Archive of Our Own ^beta

Saudade

I remember the first time you walked in. You sat in the seat on the end of the front row on the opposite side of the Crescent Moon class. You were so small I couldn't decide if I wanted to make fun of you or protect you.

The professor said you were a special transfer, and then after he praised you for your grades on the very first assignment I was jealous. I had been working too hard to be noticed by the Grim Reaper to have some hot-shot kid come in and pull the rug out from under me.

And after you looked up, met my eyes and smirked, I knew I would have to destroy you.

I remember the first time I saw you, sitting up top in the farthest seat away at the very back of the Crescent Moon class. Laughing and cocky without a care as you leaned back with your arm wrapped around your girlfriend's shoulder, confident in a way that had me smirking. Either you really were everything you appeared to be, or you needed to be taken down a notch.

The professor said that you had competition in me, so I started paying attention. I relished the shock in your pretty blue eyes when I beat you for the highest score on the next test.

A thrill like I'd never known ran through me when I saw the cold fire in your gaze, and I knew then I'd have to destroy you.

I was pleased when no one would partner with you. You didn't deserve a partner, with your cold arrogance and the way you ignored everyone else. But when I saw you in training, sparring with our peers, I was uneasy. You were reckless, and wild. Your attacks didn't come from the analytical precision that you showed on homework or tests, but from an anger deep in your soul. Your menace shone bright as the sun as the electricity shot wild from your fingertips, and I was certain you didn't know you'd revealed this weakness to us all.

Good. It will make it all the easier to beat you in the end.

I was amused that you thought so highly of yourself when you had such a substandard partner. Sure, your girlfriend was good. So is everyone else in our class. But she had no idea how to handle you. It was only her stubbornness and jealousy of you—yes, of you—giving her just enough ability when wielding you. But as I watch your shining blade slice through the air in training it's too erratic. For all your ambition to be the Reaper's next weapon, your potential is wasted with someone like her. And you're blind to it because you're too distracted by beguiling words and an enticing touch.

Good. You'll be no competition for me.

She won't shut up about you. But she says it's because I won't either. She says all I talk about is you. How funny and scrunched your face gets when we always beat you to the best seats in the cafeteria, or how dumb it is that a kid three years younger than the rest of us got to skip so many grades and be admitted to the academy. How sometimes your hair shines silver in the sun when we're all out in the woods training...

But also how unfair it is, because sometimes you look so lonely.

She says if I'm so obsessed with you that I should just be your partner.

I'm not obsessed with you. I can't stand you. I wish you'd never come here.

My mind won't shut up about you. When I spill the blood of the enemy, your crimson hair is in my mind. When close-range attacks don't work, I think how useful it would be to have your snaith in my hands. I think about how beautiful your blade would look cleaving through the bodies of the monstrous enemies we are sent to kill. And I'm furious with myself for letting you get to me, as you somehow manage to make the same grades as me with your cavalier attitude.

I'm dying to know if it's all an act. But whether it is or not, I have to get you out of my head. Even if it means ripping out your alluring hair and plucking those crystal-blue eyes from their sockets.

I'm obsessed with you. I can't stand you. I wish I'd never come here.

You have collected more souls than us, all on your own; delivered them dutifully to the Death Room and earned your laurels. You're the perfect student I've always wanted to be, proving your worth and never having a single mark against you. And you get angrier and more withdrawn with each victory. You hardly come to class anymore, and you only train alone.

I tell myself that when I hide in the woods and watch you, when I see your anguish and fury, it's to somehow use it against you and keep my place. Some hot-shot kid isn't going to take position at the Grim Reaper's side, a place I've worked for from the beginning.

Although I wonder lately, what's the point? In the beginning it was all we cared about, but she...doesn't seem to care anymore.

You did this. Everything was fine before you came.

You're wasting your potential! You don't seem to care anymore! You slowed down in soul collection and your so-called partner doesn't seem to want you, either as a scythe or in bed, not that you've noticed. For all your intelligence, with the way you ace the tests and come out on top in every assignment you're given, you're blind to the fact that your partner is going to cause you to lose everything you've worked for.

I can't bear to see it anymore. I won't watch it happen. I'll just do what I have to do graduate and get out of this living hell, and get on with my life.

But what causes my blood to burn is... I can't see my future anymore. All I see is blue eyes and scarlet hair, and a smile that threatens to melt the shield around my soul. I don't know what I'm supposed to care about anymore.

You did this. Everything was fine before you.

