Harvest

Kid was spending more time in the Death Room lately, silently observing the Shibusen students on their missions through his father's mirrors. Sometimes he would remark on the effectiveness of the weapon and meister pairs, and sometimes he would beat his hands against his head when he noticed something misaligned in their technique. On one occasion, he bluntly suggested that one pair be separated before they killed each other, let alone take the soul of a kishin egg. On another, he spent nine straight hours with a mouthful of nails, hammering away at the crooked crosses which dotted the sandy landscape. Shinigami decided that since the dead probably wouldn't mind their graves being neatened, it wasn't worth causing Kid the stress of pointing out that they fell askew all by themselves and would be back to their prior state before long anyway.

The Reaper didn't mind Kid's presence in the Death Room because he found he was able to spend less and less time at Gallows Mansion, and he missed Kid's company. Kid had yet to ask to be allowed on a mission of his own and though Shinigami silently respected the maturity with which he conducted himself, he was also selfishly withholding the offer he suspected his son wanted to hear. The plain truth of it was, he was reluctant and (he believed) not unrightfully so. But he couldn't keep Kid sequestered forever. He couldn't keep pretending he didn't see the boy's power growing steadily stronger. He was a shinigami; this was what they existed to do.

So when a murderer named Los Vargos began terrorizing the streets of Chicago, and there were no teams that weren't otherwise dispatched, he summoned Kid to listen in on the report made by an exhausted technician and his battered Weapon. "We're sorry, Lord Death," the male teen wheezed; he'd taken a blow to the side. "He caught us off guard. He nearly snapped Sofia in half! I don't think... we can go up against him again."

"Staaaay put!" the death god said, his playful tone still conveying a surprising amount of compassion. "You'll have help soon!"

Once the contact had ended, Kid clasped his hands neatly behind his back. "We mustn't have had enough information on Los Vargos," he said speculatively. "Adrian is a two-star meister. They must have been beaten in speed, not strength. That's Sofia's weakness, halberds just aren't meant for agility."

Shinigami glanced at him, noting the we pronoun and despite knowing where this conversation was heading, felt an instinctive surge of pride. "Sometimes~ it's that way," he agreed. "But Los Vargos has devoured twenty-three human souls." He noted Kid's shiver at the indivisible number even as he felt the tiny shimmer of anticipation across the surface of his soul.

"What would you suggest, Kid?"

Golden eyes turned up at him and held steadily, as few could manage in the face of Death Himself. "You should send someone who's fast enough to take the Kishin out," he stated.

"Hmm hmm~?"

"I'm fast enough, Father."

There it was: that almost, not-quite request to be allowed to do what it was Shinigami asked of all his Shibusen students, their ages not so different from Kid's. The Reaper nodded, almost to himself, and placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "Yes, Kid. Yes, you are."

With the permission understood Kid turned smartly, loathe to waste any more time when there was a technician pair in danger, and headed for the exit of the Death Room. Shinigami raised his hand, the gesture halfway between waving and reaching, but forced himself to say nothing until after the mirror had let him depart and solidified again.

"Be careful, Kid."

Leaving the desert behind him, Kid flew swiftly northeast until the blocky outline of Chicago appeared on the horizon. He guided the skateboard nimbly between the skyscrapers, using his weight to shift Beelzebub's trajectory against the well-deserved moniker of the windy city. He cast out his senses, searching the city of millions until he locked onto the Shibusen pair and angled for their location, alighting on a rooftop and glancing around.

Adrian stepped out of the shadows, fists raised in a foolish show of bravado at the unfamiliar figure; he had expected Lord Death to send another team, not a complete stranger who looked no more than ten years old and bizarrely monochrome. "Who're you?"

"Put your hands down," Kid snorted. "Your ribs are broken, you'd never even land a good hit." He paused, then steepled his fingers together. "Although it looks like you have more broken on the left than the right. Would you quickly allow me to evenly distribute the-"

"Just you try it, freak!" the meister said through gritted teeth.

"Adrian, please," a dark haired girl came limping out of the darkness, her face as pale as the moon. Her movements were slow and pained; he recalled that Adrian had claimed she'd nearly been broken in half while in weapon form. To Kid she asked cautiously, "You're from Shibusen? We were expecting..."

"This shrimp?" the male teenager interjected incredulously.

Kid ignored the outburst and nodded to Sofia. He'd made sure they were all right, and he knew his father would be sending another team to assist them back to Nevada before long; Beelzebub's mobility was what had brought him here far ahead of them. "I am. Which direction was Los Vargos headed?"

"South, towards the water. Wait!" she exclaimed as he coiled, ready to propel the skateboard into the air again. He paused, surprised by the fear in her voice. She was afraid of the Kishin, he realized. He could see it in her soul, and yet she tried to straighten her bruised body. "You can't face him alone!"

Kid understood then why his father was so protective of Shibusen and its students and faculty. They were only human, and yet they continued to put themselves in harm's way in order to help them; death gods, the ones charged with keeping order. They overcame their fear, endured injury, and faced terrors that humans should have stayed blissfully unaware of. Sometimes they even died in the Reaper's service.

They were doing his job, Kid realized. They were doing what he should've been doing for his father all along. "Yes I can," he vowed as he lifted off, steel lacing his voice. "I won't fail."

Shinigami's soul had whispered and coiled around Kid as soon as he'd reentered the boundaries of Death City, summoning him to Shibusen even though he wanted to return home and change his clothes. But with effort (effort only his father deserved, and no other) he tried to push his responsibilities forefront and headed for the Death Room. That didn't stop his mouth from fixing into a frown as he plucked at a small rip in his sleeve. "Unforgivable," he grumbled as he walked. "Simply appalling... must have this mended at once... couldn't he have at least slit both sides..."

Yet as he passed through the mirror and saw Adrian and Sofia present, he knew why he'd been called straightaway. Kid slipped past them and took a spot beside the Reaper, murmuring an apology. "I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, Father."

"Father?" the technician and weapon yelped as one. Adrian blanched bone-white as he remembered having called Kid a freak, even if it had been under duress. It wasn't helped by the speculative look that the boy gave him, like he could see right into his soul. Which, he realized with a sinking feeling, if this really was the son of the Grim Reaper (and by looking at their black and white similarities, he could believe it) that might not have been too far off the mark.

But Kid turned his attention away from the meister and instead produced a glowing crimson orb. "The soul of Los Vargos," he said solemnly, then he stepped forward and offered it to Sofia; he had to reach up to meet her hands. "Here. This is yours."

Uncertainty shone from her dark eyes as she accepted it, holding it gingerly as her gaze went first to her partner, and then to Shinigami. "A-Ah, thank you. Lord Death?" she questioned. She seemed hesitant to consume it, as though it were bad manners to do so in front of them.

"Enjoy it!" Shinigami gave her a giant thumbs up, and Kid retreated to his side once again. After the pair had excused themselves and left the Death Room, both looking a little dazed at this turn of events, Shinigami settled a blocky hand on Kid's shoulder. "You did very well, Kid."

"To make you proud, Father," was the answer and Kid upturned his face to the god with a smile. "I won't ever fail a mission that you give me."

It was an impossible promise and Shinigami knew that... perhaps, deep down, Kid might have known it as well. That didn't change the fact that he hoped Kid was able to keep his word, or change the pride that suffused his son at having reaped his first Kishin soul, the first of many.