Fandom: Soul Eater

Characters: Franken Stein, Chrona, Medusa Gorgon (cameo), Maka Albarn (several cameos)

Rating: T

Summary: Chrona is infected by the genetics of her parents.

Setting/Time frame: Death City

Time: hour or so

A/N: Been meaning to write this for a while. I hope you enjoy. The song Infected from Repo is perfect for Chrona!

Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater or Repo. ;D And yes, I think Stein is Crona's father. Deal with it. Not beta'd.

I'm infected
by your genetics

Crona looked down at her blood which peppered the cool white tiles in the shower room. This was what flowed through her veins. Part Medusa, part Stein, part Ragnorok . . . it made up who she was, and how she acted, and what people thought of her. A sly grin crossed her visage as she brought the blade down on her pale arm once again, black blood pooling at the wound and running down her arm.

Another cut, more blood. She was dizzy now, but there was no stopping. Slice after slice, and her head spun. She pressed onward and after several more minutes she collapsed into the pool of her own blood, unconscious.

Shilo, I'm the doctor
Shilo, I'm your father
Oh, Shilo, that was close!
Take your medicine

Crona woke to find Maka hovering over her anxiously. When she saw the demon sword was awake, she gasped loudly and hugged her. "Oh my god, Crona! What were you doing? Some girls found you in the shower room unconscious in you blood!"

"Ma..ka." Chrona was having her breathe squeezed out of her. "I don't know how to deal with hugs," the teenager whimpered plaintively and Maka let go hurriedly.

"I'm sorry! But really, Crona, what on Earth—"

"That's enough, Miss Albarn." Stein was standing at the door to the dispensary. "I need to talk to Chrona. Please leave us for a moment."

"Yes sir." Maka bowed respectfully before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind her.

Stein moved to stand at the front of Crona's bed and crossed his arms over his chest. "That was close, Crona. Any more and you might have died."

The pink-haired teenager quailed under his intense gaze. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"As a doctor, and your father, I'm obligated to know why you were lying in a pool of your own blood," Stein said. "Care to explain?"

She was silent. "My blood . . . it's black."

Stein's silver brows met in a frown. "I know." He dug in his labcoat pocket and pulled out a bottle. He twisted the cap off and poured several pills into his hand. Handing them to his daughter, he instructed, "Take your medicine. The last thing I need is for this to happen again." He waited for her to swallow the pills, dry, before sweeping out of the room. Maka soon replaced him, but Crona felt lonlier then she had in a long, long time.

I'm infected by your genetics
Shilo, you're my patient
Shilo, be more patient
You have limitations, don't go chasing flies
I must be protective
You cannot be reckless
That's what is expected when you are infected

The teenager found him in his lab, typing away at his computer.

"Um . . . Father?" The word that rolled of her tongue was a foreign one, and she wasn't sure she knew how to deal with it.

"Yes?" He seemed annoying, but only slightly. He turned away from his computer. "What is it?"

"H . . . have you . . . found out how to . . . remove Ragnorok yet?" She knew he was working on it. But she wished she hadn't asked when he scowled.

"You have to be more patient, Crona."

"I'm sorry . . ." She grasped her arm and looked down at her shoes.

Stein sighed. "I'll find a way. It will just take some time." He turned back to his computer and began typing again. Crona stood behind him, not moving.


" . . . Yes?"


Silence. "You are my child," came after a lengthy pause. "You are my responsibility now that Me—your mother, is dead."

"Oh. . ."

"Anything else?"

"No . . ." And the teenager slunk back upstairs.


He appeared in front of her, saving the teenager from the strike from the bladed arm on the Kishin egg that would have meant certain death. He parried the blow with Spirit's blade then struck into the heart of the monster with Soul Force. The creature was blasted back and dissolved into only its soul. While Spirit went to go claim the soul, Stein turned to his daughter.

"Don't be so reckless, Crona," the scientist said as he looked over her wounds, which were being held together by the black blood. "You know with the drugs you are on you can't fight."

"I . . . just wanted to help Shibusen," she muttered quietly.

"Well, you have limits now," Stein said sternly. "Don't go wandering off to fight a Kishin soul when you can't materialize Ragnorok in his weapon form!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He sighed. "Can you stand?" She shook her head. "Fine." And suddenly she was boosted onto his back by Death Scythe, and the doctor carried his daughter piggyback style all the way home to Death City.

I'm infected by your genetics
I'm infected by your genetics
And I don't think that I can be fixed
No, I don't think that I can be fixed

Crona looked down at the blood streaming from her nose. The black blood.

She'd been punched in the face by one of the school's bullys who didn't think she should exist. She took punch after punch until finally, Ragnorok seeped from her back and into her hands.

She made short work on the bully and as Ragnorok returned to his comatose state, she felt a wave of despair wash over her. Would she never be normal? Would she never have Ragnorok separated from her blood?

Crona fell to the ground, pink hair fisted in her hands, screaming.