I almost bumped into you as I stumbled through the woods one night. I don't know why I looked for you. I'm sure she would say it was because I'd wanted you all along, because you're better than her. And you are, but the other isn't true... It's not. Right?

She's pregnant, I told you. The Grim Reaper wouldn't allow her to fight anymore.

My breath caught when you said she was pregnant. You no longer had a partner. And then I laughed in your face to stop the onset of tears for the joy in my soul.

I wanted you. Perhaps I always had, and I hated myself for it. I shouldn't have you. And I quieted the hope that I may now have a chance.

But...why had you sought me?

Your touch was electrifying and yet soothing. Your soul entwining with mine was like waking up to the sun after too dark a night; like a drink of water after walking through the desert for a lifetime.

It was exhilarating. It was terrifying.

You are where I was always meant to be.

Together we surpassed what either of us had achieved before, and fame followed us. We were the pair that would become Death's next weapon and his elite meister.

It was foolish, looking back, that we hadn't seen it before. Or maybe we had. But fear had held us back.

After all, everyone knows the dangers of flying too close to the sun.

We were blind, for awhile after, and it was bliss. I wish it could have stayed that way forever.

But they accused you of stealing me from her. They said I didn't care about her anymore. They hate you, and it isn't fair.

They have no idea what they're talking about. But what do I say? How do I tell them a truth that I don't understand myself?

Not being partners didn't change my feelings for her. And I love the baby more than my life.

I don't care about my reputation anymore. I wouldn't change what happened if it meant losing her.

But... I love you.

And what they think of you, matters.

I don't know why I thought being together would change anything. Yes, I had you, but all around us it only made things worse.

The sneers were easier to deal with when they were distant, but now they're constant and directed at us both.

She hates me, but I think she always did, so that doesn't matter to me. And that baby of yours... The way you look at her. I'll defend her with my life, if need be. For you. And I can't stand them all thinking you don't care.

I've never cared about my reputation. But our being together is hurting yours. It shouldn't be like this.

I... I love you.

And what they think of you matters to me.

The first time our lips met, you were angry. I could tell your resistance had been slipping for weeks, if not longer. And the hunger in your touch made me wonder if you hadn't been wanting to devour me from the beginning. But you were angry. You didn't want to want me. But in your touch was also desperation. And I could meet you there.

I was up for anything, by then. Confused and starved for affection and looking for a way out of the pit I'd landed myself in. And you... You looked at me like I was the sun.

I could give you my warmth.

My chest burned with self-loathing, but also with the heat of desire when your lips caressed my skin. I was furious with myself for wanting you. I was furious that your touch brought me to life in a way I'd never imagined. But you had trapped me in your orbit as surely as a planet is by a star, and when you made love to me I thought it would be enough for me to be crushed under your gravity.

But even in euphoria came fear. I was terrified of how fiercely you loved me. But even more frightening was the revelation that my love for you was greater.

I would have you. I would have you in my hands, under my lips, under a knife if it meant possessing you forever.

You belonged to me, now. You were mine to command.

And I hated myself for it as your touch pulled me apart and sent me into bliss.

I was in shambles, in every way. I had married her of course, after getting her pregnant. I knew it bothered you, but you didn't let it stop your pursuit. Each day it became clearer—you wanted to possess me: body, mind, and soul. I was your lover. Your partner. Your obsession.

But after the witch, I wasn't even truly yours. I belonged to the Grim Reaper and had higher obligations. How could I be his, and yours, and hers, and my darling daughter's, all at once?

And my daughter's smile... It was enough. Some days... The hardest days... I would have given up all the rest of it, if it meant I could see that miracle for just another moment.

Even you.

It wasn't sustainable, trying to live so many lives. There wasn't enough of me to go around.

Perhaps that was why I found the bottle so appealing.

I don't know what made me angrier. The fact that you'd turned to drink in your spare time, or that you still went to her some nights and called her home. I tried to tell myself it was just for your daughter, but I knew it was more; I could see it in you the next days when you wouldn't look at me for hours out of guilt. And before long I could no longer hide the anger, and I let you see that side of me I'd hoped to always keep hidden.

It had started with a kiss that was too rough. You cried out when I drew blood, but went still when I lapped it up like a parched man in the desert.

That's where it began. And after that the affection gradually faded from your eyes, replaced by fear.

Perhaps some people are meant to be together, and perhaps some should never be. It had seemed to make sense, when we gave in. Our souls drinking each other in like plants in the desert after a storm, blooming and showing the best of who we could be for the first time. But we didn't know where to stop. We flooded each other's souls with our need and desire, and forgot each other and ourselves.

We even forgot to triumph in the victory of defeating the witch.

