I skipped a chapter again X3 Go look for my drawing for Day 5 (The Sun and the Moon) on deviantART or tumblr. (URLS TotalGamer98 and cronashy-absentia, respectively.)

Time for some good old-fashioned angst. Funfunfun. Includes implied character death. I don't own Soul Eater, though. Although I hereby lay claim to the year 2532. You hear that, world? 517 years from now, I want it noted that Cronashy-absentia is the owner of the year 2532. (Because that may or may not be when this fic's set…) I might write a sequel to this one. Tell me what you think!

Unprecedented

Chapter 4: Kirona Week Day 6, Immortal

Description: Everything comes with a price, especially immortality. Kid realizes this the hard way, after hundreds of years of life as the Grim Reaper. He's alone except for one other, but even her ageless life is in danger. Kid will do anything he can to save her, but does immortality even exist? (Kid's POV)

Constant.

It's a word I greatly enjoy. It signifies sameness, uniformity, and implies that what has been will always be. In my younger days, I obsessed over constants. I did everything in my power to preserve them, and to make sure that that piece of my life would remain the same forever.

That was before I became the Lord of Death.

Upon reaching my full power, my father ceased to exist. Only one Shinigami with all three Sanzu lines connected can live at a time, I discovered. He had never told me this.

Suddenly, my main constant was gone. Dad was supposed to exist forever. He had lived for nearly a millennium. He couldn't just… leave. He wasn't gone; there had to be a way to bring him back. But no matter who I pleaded with, or what I sought for in books, there was no reversing it. I couldn't bring Dad back.

It was then when I realized that there were no constants. There was never going to be. Everything crumbled and faded around me. Even mortal lives were little more than specks of dust, small and easily wiped away. Everyone I knew and loved passed on with time.

Except one.

"I came to talk about Crona," I tell the woman in front of me. The doctor's green eyes flick upwards towards me, and she repositions her glasses so that they sit better on her nose.

"What seems to be the problem, Lord Death?" She asks me.

My clammy hands threaten to reveal my apprehension, so I tuck them in my robe as to not show them. "She's been spacing out a lot lately," I say.

The doctor raises an eyebrow. "Define 'lately,'" She requests. My golden gaze directs itself at the floor.

"Ten years," I admit. It wasn't a long amount of time for us, anyway.

The doctor and I seem to be having some sort of contest. Something like "who can stay stoic and professional the longest."

"Describe her symptoms in their entirety," She says. "If you please."

I nod, facing her once more. "Staring ten years ago, she would sometimes simply stop whatever she was doing and stare blankly into space," I recount. "It usually wouldn't happen if she was engaged in something. But more recently, she began getting an empty look in her eyes in conversation and in activities. Even more recently, she started losing herself during the episodes."

I pause, but the doctor presses on.

"Please explain."

I cough to clear my throat; it's difficult to talk about what's happening to my dear one. "Well, take last year, for example," I begin. "She was carrying a platter with tea on it for the two of us, when she suddenly froze up and dropped the platter. The mess was nauseating, and she cut her foot on the glass from the teacups," I end in a murmur. "She only came to her senses when she started bleeding."

I notice that the doctor's taking notes. "Any other occurrences of a similar or more intense situation, Lord Death?"

I finally release a sigh. "Yes, actually," I utter softly. "The reason I decided to come here today is because of something that happened yesterday."

I stop again, and the doctor nods her head for me to continue. I struggle to keep myself from trembling; I'm still shaken from what Crona had done.

"Yesterday," I continue, "I got home from the Academy, like always," I say. "Then I went into the kitchen, where Crona looked like she had been in the middle of cooking dinner, but she was simply staring at the fire on the stovetop with blank eyes. When I saw her reach towards the flame, as if to touch it, I leaped forward, wrapping my arms tightly around her to pull her away from it." I gulp, fighting down my lingering fear. "She… She screamed at me. Struggled. Hit me. It was the first time she had uttered a sound during one of her… Episodes," I chose my words carefully. "But I held her down. She calmed down after about two minutes of this, but she hasn't spoken to me since then," I finish.

The doctor takes a few more notes before meeting my gaze once more. "And this is your wife we're talking about? Crona?"

