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WHO: ~~Professor~~ Stein & Death the Kid
WHAT: Who doesn't want to know what their professor might've been like at (almost) their own age?
WHEN: November 28th
WHERE: THE HOSPITAL
WARNINGS: Considering Stein, self-harm and vivisections.

Like Spirit, Death came to call on Stein while recovering at the hospital. Unlike with Spirit, Death the Kid had the courtesy of at least waiting until proper visitor's hours. And then promptly spent the better part of an hour stalking the hallway just outside of the room in which he expected to find his teacher. No. Not his teacher. Not yet. But one day.

(God willing.)

Except that he was, and for more than himself. For the life that Stein and Marie would eventually (inevitably?) bring into the world they collectively called "home". That precious, warmly-thrumming soul he witnessed for only too short a time before his exile to this world.

Eventuality was his knuckles rapping against the door, inevitability turning the doorknob and permitting entry into the room one young grim reaper, still fresh to the role of filling his exalted father's shoes.

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Stein at thirteen is a very different person from Stein at thirty. Stein at thirteen is pale and quiet and staring out the window with bandages wrapped tightly around his left arm and painkillers humming through him. He turns when the doorknob does, dull green eyes regarding the stranger impassively.

He doesn't recognize Kid, of course. Or at least, he doesn't recognize the sight in front of him. The soul is familiar, similar enough to Death that it makes the boy antsy, makes him want to tug against the invisible leashes trying to hold him back.

Stein waits silently, expecting an explanation.

Kid isn't sure what he expected.

Glasses, for one. A height that towers over most of the reaper's own peers at the academy, for another. But this is Stein at scarcely half the age Kid associates with him, and these differences should have been anticipated.

The gaunt young man steps into the room, allowing the door to swing shut in his wake, sallow fingers adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, each in turn. His soul is a shadow of his father's wavelength, muted now for the same reasons three lines of white are still unconnected in his head of black hair.

He may not approve of his appearance, but he's found it advantageous to lay low.

"You don't know me," explains the reaper, smiling thinly, "Not yet. But I'm familiar for reasons you can't quite put your finger on, aren't I?"

He sweeps his gaze over the room until it settles on a chair. "Seeing as you have time to talk, why don't we sit down?"

Stein's young, but he's not stupid. If anything, his curiosity is sharper, a stronger hunger than it will be in later years. He's heard from Spirit about Lord Death and Lord Death's son, and it doesn't take anything to put the pieces together. He knows exactly who this person is, and he knows exactly how he knows that. It's insulting to assume he can't figure that much out.

"You're the new Lord Death. Lord Death's son." He doesn't have the option to leave, so he doesn't object to the older boy sitting down in the chair. Next time, he'll get rid of the chair.

"What do you want?"

Settling into that chair, Kid does not answer Stein with a nod for something they both already know is correct; his chin is tilted downwards, eyes averted to the task of adjusting his jacket, smoothing down any unsightly creases.

"That we get to know each other better."

The young reaper laces his pale fingers together, lowering them to perch on the point of one knee. For someone with such a fixation on bilateral symmetry (albeit, an obsession slightly less all-consuming of late), he has little qualms about sitting cross-legged.

His attention now fixes firmly on Stein. "How much has Spirit told you?" About everything, obviously.

Stein studies Kid's reaction, takes in the hesitance and the refusal to meet his eyes. Stein reads those actions as a lack of confidence, and is confused. This new Lord Death is nothing like the old.

"I don't want to get to know you better."

"I asked you a question," points out the reaper, regarding the younger boy steadily, otherwise unmoving on the chair he's decided to occupy. "Seeing as I've answered yours, it's only fair you return my courtesy." Insisting on keeping a firm hand on the conversation, directing it in a manner Kid deems orderly is all he knows to do under the circumstances.

All he can think about is how this is the same professor who just opened up his own arm to see how it all works. That this is the same who would grow up to succumb to the same madness that has been part of him since the day of his inception.

Once, he had responded to insanity with unflinching, violent opposition. He understands it a little better, now. His order was perhaps not so different from what encompasses Stein's young world. The question is what absorbs him?

...And how, exactly, do they find a way to tame the beast before it runs amok? How did his father reach him? Did he at all?

Asking Spirit resulted in precious little he could use, just the ever-exasperating realization that Spirit was both overwhelmed by and prone to self-sacrifice over his sense of obligation to Stein. That it was so unsightly to Kid suggested that he perhaps had more to learn about the Deathscythe, too.

