SERIES A/N: Thirty-one prompts to exercise my writing muscles. All Soul Eater, mostly my faves Spirit and Stein. Other characters will show up and be featured too. Check my AO3 posting for the prompt list. Each story's notes will name its prompt.
STORY A/N: Academy Stein and Spirit for this first one, toward the end of their partnership. That's just for timeline's sake, it has no bearing on the story. Can be seen as anime or manga canon. Warnings, uh...some blood and injury, nothing described graphically. Anime-typical.
1. Ice
Unstoppable
Cold. Biting and breath-soft on his skin, yet heavy at the same time. Spirit felt if he were to open his eyes he would be utterly crushed by how cold the air was that rushed over him as he regained consciousness.
But then his other senses kicked in, and the icy chill fell to the back of his mind as he registered the burn of pain, the taste of blood, and the sense of being utterly alone.
"Stein!" he cried, shooting upright from where he'd fallen in the sand during the battle. But his meister was nowhere in sight as he painfully whipped his head from left to right in the dark.
He remembered the blow. He remembered pain along the whole of his blade, shudders jarring the steel all the way to the end of the handle in his meister's grasp. He remembered being released as his soul cried out in agony, falling and spinning haphazardly, trying desperately to maintain his form with the knowledge that doing so could stave off the worst of whatever injury he'd sustained for at least those extra moments. And he remembered hearing a feral scream from a voice both familiar and foreign, feeling the crackle of electricity in the air. And then all had gone dark.
He raised his hands to his head as a throbbing erupted in his temples. He knew he should take stock of his injuries, but any concern for himself was being rapidly overtaken by fear for his meister.
He couldn't see Stein anywhere.
He raised his arm to shield his eyes against the wind that still lifted dust from the desert floor as he turned to look behind him. The sandstorm that had trapped them had been as sudden as the enemy's attack, though it hadn't seemed to disadvantage their opponent in the same way. Blind in the darkness of the desert's terror, they'd had only Stein's soul perception to guide them, but the kishin egg they'd fought apparently had possessed more.
Overhead Spirit was sure he could hear the dark cackle of the sun, even if its light was barely penetrating the dust. He could scarcely see past his hand if he stretched his arm out ahead of him into the choking tan of the cloud, but he was relieved to have that much vision at least; it was an improvement upon the total blackness that had led to their defeat.
"Stein!" he called again, gasping for breath the next moment as dust invaded his lungs. He rose unsteadily to his feet and staggered for several steps in the wind, becoming aware of a great many more pains than the headache as he moved. He hugged himself against the cold the darkness and tempest had brought and peered around him as best he could with his eyes narrowed to slits as sand beat rough against his cheeks.
And then, a small, red pinpoint of light.
Spirit stumbled toward it until the glowing kishin egg soul clarified in front of him, hovering a couple of feet above the desert floor—the only thing left of the monster that had nearly been his end.
Hope had risen in his chest at the first sight of it, and he continued looking around as he stood next to the small orb, using it as a waypoint in the midst of the storm.
"Stein!" he tried a third time, choking for the effort, and he nearly lost his footing as a harsh gust lifted even more sand up into his face. But another good sign within the darkness—he saw a pale spot through the tan and moved toward it, blinking repeatedly to ensure it wasn't his imagination as the image grew lighter and took shape the closer he got. His steps became hurried until it seemed the wind carried his battered body the rest of the way to what was indeed the collapsed form of his partner.
"Stein?" he said, dropping to his knees next to the figure clad in white. The meister lie on his back, eyes closed as if in sleep with one hand across his middle and the other simply lain at his side. His usually pure-white clothing was dirty from the sandstorm, but it was the massive stain of red covering half of the meister's chest and spreading down to soak the hem of his shirt that caused Spirit's stomach to turn.
Worse however than that... The meister was utterly still.
"Stein..." Spirit breathed, leaning forward as he shielded his eyes with one arm while he reached trembling fingers toward his meister's face.
His skin was like ice.
"No..."
Spirit felt Stein's cheek with the backs of his fingers for another moment, brushing away some of the dust that had settled as the wind swirled past them for time unknown. Then he reached down to the hand across Stein's middle, slipping his fingers beneath and holding the cold fingers tightly as if it could bring his partner back.
Spirit glanced for just a moment toward the glowing red evidence that victory had been theirs after all. But there was no thrill, no joy...no satisfaction he could imagine ever feeling for it. The cost was more than he could bear.
His chest was tight and hot—a contrast to the telltale chill of Stein's hand in his—and despite how he pressed his shaking lips together, a small, breathy sob burst from between them. Followed by another. And another.
