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where-i-overanalyze · 1 year

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religious symbolism in Soul Eater (Crona specifically)

okay hello, i am one of those people who experiences tumblr posts through pinterest, so idrk how to use tumblr. this is gonna be a learning curve, but i've got shit ton to say about Soul Eater (specifically the manga) and this can be my inaugural post. i use religious terms in this post loosely, it's just for parallels, i think too much about religious symbolism. spoilers for the Soul Eater manga, it's old but for the majority population who hasn't read the manga, be wary ig

Crona Soul Eater and religious symbolism and trauma! let's begin with the fact that Crona is simply born to be in Medusa's grand plan of world domination. Medusa never truly sees Crona as her own child; she only sees them as an experimental opportunity. she never lets them experience anything outside of their life as her experiment. thinking about religious undertones here, this is how a lot of people are born into religion. people just spawn in religious families when their religious parents have kids and a lot of the time there is very little chance to explore other beliefs.

Crona themself is also literally fused with the experiments Medusa has put them through. there is no separating them from Ragnarok and he constantly bombards them physically and mentally. he serves as a constant nagging in Crona's mind of where they come from, what has happened to them, and what Medusa actually thinks about them. she literally planted those constant thoughts and worries in them that they cannot escape from. Crona has been conditioned to think that this experiment, this "religion," is all about them serving Medusa and her wishes. whether this comparison works better with the experiment or Medusa herself being the "religion" doesn't really matter, it's mainly just the fact that Crona was brought up and trained to not doubt what Medusa told them to do. Crona cannot bring themself to question this truth they've been told their whole life because, up until a certain point, Medusa was never wrong. there is even this sort of "chosen one" language used around and referring to Crona because of this experiment, much like the language christians use when talking about how they are god's children and all that. there's this pride in "bringing up" a child that serves some sort of purpose, the greater order, a "miracle" even.

despite all Medusa's hard work of preventing Crona from seeing any life without her, the arc after her "defeat" (when she slithers away and possesses little girl Rachel) allows Crona to experience the world. for a brief month or so, Crona is able to be "of the world" and realizes that there are people out there that aren't using them for an experiment, that they're allowed to be their own person without Medusa's influence.

they make progress!!! they make friends!!! they actually start liking the academy and experience a life that isn't full of Medusa's demands in the name of the experiment to create a Kishin (or worse)!!!

but, of course, Crona cannot "be of the world" because they are just "Medusa's experiment." after finally experiencing the joys of a normal and non-toxic environment, Medusa returns and provides a horrible reminder that Crona is different from their friends. they can't possibly be more important than what Medusa's bigger plan has in store for them. of course they must choose between the two, of course they must be a spy on shibusen, it's what they were made to do!!! (god i hate Medusa)

though, Crona has already "tasted the fruit" so to speak. Crona knows that this shit for Medusa is wrong to do, but all they can do is fall back into the one thing they've known their whole life: they're Medusa's experiment and they must not fail. they've strayed from the path that was set out for them, so when they start doing things for Medusa again, the internal conflict has set in. they are following the destiny Medusa has laid out for them and she is glad that Crona's listening to her again, so why does it all feel wrong? it feels wrong because they left the path, they stopped living for the "religion" and now everything is falling apart around them when they try to live in both realities. it's just like Medusa told them, they cannot exist in the world because they do not understand the world, so they must continue being Medusa's experiment.

the praise doesn't feel good anymore, these promises of something greater don't seem worth the sacrifice if it means Crona must give up the glimpse of happiness they've finally experienced. and yet, despite all of their conflict and turmoil about betraying everyone, they return to Medusa because it's all they feel that they truly know; she's the only thing that can provide them with any sense of normalcy though they know something about it is wrong and cold. the torture is normal.

after Crona's return to Medusa and the experiments continue, Crona is essentially going through the motions for her grand plan. they're in too deep now, they've devoted their whole life to her because that's all they've ever known. maybe they do want to get out, but who would understand their purpose like Medusa does? even when they're presented with opportunities to be snapped out of it, they can't break free. they've given up every chance to live a regular life, but of course, they're part of a bigger plan, something that will put them above everyone else, and it will all be because of what Medusa has done to prepare them.

all the sacrifice, knowing that they are past the point of return, they're finally ready to finish what Medusa started.

and then Medusa shatters everything Crona's founded themself on. this belief that Medusa treated them this way because it was part of the plan, that Medusa had to be cruel in order for everything to work out, it initiates a crisis when Medusa suddenly dons the appearance of a loving mother. up until then, Medusa only refers to herself as Crona's mother as a way to manipulate them, to spur them to action because she is their mother and she deserves their loyalty. Crona's suffering and success was based on the fact that Medusa was treating them harshly, abusing them, experimenting on them, and the reality comes crashing down that this was never about Crona, it was always about Medusa's sick game to see how much they could get out of Crona. this "religion" has only been torture with the promise of . . . something good at the end. Crona hasn't gotten that "something" yet, so why has the "religion" stopped being cruel?

in her final moments, Medusa no longer resembles the mother Crona knew, and Crona kills her as they (probably) hear her say "I love you, Crona" for the first time. from this point on, Crona makes a desperate attempt to reclaim this purpose, this "religion" they've founded their whole life on. they are ready to meet the Kishin, to become the entirety of evil and madness and fear, and yet they return to the church.

the fact that Maka and Crona meet in a church is too easy of a symbol, that the first and (almost) last time Crona sees Maka is in a place where someone can find salvation, but i love it nonetheless. other than the fact that it is literally a church, there is a Lot to think about with the doors that only open inward. the church lets people in, it's welcoming, they're for the lost and the broken to come inside, but those doors are made for the people coming in, not the people coming out. obviously, doors are still doors, you can still open doors from the inside, but Maka gets stuck on them the first time they meet. it makes it hard for, oh idk, people getting attacked from the inside to escape. if you're trapped in that church for so long, used to getting worn down and used, maybe you give up on trying to open those doors.

like, you've gotta be kidding me. it's their choice to keep going with all of this, it's their choice to continue despite salvation standing right next to them, it's their choice to break down those doors and make this their own path. it's evil, it's horrible, but it's a last ditch effort to reform the broken foundation they were raised to believe.

but then it doesn't work. they obtain that horrible, promised power for a while, but it swallows them whole. it was never something they could handle because they were the test subject, the experiment to see how far someone could devote their life to this cause, only for it to not work out in the end. their religion has been crumbling for a while, but now it's turned to dust. they are no longer needed for its agenda, so it has abandoned them.

a quick return to the "place of salvation" point i made earlier, i think it's insanely interesting that the church is where all of the violence takes place when Maka and Crona interact, but it is actually inside the soul that Crona's redemption happens (i know they're technically like in the Kishin at the end, but still). there could be some stuff said about the corruption of the church, how a physical place that is deemed holy could never truly cause someone to reach any sort of salvation. salvation and peace is someone who extends their hand out to someone who is suffering, not a building or mantras or enduring torture in promise of a greater reward.

Crona's redemption, salvation, it all comes from abandoning what Medusa told them to do. they've technically done it all; they perfected the black blood, they became one with the Kishin, and now they can go on to choose a path that is entirely their own. they actively choose to counteract their past actions, to "atone for their sins" and fix everything for everyone else. they become a sacrificial lamb in the act, or even a christ figure in terms of dying for the safety of everyone else. and i mean, this entire time Crona was obeying their mother, and who was jesus but a man who was obeying his father?

i have to give my gf credit for that last line, she sent me that and i lost my mind. i will also give her credit for pointing out the fact that Crona's theme in the anime is literally a prayer to Saint Mary for forgiveness.

youtube

there is definitely something to be said about the fact that Mary and Marie are very similar names, Marie provides Crona a healthy mother-type figure while they're at the academy, and that Crona betrays her and she's the only other person who Crona somewhat remembers in their madness haze. i'd say that role is stronger in the anime than the manga since the anime gives Crona way more of a redemption arc and they interact with Marie much more. it still totally works, Crona is just riddled with religious symbolism there's no escaping it.

anyways, idk how to end a post. if anyone is reading it and you made it through all of that, good job!!! i've been dying to say this shit somewhere and i will definitely continue to do this because it is cathartic.

#soul eater #crona #crona soul eater #crona gorgon #soul eater manga #religious symbolism #religious trauma #medusa gorgon #medusa soul eater #maka soul eater #idk how to use tags #do i just keep adding tags?#manga #anime #crona x maka #kind of #overanalyzing #english major things #Youtube

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bcbdrums · 6 months

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I'll Break Your Fall

FFn | AO3

A young Spirit and Stein story.

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A/N: Rated M for one brief graphic description of violence/horror and some vaguely implied gore. Probably the rating is cautionary, but, *Sid voice* that's the kind of person I am. Just being careful. This is a young Stein and Spirit story, full of angst and suspense and I guess even some fluff? Maybe? I've decided to headcanon a three-year age gap. Spirit is 14 and Stein is 11 in this story, and they've been partners for almost a year. I'm an anime person, only just barely started the manga (so excited to read it!), but I do include I think one use of a Japanese honorific just because it seems tied to Stein as a character to use it even though it doesn't appear in the anime dub... I've read enough of the manga to get attached to the term. So...this story was inspired by a song, and by a piece of fantastic art I couldn't get out of my head. Can't reveal them yet, cuz spoilers (they are linked at the very end). But then, as stories go, this took its own path away from the inspiration and my gosh I'm just elated with what happened when I gave the characters the lead. I hope it's not trash. I adored writing this. I hope you'll enjoy it too.