I nod, and she goes on. "As the stories go, you took her as your wife hundreds of years ago, after it was revealed that she had a witch's soul. She was therefore practically ageless once she reached her early twenties, but she's never been able to use magic. Is that correct?"

I tense a little. "I would've married her anyway, even if she wasn't ageless," I mumble. "I love her."

"Of course, of course," She replies, and I shoot her a small glare in response to her evident sarcasm. She turns back to her notes, looking over them briefly. "In a normal patient with a history of slight madness, I would blame hormones and tell you that you're probably going to be a father very soon," She states, putting her notes down to look me in the eye once again. "But she's not normal. Neither is a time period of ten years. Besides, you've never had children, if my history texts are correct, which probably indicates that a witch and a Reaper aren't capable of it together. So I can only come up with one explanation here," She sighs, crossing her arms. Her next words felt as if they pierced through my entire body.

"I'm afraid that Crona's going mad."

Immediately I enter denial. My hands slam down on the table. "That's preposterous!" I shout. "Why would Crona go mad?! She has absolutely no influence, and these aren't even the symptoms of a madwoman!"

The doctor watches me jadedly. "Lord Death, if you would please calm down," She chides monotonously. "What I believe to be taking place is that her genetically coded witch's madness has been suppressed her whole life, perhaps subconsciously, but now that battle has risen to the surface. It's occurring randomly and slowly, but it's making attacks on her sanity. When she freezes up, that's when she's fighting it."

I take deep breaths to try and bring myself down to a level temperament. "She's never told me that she's struggling," I hiss.

"She probably doesn't want to worry you," She replies. "I suggest you go home and confront her. She may open up if you bring up the topic. But I will warn you," Her gaze suddenly becomes piteous, "You may postpone the inevitable, but you can't prevent it. That madness will degrade her until there's nothing left," She murmurs.

I narrow my eyes at her. "I'm the Grim Reaper," I growl. My eyes literally glow with ferocity, and she shies back. "I am the most powerful being in this universe. I will save Crona," I snap. I promptly storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

No one intercepts me as I travel back home, possibly due to the rage radiating off of me, but my tension eases gradually as I think of addressing Crona. I don't want to be harsh when talking to her, especially in her current state.

I stop in front of Gallows Mansion, and I take a deep breath as I face the door. This mansion and the DWMA are two buildings that have seemingly remained the same throughout these many years. But despite their outward appearance, everything has changed for me. The people that were within those walls have come and gone. The excited voices that used to fill my mansion are gone. The friends that used to greet me at the Academy's door are gone. Even Ragnarok's soul faded out after many years.

For this reason, I am immensely glad that I still have Crona. But there are some voids that a single person, no matter how wonderful, can't fill on their own. Moreover, if she were to go mad…

I shudder. I couldn't bear losing anyone else. With a deep breath, I push open the door.

"Crona?" I call. The mansion's dark. No one replies. My heart begins pounding in my chest, and panic rises within my soul. "Crona!" I call louder as I ascend the stairs. "Crona, where are you?" I begin running. All I can hear are my beating heart, my ragged breathing, and the sound of my shoes against the floor.

I throw open our bedroom door, eyes wide with panic. "Crona!" I shout. However, I relax almost instantaneously when I notice my wife curled up in a corner of the dark room. "Crona," I repeat, softer and with a sigh, "You shouldn't be sitting here in the dark like this. It worries me," I smile a little, reaching over to flip the light switch next to the door.

Without warning, something whips from Crona's corner and wraps itself around my wrist, preventing it from moving. My eyes widen once more as I cry out in pain. I look down, and notice my own blood dripping from the small thorns on what seems to be a dark black vine. I whip around to Crona, and as I do so, she slowly picks her head up.

Her eyes are grey and dull, and her pupils have dilated. A grin begins to split her face as she stares at me.

More vines abruptly burst from her back, swirling in an ominous dance. I stiffen; it's black blood.

The vines shoot towards me. With the first one still holding my wrist, and with my feet still frozen to the floor in shock, they quickly seize me, wrapping around my entire body. Still more come, drawing blood wherever the razor-sharp thorns fall. I gasp in pain as my body is lifted from the ground by the black blood vines.