I was losing myself in trying to be everything. For the Reaper, for my daughter, for my wife, and for you...

On the outside I was the biggest flower in the desert, but on the inside I was wilting. I couldn't find sustenance enough anywhere, even in you.

The bottle soothed my roots.

In sleep was when you seemed the most at peace. I kissed you, but it was no longer sweet. The scent and taste of your escape on your breath was a constant reminder now that you were no longer happy.

Each day I feared you would fall out of my orbit, either to the Reaper, or to her, or to the bottle. And fear...

I rejected what we had always been taught. Fear is the unquestionable path to madness. But fear was all I knew day after day, as your returns to me were less frequent, your touch fleeting and your gaze distant.

I don't know how you had become the anchor to my soul, but I knew... I would be lost without you.

I was terrified.

And so I devised a way to keep you.

Pain.

White, hot. Bleeding... Bleeding out.

Dizzy... Dizzy, hurting, and confused.

I watched through a daze as you finished off the opponent yourself, wondering how I had failed with something so easy. Perhaps my elation at getting to fight in your hands again after so long had distracted me.

But these thoughts faded as black overtook my vision. And then you, shining and silver, kneeling before me. Promising you could fix me.

Everything would be all right.

I'd allowed you to get hurt.

It was calculated; I was certain the wounds wouldn't be fatal. But I had put you in harm's way, to keep you needing me.

I took slow, careful pains in tending your injuries. I relished in the pressure of needle through flesh, the pull of each suture as I wielded power over your body, tying each one carefully to ensure your well recovery.

I licked the blood from your skin before cleaning you up properly. I rested my head upon your chest, listened to the strength of your heart, the constancy of your breath.

If you needed me...then you would always be mine. So I would make sure you always had a reason to return.

It was a perfect plan. And this first of what I planned to be many executions had been flawless.

Why then, did it not assuage my fear?

Something was different.

You only truly looked at me when you thought I wasn't watching, your conversation became superficial and brief. You still wanted me in your bed, but your touch... Your hands were clinical. Impersonal.

I told you not to worry about harming me, if that was the reason for your distance. Your expert care of my increasing battle wounds ensured I would be fine.

Still, you wouldn't look at me.

Something between our souls felt fractured. Frayed. I was desperate to mend it, but I didn't understand what was wrong. You wouldn't tell me what was wrong.

And still, there were my responsibilities. To the Reaper, my wife, my daughter...

Perhaps whatever was wrong could simply mend itself.

I took another drink, and pretended the warmth on my lips was from your kiss.

You were going to find out, and then I would lose you. But I would lose you anyway! You belonged to the Reaper, to her, to your little daughter. To the bottle.

Nothing I could do could make you wholly mine again.

But, were you ever, truly?

Perhaps it would have been different had I acted from the beginning. If I had ignored my jealousy and pursued you from the moment I saw you, cocky and arrogant seated at the top of the classroom.

You are what my soul has always longed for. You calm the mad storms in my mind and soothe the illicit desires to mere ripples instead of crashing waves of bloodlust.

But I am jealous and a coward.

I am too afraid to trust you.

So I let you fall from my hands again. I whispered sweet nothings as I carried you home, assured you that I could mend your wounds.

And you... You took another drink.

She had always said you were mad.

I had ignored, justified, rationalized all of it away. Together we would always be at our best, come what may. I was sure of it, held onto it even through your growing distance.

Until she asked about the latest battle.

How was Death's elite meister getting his scythe injured in every fight? In easy fights? What was going wrong?

I was on my third bottle of the night, my head aching from the hours of detailing and analyzing she was forcing me through. She was determined to prove to me that something was wrong. That I shouldn't be in your hands.

I blamed her jealousy. I didn't want to believe her.

But she wouldn't let it go.

I didn't see it coming.

For all that I was afraid of, I had never had cause to fear being called before the Reaper. But when I walked through those doors into the anachronistic room of light and saw you...standing next to her. And you turned to look at me with eyes void of the vivacity that had first captured me...

I knew.

It was over.

I had lost.

I was lost.

I buried my pain and my questions in drink, shutting out everything.

You had requested to be sent away as punishment, and I accepted it, begged for it through tears. Because even with your betrayal revealed I couldn't bear the thought of you being imprisoned.

She loathed me for it. Loathed the fact that I would wish mercy on someone who risked my life for his own purposes. Loathed the fact that I still loved you.

That I loved you more than her.

And it was true, still, despite what you had done. And I wish... I wish I had had the presence of mind to ask you why.