I'll Break Your Fall

Spirit had never paid too much attention to the study of souls. The topic was interesting to him, but not having anything special about his own nor any of the unique abilities that other meisters and weapons had, it simply wasn't his focus. He wasn't bitter or jealous, however. He was content knowing that each soul was unique and exactly as it was meant to be. And if his soul was meant to be average, then who was he to argue?

He never let it dampen his attitude though, especially given what Lord Death had once told him. It had been nearly a year ago that he'd been called to the Death Room for the first time and responded with the anxiety of an innocent called before the headmaster. What in the Reaper's name could he want to see Spirit about, a low-level scythe without a meister?

It was then that he'd been informed of an incoming student, and that Lord Death had chosen him to be his partner.

"I'll have a few more conversations with him before I introduce you, just to be sure, but I think a soul like yours will complement his perfectly," was what Lord Death had said at the time. Spirit never forgot those words—a soul like yours—and had often wondered what it was that the ironically larger-than-life being could see in him that he couldn't see himself.

It had been quite the boost of confidence, and perhaps the reason he wasn't too concerned when they studied soul types and special abilities in class. However average he might appear to his teachers and peers, Lord Death knew otherwise. He'd seen something in him to hand-choose him out of every student to be the weapon partner of possibly the strongest meister in the entire school, and the youngest on top of that. Still, it came up often enough—especially partnering with someone so unique—that his own soul was average and that he had nothing outwardly special about him.

It was this knowledge that had Spirit both confused and alert one night when suddenly he was startled from deep slumber as beyond a shadow of a doubt, he sensed a powerful soul.

He knew it was a soul instinctively, for what else could it be? And the fog of sleep was rapidly leaving his mind as he tried to make sense of the mad feelings that were rapidly pressing in all around him. It wasn't like the kishin egg souls he ate after defeating an enemy, and it wasn't like anything he could recall learning about in class. Or at least, he didn't think so; suddenly he wished he had paid more attention.

No, this soul was wild, electric, and untamed...and it was tearing itself apart.

It was massive, radiating such strength that it caused Spirit to shrink in his bed and pull the covers up closer as if they might provide some protection from the raw power that had woken him. He could feel the soul clawing against itself, trying to burst free from whatever it was that kept souls whole, ripping at its own seams as it warred against the will of the person to whom it belonged. And as the seconds passed it seemed almost as if it would engulf him, the person's breathless fear rising in time with his own and the soul's destruction surely imminent.

And then, Spirit knew. He may not have the ability to truly sense souls, but there was one soul that even an average weapon like him could always see.

His feet hit the carpeted floor too hard and he nearly tripped as he forgot to throw back the blankets, but momentum helped him keep his balance as he ran across the hall and in less than ten steps was at the bedroom door of his young meister, throwing it open before he could stop to consider that he should probably knock first.

He still couldn't see the soul, but fear filled the entire room as he stared in a strange combination of confusion and relief at his partner. The boy was okay, at least outwardly, seated on his knees in the center of his bed but curled down on himself into a ball. He had his hands pressed tightly against his ears and his whole frame was trembling, visible even through the black of the night.

Something had his meister terrified, and his very soul was beginning to rip itself apart in agony.

"Stein!" Spirit gasped, unsure what to do. His thoughts were a maelstrom, still bombarded with an inexplicable torrent of madness which was what he understood now to be radiating out of his partner's wavelength along with the fear, so powerful that they permeated Spirit's soul and had set him trembling from head to toe.

There was no way to tell what had happened, or what on earth he should do to help. All Spirit knew for sure was that his partner was afraid, seemingly of himself, and whatever had happened to trigger this, he couldn't seem to bring his soul back under control.

"Stein?" Spirit repeated, a little louder as he considered his partner may not hear him with his hands covering his ears.

The ever-present hum of resonance between them was why Spirit was able to sense him at all, and he realized that lacking any soul perception ability must mean that whatever was tormenting Stein was dreadfully powerful for it to have woken him and his being able to sense it so clearly. What must this fear feel like to someone with soul perception?

"Stein?" he tried a third time, taking a few steps nearer the young meister's bed. He considered that to touch him might startle him, although it seemed like anything might yield that result with the horrible state he was in.

Spirit thought a moment and then swallowed his fear as best he could and attempted to extend his soul toward Stein's. He didn't have a healing wavelength, but perhaps resonance alone would be able to snap his partner out of whatever horror was causing him to seemingly consume himself.

Spirit found it difficult to keep his feet, his entire frame beginning to shake as he felt like a tiny island standing in the ocean of Stein's soul, struggling not to drown as the roiling waves of his meister's wavelength surrounded and beat against his even more for being so near. But words weren't reaching the boy, and he had to do something to bring him back from...whatever was happening to him.

He pressed his wavelength harder against the dark torrent even as it started to choke the breath out of him, and then suddenly Stein's head snapped up in a gasp. He turned toward Spirit with his eyes wide and mouth agape. The weapon had never seen his meister look so astonished, as if he never expected to see him standing there.

"Stein..." he breathed desperately, still pressing against the chaos of his partner's soul that threatened to devour him. And with that single word, he finally seemed to break through.

Stein blinked, and the darkness that emanated from his soul seemed to lose a little of its strength. Spirit didn't withdraw his wavelength however, feeling that whatever was happening was far from over.

"S...Spirit?" Stein's voice came out small, and uncertain.

"What's happening?" Spirit gasped, feeling even less sure of his footing despite the faint calming of the powerful current in Stein's soul. His meister was still looking at him as if seeing a ghost, and the light was absent from his eyes.

"This...is what is real?"

"What?" Spirit said, starting to feel his knees buckling. It wasn't a fully conscious decision to stumble toward Stein's bed, but as he turned just in time to fall seated upon the blankets, breathless, he knew that the floor would have surely been his destination otherwise.

Stein didn't recoil from Spirit's sudden nearness, only stared at him more intently as the light slowly returned to his eyes.

"It was a dream..."

The words that slowly fell seemingly absently from Stein's lips caught Spirit's attention, and he looked sideways at his partner as he continued to extend his wavelength almost on instinct despite the crushing feeling he was still battling from Stein's chaos. But in catching the boy's eyes he finally started to understand... His meister had had a nightmare.

Most people's view of the youngest student in their class was that he was indifferent at best and callous at worst. He walked around with blank expressions or else out-of-place smiles that put people off, and his default was to be sullen except when in battle. That was when his soul would erupt to life, and Spirit knew what no one else did—that the small, steely-eyed boy possessed more emotion than perhaps all of them put together. But even without resonance, Spirit had started to learn the nuances of his meister's bland expressions; to others the boy may appear without feeling, but Spirit could see through the stoic facade.

However none of that was necessary now as Stein wore no mask whatsoever. He kept glancing at Spirit, ogling him as if shocked by his very existence, but then almost in the same moment his eyes would dart away with a heavy expression of guilt.

Whatever motivated that, it didn't stop his continually looking back at his weapon as if seeing a ghost.

"Do...you want to talk about it?" Spirit asked uncertainly.

"No!" Stein cried abruptly, and in an instant Spirit felt a violent resurgence of the dark dissonance. Right next to him now, faced with the full force of that pressure, Spirit could hardly breathe.

"You're choking me," he managed despite the tightness of his throat, and he knew that even were he not trying to break through with his wavelength, the raw power of his meister's soul would inevitably crush him. It was likely his feeble attempt at resonance was the only reason he was conscious at all.

He watched as Stein absorbed his words in confusion, slowly processing them until his eyes widened in understanding. Immediately, the pressure began to wane, though not as quickly as Spirit would have hoped.

It was such a relief that he fell back upon the mattress, his toes still grazing the carpet where his legs hung over the side of the bed. He gasped for breath though his lungs still wouldn't fill, and he continued pressing his wavelength against Stein's tumultuous one. It wasn't much, but the dark waves were starting to recede again.

As the seconds passed, Stein continued looking at him as if Spirit's presence in the room was the last thing on earth he'd expected, but interspersed were deeply guilty looks that had his olive-green eyes flashing away to stare at any other point in the room. However those looks never lasted long, as it did in fact seem that the weapon's presence was the only thing calming the distressed young meister.

Spirit simply stared back in fear and concern, waiting, reaching out with his soul as he felt a further wavering in the pressure against him. When he at last felt he could draw a full breath into his lungs was when Stein finally made the slightest move, reaching out hesitantly with a flat hand and poking his weapon's arm with his fingers as if testing the veracity of his presence.

This yielded a few results, the first of which was a choked gasp from Spirit that had him leaning up on his elbows to stare back with mouth agape. The slight touch had burned, and the closer contact with Stein's soul had him shaking with fear anew. Stein had jerked away with a gasp of his own, and as Spirit processed what he'd seen—not dark waves, but a wild, tormenting fire that seemed to be consuming his meister from somewhere at his very core—the younger boy's face took on an even deeper look of fear. His lower lip began to tremble as his eyes finally stayed locked on Spirit's, pleading for help.

"What's happening...?" Spirit said breathlessly as he sat up. He instinctively reached out, but then stopped, his hand frozen in the space between them. If he were to touch Stein again, that fire in his soul would surely consume him. It had been a split second, but it was far worse than the crushing pressure in the room that still had him feeling as if he was moving through tar and fighting for each breath.

He wondered again what someone who actually had soul perception would be seeing and feeling in the tiny apartment as his meister's soul tore at itself with the resolute goal of destruction.

Stein was staring back at him, fighting against whatever hell was in his head that had prompted this...madness. His lip was still trembling, and the fear and guilt had settled into a devastated mix in his eyes. It looked as though it was taking everything he had to keep the chaos of his soul from bursting forth, destroying himself and Spirit and who knew what else in the process.

