Redemption of a Demon

Hey, everybody! Dr. Makenshi here with another new story. This is honestly one of those story ideas that I felt I just had to put down on paper because it had been playing in my head for about the last week. Two quick note before we start:

1. I am basing this off an altered version of the Soul Eater anime. Primarily, this basically changes the aftermath of the battle with the Kishin. I may also change some of the character's ages to better fit the story (watching the original anime, I thought the main characters were high-school aged, so…)

2. This takes place in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, primarily the content set up in the Netflix-produced TV series.

Well, that's enough out of me. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the first chapter of 'Redemption of a Demon'.

Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater or any of the characters of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters and rights belong to their respective creators.


In a constantly changing world, somethings remained constant while others tried to change. One such place was a cesspool of crime and despair that time seemed to have forgotten. After the Chitauri invasion, Hell's Kitchen had nearly been destroyed, but the scene around them appeared to contradict things. The city was trying to save itself, rebuilding itself up in a quest to reclaim its former glory. However, it wouldn't take long for a new passerby to sense something off about the neighborhood. Something was bubbling up under the surface of the healing city, just waiting for the right moment to emerge. It made almost everyone slightly on edge, making all citizens highly aware and driving others to submit to darker desires.

In the midst of this city of darkness and steel, a man appeared from an alleyway. He stood at an impressive height and, while his frame was slender, he appeared to be sufficiently healthy for a person of their young age of 25. Short, cropped brown hair framed the young face, bringing attention to two major features. Under his eyes, a large number of bags seemed to take up permanent residence, never disappearing no matter the amount of sleep earned. The second feature was the man's eyes, slightly hidden behind a pair of glasses:

Pale blue and full of history.

A history of pain, fear, and loneliness could be seen in the eyes if a person was interested enough to look. Most, however, avoided eye contact whenever possible, which wasn't hard as the man had a tendency to use his glasses to avoid this situation. A brown coat covered up the man's grey dress shirt, which was paired with a pair of black jeans and a pair of black boots. A brown paper bag filled with groceries was pinned against the man's side.

This was the man known to a select few in Hell's Kitchen as Cronos Makenshi.

Wonderful weather today, he thought with a small sigh. The current weather was a dreary downpour that had started two days previously and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. It made the inherent sadness of Hell's Kitchen feel even more omnipresent with the combination of rain and cool temperatures.

Doesn't help that I'm unnaturally cold anyway.

Shaking his head to stop that train of thought, Cronos continued on his path towards his small piece of paradise. Ripples surged forth as he made his way through the lake-like puddles that had developed due to the current monsoon. Looking up at his surroundings, the man was still slightly astounded by the city that enveloped him. This was honestly one of the nicer areas of Hell's Kitchen, one where a number of travelers, like himself, had chosen to try developing a home. Seeking some relief from the constant pattering of rain on cement, the man allowed his mind to drift before eventually focusing back on a piece of light jazz music he had heard during a trip to a local bar nearby.

The sharp roar of an engine sounded in front of him, pulling the man from his respite just in time to avoid the surge of water that the passing car had unleashed.

His mind coming back into focus, Cronos walked across the now desolate intersection to see a quiet storefront greet him.

His place of work and his personal sanctuary.

Tattered Covers Novel Emporium

The building had been comparatively untouched by the widespread damage of the Chitauri Invasion and now seemed even more antique in comparison to the rest of the neighborhood. The building itself was simple, consisting of two stories that were constructed from rich red brick that had been turned brown by the test of time. The store front was highlighted by pair of slightly tinted windows on both sides of an oak door, giving the building the feel of an old colonial shop. The windows appeared to be slightly newer than the rest of the building, successors to the original glass that was a victim of the city wide devastation. A number of chips and cuts had been carved into the door by falling debris and the brick also featured scars of the same attack.

Overall, the store had seen better days, but still remained standing despite a number of hardships. Cronos thought it gave the shop a sense of character.

Kind of reminds me of me. Just a lot less damaged.

To the side of the building, a severely dented fire escape lead up to a door that was meant to give access to the small loft/apartment above the shop. Making his way up, the man fished for the key in his pocket that would grant him entry. As easy as it would have been to hide a spare key for easy access, the man knew it would be an invitation for thieves and wished not to press his luck.