But the pain of the moment had hidden that question from me.

So now you were gone. Just like that. After a mere few minutes of question and admission.

You...were gone.

I still had my responsibilities. I needed to forget... To let you go. And so I drank to bury the lack of answers and the pain. Night after night, week after week, month after month...

Year after year.

My daughter wanted to enter the academy? When had she grown up?

I was a failure. A failure as Death's weapon, a failure as a husband, and a failure as a father.

My wife was leaving now, for good. She told me she had only stayed as long as she had for our daughter, who was now a meister and could take care of herself. But what value had either of us been as parents, I wondered, with the constant fighting, my drinking to escape, my wife barely at home...

My daughter found a weapon partner and shared an apartment with him, just as I had with my wife in the beginning. And just as we had as academy students, she excelled. The top of her class with her scythe having the potential to be Death's next weapon.

In my nightmares I saw her following the same dark path. I feared her fate would be the same as mine, and so I protested in the beginning. I wanted to protect her from the lies, the pain... I wanted to take her back and shield her from all the mistakes that had led to my ruin.

But she no longer acknowledged me as her father.

I still had the Grim Reaper. But without any meister to bring me out to the battlefield, I was little more than a figurehead. And I continued to run, to hide myself away in the bottle, afraid to know the truth of how little he must think of me too.

I was alone.

I had made myself alone.

I had made myself alone.

I reminded myself of it constantly. Replaying every moment, going over each and every failure from the very beginning.

Through pain I imagined what could have been, had I pursued you from the start. I also imagined what might have happened had I ignored you, or better...had you never existed.

Better?

The ending would always be the same.

Even now, wandering the wilderness, I needed blood on my hands. I needed to experiment, to dissect, to know... I had thought at first that being one of the Reaper's elite would grant me the freedom and power I needed to pursue my desires.

I had lost that goal somewhere within you.

The ache for you clawed at my chest, seared across my brain, and infected every cell of my body. And the knowledge that this need could never again be satisfied did nothing to sate it.

Somehow... I had to forget. I had to move forward.

I had to find my purpose again.

I couldn't need you. I couldn't need anyone.

I would deny that part of my soul and do whatever was necessary to survive.

As I learned to exist alone, day after day, I reminded myself why it was better. How my control, my grasp on reason, would be better if I relied only upon myself.

The desire for others was a weakness. One I never should have given in to.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. I was wholly my own master now, and satisfied my bloodlust in whatever way I chose. And if I imposed morals upon myself in these pursuits, I didn't have to justify it to anyone. Not even myself.

There was a limit however, in the results that dissection in the wild could yield.

I was forced to admit that to find the knowledge, the answers I sought...I would need to accept at least superficial connections.

I developed a plan.

And I went back.

The Reaper agreed to keep the secret of my presence, and I stayed hidden in the city. My initial reason for joining the academy had come full circle now, but instead of working as a meister I was Death's mysterious eccentric. I did the work that no one else could conscience, that the Reaper couldn't admit took place but that he needed to be done, and only those who needed know about me were aware of my existence. And no one save the Reaper knew of my past.

It was a perfect arrangement. I could finally explore, learn, discover. Officially separate from the academy, I still had only my own soul to answer to.

I needed no one.

My life...is a ruin.

My wife is gone. I loved her... Truly. And I wish...I had known how to give her all of myself, instead of finding a second love in alcohol. And I'm sorry for the pain I caused her.

My function and responsibilities to Death feel more pointless with each passing day. I am grateful for him, as he has been perhaps my only friend through these years which have seemed to pass like the wind.

I only wish his affection wasn't borne of pity.

My darling daughter is an accomplished meister, her weapon nearly at completion.

She has accepted no help or guidance from me in her few years at Death's academy. But worse and what continues to drive me to drink is her rejection.

She won't call me her father.

I thought I had corrected my path, all these years. I had tried to be a husband, a father. I was Death's weapon. I had gained everything I had once dreamed of as a young, idealistic student.

But I had lost all that I treasured most. My wife, my precious daughter...

You.

You were gone. Exiled that day as a mercy, and never heard from again.

My wife...ex-wife...had left for good. Abandoned us to whatever fate, and I couldn't deny her reasons.

My soul was in tatters.

But my daughter... She's still here.

And no matter the depths of pain in my soul, her presence gives me hope.

I have to try.

I will try.

I am content.

I am content.

Say it again.

I am content.

I have the research. The experiments. The freedom. My curiosity is sated and my mad lusts fulfilled. I am justified in my soul and confirmed by the Reaper. I am...not a monster... My past sins are past, and I will be better than the tortured child I used to be.