Spirit had never thought to see the stoic boy in such a state, his soul lost and eyes desperately searching for an anchor. And as the two continued staring at one another, the red-head saw the younger boy's gaze flick down more than once to Spirit's hand that still hovered between them. Both of Stein's however had moved to his thighs, his fingers digging into his flesh through his pajamas. And was that red beginning to show against the white fabric in a couple of spots?

"Stein...?" Spirit asked, feeling the desperation begin to wash over him as well. Whatever was happening to his partner wasn't showing signs of stopping as he'd had hope for moments ago. Perhaps he should call a teacher or Lord Death for help?

"I..."

Spirit refocused on the face of his meister, still extending his wavelength from its small, safe haven toward the younger boy. He was shocked that Stein could feel his pathetic attempt at aid at all, given the massive differences in their souls. And for the first time since being partnered with Stein he began to feel inadequate.

"What can I do?" Spirit asked, still struggling to draw air.

"I..." Moisture began to shine in Stein's eyes, and Spirit's brow rose. "I'm sorry!"

Churning waves washed out of Stein's soul even stronger than before, and Spirit grit his teeth as he glanced down to where his meister's fingers were now definitely drawing blood. When he caught enough breath to look up again Stein was still fighting tears as he sat frozen and afraid. He looked utterly defeated, holding on by a mere thread—grasping for Spirit's wavelength—against whatever it was that had happened to him.

Spirit made a decision.

He reached out and quickly enveloped Stein in a tight hug, forcing his wavelength against his meister's in hopes Stein would meet him in resonance. But instantly, at the contact, into the dark waves roared the fire, twisting and crackling and seeming to draw him down into a pit of darkness as static hummed in his ears, further overwhelming him as the water threatened to drown him at the same time the fire seared his body and mind. He couldn't fight this... He would surely be destroyed by this madness.

But if he fled from it, what would happen to Stein?

He was aware of choked sounds and cries coming from his throat, still struggling for breath as his soul battled the insanity that it had found consuming Stein's. But there were other sounds in the room now... Screaming? Was that his voice? And crying? It sounded worse than that. Which of them was crying?

"Stein," he attempted to say, unsure if the name actually left his lips as some instinct within his weaponhood continued the attempt at resonance with the clamor of his partner's soul.

He knew it was still there, somewhere, not yet fully consumed or else Stein wouldn't have been able to recognize him, speak to him... And then, Spirit realized with sudden clarity that whatever had happened, it was all coming from within Stein. The horrors that threatened to destroy his partner were part of his soul, and seemingly a nightmare had brought them all to the fore.

His brow furrowed as he held on tighter despite how it scorched his entire being to do so and he ran deeper down into the fire. The dark waves did nothing to douse the flames, the pressure increasing and the light fading the further down he went.

"Stein..." he said hoarsely, not sure if he'd spoken aloud or only in his soul as he sought familiarity in the madness. His partner gave neither aid nor resistance, lost somewhere in the war of water and fire. Spirit's heart was pounding as the pressure and heat sent a dizzying feeling to his head. Black danced at the edge of his vision as he ran through the chaos of Stein's soul, seeking anything to grab hold of to bring his meister back.

The flames were all around him, but he couldn't see them for the dark, crushing pressure of the waves. He couldn't breathe. His feet gave way as he began to fall into the pit that raged fire and the blackness began to take over.

But then out of the dark he saw a flash of red. It meant nothing to him except that it was different, and he stumbled toward it even as he felt his lungs about to burst. Red, and the sickly metallic scent of blood. Or was that the taste?

The fire was suddenly swept up around him by a fierce whirlwind, and it pulled the waters back with it. Spirit nearly choked for how quickly he gasped in the sulfurous air, but his breath was taken away again as within the whirlwind images began to appear, flashing past at speeds too fast to process. They were of blood and sinew, the shining edge of a scalpel that morphed into a cleaver, and a wicked smile on a familiar face too young to have fallen victim to something as fatal as the evils displayed before him.

At first the images appeared random, but gradually they seemed to swirl into a narrative. And they only became more violent and gruesome as it progressed. It was more horrifying than anything Spirit had seen on the battlefield, and his stomach turned at the scenes of flesh being rend from bone, of bodies ruined and desecrated, and everything slowly turning to red.

All around him blood had begun to rain, and Spirit realized with a twisting in his gut that the horrors went deeper still. He wanted to retreat, to back out of what was far worse than any nightmare could ever be.

But he still hadn't found Stein.

He pursed his lips and strode forward upon shaking legs into the whirlwind of red, holding his breath as it felt he had walked straight into a wall of blood. His nostrils confirmed the reality as the liquid fell thick around him, but he only closed his eyes and kept going. The fire and water were not so powerful anymore. It had to mean something, right?

There was something new down here in the pit too that he'd felt briefly when he first fell—a hum of static that came and went intermittently, clouding his desperate thoughts. It was like too many voices all at once, dozens or...was it millions? All trying to tell him something but they were too numerous to begin to isolate any, or discern their intent.

"Stein!" he called again, perhaps aloud or perhaps in his soul. "Stein! Where are you?"

To his surprise and relief, he felt rather than heard a familiar voice reply through all the noise. Somewhere in the wash of red, his meister had tried to answer.

"Stein! Wherever you are, take my hand!" He thrust his arm forward, fingers outstretched.

"I can't."

He felt the reply come in a terrified whisper, and it only made him more determined. He quickened his pace, hurrying past images that made him want to vomit and toward where he had felt the faint, frightened answer coming from.

"Stein! Come here!" he pleaded, fairly demanding as he struggled for breath, his arm still outstretched.

He knew he was getting close. Somewhere in this tumult, the wavelength of the boy who had been his partner for nearly a year now was cowering in fear. It was weak, withdrawn, and defeated.

This more than his own fear and pain drove Spirit onward. The madness, whatever caused it, would not claim his meister if he had anything to say about it. He ignored the pain and pressure and focused on the faint feeling of Stein's true wavelength, buried so deep in the pit he was amazed he had found it at all. But it was there, and despite the voiced resistance, he could feel the faint hope in response to his approach.

"Stein! Come here!" he said, more confident this time as he pressed through the wash of red.

"I can't."

Finally, he saw him.

Small and alone in the static-laden center of the whirlwind, Stein looked no different than he had on his bed. He was kneeling with his legs folded under him, fingers digging into his thighs and drawing blood that stained the white of his pajamas, the latter color made more prominent as he was surrounded by a puddle of darkness. It rippled violently, extending outward from the younger boy into the pool of red, and Spirit realized the source of the darkness was his meister's soul.

Stein's eyes were downcast, and he didn't lift his head at Spirit's steady approach.

"Stein. Take my hand," Spirit said as he stopped in front of him, still extending his own.

"I can't," Stein repeated, his tone flat now as he shook his head ever so slightly.

"We have to get out of here. It's...it's not good to be here," Spirit continued, his meister's resignation making him uncertain.

"But it's worse out there," Stein protested quietly.

Spirit was bewildered. In this mad, labyrinthine pit he was nearly blind. He was surprised that he could speak for the pressure against his lungs, and the heat of the flames still seared him from skin to soul even as he stood before his meister in the dark rain of blood.

"How can it be worse!?" he asked with genuine incredulity. "We have to go!"

Stein's chin only dipped lower, almost hitting his chest.

Spirit sighed heavily and knelt down in front of the younger boy, extending his hand directly in his line of sight. The darkness broke against his knees and rippled away from his presence.

"Stein, please!" he urged.

Stein finally lifted his head just enough to meet Spirit's eyes, and the look within the green orbs was pure terror.

"I... But I'll kill you, Senpai."

Spirit gasped as suddenly, some final barrier around Stein's wavelength fell away, and he saw with perfect clarity the path his partner's nightmare had taken.

He saw himself lying on a slab, cut up, eviscerated, and dismembered in ways more horrible than he could have possibly imagined. And worse, he saw his young meister standing over him, a mad smile bisecting his visage as he grinned down into the face of Spirit's dream-self. And then reaching down to the slab, Stein grabbed Spirit's hair and picked up his bloodied, severed head.

Spirit grimaced and shook his head to banish the horrifying images as bile rose in his throat. In front of him, his meister's gaze fell again.

The dark rippling intensified and no longer broke at Spirit's knees, washing through him now as fear began to seep into his soul. Was this truly what Stein wanted? Not just for him, but the other gruesome images he had seen as he strode through the pit to find his partner... Were those more than nightmares?

Spirit was devastated. This madness... It was part of Stein. It hadn't been placed there, or influenced by some outside source. The desire to cut, to tear apart, to desecrate... This, he realized, was the secret that lay carefully guarded behind his partner's dispassionate mask that refused to betray any emotion, that refused offers of friendship and pushed away even the most determined with a sadistic edge. Except that the latter, he knew now, wasn't really an act.

"Now you understand..." Stein murmured. The sadness that emanated from the boy was heartbreaking. "It's okay. You can leave me here. You'll be better off."

Spirit frowned, his jaw setting in stubborn defiance.

"No."

"I'm sorry, Spirit."

"No! You're coming with me!"

He reached down with his right hand and pulled Stein's up from where he was digging his fingers into his thigh, clutching it to his chest. Stein looked up in wary surprise.

"But...you'll be better off," the younger boy repeated slowly, still resigned. "If you leave me here then..." Stein lifted his free hand, but as it shook he dropped it and dug his fingers back into his flesh. He took a shuddering breath, his next words coming out in a frightened whisper. "I'll become a...a kishin... Death will send someone to destroy me. Then... I won't be able to hurt you."