Finally grasping the old copper key, Cronos gave a small grunt of victory before opening the door to an unimpressive looking flat. The apartment was very open with only a small amount of worn furniture breaking the pattern of the beige walls. The layout was like any basic flat. A small divider separated the living space, which was occupied by a worn couch and small box TV kept apart by a coffee table, from the kitchen, full of semi-antique appliances that had seen better days.

Down the hall were three simple doors. The first led to a small bathroom for guests, the second a small laundry room, and the third a single bedroom occupied by a full size mattress, a chest drawer, and a night stand.

Home sweet home, he thought taking off his shoes at the doorway and allowing the old carpeting of the living room to cushion his feet as he turned on the local news for background news. Walking briskly to the kitchen area and allowing the noise to fall into the back ground, the man unpacked the small sack of groceries: a loaf of bread, a small number of vegetables, a pack of cheese, a pack of deli cuts, and a large bag of potato chips. Nothing really special.

Same old, same old. It's not like I need to worry about feeding more than one person.

With that thought in mind, the man's ears perked up at the sound of the news being broadcast.

"In other news, a well-known mugger taken in by authorities this morning. The man in question was found knocked out near the Hell's Kitchen Police Station at 5 AM. When asked about the bizarre apprehension of the criminal, the police stated that the man's testimony was unclear and that no further comment would be given until the matter has been solved. In other news, a local business hopes to revitalize sales by-," the TV screen turned black with a quick snap as Cronus turned off the TV, uninterested in the upcoming news.

Looking at a nearby clock, Cronos deduced that he had a couple of hours before he was needed at his secondary occupation. Deciding to fill the time by eating a quick dinner of a grilled cheese sandwich and catching a small nap, Cronus headed into the tiled kitchen. Quickly devouring the meal, his exhaustion became apparent and he headed in the old bedroom, deciding to not even change. Lying down under the old comforter, the man felt sleep's embrace reaching for him and decided to take the plunge.


"Here you go. I tried to think of all the essentials that you might need on your travels."

"I-I s-still don't k-know why y-you're doing all of this for m-me. I—I d-deserve my f-f-fate."

"Don't say that! Don't ever say that! You nearly sacrificed yourself to save me, you don't deserve what they plan to do. We all understand this and that is why we are helping you escape."

"B-But, i-if I hadn't-"

"Ah, ah, ah! No 'buts'! You have earned the right to a second chance, whether they believe it or not."

"You k-keep s-saying that. I—I just don't f-feel l-like I d-deserve it…

"Deserve it, huh? Well, if you are that worried I know how you can fix that feeling."

"R-really, h-how?"

"Go out and make a good life for yourself. Help the people around you and make the world a better place. That is how you can gain forgiveness.

"Just be the best person you can be."


The man lurched out of the bed in a cool sweat.

Been a while since I had that dream, even longer since it actually happened. I wonder if I would be making her proud now…

Looking over at the small clock beside the bed, he noticed that it was time to get ready for his second job of the night. Getting up, he reached into the back of the nearby closet and pulled out his night uniform.

A black leather jacket complete with a small black hood was pulled out from the depths of the closet. The design was basic, but a large number of places showed that the material had been roughly cut and stitched back together. The outer pockets held a matching pair of black gloves of a coarse material, baring much less noticeable damage. A black shirt was also pulled out to match the ensemble. All in all, a slightly strange but okay outfit.

The man put the shirt, jacket, and gloves on before grabbing one last object and pulling the hood up as he exited the flat, hidden by the dark nature of the city and the sky's prevailing darkness.

Time to go to work.


Ciel Sampson was nothing special. She had short, cropped blond hair that stood out like a beacon in the dark, but otherwise the women appeared nondescript. She had a daughter, Chloe, who was waiting back at the house, under the care of a trusted baby sitter.

I hate that I have to work late and be away from you baby, but times are hard.

After the divorce, she and her daughter had little money and were forced to move to Hell's Kitchen out of desperation. She was currently working a late shift at a nearby dinner to pay for their meager house and necessities.

Life could be worse, I suppose.

As if the universe was responding to her thoughts, life decided to get worse.