The knowledge, the learning... They fill me up. I keep my distance from the necessary connections with irreverent humor and a frightening guise. Being the mad scientist is...fun. Safe. Comfortable.

I have been comfortable being him. I will be comfortable.

I am content.

I am content.

Say it again.

I am content.

I don't...need...anyone.

        There has been a murder.

        One of our own.

Death thought he would warn me. But the truth had me reeling, even weeks after.

For all I knew, you could have been dead. But you had been here, in the city, all these years? And you...had never sought me.

Not once.

I needed to know now, so it was all explained as simply as a good morning. As if this didn't have the potential to completely change my life, again.

You... Had secluded yourself. Pursuing madness, obeying Death's more questionable whims.

They were about to become far more questionable. And this time, after the murder of our friend... He thought he would warn me.

You had the power to bring him back. You brought him back.

But that wasn't all.

You... You were coming back.

And you were my daughter's next test.

It was for this reason Death warned me, so that when I saw you in the mirror, changed by time in who knows how many ways, I would be prepared for it.

But I couldn't watch. After so many years of trying to forget both the love and the pain, I couldn't bear to see you.

Who are you now?

Would you still offer a tender kiss? Or would you let me fall in battle just to taste my blood.

I didn't want the answers.

I felt sick.

I wanted a drink.

She looks like you.

I had thought I would be prepared for this.

She looks like you, body and soul. She has your passion, your kindness, your determination, your loyalty. She is in every way your child.

I can't test her. Not when I see you in her eyes.

But she isn't just yours, I remind myself. She is also the daughter of my rival. Daughter of the one who separated us, and who left you after finally besting me.

She'd won. She had finally claimed you as hers alone, but then she cast you aside, is what I was told. The assignment gave me excuse to ask, and our recently re-animated friend was happy to fill me in on the years I tried to pretend you didn't exist.

She didn't love you like I do... Did.

But your daughter... She looks like you.

And the ache in my soul has revived in an instant. It won't be reasoned away with your child standing before me.

So I'll think of your wife in order to complete this new task of the Reaper's. And then I'll forget again.

I will stay content.

I am content.

I don't need you.

I am to go into battle with you again?

I... I'm terrified. Not of another betrayal. Because I can handle physical pain.

But I'm terrified of your madness. Your power.

Of not being able to entwine my soul with yours. Of reaching out and finding your soul different than the one I loved.

The years have been too many, and we are different people now.

I can play the part I've been given. I am Death's weapon, after all. I may as well fulfill the role. And with my daughter possibly in danger, it is no hard to task to set aside everything else.

What's one more battle, and bittersweet reminiscence? There were good times, after all.

I can pretend that I am okay with this.

I can pretend that I am okay.

I can work with you one last time.

Teasing you. Laughing with you. Seeing you smile.

The madness I had feared... The madness that controlled me... Under the golden cadence of your voice, it's...gone.

The jealousy is an echo, one that could resound if I called it back. But it doesn't press me.

There is simply...comfort. Holding you. Wielding you. Fulfilling our purpose as meister and weapon.

When I was told what we must do, I was afraid. I had worked for years to banish every image, every thought of you. I had to be able to survive alone.

But all the fear of past and present melted immediately at the sound of your voice.

You haven't changed.

Your soul is the same.

And we reached for each other almost without a thought, when the need arose, the duty for which we'd been trained taking over all else.

My soul aches for you. But there is no longer fear in the desire.

Somehow... This storm has calmed.

        Hello.

        Hello.

I had to pretend.

The stakes were too high. With a witch in front of us and the kishin's revival a terrifyingly real threat, I had to pretend.

Feeling your soul wasn't bliss. It wasn't a homecoming. There was no threat of madness. No chance of falling into you, of losing myself in the peace that is being one with your soul...

We had bigger priorities here, in this moment, set apart.

If we let our guard down, allowed our souls slip into long-lost resonance... If we found ourselves in each other, it was only because we needed each other's knowledge, strength, experience...

But we had to stay focused. If all of our misdeeds, miscommunications, and failures of the past had taught us anything... It was that we had to look beyond it.

Beyond selfishness. Beyond escape into vice. Beyond who we were as individuals.

After all, neither weapon nor meister are truly whole alone.

We needed to come together now, in this moment that could redefine us.

The past could wait.

And if we found our rest fighting to save the world together...

So be it.

        We...

        We failed.

Everything had happened too fast.

You were back. But before I even had a chance to decide how I felt about it, what it all meant... You were given away.