Stein's gaze sank in defeat. The agony and fear radiated out of his soul in heavy black waves, weighing Spirit down as he still gripped his meister's hand to his chest, nothing being returned.

The fire, the pressure, the intermittent static, and the whirlwind of blood and horror... The fear that had finally been exposed, and the madness that was the reason for everything... Spirit ignored it all. It was for another time.

He wanted to question, to mourn, as the realization that he couldn't fix this caused his heart to ache. Not only was the madness borne of Stein's soul, he had probably suffered it his entire life. The grief tore at Spirit's heart as if it truly had been rend in two, not by a blade but with the pain of his partner's fears.

There was nothing he could do.

But his soul swelled in fierce determination.

"No. Stein, you're coming back with me."

Stein did glance up then, but his eyes were hollow, already having sunk back down to somewhere within himself. The boy shook his head slightly, sullen and resigned.

"Don't...don't try to save me," he whispered, an almost imperceptible quiver in his voice. "You can't."

Spirit's fingers clenched on his partner's hand as he blew air out through his nose in frustration.

"Well you know what, Stein?"

The boy's dour expression didn't change as he stared at him.

"I don't give a damn!"

There was something then—a flicker of color in Stein's eyes; something still alive. Surprised. But not enough to stop the dark waves of his soul.

Exasperated, Spirit threw his free hand out in a broad gesture at the thick rain of blood that surrounded them interspersed with images of horror that came and went sporadically.

"Is this what you want? Really!?"

Stein looked down guiltily, and Spirit felt with grave assurance that not only was this madness part of his meister's soul, but it was deeply rooted. This wasn't something new or fleeting that had come over him in a night, but a longstanding battle that apparently Stein was tired of fighting. And it was a battle far, far from won.

He adjusted his grip on Stein's hand and with his other grabbed the boy's shoulder, demanding response.

"Well? Do you!?"

It was an ultimatum, though Spirit hadn't quite intended it to be one. But he needed an honest answer out of the younger boy. And he realized he didn't need it only for Stein, but for himself, given the nightmare he'd witnessed. Did his partner, hand-chosen for him...the boy he'd trusted with his life for almost a year now...truly want to murder him?

Stein looked up. The whispered answer was pained, and offered through trembling lips.

"No."

Spirit sighed in heavy relief, but only gave himself a moment. He began to stand and pull Stein up out of the dark ripples at the core of his wavelength. The boy followed him.

"Then let's get out of here."

Stein's expression, still broken, had gained the tiniest spark of hope. But the wariness hadn't left his eyes.

"But...why...?"

There was far more in the question than Spirit could fully discern in the moment, but he answered what he knew Stein needed to hear most.

"Because you're my meister, Stein. And weapons protect their meisters, even to death."

There was something else then in Stein's eyes—a curiosity—that made Spirit wonder for a split-second if he'd said the wrong thing, but his partner's other hand slowly unclenched from his leg where he'd been drawing blood. Spirit took it as a good sign.

"And...you're my friend," he said, leaning forward to wrap his arm around Stein as he held his other hand tighter to his chest.

And then, finally, he felt Stein's soul come to his.

It wasn't the easy synchronicity he was used to on the field of battle, nor was it the insanity that had been threatening him as he struggled through the pit. No, this meeting of souls was different from every time before.

It was still Stein's wavelength, but it was as if Spirit was truly seeing it for the first time. He realized he'd felt it briefly before, when the madness first woke him that night. A soul that was wild, electric, and untamed. Resistant to control. Coming at him in power. And it pressed against and around Spirit's soul, trying to engulf him in haphazard waves that knew no single direction as they spilled from their source.

The resonance was erratic and barely holding together due to the disparity in their two wavelengths. Spirit's remained smooth and steady while Stein's erupted, beating against Spirit's and attempting to tear him apart. But the claws of madness slid off harmlessly now that Spirit understood.

It was part of the role of the weapon to yield, never to command. But this wasn't a battle against one of Death's enemies. This was just their two souls, Spirit's and Stein's, and as his young meister's seemed desperate to swallow his, to drown him in whatever it was that constituted his partner's daily existence and make him part of the madness...Spirit wouldn't allow it.

"Trust me..."

A small break in the dissonance as Stein considered Spirit's calm appeal. He didn't want to give in. He was afraid to. And Spirit wondered if that in itself was part of why Stein's battle against the madness was so long-lived... Because he'd been too scared to ask for help.

Spirit didn't falter. He only held on and waited as the darts of madness grew fewer and farther between. Stein's soul was still screaming into the darkness of the pit, electricity shooting out like lightning in search of a connection even as he surrounded the offered anchor of Spirit's wavelength entirely. But Spirit held back too. He couldn't allow more until the fear had been beaten back. Or at least, until it had stopped enough to eliminate the threat of falling again.

The flames, he noticed suddenly, were gone; a mere distant warmth somewhere beyond his sight. The waves that had been drowning him had receded. Every now and then he heard them break against the turbulent edge of Stein's wavelength, but they weren't a threat anymore. The static was quieting. And the red he only saw in occasional flashes as he felt a tiring in Stein's soul.

They were rising.

How exhausted must his meister be, if this was what he fought all the time? How had he kept it secret from him for so long? Was it always this awful?

Those questions and more pressed against Spirit's mind without answer, all serving to raise his compassion for the young boy who had been chosen for him. He remembered Lord Death's words on that fateful day again, and rather than feeling them with pride or assurance that his own state wasn't so low...he felt the fierce desire to protect grow even more.

No matter what he thought of his own soul... Stein was his. He had been chosen to be his. And his meister needed him.

His heart was gripped with a pain he'd never known as he continued waiting, stabilizing the raw, wild soul of the younger boy with steady, unshakeable calm.

It didn't even occur to Spirit to fall apart.

They were almost floating now, above the earth, above the clouds. The pit was almost out of sight as Stein slowly but surely let go of the fears that tormented him, the flashes of red fewer and farther between. And then finally, after what seemed an eternity, Spirit felt Stein. Not the blind hunt for something in which to sink hooks of madness or to devour for strength—his meister was finally back with him.

Spirit let crumble the hard shell he'd set around his soul to keep it safe, and instantly the raw power and emotion of Stein's wavelength surged in. It was both familiar and new as now his partner's secret was no longer between them, and with the revelation of madness something about Stein's soul had changed.

He wasn't holding back anymore, and Spirit felt that if he were to lose focus that Stein's soul would still swallow him up—but not to harm him. It was not a loss of inhibition so much as it was a desperate search that Spirit sensed, but this time with so much less fear. How had Stein kept it hidden from him for so long?

Stein's wavelength continued to come at him in a flood, but not one that overwhelmed Spirit. This time he wasn't drowning or choking, his head securely above water, and he lifted a hand to reach for his partner's through the light as their souls slowly found resonance, swirling together in delicate, twisting frequencies that vibrated against each other until merging into one soft song.

The fear faded. He felt Stein's fingers tentatively, willingly find his. Their resonance rate rose, and the light became blindingly bright. Spirit held control, and it was with relief that he felt the faintest frown from Stein. It made him want to laugh, to sense something normal from his young partner. But he maintained the steady pressing of his wavelength, letting his meister find his way in and around it.

Things were getting better. But he couldn't give Stein the lead. Nothing that had happened that night could be solved with resonance alone. This struggle would go on, and Spirit could only hope his partner would continue to trust him through it. He didn't want to think about what would happen if Stein locked part of his soul away again as he'd clearly done for years, tortured by madness, all alone...

Compassion radiated across Spirit's wavelength, and he felt something from Stein in response. A yearning to fall into it, as well as a hesitation. He was afraid of being pitied. Spirit sighed within himself and slowly let more of the shell around his wavelength fall so that Stein could see him as clearly as he saw his meister. And...he let go a small fraction of control.

This seemed to do the trick, showing Stein that he trusted him, and in moments everything else fell into place. The loud waves of Stein's soul slid smoothly between his own, and Spirit guided them into unity. Their souls were as one, reverberating with the electric power of Stein's and held together by Spirit's constancy.

The waves shimmered away calmly in all directions from the heart of their resonance, through the blue sky, toward the clouds, toward the earth, and out of sight. And while Spirit knew that for the moment all was well, there was still the faintest of interruptions in the younger boy's wavelength every now and again.

It was a war far from won. But for the moment, and as much as was possible...Stein was at peace.

Spirit opened his eyes.

It was like waking up but into sleep, to go from the brilliance of their resonance to the dark of the apartment bedroom. But the space was absent now of the crushing pressure and madness, and if not for the ten spots of red that slowly came into focus below him he may have questioned if the descent into the pit of Stein's soul had happened at all.

They were still resonating of course, and as Spirit looked at the place where Stein's fingers had drawn blood through his pajamas he felt a ripple of sadness from his partner's soul. He looked up to find that Stein was watching him, his eyes vacant.

Spirit's hand was in fact holding one of Stein's to his chest, the other wrapped partially around his meister and his fingers gripping his neck. Apparently that hadn't just happened in their souls.

Spirit straightened up slightly and drew a breath...and then he was falling as a swirling nausea and dizziness racked his being. He felt his shoulder brush against Stein's as he fell past him, landing awkwardly and painfully on the arm that had released his partner's neck. He'd managed to keep hold of his hand however, and Stein had twisted to watch him with wide eyes, his grip tightening on the weapon's. Spirit started to panic as the room spun and he struggled to suck in air, but after a he moment realized that the journey through Stein's...madness...had simply been taxing. His body would need time to recover.