"Crona, stop this!" I yell. One of the vines wraps around my neck. With a jolt, I realize that she's hanging me. "You're hurting me! Stop! Please!" The vine tightens, and I feel the others loosen. Utter terror grips my entire being.

"CRONA!" I scream.

All of a sudden, the vines stop. The one is no longer squeezing my neck, and the others aren't falling away. Everything is silent and motionless until, delicately, I'm lowered to the ground.

"Crona?" I whisper, my hand coming up to rub my neck where the thorns injected into my skin. I try to slow my breathing while the vines recess into Crona's back. She has her head turned downwards again, but she's shaking.

I tentatively stop towards her. Nothing attacks me, so I tread further. I continue to take these gradual steps until I reach her, and then I kneel down next to her. "Are you all right, my dear?" I murmur.

Crona's shaking stops for the smallest of moments, but then it resumes once more, and she moves her head back and forth once. I frown, but her words surprise me.

"I… I'm g-going mad, a-aren't I?"

I blink in shock. This is the first time I've heard her stutter in decades. Despite this, my shoulders sag as I reply. "Yes. I went to the doctor today and told her what has been happening to you," I confess. She curls up a bit tighter. "She said that there was madness in your soul that had been suppressed all this time, but it's getting stronger."

"It's like a cancer," I think to myself.

She sniffs. "I-I'm sorry, K-kid," She whimpers. I wrap my arms around her.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," I tell her. "You couldn't control what you did. I'm proud of you for fighting it all this time."

I feel her body shudder. "B-but I c-can't fight it for m-much longer," She snivels. "It'll overtake m-me soon, Kid. I k-know it."

I sigh into her pastel-colored hair. "I know," I tell her.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Only our breathing and Crona's muffled sobs break the utter quiet as I wrack my brain for ways to help her. I know my Crona. She would sooner let the madness kill her than overtake her. She would keep fighting until the inner battle destroyed her very soul. It was inevitable; she was going to die soon, and I could do nothing but prolong her suffering. She'd leave, and I'd be left entirely alone. I would rather kill myself to go with her than have that happen, but the world needs a Grim Reaper to govern it and maintain balance. It would be selfish to commit suicide just because my true love left me.

A thought quickly strikes me. A bargain. A gamble, but a bargain.

"Crona," I begin once more. "What if I create a fragment?"

She shifts a little. "A fragment?" She repeats. I nod, my head against hers, so she feels my motions without looking at me.

"Splitting off a piece of my soul," I explain, "To create a young Reaper."

"That would kill you," She replies quickly. "He'll kill you when he gets old enough."

I sigh. "I know," I tell her. "Not on purpose, but… Once he's strong enough…" I cut off, remembering what I had done to my own father. I swiftly push the thought away. "But I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be without you," I murmur. "So… Can you do me a favor?"

She's silent, and I take that as my cue to continue. If she didn't want me to ask, she would've shaken her head.

"Fight the madness as best as you can," I whisper. "But when the fragment replaces me, you can stop. That way, we'll die together," I propose. It's a long shot, and practically a suicide pact, but it's all I can do.

Crona trembles a little, releasing a shaky breath. I hold my own breath, waiting for her response.

"O…" She begins, but cuts herself off. Slowly, she nods. "Okay," She whispers.

I smile a tiny bit, and hold her to me. "All right," I exhale. "It won't be more than twenty more years, I promise. You won't have to fight it much longer," I reassure her. She nods again, and I turn towards her bowed head. "Are you crying?" I ask, although I know the answer. She shakes her head "no," causing me to chuckle softly. "That's too bad," I tell her. "If you were crying, I would have to kiss away all of your tears."

As I predicted, Crona turns her head upward to face me almost as soon as I finish speaking. She's still sniffing, and her eyes and nose are red. Salty trails drip down her cheeks from her tears. The corners of my mouth turn up in a gentle and comforting smile, and I close my eyes as I lean forward and begin kissing her cheeks, repeatedly pecking her soft skin to wipe her tears away. She begins crying more because of the gesture, and a sob escapes her lips. I frown, but I continue. One cheek, and then the other. I told her I would kiss away every single one of her tears, and I will.

Until the day we leave this world together.