It was my fault, and I was no longer too proud to admit when I had failed. I was chained back at the Reaper's side—not as punishment, I was assured—and you were given to another weapon. To help you with the new threat of madness, it was explained, which...I understood.

But, couldn't I have helped? Our souls... Our souls were meant to be together. I know this now.

From the moment you spoke my name again... The silver rain of your voice lifted my soul from the swirling black hole that had been my life since you left. I felt like I could breathe again. Like I was seeing for the first time.

The years had changed us both. You... Mature, confident...stable. You hadn't needed me in the end.

But this new threat, borne of our—my failure... I could see the fear rising again in your eyes.

Everything else that's happened, all of my mistakes... I would find a way to atone, someday. But self-recrimination isn't what matters now.

You... You need help. And I...can't bear the thought of losing you again.

The past can wait.

But, do you want me?

I hadn't accounted for this.

Years of fighting, structuring, and restructuring my mind. Only allowing the degrees of madness that were safe, that I could justify. That helped me satisfy my desires and stay the course.

I hadn't counted on madness from the outside. That I couldn't command.

But I can't give up. Not when...

When...?

I think I've forgotten...something. Something important.

My soul touched peace again, for a moment. There's something...

Someone?

I can't remember.

What was it? Trying to remember is hurting me.

My hands are twitching in anxiety. Anticipation.

I need...

To dissect.

But I can't... I need to follow the rules.

What... What are they again?

I'm supposed to be fighting for something. There's something...

A voice I'm trying to remember.

It hurts.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

Too many voices. All except the one I'm seeking. A light shone on my soul through too many years clouded in darkness.

I need... What is it I need?

It hurts to fight. Why am I fighting?

I can't remember.

It hurts...

Where is the way out...?

She's calling me.

I had often been warned that it was weakness to open my heart so easily. Perhaps it was true.

Perhaps if I hadn't been so ready to take you back, your loss this time wouldn't hurt so much.

We had been so strong, once. But in our youth I had been selfish. Too distracted by my own problems to see your struggle.

If I had... If I had understood how deeply the madness plagued you. If I had just once reached out, offered to understand... Maybe we wouldn't have ended as we did, back then.

How ironic, that we would share everything of ourselves in resonance, and yet still hide so much. I would have listened... At least, I know I would have wanted to. If even for a moment I had been able to see past my vices, my fears, and the crumbling mountain of troubles I had accumulated.

Blame it on youth... Inexperience. Denial. Alcohol. Blame it on anything you want.

The point is... I left you behind. I lost myself in my anxieties, and I wasn't there when you needed me most. I'm to blame, ultimately, for everything that led to our fall.

I'm so sorry. I hope... I hope you know.

If what I felt between us when our souls met again... If it wasn't just me. If it wasn't just a vain desire...

I loved you. I love you still. I never stopped.

I hope you know.

I'd hoped we could be together again. I'd hoped...we could return to the way things used to be.

But I've lost you again. The madness of the past, I'm sure now I could have helped you fight. But this... What has stolen you now is beyond my power. I'm not so arrogant to think I can beat this.

I...

I don't want to let you go.

But I've grown up. Part of my burden is recognizing that my own needs and desires are secondary.

And with madness threatening not just you, not just my daughter, but the entire world... I know my duty. I am resolved.

Reclamation of the past is hopeless.

Now, my task is to stand at Death's side and fight.

I had been cast down into a pit. Static, my only company. All the voices...clawing, climbing, screaming, wailing... Hers was the only one I could hear clearly. The only one offering a way out.

Her path was feeble, twisted and unsteady. But I had to escape this...this madness.

It was a lie. Perhaps I knew even when I chose it. But this...this was forfeit. This was surrender.

I had been fighting all my life. And I was so tired. And I'd lost...something... Something that made the fight worth it.

But it was lost.

I was ready to give in.

Until a second voice... Warm. Shining like the sun, bright like liquid gold, broke through it all and took my hand. It was familiar. I trusted her... And I was brought forth.

The darkness of the pit, the countless hands that grappled to keep me buried there...all left behind.

I was left reeling, weak, confused. But she took my hand and lent me her strength.

And then... I remembered.

I had something to fight for.

This trial had given me a new perspective. I had failed my first chance at life. My second, stolen.

I would not lose this third.

I was grateful. But I was also pragmatic. It was too much to hope that I could salvage the past. Make something of what used to be.

You... My first light in darkness. My dream of sanity in a world fantastic.

You soothed the anger and fear in a tortured soul. Taught me that there was hope for the hopeless. Taught me the difference between desire...and love.

