Work Text:
Too much. This…this had been…too much…
The skies, once more blue, were filled with white clouds and hovering souls. He could finally feel his father’s wavelength without the interference of Asura’s Madness, reassuring him that his father still lived. It was all so beautiful, so very beautiful.
His head hurt; his body hurt; his soul hurt. It took so much concentration to stand and behave normally.
“Kiiiiid?” Liz’s voice, slow and distorted, asked from somewhere close to him. “Yoooou ooookaaaay? Yoooou’re nooot looookiiiiing soooo goooooood.”
He blinked slowly as the brightly-glowing blue orbs started to smear in his vision. He brought a hand up to his head, gripping at his Sanzu Lines. His head hurt the worst here, and the pounding was joined by spinning.
“—burrrrrniiiing uuuup!” Liz’s warped voice shouted.
Something was burning? How come he didn’t feel it? He felt cold, ice cold, cold as death. Huh. Patty was right. That joke was funny in regards to him.
He took a step forward as his internal sense of balance alerted him to the fact that he was starting to fall. Hands grabbed his arms to help support him, Liz and Patty’s voices little more than auditory soup that was joined by other voices, all of them swirling about in his head that just kept pounding. Why was the left side of his head hurting more than the right? It was uneven. If his head had to hurt, he needed it to ache evenly.
His knees buckled, and the world went grey. He stared at Maka’s colorless face as she jumped down to join her friends. She was saying something, but the words were too slow and garbled for him to understand. She reached out to widen one of his eyes, staring into it as her mouth produced nothing but nonsense.
The second she released it, his world went dark as both eyes closed.
Death sat at his son’s bedside, for once having shed his mask and shadow form. It was easier to heal such significant damage in his true form. He was grateful he had been in his shadow form during the fight with Asura. Had his true form taken such a powerful direct hit, he wasn’t sure he would’ve survived it. Kid would’ve been forced to ascend immediately.
Seeing what he did now, Death was grateful that it hadn’t come to that.
'He’s still not ready.’
Kid lay in the hospital bed, whimpering in his sleep as pain and nightmares interrupted his rest. His child, his precious son, hadn’t been ready to connect his Lines. The current backlash more than proved it. His Lines were meant to connect one at a time, his body and soul ready to compensate for each step until the end. Having all three connect at once with no preparation could’ve just as easily shredded Kid’s soul as fire that powerful attack that had greatly weakened Asura.
'That was too close.’
Kid gave a whine, his soul wavelength releasing a blast of energy that would’ve done major damage to any humans in the room. Death winced, grateful that his soul wavelength was so close to his son’s so they resonated enough to prevent either of them getting injured from it.
“Shh…” Death murmured, reaching out to touch his son’s feverish cheek before brushing sweat-soaked bangs out of the child’s face. “Shh…you’re all right. I’m here. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you.”
The younger reaper gave another whine before opening his eyes a crack. His gaze was unfocused as he stared at his father through narrowed eyes. “Dad?”
“I’m here,” the older god repeated, fingers ghosting across Kid’s burning forehead. “Just rest.”
“I’m sorry,” the boy mumbled. “I didn’t trust you…and then the kishin…”
“It’s all right.” He leaned forward to plant a kiss where his fingers had been moments before. “Just focus on resting. You and your friends took a real beating from that battle.”
Kid looked like he wanted to protest. He sniffled as tears slipped free from his eyes.
Carefully, Death rose from his seat, grimacing as his own injuries voiced their protests to him moving. He gently picked up his son and positioned himself on the bed, cradling Kid in his lap like when he was a small child.
Kid’s head lolled to one side, ear resting over Death’s heart. He gave the elder reaper a nuzzle before attempting to bury his face in his father’s chest at a fresh wave of pain. The glass pitcher of water that had been on the stand beside the bed shattered as a blast of soul energy struck it.
“Shh…just relax. It’ll be over soon.”
At least Death hoped so. He’d never seen a backlash like this before. Then again, there had never been an incomplete fragment who’d briefly connected his Lines in such a manner before. Until Kid’s soul finished venting off the excess energy and started healing itself, the boy wasn’t out of the woods: It was still possible for his soul to tear itself apart from too much power too soon.
The Grim Reaper clutched Kid a little tighter to his chest. He would physically survive it if he lost Kid, but emotionally, spiritually he’d die. Bad enough he’d already lost…
He bent his head to touch his forehead to that of his son, closing his eyes and initiating a full Soul Resonance. It was nothing like the resonance between Meister and Weapon. He didn’t have to try and match his wavelength to Kid’s: They were literally part of each other and their souls naturally called to one another. Plus Kid still possessed a “pure” piece of Death’s wavelength within him, the phasmological equivalent of an umbilical cord allowing Kid to draw from Death’s own immense strength. Perhaps it was that connection that had saved his son in the first place, allowing the older reaper to subconsciously drain off a good portion of that excess power following Kid’s strike.
Death felt Kid hesitate before reaching back to resonate with him. He sent waves of comfort, his soul wavelength purring against Kid’s as the younger reaper clung desperately to their connection, his hand in the real world gripping Death’s robes tightly. The elder reaper held him in both his literal and metaphorical arms as each wave of agony wracked his son’s small body and soul.
All the while he thanked the Order of the world for granting him the opportunity to spend a little more time with Kid.