He forced himself to stay calm, and his frame shuddered involuntarily a few times as the tension started to leave him. Gradually his breathing evened, and his heart rate slowed... He became aware of the softness of Stein's blanket under his cheek.

He blinked as the dizziness faded, the room's spinning coming to a slow stop and the churning in his stomach subsiding into a dull ache. He became aware of a slight rise in their resonance rate and lifted his gaze to Stein's face, the younger boy still staring at him with wide eyes. He realized then that Stein had taken the small amount of control that Spirit had relinquished to send him strength.

He was trying to help him.

Spirit shifted, wincing as he wiggled his arm out of the painful angle from under his side and stretched it across the bed. Pins and needles prickled his flesh from his shoulder to his fingertips, but it began to wane almost immediately.

"Are you okay?"

Stein's voice was small and uncertain, his eyes still wide but his face otherwise blank.

Not only Spirit had figured out how to read his partner over the past several months, but he felt he could see even more now after the journey through his soul what each deliberately bland expression meant. And hidden behind the monotone words and still features was genuine concern.

Spirit tried to smile, but he couldn't tell if his muscles responded to his brain's commands.

"I..." he began hoarsely in reply, "should be asking you that."

Speaking hurt his throat, and he was bewildered for a moment until he remembered that he had faintly heard screaming. Had he been screaming when he dove into the fire? He reached trembling fingers up to his cheek and felt dried tear tracks.

"I..."

Spirit looked up to where Stein had glanced away, a guilty look coming over him again. Spirit could see the faint red rimming around his partner's eyes, and he wondered whose crying had prompted the other's during the chaotic resonance.

He felt something shudder across their souls and watched Stein's free hand fall to his knee, his fingers beginning to grip his flesh. Spirit shifted again with a slight grunt and set his hand gently atop Stein's. His meister's eyes flew back to his.

"Hey...stop. You're gonna hurt yourself again," Spirit said softly, glancing at the blood that had previously seeped through white.

Stein looked like he wanted to say something, but pressed his lips closed into a line. Spirit could feel the tension rising rapidly. It felt as though his partner would burst if he couldn't express whatever was still crying out within him for release, and so Spirit concentrated again on keeping their resonance stable, settling the rate into a low but steady thrum, hoping to soothe. If Stein didn't know that they were going to have to talk about what had happened, then the night was far from over.

Either realizing it himself or sensing it from his partner, Stein looked back at Spirit, his lips trembling.

"Stein," Spirit encouraged. They had to talk about it, difficult as it was going to be.

"At least it's better than hurting people!"

The words had burst forth even as Stein's fingers clenched his knee beneath Spirit's hand. Spirit frowned lightly and turned his hand over, forcing his fingers beneath Stein's palm until the younger boy acquiesced and Spirit pulled that hand away too. He made to sit up, but his head started swimming instantly so he let himself fall back again. Too soon.

"Why...?" Spirit asked, searching Stein's tortured eyes. "Why do you...want to hurt people?"

Stein watched him nervously, and Spirit knew he was making a decision between telling the truth or hiding it away again. He understood then...he felt through their resonance, that all of his partner's attempts at telling the truth in the past had ended badly. Very badly.

He frowned and forced himself upright. He closed his eyes against the dizziness as he sat on his knees in a position that mirrored Stein's and let go of his left hand to hold his own to his head as the black danced before his vision. Just how great a toll had the descent into Stein's soul taken on his body?

He looked up again and waited as the young face in front of him stopped spinning. Stein was still watching him uncertainly. He wanted to answer, Spirit could tell. It was burning behind his partner's eyes, eager to come out and be fully known. And Spirit wanted to understand, to make sense of the horrors he had seen down in the pit. He wanted them to mean anything other than that his meister was, at his core, a sadistic murderer.

But what if that was the truth?

"It's okay," Spirit managed. He would keep being brave for both of them. "Tell me."

A hint of hope, a sliver of trust, came into Stein's eyes. And then, a wild ripple across their resonance. Uncontrolled excitement that went every direction without guidance.

"I love to dissect things!"

The smile that had come across Stein's face was too real to ignore, and Spirit simply stared back, drawn in by his partner's unbridled emotion.

"I love to take things apart and see how they're made. I love to see how everything fits together so perfectly and shouldn't work but somehow... Somehow it all does. I need to know why it works! So I have to test things. I'll take the frog and start pulling it apart to see which parts are important and which aren't. What parts can it live without? How long can it go without some parts and not others? What causes instant death and how long can life be prolonged while it's still apart? How soon does it go into shock and what role does that play in prolonging or shortening life? And of course a frog isn't nearly adequate enough, the experiments have to be deeper to achieve any real result. How does a reptile react or a fish or a bird or a mammal? They're built similarly but different. So how do their anatomical differences play a role in what they can live with or without? What gives each of them life? And of course, ultimately it's all just a background to the greatest experiment, because the true mystery of life is in humans because humans have what animals don't. Humans have a soul, and I need to—"

Stein stopped abruptly, a horrified look flashing through his eyes before he looked down, struggling this time to school his features back to the colorless, bland expression he forced all of the time. This time when Stein dug his fingers into his knee, Spirit let him.

Shame. Shame and fear, beginning to build in his wavelength.

Spirit wasn't entirely sure what his face looked like, except that at some point during his meister's chatter his jaw had slackened. And then he felt the darkness, those black waves from the core of Stein's soul, rapidly rising.

Spirit inched forward on his knees closer to his young meister and gripped his hand tighter, lifting it to his chest again.

"Stein. It's okay," he pleaded in a hurry, not wanting to watch his partner fall again.

Stein shook his head. "No it's not."

Spirit sighed and tilted his head back, running his fingers through his hair as his heart pounded. "Yeah, okay...it's not. But it's going to be."

Stein shook his head again. "It won't be. It never has before."

Stein attempted to pull his hand away but Spirit held on tighter. "We'll figure it out together, whatever it takes."

"That's what they said too. But they—!"

Stein clammed up again, harder than before. His frame had started to shake, but he held onto Spirit's hand as if it was the only thing keeping him alive. Spirit pressed his wavelength against the blackness that clouded their resonance, trying to calm his meister, but then he hesitated. There were more truths not yet revealed, and perhaps the only way to know them was in peering into what Stein clearly spent all his time trying to keep buried.

Spirit relaxed his wavelength and closed his eyes to let the dark wave wash over him. And then he saw.

Two faces, a woman and a man, smiling down into his eyes, but concerned. Offering reassurances even as they put distance between themselves and him until they were out of sight. And then suddenly a gray room with windowless walls, painful fluorescent lights above, the same claustrophobic nothingness in every direction he looked. And the itching from the heavy jacket he couldn't take off. Why did it itch? Why was it pulling on his arms, pulling them across his body and pinning them and tying him and—

"Oh..." Spirit breathed as his eyes opened suddenly. "Oh, Stein..."

His meister was crying now, and Spirit didn't know if the tears that stung his eyes were a sympathetic response through their resonance or his own for what he had just seen. The black wave was still surging, washing over his soul, but it wasn't threatening him.

This was Stein's burden. A madness he had been seemingly born with, and a loneliness that had been imposed upon him because he couldn't stop it. A fear of isolation because imprisonment was the only solution to madness, save destruction, even though being set apart was the only protection he had. A struggle to conform in the way that was required to save himself even as his soul screamed for freedom. And the knowledge that those he was supposed to be able to trust over anyone else had let him down.

Stein hated being touched. Spirit wondered now if part of the reason was that dreadful, itchy jacket. But the way he still gripped Spirit's hand the older boy took as permission.

The first time had been quick and desperate, but this time Spirit carefully wrapped his arm around Stein, pulling him closer as the boy's tears turned into sobs. He received no reciprocating response, just Stein's uncontrolled gasps next to his ear as what was probably a lifetime of emotion flowed out of him, and Spirit continued holding his hand between them as the other held his meister tight.

In their souls, Spirit continued offering his wavelength, holding it steady and safe from the darkness but open and ready for Stein's to fall back in once he had resolved at least some of the grief that was pouring from his core.

He didn't know what to say at this point, so just allowed Stein to feel. It was clear the boy spent most of his time avoiding that very thing, in addition to fighting his innate desires. He wondered why, if this was what the boy went through all of the time, Lord Death had said that his soul would complement Stein's. Surely Lord Death knew the truth...? He had to, if what Spirit had seen about where Stein had come from was real. And those memories he had witnessed through his young partner's eyes were unmistakable.

So what was it then, about his soul, that Lord Death saw to be fitting to match wavelengths with...this?

The black hadn't receded, but Stein's sobbing slowed to sniffles. Spirit held on tighter, touching the side of his head to Stein's for just a moment. With that contact, Stein's fingers briefly flexed in his grasp. Spirit took this as a sign to move and leaned out of the hug, moving his hand back to Stein's other instead.

And then, he held his breath in wariness at the strange, condescending look that suddenly came to Stein's face.

"You must be really stupid."

"What...?" Spirit said, recoiling in shock from the sudden, harsh insult.

For the first time his wavelength faltered and he pulled back from their resonance due to the sting. He felt Stein's soul begin to move sporadically again with the absence of his control and regretted his retreat. But he was reeling from his partner's words.

"Why...why would you say that?" he couldn't help but ask, still in shock.

"You think I can be 'fixed.' That you have some power to save me. Nothing can save me, Spirit. I've known that my whole life. Even when I was in kindergarten, and in preschool before that. They always made excuses to get rid of me, to send me on to the next place. And I couldn't understand why everyone just accepted everything so blindly. Why weren't my questions allowed? Why did everyone avoid answering? Why were they so afraid of me...asking...why? I never found out. After trying so many things they just finally got rid of me for good. But even at the...at the..."