Answering questions is familiar territory. Ask a question, answer five more.

"Senpai told me Lord Death is dead and you're in charge now."

But Stein has no intention of listening to this new Lord Death. This new Lord Death hasn't scared him yet, hasn't shown him the will of a god, hasn't given Stein a reason to listen.

There's nothing even remotely friendly or welcoming in Stein's posture or expression. He wants this new person gone.

Unfortunately for Stein, Death the Kid has nothing but time and can sit here patiently for hours (if so inclined).

Unfortunately for Kid, he tends to be short on that necessary patience when it boils down to something he wants. That's what you get when you're raised the son of a god, with all the perks and preferential treatment one can expect of such lineage.

Kid acknowledges this with a nod, "For the sake of defeating a great threat against the world." He only elaborates with: "Your own contributions to the Academy made much of that success possible."

His exalted father had ruled through a war most had thought endless. Kid had helped end it, and differed in that he didn't much feel like frightening anyone into obedience, least of all a man he eventually would come to respect.

"That must have hurt," Kid asks instead, pointing at his bandaged arm with a lift of a finger from his lap, "I hope you learned a valuable lesson."

A war that Stein has always lived in, that he expected to always live in. A war that gave him a place in this world, a reason to exist. Without this unending war, there would be nothing for him, no reason for Death to keep him alive. Spirit had told him that the war was over, that Kid had forged a truce with their ancient enemies. Stein doesn't understand why.

"I'll use a knife next time." That's the only thing Stein would do differently, the next time he takes himself apart. He'd voluntarily cleared everything sharp out of the apartment (partly on Spirit's suggestion) and when the impulse hit, he had nothing to use but fingernails and teeth.

~~WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK, STEIN.~~

"Absolutely not!" comes out like a whipcrack of Kid's sharp disapproval.

He doesn't know Stein used his own teeth and nails to rip himself apart, no, he assumes he used something else, not that any of it is much better. "How will you learn anything by hurting yourself? What if you lost the use of your arm? Did you even stop to consider the consequences?"

Unless it was a compulsion, much like how he couldn't simply walk out of his house without checking that the picture frames were all perfectly straight, that the contents of every closet and cupboard was arranged and coordinated and precisely perfect according to his particular aesthetic.

...What if it is, though?

Stein's gaze slides away from Kid, unwilling to meet those yellow eyes. Explaining is just repetition, just going over and over the same exhausted concept. He never considers consequences.

"I needed to see what was inside."

Books aren't enough. Pictures aren't enough. He needs to see living flesh. His own is just fine, if that's the only option.

Needed.

That word in particular resonates with him, the way he recalls what it feels like to do battle against his own compulsions. It's never really about wanting to (though he might want to avoid the consequences that Kid was sure would follow failing to comply with these urges), but about something more urgent than that, more vital.

He needed things to be orderly, to be just so.

"Did you think it a worse idea to wait? That failing to see it right then would prove some insufficiency in yourself? Or, perhaps, that to leave this need unsatisfied would invite some grave consequence?"

Steepling his hands before his face, Kid tips forward his head until his fringe trickles coolly over his fingertips.

Another person trying to pull his mind apart to see what's inside. Another person who wants to fit him neatly into a box and tie him down to expectations.

It's not really mental, not a series of decisions that boil down to if-then. It's more an impulse, a sudden overwhelming thing that just happens without his thinking about it. When refused or denied, it turns into an overwhelming need, as deep as hunger or exhaustion. There aren't any bargains with the universe, just a desperate reality.

"You know me when I'm older. What do you think?"

Not really.

Someone who can only use his experiences to give shape to a 'frame of reference'. Like anyone else, Kid can only rely on what he's witnessed and felt to relate with anyone else, and for the first time there is something important to him that might just fit in that strange shape he's recognized in Stein's behavior.

Is he just imposing a familiarity where there isn't one, out of some desire to relate a unique problem with someone else's? If Kid was in a position where he needed that frame of reference to cope with his own neurosis, he might have suspected as much. But he's come to a point past that.

Behind his steepled fingers, Kid's smile is as sharp as a sickle and just as quick to strike. It's gone by the time he lifts his head, but not without first saying:

"We might agree some needs can be indulged."

He passes a palm down his face, sitting back to collect himself. "And one day you'll learn which shouldn't be, and why."

