid's words at him. Soul Eater Evanssssssss.
Soul kneeled on the ground, willing his stomach to settle and his head to clear. The shadows danced, making his eyes hurt, and their sibilant whispers echoed in his ears and in his head.
"Yes. Lord. Death." Soul gritted out between clenched teeth.
The velvet curtains parted unceremoniously and Soul found himself forced back by some unseen energy. Although he did not possess his Meister's capability for seeing souls, he imagined that she would have seen Kid's soul wavelength overwhelming his.
"Go."
Soul did not need to be told twice. He stood shakily and made his retreat, trying not to stumble on the twitching carpet or shudder at the whispering chandeliers.
After Soul had left, Kid staggered to his desk, hands bracing against it, keeping him from falling, and he felt himself shaking.
After several moments, he looked to the now-empty mirror where his father had once resided.
"Father... I hurt two of my friends today." He whispered softly. It was just as well his father wasn't there.
Kid wouldn't have wanted his father to see him weeping.
AN: Thanks again to my betas and to everyone who read, commented, favorited, or followed!