It's this blood condition
Damn this blood condition!
Mother can you hear me?
Thanks for the disease!
Now I am sequestered
Part of the collection
That's what is expected when you are infected
That's what is expected when you are infected
That's what is expected when you are infected

Crona opened her eyes to see Medusa. She was standing in front of her, barefoot, looking coolly intimidating. "Pathetic child," the witch hissed condescendingly. "How long are you go to snivel?"

And there was rage inside the demon sword, rage she'd never felt before. "This is your fault!" she suddenly screamed, egged on by something she couldn't see. "All your fault! You put him in me! I never wanted to be a Kishin!" Crona flew at her mother, but was no match for the elder woman's power.

She thrashed under Medusa's arrows, pinned to the ground. But suddenly, the snake witch began to fade and she felt arms around her. Maka was holding her tight, and Marie's hand was on her shoulder, channeling calming wavelength into the pink-haired teenager.

When she looked up, she saw her father. He was frowning. She looked away.

How much of it's genetics?
How much of it is fate?
How much of it depends on the choices that we make?
He says I have her eyes, did I also inherit his shame?
Is heredity the culprit?
Can I stop it, or am I a slave?

She stood behind him, watching him as he put her information into the computer. Her information. He said it was to remove Ragnorok. Crona sat on the operating table, chilled by the cool steel as he began to create a cure.

"You've got her eyes," he said suddenly. "My blood type, my facial features, but her eyes.

"D-Do I?" Crona stuttered. He nodded, still facing his computer. He didn't face her as he said,

"You may go now, Crona." She slipped on the table and stood in the center of the room before hurrying up the stairs, leaving him to his madness.

He said she had Medusa's eyes. . . More genetics, just like her blood. Did she inherit his shame as well?

I'm infected by your genetics
I'm infected by your genetics
What hope has a girl who is sick?
My dream of a life past this fence
It really makes no difference
'Cause I know that I'll never be fixed
Tell me why, oh why are my genetics such a bitch?

A younger Crona looked at the circle she was in. She sat in the circle, watching those who went by her with a black expression. She dreamed of a time when she'd be able to work up enough courage to step over the line drawn the sand and brave the world.

Maybe then she'd be free of this genetic curse she'd been burdened with. Her mother's evil plan, her father's insanity, and the infamy of both of them.

She drew her knees up to her chest. She wasn't ready to leave the circle yet.

Oh, I want to go outside
Oh, I want to go outside

Crona stared wistfully at the children playing just beyond her circle. She wanted to join them, but she wasn't sure how to deal with other people. So she sat in her circle.

One of the children noticed her and ran over. "Hey, hey you!" She looked up; this new girl had ash blonde hair, green eyes, and was wearing a pink dress and a large smile. "Wanna come play with us?"

Crona shook her head. "No . . . I don't know how to deal with playing with other children."

The girl pouted. "Aw, c'mon! We need another person for hide and seek! What's your name?"

"C-Crona . . ."

"That's a funny name. I'm Maka. At least come over and watch us."

Frantic head shaking. "I don't know how to dealing with things outside the circle!"

Maka titled her head until she noticed the line on the ground. "Oh, this thing? Well, it'd be easier if it wasn't there." She scooted around, erasing the line.

Crona looked horrified. "N-No, put it back! I can't deal with this!" She curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth.

"Sure you can!" Maka exclaimed. "Now that there is no circle, you don't have to worry about it! Come play with us, Crona!" It took several minutes of coaxing, but finally the green-eyed girl convinced the young demon sword to come play.

Crona stood on the sidelines, watching as the many children played Red Light, Green Light, Tag, and Hide and Seek. She wasn't sure she knew how to deal with those. So she watched.

Suddenly, there was a tall man beside her. She squeaked in terror, but he looked patient. "Crona?"

She glanced at him cautiously. "Y-Yes?"

"My name is Franken Stein . . . you have a weapon inside you, don't you?" She nodded slowly. "Well, I know a way to take it out."

"You do?" Her gray eyes were round with shock.

"I do. I can do it very soon, if you wish. . .?"

Crona began to say yes, but the stopped. What would her mother say? She was her mother's special project. She needed to be a good child and help her mother with her research . . . but she didn't want to be connected with Ragnorok anymore. . .

"You don't have to be infected any longer," the man said. "Just trust me."


"Because I'm your father. That's why."

Shock, then: "Okay."

He smiled. "Good girl."

Crona woke up in bed with a screaming headache and muscles. Her head swimmed as she sat up and looked around. She was in the Dispensary at Shibusen. Why . . .?

"Ah, you're awake." Her father stood in front of her bed. "How do you feel?"

"I hurt," she whispered scratchily. "I hurt all over. I don't know how to deal with this . . ."

Stein sighed before picking up a long sword from the chair and placed it on Crona's bed sheets. She stared at it, then him, then back again.


"Is no longer a part of you. The operation was a success."

And Crona smiled, genuinely smiled. "Thank you, Father . . ."

He shrugged. "I'm your father. I take care of all my patients. Now let's let Maka in before she tears down the door." The door opened and Maka flew in, gathering her friend in her arms.

Crona finally knew how to deal with something. She hugged back.