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I do not own Soul Eater!
Beneath his mask, Death was gaping at her. He had stopped walking and so had she, looking up at him nervously. He knew it wasn't an unreasonable request, but he was so hesitant to reveal the face he had hidden for so long. An irrational part of him even feared she wouldn't like his face.
"You want to see my face?" He asked, sounding incredulous.
Ophelia's face flushed. "W-well, yes. I mean, I know that isn't your real face and one can't help but be curious."
"How do you know this isn't my real face?" He touched his mask.
She scowled with confusion. "But, you removed-"
"We Shinigami are very versatile. We can alter our shapes; it shouldn't be surprising that I can remove my own face." He was teasing, of course, and he smiled when her face paled.
"O-oh. Sorry I-" He interrupted her by laughing shortly.
"It was all in jest, Ophelia. I am not comfortable with revealing my face to you quite yet. I must think about it." He resumed walking, gently pulling her along until she followed him.
She nodded. "I understand. You don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable. You can always get me something."
"Your birthday is in two days; that gives me plenty of time to consider your request."
The sun had already set, the air turning cool. He felt her shiver and glanced down at her. She was looking straight ahead, her free hand rubbing her arms. He unlinked his arm from hers and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. She looked up at him in surprise.
"You're...warm?" She sounded puzzled.
Death snorted. "Of course I am."
"B-but, when we first met you told me you were just a blob." He laughed aloud.
"I had been kidding. Believe it or not, I have an organic body."
She seemed embarrassed at her own gullibility and the remainder of their walk was silent. He stopped in front of the gate leading to her house and released her shoulders.
"Don't forget to help me recruit the new students tomorrow." He reminded her, wagging his finger.
Ophelia smiled, previous embarrassment forgotten. "I won't. Don't forget to work on that silly voice of yours."
He huffed. "It is fine the way it is now!"
She laughed and nodded. "Of course. See you tomorrow, Death."
She opened her ate and shut it behind her. He waited until she was inside before turning around and going back to his own home. The streets were quiet as everyone had retired to their homes, presumably eating dinner. Death had never experienced hunger; he was almost curious to try food, but never saw a point to actually consume it. After all, he didn't need food to sustain him. He only drank tea on occasion, finding it to be pleasurable as well as relaxing. His own mother had been fond of tea, drinking it constantly.
He entered his home, not bothering to lock the door behind him. No one would dare to enter his home without permission. They still feared him to an extent, though their fear didn't match the centuries of hatred toward him. Death went to his library and sat down in his favorite armchair. He had hit positioned so it would face the bay window that overlooked the town. He grabbed the book he had started to read and flipped through the pages until he got to where he left off.
Another luxury he didn't need was sleep. When he was a child, he could sleep; all Shinigami can until their first century. It didn't affect him, but he remembered the night he realized he could no longer sleep. It frightened him and he was bored, squandering his time reading or listening to his father tell him the ways of being a God of Order. After he took his father's place, Death, having no home or books, chose to count the stars and wait until the sun rose once more. It was a tiresome thing and he still found himself missing slumber.
Death sighed and removed his mask, rubbing his eyes. He found it irritating to attempt to read while wearing that mask. At the thought of his mask, his mind wandered to Ophelia's request.
It was tradition to wear a mask as a Shinigami. Something about making humans fear them more; after all, humans would be less inclined to fear a being that looked exactly like them. His father, Shi, had told him to only reveal his face to someone precious to him. Shi himself had not revealed his face to his wife until nearly one hundred years after meeting her. It wasn't like their identity would be in jeopardy, it was more of the fact it seemed any human who lay eyes on the true face of a Shinigami descended into madness. Death had already condemned Ophelia to madness, but that didn't mean he would make it happen any faster.
He stared blankly at his book. He wanted to make her happy, he found himself caring for her, but again, that little part of him was worried she would hate him because of his face. He personally hadn't laid eyes on his own face in years. He couldn't remember what he looked like.
Realizing he wouldn't be getting any reading done that night, Death folded a corner of the page back and set the book beside his chair before standing up. He wanted tea. Perhaps the chamomile tea Ophelia had given him. He set to making it, heating the water over the fireplace before adding the crushed up chamomile, stirring it with his finger absentmindedly.
"She doesn't know what she's asked of me." He murmured to himself, removing his finger from the scalding tea.
He wasn't about to tell her the enormity of her request though. He didn't want her to worry and he still hadn't told her that he could no longer take her soul even if he wanted to. He was apprehensive of her reaction.
Death brought his cup back to the library and sank back into his chair. He sipped it, wincing when the tea burned his lips and tongue.
He lost track of night as the sky was painted a gentle pink and orange, the shades clashing and mixing. He placed his mask back on and left his home. The children were already up and about, chasing each other and laughing. They stopped, though, when their paths crossed with his. He was pleased when they didn't run immediately when they saw him, opting instead to tilt their heads to the side and look at him interestedly. Death waved cheerfully at them.
"Good morning, young ones! Are you all doing okay?" He tilted his head childishly back at them.
The children giggled and nodded, chorusing, "Yes, Lord Death!"
He clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! I'm sorry I scared you yesterday, I hope you can forgive me. I'm sure Miss Ophelia told you about my school and I would liked to invite you all to attend if your parents will let you. You can make new friends there~!"
Ophelia had just left her home and looked at the most curious sight. Death was playing with the children, letting them climb on him. Four were hanging off his arms as he swung them carefully. They were squealing happily. She watched mirthfully, glad he looked like he was in his element. She heard him speaking and grasped he was not only playing with them, but telling them about his school.
"There will be children who can turn into weapons and then there will be children who can't, but that's okay because they can use the weapon children as partners. They will team up and fight the bad guys!" He chattered amiably.
At first, she didn't think the children were listening, too busy playing, but realized she was wrong. The children were questioning him.
"Where are the other children coming from?" One asked.
"Everywhere! My school is open to everyone who wishes to become stronger while not leaving the path!" He declared, helping a little girl flip.
Ophelia was glad his goal was beginning to take shape. It made her happy to see her precious person so blithe.