There's a brief glance, the flicker of olive-green eyes across to meet with yellow-orange for just the shortest moment. There's something there, something hopeful, something perplexed, something wary.

Indulged.

That has never been an option.

One day.

Everyone had always told him things had to change right now.

There's something happening here, something Stein doesn't understand. So he just stays silent and watchful, waiting to hear a better explanation.

He doesn't know this younger Stein very well at all, but he knows some of what he grows up to become, and anyone can tell that it took time for that evolution to take place. Time, the effort and investment of those who knew him.

"All I ask is that you communicate clearly. When opportunities present themselves that will allow you to satisfy your curiosity without... ending up in this situation again," and at this, Kid's hands break apart from each other to gesture vaguely at their surroundings. "You may find some measure of relief without bringing undue trouble on yourself."

He understands that might not always be possible. For him, stress and grief were enough to have him shutting himself inside an empty mansion, spending days cleaning the replica of his former home top to bottom and still that brought no comfort to his troubled thoughts.

Acknowledging and accepting even what is problematic. This is a start. Professor Stein was not a transformation that took place in the span of a single night.

"I think this is a fine place to begin. Don't you?"

"Senpai did inform you that this was the result of a witch messing with everyone's heads?" He has to double check. It seems like the sort of thing Spirit would forget to mention in his current emotionally worked-up state.

And really, Stein doesn't think "this" is a fine place to begin. Vague offers coming from a god he has no respect for, boundaries not clearly defined and no consequences given for crossing them. This new Lord Death has none of the imposing quality that the old one had, none of that cheerful brutality that unsettled Stein and gave him a reason to behave.

Taking a moment to think back over the conversation he had with Spirit the day before, he recalls that he made mention of a snake witch and the implication that she was responsible for his injuries, but...

"He neglected to go into as much detail," admits the reaper, squinting towards the door. Admittedly, Spirit was not exactly in the best shape to be holding as lengthy a conversation as they'd had. Perhaps he should have given him a break.

Naw, he's a Deathscythe, he can take it.

"Tell me more."

Stein doesn't really want to. He has no inclination to discuss it with a stranger just because he's been ordered to. He doesnt need to explain himself to this new Lord Death. But he was the one who brought it up.

"A witch amplified desires and impulses." That's enough explanation. He couldn't stop himself.

"What a dangerous power."

Considering the malice that can lie in any heart... "It's a small wonder there aren't more patients admitted here. Perhaps the effect did not impact all residents equally?" the reaper muses aloud, preoccupation making his gaze distant, hard. "Or... it may be too soon. The question remains if this snake witch still poses a threat."

If the threat has been neutralized or quelled, then there may be no reason to act. If it's merely a lull between attacks... in any case, he'll need to look into this.

"How much of that situation did you witness yourself? I would learn more."

"Senpai defeated her." Stein says it calmly, matter of fact. He never really doubted that Spirit would lose. The scythe is (somehow) a Death Scythe.

"I didn't witness any of it. I was too busy ripping my arm open."

"Damn it... that explains why there was no one trying to stop you."

That also means Spirit is the only one he knows personally enough to press for answers. Exhaling, Death the Kid adds, "Still, it's good to hear Spirit hasn't lost his edge, however regrettable that he ended up in the hospital, too."

In a change of subject, he lifts a finger, "By the way, considering much has changed between you two, has resonating with each other's souls proved difficult? I imagine not, considering the flexibility of your own soul."

"We haven't." Stein doesn't make eye contact. He knows that this is not right, being here with his weapon and not resonating ever. Maybe he should make his weapon resonate with him. Maybe he shouldn't.

He doesn't know what to do, and the pain and the painkillers and all the confusion of his time here hasn't helped.

"He did try to stop me. Senpai's a good weapon."

"Good enough to be a Deathscythe," agrees Kid, though he furrows his eyebrows at the young Meister before him, speculatively. They haven't. He has to wonder why. Was Spirit's hesitation with regards to... how had he put it? Go through that a second time, was he holding back?

What goes on between the Deathscythe and his former (and present?) Meister is their business, so long as things don't get out of hand, but this puts both of them at potential risk.

"Why haven't you resonated yet?"

Because they didn't need to. Because Stein hadn't asked and Spirit hadn't offered. He doesn't know.

"We will. Why do you care?"

"Because even for a soul as famously flexible as yours, the middle of a dangerous situation is not the time to discover friction between a Weapon and Meister's wavelengths, Stein."