Stein's defensive anger was arrested by the fear of the place Spirit had seen in his memories. What horrors had been committed against the boy there, he wondered with a shiver of unease. And it was with an even deeper queasiness that he suddenly wondered...which of the gruesome images that swirled amid the blood in the pit had been real?

Asking questions wasn't enough reason to lock a boy away in an asylum before the tender age of ten.

"Stein..." Spirit said shakily, his mouth turning to cotton as he was unsure he wanted to continue the path his mind had taken. But he had to know. "What did you do...?"

Stein blinked, the hard facade that Spirit knew well settling back into place easily even with tears still falling down the boy's face.

"Enough."

Spirit searched the green eyes, alight with too much emotion. Stubborn anger and apathetic distrust, fighting to supplant the fear and sadness that he could no longer fully hide.

"Did...did you hurt someone?"

Stein looked away.

Spirit sighed as his gaze fell. Why had he expected a different answer, after everything?

It was then that he noticed...Stein hadn't let go. He was still holding his hands.

Spirit looked up again, his jaw setting in determination even as his frame was racked with a tremor of fear he hoped Stein couldn't blame him for, given everything.

"Sorry, Stein." His partner looked up woefully. "But I'm not like them. I...guess I'm just not smart enough to let you go."

Stein blinked, the mask slipping again as Spirit stared back at him, holding his breath, hoping against everything that his meister would still accept him.

"What...?"

"I...I just have one question, though," Spirit said, hoping the tremor in his voice wasn't obvious.

Stein looked curious, apprehensive. The anger had faded and was being replaced again by that tiny thread of hope. His fingers were clammy between Spirit's, but he was still holding on.

"Do you...really want to hurt me?"

He had emphasized the last word more than he'd intended, and Stein recoiled from the question, glancing away. Spirit didn't take that as answer, simply waiting. Stein's face was hidden by shadow in the dark of the room as he fought a battle within himself that Spirit felt through the tremulous, black waves that still washed loudly across his wavelength.

Stein looked up again. The mask was gone. Spirit's partner was just a frightened child, misunderstood and mistreated, abandoned by the world before his soul even had the chance to try to find its way and thrive. And he had been hurt too many times to trust again.

But Spirit couldn't just let him go. He was his meister. Stein had been chosen for him.

For his friend...he would take the risk. For better or worse, Spirit at least had to try. He supposed he really was stupid like Stein had said...

Spirit released every last small barrier that could separate their wavelengths, letting Stein's soul spill freely into his. And he let go of all control. This startled his young partner and he watched Spirit uncertainly, his fingers fidgeting against the teen's larger ones.

"Stein," Spirit said firmly, demanding his meister's attention. The younger boy stared at him with hesitant, frightened eyes. "I am your weapon. And I'm your friend. I'm never going to leave you."

At this, Stein's lips parted, and a soft, trembling gasp slipped through. Spirit sensed the hope rising despite the darkness that was still so powerful within Stein's soul, and then he felt it again—that shooting electricity, the wild, raw power that was his partner's true wavelength. It was skeptical, testing him and weaving through him, looking for anything that could possibly mean this was a lie. But Spirit responded only with acceptance, with the quiet acquiescence to wherever Stein might lead him.

The fear within the waves calmed as it had before, and instead of the swallowing up that he'd expected from his powerful meister, Spirit felt Stein's soul cautiously nestle up against his. Peace began settling into their resonance but, occasionally there was still a brief dissonance where their wavelengths weren't fully in sync. The sound of it caused them both to wince, but neither withdrew, their souls still entwining ever tighter.

Of course it couldn't be perfect, after everything. But it didn't matter, Spirit decided. They could work on that.

And with that resolve, his body finally gave out.

"Oh..." he gasped as he fell, his eyes rolling back until all he saw was black.

The next thing he knew was panic rippling across Stein's wavelength seconds before he saw his face over him, heard him calling his name out of time with the movement of his lips.

It could have been moments or minutes, but he slowly became aware of Stein's hand attempting to lift his head, the cool feeling of glass against his lips, and the scent of water as the drink was offered. With trembling fingers that seemed not to belong to him, he attempted to steady the glass and lifted his head further to sip from it even as his eyes refused to fully focus.

The water was soothing on his strained throat, and after drinking his fill he gasped in relief and fell back again. A pillow was beneath his head this time, and he watched the ceiling overhead seem to rotate as his senses slowly returned. He listened to the glass being set down on the wooden nightstand, the creak of the mattress as Stein sat down, and then the wavering ceiling was replaced by the wide-eyed face of his meister.

"Spirit? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah... Yeah, Stein," he croaked. His instinct was to sit up, but he decided against it.

They were still in resonance, but it was a soft hum now compared to the brilliant power it was before he'd fainted. He hoped his young meister had managed all right for however long that had been, unsure what the madness might do without the steadying control he'd imposed upon the boy.

"Sorry," he said, trying to refocus. He needed to keep their resonance rate up.

"How did you...how are you doing that?" Stein asked.

Spirit blinked up at him in confusion.

"What?"

"How did you get so deep within my wavelength? No one has been able to find me down there before."

Spirit considered. He hadn't done anything special, he'd just...known he needed to help his meister and gone looking for him. Despite the threat of drowning and the searing pain of the fire.

He could feel it even now and shuddered at the memory as he ran one hand down his arm to be sure there were no actual flames. Yet he could still feel the scorching heat against his skin, and the choking weight of the water. And he could see the horrid visions within the rain of red...

Stein was looking at him, awaiting reply. "I just had to get you out," he said with a half-shrug against the mattress.

"No one has ever...been able to control my soul like this either," Stein said, almost marveling.

Spirit considered Stein's words at the same time he wondered if he could pick up the glass of water. They had been partners for almost a year. Why did it surprise the younger boy that he knew his way around his soul?

Stein was still watching him though, as if waiting for explanation. His wavelength was vibrating with curiosity. Spirit sighed internally. Ever the scientist, his young meister...

"I just...knew what had to be done. So I did it," he said, even though he wondered at the real answers himself. How had he traversed the depths of that pit of pain and horrors? How had he pulled Stein back, brought the madness into complete submission...beaten back his fears?

Stein was staring at him in some kind of awe, more questions racing behind his eyes. They thrummed against Spirit's wavelength, but the meister left them unasked.

"Can I have some more of that?" Spirit asked, taking the chance in the lull to glance over at the water glass.

Stein stretched his arm over and picked up the glass, bringing it to Spirit with both hands. Spirit was relieved that he continued to hold it, as his own fingers seemed to have lost all their strength, and all four of their hands tilted the glass as he drank greedily.

"Thanks," he said when it was nearly empty, his throat still raw. How much had he screamed when jumping into the fire? He was amazed that no one in the rest of the building had woken up.

As Stein set the glass back down, Spirit lifted one shaking arm up to look at in the dark. It was his arm, t-shirt clad and looking none the worse for wear. But Spirit could feel the faint remnants of the fire across his skin. He still couldn't quite draw a full breath.

"Is that...what it's like in your soul all the time?" he asked tentatively.

The rest of what he would have asked he let hover across their resonance, and Stein glanced down as he considered how to reply.

"Does it...hurt you the way it was me? Are you always in that much pain?" The questions spilled forth as the feeling of fire grew stronger in Spirit's memory. Somehow Stein must have known, and the reciprocating steady assurance that was sent back across his wavelength was a stronger control than Spirit would have thought his partner capable of after everything.

"It's okay," was the answer designed not to really answer. "I'm used to it by now. Sometimes it just..."

Spirit felt the familiar, faint ripplings of fear and he increased their resonance rate, bringing each tiny pulse under his wavelength and gently shattering them, one by one. His meister had experienced more than enough fear for a lifetime.

Stein looked up at him. "How are you doing that?" he asked again, that look of awed bewilderment back on his face.

Spirit was confused. He wasn't doing anything. He was devastated that his meister was in a near-constant state of suffering and that he couldn't stop it, and that it had taken him nearly a year and a nightmare to notice what Stein had guarded so tightly. All he could do was meet each challenge as they came, no matter how big or small, and try to help.

He felt his partner's wavelength respond and accept the control as the fear was erased, settling back into the gentle, lulling melody of resonance. He could feel both of their heartbeats it seemed, like thunder in his ears as he realized finally...it wasn't just the journey through Stein's madness, but the effort to keep his partner stable that was physically exhausting him.

He didn't stop.

Spirit shook his head. "I'm sorry that I didn't notice sooner, and that I...that this is all I can do."

Stein's expression, to Spirit's confusion, was still amazement. And then the young meister yawned involuntarily. Spirit had no idea what time he'd raced into his partner's bedroom in a panic, but a quick glance at his alarm clock showed that it was past one in the morning.

"But you're... No one has... Your soul is so..." Stein couldn't seem to find the words, and Spirit still didn't understand.

"I wish I could...I wish I could just fix it for you," Spirit said with an edge of frustration. "Maybe someone else could. But I don't... I don't have anything special. I'm sorry. My soul is just average."

Stein looked more bewildered than ever. "Average...?"

Spirit set one of his hands atop Stein's forearm. "But I meant what I said. I won't give up on you, Stein. I'm your weapon. And weapons protect their meisters."

"Even to death," he didn't say this time, but it flowed through their resonance and he knew that Stein heard. It wasn't what he focused on, however.