I'm not a kid anymore. I won't keep lying to myself.

My soul has ached for yours every moment of every day. But I cannot be selfish. I lost you long ago, with the mad choices I made. I cannot have you again.

I am sorry. I hope...you would believe that.

And I will learn to be content, alone.

But first... I would defeat the witch who had tried to destroy me. Who would continue to bring madness, and threaten the world. This weapon that the Grim Reaper gave me in wisdom will aid the fight. She and I will do our part in restoring order.

And then...I can seek peace.

I tried. But I failed.

I knew the moment my mind rose to pain-filled consciousness. The Grim Reaper...had been bested.

Nothing... No injury from battles of the past, no wound of the heart...felt like this.

This was the power of madness to destroy.

He is not dead, nor will he die. I am certain of this. But the theft of his warmth, his support, his wisdom, his order... I have never truly been alone as Death's weapon. But now, with the kishin one-up and the Reaper unconscious...

I am alone.

Madness destroys love. And it gives rise to fear. To pain.

These things I already knew and had been taught from youth. Had suffered in so many ways... But he had always been there.

My body is broken. I don't bother trying to determine in what ways.

I would give in to the pain now. Let the loneliness and agony lead me into oblivion, let darkness finally have my soul, but for one thing.

My daughter... My brilliant, talented daughter. The war is in her hands now.

I cannot help her. My defeat here is final. But I will stay alive if only to know she has survived. She has to survive!

And then...

I will close my eyes one last time.

I tried.

Perhaps there will be peace in death.

I hope you found peace, too.

I am tired. Worn.

This return feels like coming home. A sigh of relief...at last. I won't hope for the impossible. But once we have victory and order is restored, I will try...to be better. For the Reaper. For the world. For me......

This room feels different.

I keep my tone light upon entering, even though the weight of death hangs heavily upon everything. It isn't long before I understand why.

The Reaper's defeat is...astonishing. Your daughter, the world's last hope... Unexpected.

And heaven help me but I am selfish. When I saw the damage that madness had wrought, when I felt your soul growing weak... I forgot all else and rushed to your side.

It cannot end like this! You have your daughter. A purpose. A chance to do well for this world.

Please...forgive me this violation, at least. I don't deserve it nor will I ask it for those of the past. But I can't sit here now, idle, and just watch you die!

I've been given another chance. I won't waste it.

If at last I accomplish one good thing in my waste of a life...it will be to save yours.

I remember the first time I saw you, sitting in the front row on the opposite side of the Crescent Moon class.

You were so small. A young, wounded soul trying to survive in a world you didn't understand. You hid your fear behind anger, your struggle against madness behind fury. You protected yourself behind a veil of loathing and disgust and resisted connection with anyone and everyone.

But I think, even from the very beginning... I could feel your soul's desperate longing for help.

Keening for mine, through a powerful darkness.

I remember the first time I saw you, sitting in the top row at the very back of the Crescent Moon class.

You may as well have been seated on a throne, for the way you approached life as if possibilities were unlimited. You wore your heart on your sleeve, seemingly oblivious to the world's cruelties as you offered friendship to anyone and everyone around you.

I think, even from that first moment... I could feel your soul reaching out for something deeper.

A light, that once shone upon me, grew warm and bright.

I was so wrong. About so many things. For so many years.

I'm a disaster. I'm a tragedy.

I never deserved you.

If you've made it... If you survive... I hope you'll find happiness someday.

        She won.

        Open your eyes.

        You're alive!

My body and mind are slowly healing.

It's warm on the academy balcony, and there's a gentle breeze. The moon is setting, signaling the end of the desert night. The sun will soon rise to herald a new day.

I want to speak.

I hold my breath...

"Spirit?"

He turns his head and looks back toward the door. Their breaths slowly release one after the other.

"Stein..." he replies shakily, relief and joy in his voice.

"How are you feeling?"

"Probably about the same as you."

He turns around, leans back against the balcony rail and sets his hands in his pockets.

They fall silent. After a moment there is the rhythmic sound of soft soles on stone, steadily approaching.

"Cigarette?" he asks when he reaches the railing.

Another uncertain breath.

"Sure."

Two are drawn from the carton, and one offered. But as eyes meet again, what naturally comes next is forgotten.

Spirit breaks first, clears his throat as he glances down at the cigarette. But Stein is first to fill the silence.

"Your daughter is pretty amazing."

Spirit smiles, his chest warming. "Yeah."

"We all owe her our lives."

Eyes meet again. "We all played a part."

The moment lingers with breaths held and gazes hesitant.