Dust gathered against the moisture of his lips and cheeks. Some rational part of his mind told him he should be checking his own injuries and trying to find a way out of the sandstorm. But he couldn't bring himself to do more than sit, clutching the hand of his meister and crying as a pain of loss ripped through his chest far worse than the feeling of the monster's claws.
How was he supposed to care about anything now, without his meister?
"Spirit."
His eyes snapped open. The word had been nearly soundless, followed a moment later by the slightest pressure of cold fingers against his.
He leaned down, inches away from his meister's face in the storm, and watched clouded green eyes part into slits and look for his until they locked on. Something—fear perhaps—faded away, to be replaced with relief and something else he couldn't define. And Spirit was certain all the same was reflected in his own vision.
"Oh, thank God!" he cried, gathering his partner upright into a tight hug before he could think better of it. The meister's cold chest was pressed tightly against his, and when he felt cool wisps of hair brush his cheek he leaned into it, letting icy skin rest against the growing warmth of his own.
"Don't...snivel," the familiar but weak voice spoke next to his ear. "You're seventeen years old."
"I thought you were dead!" Spirit exclaimed, his tears now of relief as all he could do was hold the younger teen close as if to let go would mean he would lose this miracle.
A pause, and then, "I thought you were dead, too."
Spirit's breaths began to calm as the initial desperation waned into shaky relief, and he felt himself return slowly to the present of their predicament. The wind still whipped sand up and around them, they still had no vision nor direction, and both of them it seemed had sustained grave injuries.
And then, Spirit's thoughts were arrested once more as the light weight of Stein's hand rested on his shoulder, ever so softly returning the embrace. A familiar, faint sound reached toward his soul through the darkness and Spirit blinked repeatedly as if suddenly waking up. It was but a split second as his wavelength reached out to meet his partner's, and their resonance erupted in power so strong he could feel the sands being driven back from around them. And together again as they were meant to be, the throbbing in his head started to diminish.
"How badly are you injured?" Stein asked weakly.
"I don't know... When I came to I just looked for you. But I don't think..." Spirit straightened slightly, leaning back. Stein's hand didn't move as he pulled away to test things, rolling his shoulders and moving one arm at a time. "I think it's just the one that's bad, really."
The front of Stein's shirt had more red than before he'd been pulled upright, but it was the weapon's blood that now mixed with the dust that stained his stitched, white shirtfront. Stein moved his hand to where his partner's black shirt was sliced through and gently probed against the long laceration. Spirit hissed in response and looked at the deep puncture wounds down his meister's chest. It looked like the monster had dug its claws in deep and then tore the flesh sideways and down toward Stein's arm and hip.
"How are we gonna get out of here?" Spirit asked, closing his eyes as another gust threw sand up between them.
"First..." Stein said, and Spirit leaned forward slightly to hear the meister's raspy voice, barely audible in the wind. "You'd better not forget that."
Spirit followed the meister's gaze to the glow of red that illuminated the dust several feet away. It was with reluctance that he let the younger teen go, Stein leaning heavily on both his hands as Spirit staggered toward the kishin egg soul, the throb in his head returning as he moved away from his meister and their resonance lost a bit of strength.
He brought the prize back with him, sitting heavily in front of Stein once again as he looked at the symbol of evil. He moved his gaze past the soul to where Stein was watching him, a strange yet soft look in his eyes. Spirit grinned as he lifted the orb like a glass as if toasting in celebration.
"Number eighty-seven," he said before squishing the soul past his lips and swallowing it down. "We're so close!"
"Eighty-seven..." Stein echoed softly. "Spirit...listen."
"Yeah Stein?"
"I have an idea to help us get out of here. But I don't know if it will work."
Spirit nodded. "Okay. What..?"
"I need you to trust me."
Spirit blinked in confusion. "Okay," he repeated. "But what...?"
He stopped this time not because of Stein's words, but because of the hand Stein had placed in the center of his chest. He held to Spirit's shoulder with the other, and Spirit could feel the chill of his meister's hand through his shirt's fabric.
He grimaced. It was in Stein's nature to act strong until his body simply gave out, but this wasn't an occasion where mind over matter would serve either of them.
The soft tingle of electricity arrested Spirit's thoughts, and he looked down in surprise to see the glow coming from Stein's hand and being directed into his body.
"What are you doing!?" he said in alarm, but he remembered Stein's words to trust him...remembered it was something to do with getting out of the sandstorm, back to safety. And in looking at the sheer concentration on his meister's pale face, he knew he had no intent to harm him.
Spirit tried to relax as the electric power of Stein's soul wavelength moved into his blood, into his nerves, setting even his scalp and the tips of his toes on fire with heat. It seemed to heighten his awareness with how strongly they were already resonating, and it was almost as if he could see his own tissues and organs in his mind's eye as Stein sent the tangible power throughout his entire body. He wondered how Stein was able to do that and yet couldn't even keep himself warm as his blood drained out, but it was something to puzzle over another time. Because suddenly the electricity centered back to his chest, no longer flowing through him indiscriminately but directed into the wound he'd received.