"Average...?" Stein repeated, as if the word was foreign. He yawned again, and Spirit considered only briefly before giving Stein's arm just enough of a tug to shift his balance. The boy responded to the unspoken command and lie down facing Spirit, pulling the second pillow under his head. Spirit rolled to his side and set his hand back on Stein's forearm.

"I know I can't really...be what you need. But we can figure it out together, okay? We were chosen for each other. I'm not going to leave you."

From the core of Stein's soul, a small, scared question threaded its way across their resonance until it was almost all he could hear. But the boy left it unspoken, choosing instead to press his lips together in attempt to stay any outward expression of emotion. But Spirit could see the telltale shine return to his eyes.

"Promise?"

It was so desperate, so uncertain—his meister's hope a mere pinprick of light from the depth of his soul. Spirit slid his hand up to find Stein's again and held on tight.

"I promise," he breathed as exhaustion began to have the final word of the evening. "I'm never leaving you."

His eyes had fallen closed of their own accord, but the sound of Stein's voice pulled them open again.

"Spirit Albarn..." his meister said, looking at him as if seeing him for the very first time and looking through his soul all at once. "How are you real...?"

Spirit didn't know how to answer, so he didn't. But the strength of Stein's wavelength entwining with his told him an answer wasn't needed. Their rising resonance was a blessed relief in the face of his exhaustion, and Spirit let all control fall again. This time, he felt the familiar, expected strength as he let Stein's soul overwhelm his. But it wasn't crushing nor diminishing. Stein's soul simply took his in, wrapping him up and keeping him safe.

His eyes had already closed again.

"You have...the most incredible soul I've ever seen..." Stein murmured into the dark between them.

Spirit wanted to protest that, but he suddenly remembered something. Gathering enough energy to speak took effort, his body rapidly surrendering to the exertion he'd taken on that night, especially with his meister's wavelength there now to sustain him.

"You didn't...answer my question," he said, keeping his eyes closed. He decided he didn't want to see the look on Stein's face when he asked again.

"What?"

"You didn't say... Do you really want to hurt me?"

A powerful shudder from Stein's wavelength caused him to recoil, but it was gone almost instantly, the boisterous frequency calming again to hold his head above water.

"No," came Stein's answer, resolute. "I don't."

Spirit wanted to respond, but the words wouldn't come. He was simply too tired, his eyelids heavy and his entire body screaming with relief as he let himself sink into the softness of the bed.

Behind the dark of his eyes his vision swam, with fire and water and flashes of red, and occasional frightening scenes that made his breath catch. Each time he saw one he pressed his wavelength more strongly into Stein's to keep the madness at bay. Or was it simply his memory of the journey?

He felt his partner's grateful response each time however along with the resounding strength that was given in return, slowly restoring his worn body and exhausted soul.

It had been almost a full year. And Spirit felt he knew the reserved boy pretty well. But it was clear now that he had a lot more to learn. At least, the one thing he knew for certain was his meister was with him. The strength of their resonance proved it... Neither of them was going anywhere.

"Spirit?" he heard his partner's voice come softly, somewhere out of the dark. Stein's fingers fidgeted slightly against his own.

"Hmm..." was the only reply he was capable of. The fire and flood were just a memory now, the darkness behind his eyes only occasionally broken by a flash of red. In their place was blinding brilliance, and he soared into it on the wings of their resonance's song, giving himself to its welcoming peace—the peace he and his meister had found together.

He sank deeper into the mattress, deeper into Stein's soul, letting sleep claim him at last. It was time for that terror-filled night to end. They could work on everything with the new day.

And then, a whisper... A faint ripple of guilt across his wavelength.

"What if I already did?"

Spirit tightened his fingers over Stein's. He pretended he hadn't heard.

A/N: So this was stress-relief writing while I coped with something, but it was inspired by a couple of very specific things. First, by this incredible art by the equally incredible wispforever whose Tumblr is full of lovely, funny, and inspiring Spirit & Stein pieces, and whose Spirit & Stein fics on AO3 are absolutely incomparable. (@wispforever your brilliance is a never-ending source of joy and inspiration for me, sorry not sorry for always telling you lol.) Second inspiration was the song "Crash and Burn" by Savage Garden which honestly could fit any meister and weapon?? It really could. But. I'm obsessed with the song, and it's my young Spirit and Stein anthem. And it's this entire story. It's just...how I see them as a pair. So yeah, there you have it. Also I snuck in a canon quote; Spirit quoted Maka from near the beginning of episode 45. I'm not telling which line, lol. You figure it out. It was just really fun to have him do that, you know? I think they have a lot more in common than we get to see really... And, if anyone cares... Spirit and Stein slept through the morning and when they never showed up for class, Azusa broke in and found them asleep and started scolding them. Spirit basically told her to buzz off and went back to sleep, lol. Stein lingered till he got too antsy and then went to abuse a frog with his scalpel. Anyway...think I'll take this story as part of my headcanon. Hope you enjoyed!

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sabraeal · 1 month

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Remedial Lessons, Chapter 2

[Read on AO3]

Written for @kaedix's birthday!! Last year Kimber requested what become the first chapter of this fic, back when there were only a handful of people in the fandom who had even watched Soul Eater. But last summer the discord ended up watching Soul Eater as its summer shonen, so I was all too happy to continue it when she asked for a continuation this year!

This is hardly the first sepulcher that Shirayuki has been lead into since she started her time at Shibusen, but she’ll grant the professor this: it is the nicest.

“So what?” Obi huffs, parka hunched up around his ears as he takes in the bank of computers stretched along the walls. His breath mists in the air as he speaks, like swallowing souls in reverse. “You get like, four? Five G in here? Or did you just like…roll some fiber out here? You know a guy? There’s some people who could really use this kind of set up—”

“Etiquette demands that a host graciously welcome his guests into his residence, whether that be a professional office or personal home,” Lata informs then with all the enthusiasm of a wet blanket. “However, since it seems that you are determined to wear it out as fast as humanly as possible, I think we’ll skip over all that.”

Obi presses a hand to his chest; his parka lets out a soft pffft under the pressure. “I’m just showing interest, sir. Showering you with compliments. Really—”

“Asking for proprietary information.” The professor glances over his shoulder, glowering at where she lingers in the doorway. “Come here already. We don’t have all day.”

‘Here’ happens to be a marble slab; one large and smooth enough to accommodate Mitsuhide from head to ankle, the way most beds do. There’s quite a few of them in the room, most serving as flat surfaces for Lata’s equipment, but this one has clearly been left free, sterile as an exam table, though with the way it fits into that carved bier beneath it, Shirayuki suspects—

“Is that a coffin?” Obi coughs, circling it like a cat around a bath. “Just what are you gonna do with her on that, doc? Hoist it up to the ceiling? Let lightning hit her? Hate to break it to you, but she’s already alive.”

“Obi.” If there’s one thing Shirayuki has learned about Shibusen faculty, it’s that you don’t go around giving them ideas.

“What? I just want to get the scope of the work or whatever.” His hands slide into his pockets, slowing his stride to a casual creep. “If we’re going to have to run, I’d like to start now rather than after he’s got your all hooked up to his Doom Canon.”

“Oh, really. I’m not about to perform surgery on her. Or mad science,” The professor grouses, rummaging around in a drawer. “This place is hardly sterile. But you can’t possibly think I’m so naive as to take your word about her bloodline, do you?”

Shirayuki wrinkles her brow. “Why would I lie about that?”

“Why does anyone lie, girl? To get what you want.” Lata straightens, the honed edge of his body angling toward the stone. “Now take off your coat. This won’t take long.”

She glances down at the cold marble and suppresses a shiver. “But you haven’t taken your coat off.”

“Of course not. It’s freezing in here.” Clouds steam from his sigh as he turns to her, strung tight with impatience. “And I hardly need to take blood samples from myself.”

The tag of her zipper digs bloodless gouges across the fleshier bits of her knuckles. Two year ago this would have all come as a shock, but after a few semesters at Shibusen, she’s only thankful it isn’t a weirder bodily fluid. “Blood? Couldn’t you just—?”

Obi steps right between them, shoulders not squared to shield but hunched, potential energy all coined in his spine like a spring. “Uh uh, no way, doc. We said we’d let you poke around, not actually put a needle through her. Just because she’s a weapon doesn’t mean you get to treat her like an ob—”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Lata informs him, bored. “Now are you going to take off your coat, Miss…?”

“Shirayuki.” Obi angles a look over his shoulder, half are you kidding and half don’t feed the animals. As if she were some child sticking her hand through bars at the zoo, daring a tiger to chomp them off at the wrist.

To be fair, it’s earned. But this particular tiger is their best best for surmounting this resonating problem, and Shirayuki’s willing to risk far more than a nibble to keep from collecting another ninety-nine souls. Twice is more than enough. “And yes, I will.”

The professor doesn’t quite smile, but there’s a shift in his eyes as she bares the skin at her elbow; a deepening of the crinkles at their corners, a widening of his pupils. There’s a part of him that likes this, that looks at her twining path of veins and sees something beyond flesh. That devours this stretch of skin the same way she might a grimoire’s pages, reading fell knowledge in every drop of her blood.

“Good.” She’s barely set herself on top of the sarcophagus, wincing at the chill that seeps through her jeans, when Lata strides right around Obi and grips her wrist. Klaxons ring between her ears, telling her to dig in her heels and twist, but there’s only air beneath them now, an awkward angle between her and the nearest flat surface, and—

Just a pinch, a squeeze, and he’s stepped away, glass slide gripped between his fingers.