"I'm glad you made it," he continues. His words are genuine. His voice...shy, uncertain.

"You too." Apprehensive... Cautious. But he steps closer.

Silence again. Stein pulls out his lighter.

"So, what's next for you?" Spirit asks.

"Next?"

"Now that...everything can go back to normal."

He looks up from lighting the cigarette, pockets the lighter out of habit.

This time eyes don't fully meet, both afraid of what they'll find in the other.

Stein finally sighs and looks out over the city. "Back to work, I suppose." He lifts the cigarette to his lips.

"Will you keep teaching? Or go back to...what you were doing before?"

Stein's brow rises as he takes a shallow draw on the cigarette. He turns back, thinking as he regards Spirit's questioning expression.

"I suppose I'll wait to see what's needed."

Silence.

"You?"

Spirit slowly releases his held breath. "Yeah. Yeah, me too."

Stein turns back to gaze across the city and Spirit stares at him, the breeze gently blowing his hair.

Another breath, released slow and unsteady. Smoke blown out smooth and lost on the breeze.

"Before I go I just wanted to say—"

"I know you're probably still angry but—"

"I'm sorry."

Spoken in unison. Brows rise and surprised eyes meet.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing."

"For what? I lied and manipulated you. I risked your life."

"You wouldn't have if I hadn't been such a coward. I drank my life away instead of facing up to anyone."

Stein shakes his head. "I was still fighting the madness."

Spirit mirrors the gesture. "If I had just been there for you. If I had been what you needed, maybe you could have beaten it."

"But what about what you needed? Even before I started to slip I was too jealous to be of any real value to you anymore."

They stare at one another in earnest, assessing. Spirit finally scoffs and rakes his fingers through his hair.

"We're both so messed up. Why did we ever think we could—"

"We were."

Spirit's gaze snaps back.

Stein's expression sobers. He takes a self-conscious puff of the cigarette.

Spirit stares, understanding slowly lighting his eyes.

And a fervent hope begins to rise.

"I'm not...well, Stein."

"Neither am I," he replies in a hurry.

"There's...still a lot of mess of me to clean up."

Smoke drifts lazily skyward, the breeze having calmed.

"Yeah."

Knowing... Expectant... Hope-filled eyes meet. And two lonely souls at long last reach for one another. Not out of obligation or necessity—but freely... As they had at the beginning. Tentative, and desperate. Ready to take the pieces of their crumbled foundation and rebuild... Something stronger. Something new.

"Stein..."

Somewhere amid the slow, careful meeting of souls his hand reaches forward. Fingers gently brush against his meister's cheek, while the weapon's hair is caressed as delicately as the petals of a flower.

"Spirit."

Breaths come more rapidly. Lips part in a soft, surrendering cry. And then bodies crash together in an embrace that goes beyond physicality. They hold on so tightly that it hurts as their souls entwine, fully and completely within one each other. Desperate...

Becoming one. Warm, safe, and home at last... Where each other was always meant to be.

Time vanishes as they hold one another, finally taking rest after years of wandering lost. It is only as the wet of tears itch their cheeks that they draw back infinitesimally. A shy chuckle as moisture is wiped away, and then a pleasured sigh. Foreheads come together to rest as weary souls continue to relax.

"Before...anything else happens..."

"Mmmh..?"

Eyes meet again, and tranquil smiles grow. He already knows what the other will say. His soul has spoken for him.

"I—"

"—love you."

Finished together. Sealed.

A shy smile. A blush. The soft, trembling press of lips... And then bodies held even closer as souls find comfort and rest. Nestled together. Safe.

The stars have long since faded from the sky when the two physically part, a rainbow of color spreading across the expanse above. But the two souls cling tightly to one another with no desire to let go.

Stein drops the end of his spent cigarette and deftly lights another, automatically pocketing the lighter.

"Oh," Spirit says with a sheepish grin as he lifts the unlit cigarette upon which he's kept hold.

A smile briefly parts Stein's lips before he closes them around the end of his stick and leans forward. Spirit's brow rises, but he mirrors the motion, holding his fingers just below for guidance. The ends of the two cigarettes meet delicately, heat blooming between them.

Spirit leans back, inhales deeply and lets the smoke briefly take him out of the present. Stein watches from the corner of his eye as Spirit exhales, and the weapon's face flushes as his eyes catch his partner's again. The meister's cheeks, too, are slightly less pale.

Their two souls remain tightly entwined as both know they were always meant to be, burning with hope, joy, and promise. And out beyond Death City, the sun blazes over the desert horizon.