The chance is slim, but after what he heard from Spirit, even he has to wonder. Deathscythe tended to be... easygoing and generous with his wavelength, able to mold its pattern to a Meister with more readiness than others, but what if he resisted? Not that he would, if it came down to protecting themselves.

Perhaps he is worrying needlessly.

"He's my weapon. We'll be able to resonate." Even if there's friction, Stein's sure he'll be able to handle it. They're partners. Spirit is Stein's greatest experiment, and he knows (knew) the weapon's soul almost as well as he knows his own.

"Why do you care?"

"In you I see the man who will eventually become a professor, loved by his students and respected by his peers," the reaper states, as he vacates his chair. He continues as he steps closer to Stein, gold eyes fixed on the young Meister. "I see the meister my exalted father trusted, both to advise and produce the results we needed at a time of great difficulty."

Looking at him now, it's not difficult to draw the line to who he is and who he will be. Perhaps that wasn't the case for Spirit, he hadn't asked. Still, the young god smiles.

He will one day help me create a perfect world.

"In short, because I am your friend."

"No, you're not." He doesn't want to hear about the person he will eventually become. He doesn't have anything to do with that person. "You just want to use me."

Sometimes, there's nothing quite so eloquent as...

"Huh?"

After the surprise wears off, he sighs, though there's a note of self-depreciative laughter there. That's right, there's still much he doesn't know about Stein from the days before his own enrollment at the academy. In his youth, there's doubtlessly all sorts of things that might have happened to make him suspicious of others' motivations.

"Stein, what precisely would I use you for?"

"You're supposed to be Lord Death." And Lord Death had just wanted to use Stein. He'd had a point to keeping Stein around.

Kid's mouth flattens to a grim line, "Are you saying my father only kept you around because he was using you?"

Can he be sure he wasn't, though?

After all, hadn't he made sure Kid grew up among humans, like a human, so that he would turn out differently? At first, he had thought it to avoid the disaster that was his father's first son, but...

"I am Lord Death, this is true." The young man lifts one finger, "All things are either in a state of growth or one of decay," Up goes another finger of the other hand, "Nothing remains the same at all times; inevitably change visits all things. So too the soul, isn't that right?"

"If you're Lord Death, you should be able to figure out why he was using me." Stein was a tool to be used. Point him at someone and take the leash off, see what damage the meister can cause. That's the only reason Death let Stein survive.

"If you're not going to use me, why are you talking to me?"

"Being Lord Death isn't the same as being my father," Kid counters, "And I don't understand why this is so difficult for you to comprehend. You are my friend, or will be. Whether that happens here or not is, of course, entirely your choice."

He has options. They don't all have a thing to do with him, certainly.

"But regardless of what decision you make as far as that's concerned, I won't stop being your friend. And friends don't use each other!"

"I don't have friends." Stein only has Spirit. He just has his weapon. The concept of 'friend' is not something that Stein gets to experience, not something he wants. There's too much emotion involved, too much politeness.

Politeness? Clearly, Stein hasn't met Soul (or Black☆Star). Actually, at this age, that's not just an assumption, this is fact.

"Yes, you do. You have me," points out the reaper, "And you have Spirit. Whether you realize it or not, we are your friends. And I have no intentions of using you."

"Spirit is my Weapon. We're not friends." It's a different thing entirely. Partnership is a different sort of relationship than friendship.

"You're not friends with your Weapon?" is curiosity and not judgment though it's a moment's pause before he asks, with even greater curiosity, "Have you any other friends, Stein?"

He wouldn't be surprised to hear he has none, considering his ambivalence.

"I don't need friends." He has no interest in friends, and doesn't see the purpose of them.

"Social interaction is good for sentient beings. The positive wavelength prevalent in friendly relations nourish the soul and have a balancing influence. There's much one can learn from people, besides."

Of course, it's not all positive; there was a time when his interactions with Black*Star was the cause of intense personal distress. "That's not something you should believe simply because someone told you. Try it at your own pace."

It's not really that simple, either. Stein changed himself to become the person Kid and the others later knew him as.

Kid's picking all the wrong words. Things like friendly relations and balancing influence aren't things that apply to Stein. He's not a positive person, and not able to provide that positive influence for others. That's what people have told him for his entire life, and while he hasn't proven it experimentally, he's never had reason to question it.

"You don't actually know anything about me. Why don't you come back in twenty years?"

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