Pinpricks of feeling all along the cut, and a slight lessening of the pain. He'd already felt better from the moment they began resonating, but this was a directed effort to help him. He was about to protest that Stein needed to be focused on keeping himself alive, when suddenly bright lines appeared down his chest.
Spirit blinked as he stared at them.
Sutures. The lines of light were sutures, holding his flesh together.
"What...?" he started, but when he looked up similar lines were appearing on Stein's more numerous wounds. Spirit's gaze drifted to the meister's face, his eyes tightly closed in concentration. Sweat had broken out on his forehead, and Spirit reached out to catch a drop as it slid toward the younger teen's eye. When his fingertips met skin, he was startled to find Stein was still as cold as ice.
"You can't... Stein, that's..." Spirit was lost for words. After nearly five years, his meister was still surprising him. "That's incredible. But you can't keep this going. You're too weak."
Stein's eyes had opened when Spirit's fingers touched his brow, and the tiniest of smiles appeared on the meister's taut, pale face.
"I know. You have to help me control it," Stein replied, almost chuckling as he gave the obvious answer.
Spirit lifted a finger to the bright white of the sutures on his chest and carefully touched one. It felt like the real thing, except perhaps with the slightest electric tingle. He ran his finger down the line of them like the strings of a harp, and that time Stein did laugh, though it came out more like a cough.
"Don't break them," he said.
"Okay..." Spirit said, focusing his wavelength until he could feel each and every delicate manifested thread of Stein's holding them together. He raised their resonance rate, and as if guided by instinct he felt the strength of the sutures increase and a lessening of the stress in Stein's soul in response. He saw the stitches on his meister's wounds brighten in power too, and again he marveled.
He wanted to ask how Stein was doing it, and how he had even come up with the idea. He knew that amazing techniques were possible with soul resonance, but he'd never known a meister to invent a technique purely out of his wavelength as Stein had clearly done. But then again, he supposed all techniques must have started that way.
"Okay..." Spirit repeated. "Can you stand?"
"Think...I'll need your help with that too."
Spirit got his feet under him and then hefted them both up in one quick motion. His head swam, and he stumbled slightly to get his balance which was more difficult for Stein leaning nearly all of his weight into his side.
"The city is that way," Stein said with a nod, breathless now for the effort of keeping himself upright.
Spirit was about to ask how he knew, but then closed his lips over the question. Stein's soul perception was nearly unmatched in the academy, so it was no small feat that he could sense the direction of home. Although doing that while directing actual sutures to close both of their wounds...
"Hold on," Spirit said, tightening his arm around Stein's waist and pulling his other arm over his shoulder more securely. He was grateful that his younger partner had nearly matched him in height in the last year or so, or else supporting him through their travel would be much more difficult.
Stein brought his free arm up to try to block some of the sand and dust that the wind whipped into their faces as they began the journey back.
Several minutes were spent in silence, Spirit's attention on simply moving his feet, being sure his partner was keeping up, and not losing his focus on keeping those sutures in place. Not so much for himself, but for Stein's sake, who had clearly lost too much blood for how cold the meister's body was pressed against his side.
"Spirit, pay attention," Stein said, preempting the worried train of thought that was about to spiral through the red-head's brain.
Spirit would have commented on how annoying it was that his meister seemed to always guess his thoughts, but he felt the answer before the statement was made. They were in resonance; why should he be surprised at idle thoughts being laid bare?
"So...what are you going to call this new technique?" Spirit asked after a few minutes, taking the younger teen's advice to stay focused on the immediate task.
"Soul Thread Sutures," Stein replied flatly, and Spirit took a moment to try to think of something more creative, but then nodded in agreement. It was so amazing on its own, it didn't need a flashy name to make it special.
Spirit realized suddenly that the wind was a little less harsh, and the air a little less dark. The cloud was lighting up around them from murky brown to tan, which meant they were nearing the edge of the dust storm. Despite their grave situation, the promise of help close by brought his usual smile back to his face.
"Man... Stein what can't you do?"
The meister gave no verbal reply, but contrasting the coldness of his body was an answering warmth from his soul. The comment had pleased his younger partner.
"When I'm a death scythe...we'll be unstoppable. We'll be the greatest team in academy history."
Suddenly, sunlight broke through the dust above their heads. And distantly through the edges of the storm Spirit could see the silhouette of Death City looming like a beacon. So elated was he that he missed the warmth retracting as he quickened their step toward help and home.
"Yeah," Stein replied. "Unstoppable."