“Wha….huh?” she murmurs, watching as blood wells up from the prick. It lasts hardly more than a blink— Obi hands her a tissue, and by the time she’s wiped the bead away, it’s like her skin was never broken at all. A perk of the lineage, Lord Death had always told her. “You just needed a drop?”

“As much as I would love to sequence the entirety of your genome, I would prefer not to wait for the results— or waste the resources.” He hums, much more chipper now that he’s placed that slide into one of his machines. “Not when a specimen sample is much quicker and negligibly less accurate.”

The reasoning is solid, but still— “Then why did you have me take off my coat?”

"To see if at least one of you could obey an order.” The professor jerks his chin toward Obi. “Or if you were as much of a lost cause as that one.”

“Hey! I can sit and roll over as good as anyone,” Obi sniffs, dropping his coat over her shoulders. “If I wanna.”

They’ve hardly known each other a quarter of an hour, but already Lata is sending her long-suffering looks. “That’s the entire—”

His machine beeps, once, twice, like it’s impatient, eager to have eyes on the data flying across its screen. Attention Lata’s quick to give, scrolling through faster than even she could possibly parse, turning familiar words into flipped-bit gibberish. The professor, however, hums.

“Well, you are from Carnwennan’s lineage, it seems.” Shirayuki can’t help but notice that he doesn’t say daughter. Like somehow a hidden bloodline was probable, but direct progeny a stretch. “You’ll forgive me for doubting you. I’ve met Excalibur” —he grimaces— “and there’s not much resemblance. In either of your forms.”

Obi cocks a hip against the sarcophagus, making himself one long, lean line. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lata fixes him with the same sort of look a stern kindergarten teacher might give their most difficult charge. “Carnwennan was a dagger. And from what I’ve seen of Miss Shirayuki’s shape, she is most certainly not.��

One of these thing, his look says, is not like the other. “I suppose your father had his own lineage? Or should I assume he was a meister rather than a weapon?”

Her mouth opens, then shuts. Opens again, only to say, “I don’t know.”

There’s the vaguest twitch of that stern brow, the softest hum of intrigue. “Interesting. It was always said that Carnwennan was particular with her meisters, one must assume she would be even more so with a romantic partner. So who is he?”

“A deadbeat.” Obi says it like punctuation, the period at the end of a sentence gone on too long. He shifts too, crossing his arms and angling his shoulders, breaking line of sight between her and the professor. It’s effort she appreciates, even if it’s unnecessary.

“My mother is the legendary weapon,” she asks, each word weighed and measured, the perfect split between firm and fair. “Is my father really pertinent to your research?”

“Look around, Miss Shirayuki. Do you see a water cooler anywhere? A break room, perhaps? Coworkers?” The look he levels at her is downright withering. “Do I really look like the sort of man who would make small talk?”

Obi's smirk glints the way her blade does before it cuts. “He’s got us there, kid.”

There’s an inertia to overcome when it comes to her father; it’d been so much easier to not talk about it, to let everyone believe she thought he was dead. But now that he’s dredged himself up out of her memories and into reality, becoming more than just a character from the childhood she can’t remember, it’s…hard. Separating what she knows from what she feels is a job Shirayuki’s pretty sure she’s under qualified to handle.

“I don’t know much about him,” she admits, because that’s true. Maybe he raised her for four years, but she’s lived another thirteen without him, and that doesn’t make him any better than a stranger in her book. “He left me with my grandparents when I was little. I barely even remember his face.”

Also not a lie, even if it earns her some side-eye from Obi’s direction. She’d seen him for a day nearly a year ago; not enough to commit more than broad strokes to her memory. It’d be a miracle if she could even pick him out on the street.

Not that she’d tell the professor that. She’s already in danger of clucking tongues and piteous looks; something about parental abandonment bloodies even the hardest of hearts. There’s quite a bit Shirayuki’s ready to weather for this training, but if she has to endure yet another ethically dubious mentor trying to empathize with her, well—

“Hm.” Lata’s fingers clack across the keys, not even sparing her a cursory glance. “Interesting.”

“So.” Obi wraps his mouth around the sound, stretching it as long as the look he sends her. “That’s it, right, doc? You’re gonna help us?”

“I didn’t say that.” Lata steps back from his screen, one rigid line from the heels of boots to the whorl of his cowlick. “I study legendary weapons. As intriguing as it might be to study one of their progeny— however direct— Miss Shirayuki is not her mother. There’s no guarantee that her biometric data will provide any meaningful contribution toward my—”

“So you have other half-mythical weapons lining up to be a part of your experiment?” Obi perches on the sarcophagus like a particularly mischievous gargoyle. “Is Caliburn’s great-grandson going to walk through here? Excalibur’s ex-roommate? Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to find a guy who knows a guy who saw Kusanagi-no-tsurugi buying cabbages once.”

Lata’s mouth pulls thin. “Caliburn is—”

“—the same sword as Excalibur,” Shirayuki finishes, hurriedly.

“What?” Obi squawks, nearly toppling from his perch. “But wasn’t that the one in the stone, and then that lady in the lake or whatever gave that guy another one…?”

“That was a translation error,” she murmurs, flushing as Lata lifts his brows. “From when the troubadours in France began singing Arthur’s lays. Exacalibur was the sword in the stone. He just, er…broke. And the Nimue” — ah, she’s starting to sound like her uncle— “never mind. It’s a common mistake. He was still sleeping when it happened.”

“A better time.” Lata glares as if they were the ones who woke him.

“Huh.” Obi shakes a hand, like that might clear the air. “The point is, does how many legendary weapons is doc gonna meeting hanging around in some dusty ass old ruins? You’ve gotta need us as much as we need you. Maybe even more.”

If the professor was glaring before, he’s glowering now.

“You make a compelling point,” he admits, begrudging them every word. “Fine. I supposed it would be beneficial for my work if I helped you both with your resonance issue. But you’ll have to help me with my research,” he warns, as if that soured rather than sweetened the deal. “And not just your own contributions to my data— I need legendary weapons if I’m going to get anywhere, not just their…relations.”

“Well,” Shirayuki hums, struggling to keep her voice so even, so innocent. “I could always ask my uncle, if you really needed—”

“We can start with your training first,” Lata grits through his grimace. “I’m hardly that desperate.”

“Sounds like you’ve got yourself a deal, doc.” Obi sprawls himself across the top of the coffin, tapping at the marble slab. “Now which one of these are ours? You got a couple lined with Egyptian cotton or something? Maybe some memory foam? I don’t need a lot but I’ve got to be able to snooze in full Nosferatu.”

His eyes close, arms cutting up to cross over his chest— full Nosferatu, indeed— but Lata only grunts, “None of them.”

One eye peels open, skeptical. “What, the Cryptkeeper’s got guest rooms down here? A Best Western? It takes three hours to get here one way, there’s no way we can hike out and back every day.”

“Of course you can’t,” Lata scoffs. “I’m coming back with you.”

“Just like that, huh?” Obi’s no longer playing vampire, but he’s still sitting on the sarcophagus, shoulders stacked beside hers. “You’re not even going to ask us what the problem is first? What if it’s just a five-minute fix, and—?”

“If it were really some ‘five-minute fix’ then that idiot Shidan would have been able to handle it,” Lata grouses, already sifting through books to take with him. “And there’s certainly no point in asking your opinions on the problem. If you neither of you have managed to devise a solution by now, then I doubt that you have any meaningful insight to provide me.”

Shirayuki would have protested— if the professor didn’t have a point. Locating a reclusive academic was hardly the sort of option a reasonable person took as their first step. But after two years of reaching for resonance and having it slip through their fingers, Shirayuki was willing to try anything. Short of braving one of her uncle’s lectures, of course. “That’s not very nice.”

Obi tucks his chin, keeping his grimace between the two of them. “He’s not wrong.”

“Still,” she sighs, “he doesn’t need to say it.”

“Hey, what did he mean anyway?” She cocks her head, questioning, and Obi clarifies, “About how you don’t look like your family.”

“My uncle…” It’s her turn to grimace now. “Well, my mother doesn’t take after him, that’s all.”

“That gives me at least one answer about your father,” Lata grunts, heaving a trunk up onto his back.

"Really?" Obi drawls, rubbing at his shoulder. "I feel like I didn't get anything from that at all."

"I'm sure," the professors hums dryly, "that you're used to it. Now, are you two ready to go? We have quite a ways back, and thought I am experienced at traveling in the snow, I'd prefer not to do it in the dark.”

Obi heaves sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Get a load of this guy, kid. Spends all this time packing up everything that isn't nailed down, then ask us to hurry up and--"

"Today, if you would." The words echo down the hallway, ghostly in the empty room.

"Yeah, yeah. We're coming." He rolls his shoulders, shifting his weight like a fighter right before a match. "Welp, you heard him, kid. One-way trip to Lilias, leaving now. You ready?"

Shirayuki doesn't spare a glance for the sepulcher behind her-- but she does pause for a shiver. Really, she'd thought she'd left these sorts of trips behind at Shibusen. "More than."

"Love to hear it." He holds out a hand as she starts up the rise. "Let's get out of here. Ladies first."

There's no hesitation as she takes it, hand fitting in to his like her haft snugs into his palm. "Let's."

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #soul eater au #ans #let me tell you coming back to this after doing a full rewatch #and then also do my first full read of the manga #extremely different experience from when I was writing the first chapter after rewatching 12 eps #also now everyone knew what i was talking about when i was doing my outline #and had OPINIONS #on obi & shirayuki as meister and weapon 🤣#i keep being like 'one day we will get to the parts of this fic where the romance come in'#but this time lata fully took over #no regrets

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