Ciel barely heard a flurry of footsteps coming from a nearby alley before feeling a hand wrap itself around her throat and covered her mouth. Her screams came out muffled as the large man drug her into the alley.

"Listen Up!", the mugger barked, turning her around so that he could see her terrified face and so that she could see the sharp blade he held in his off hand. "I have had a haaard day at work and just need a little overtime bonus," he said in a deceptively nice tone before drawing out his demand, "Sooo, I'm just gonna take that wallet of yours and all your jewelry. If you behave, I might not have to hurt you… or at least not too bad. I have to have some fun, right?" The man's face turned into a dangerous smirk as he punctuated the last statement by placing the blade close to her face.

Ciel's panic had reached a peak and she proceeded to try to keep screaming and struggling, knowing the mugger wouldn't fulfill his promise of mercy. "Ah, ah, ah, didn't I warn you," the man's previous tone gone and replaced with a savage growl, "Ooh well, I guess I'll have to teach you the hard wa-"

The mugger's speech was promptly cut off by a booted foot appearing from the shadows and launching the man away with a surprising amount of force.

"Go. Get out of here."

The voice appeared to be slightly soft, but carried an edge of malice. The figure it was attached to separated itself from the shadows, appearing to be a living shadow themselves. Clad entirely in black and baring a moderated size frame, they had an aura of raw power that could be felt from a mile away.

And the mask…

Under the hood, the face of a purple demon stared back at her, striking fear into her very being. Later on, the women would recognize the face as that of an Oni, purple demon face and black horns promising chaos and destruction. The man, she assumed from the build, seemed to notice her stare and turned to her.

"I said 'go'. Go home. I will handle this."


With those words, the demon walked past her towards the mugger, who had stumbled back up to his feet and retrieved his knife. "Oh, you think you're a little badass, don'tcha," he barked, a deranged tone and expression taking over. "Well, allow me to take you down a peg," he yelled, rushing forward with the knife reading to stab the man in the chest. As soon as he was within striking distance, the man plunged forward, throwing his full weight behind the knife, before sinking the blade straight into the man's chest.

Almost nothing happened.

At least, not to the victim of the attack.

The demon gave a small grunt and took a minute step back to balance the weight of the mugger before standing back up to their full height, blade still stuck in their chest.

The mugger, however, felt a strong reverberating pain go up his knife hand and gave a gasp of pain. God, what the hell! I feel like I tried to stab a slab of steel! Fearing the worst, the man decided to throw a punch at the demon's shoulder, hoping to create some distance.

The same result followed as the original, only without a buffer this time.

The man gave out a loud howl of pain, reeling back and clutching his injured hand, red blood leaking from the busted skin around his knuckles. Gah! Nothing should hurt this much to punch! Nearly snarling, the mugger yelled, "What are you!? Some kind of monster!? ". In a flash, the demon was upon him, pinning him to the ground. The masked face got within a centimeter of his face, soaking the man in the first terror they'd felt in years. After a couple seconds of pure terror, a resigned tone stated,

"Just a demon looking for redemption."

With those final words, the demon delivered a solid punch to the man's face, knocking them out instantly.


With his job done, the so-called demon began to walk to the opposite end of the alley to head back out into the city, but not before pulling the clean blade from their chest and placing it in their pockets. He would dispose of it later on.

Noticing a pair of soft footsteps coming up behind them, the demon slightly turned back around to see the victim of the attack standing behind him. She appeared to be ringing her hands in nervousness, terror still prevalent on her features, and said, "You…you saved my life. Thank you. Thank you so much," before a couple of tears could be seen leaving her eyes. The demon simply said, "I was just doing what's right. Be careful heading home." He continued walking out, barely hearing the woman's last words,

"You're a hero."

Those words, so apparently simple, but they meant more to the man then he could admit. A small smile, minuscule when compared to others, emerged on their face, which was still hidden by the mask. Over time, he had been called many things:

Witch.

Murderer.

Child.

Kishin.

Demon Swordsman.

Through all of that, Crona Gorgon, known to the world now as Cronos Makenshi in his new life, had never been called hero.

I think I like the feeling, even if I don't truly deserve it.

With those final thoughts, he disappeared into the night.


Author's Note:

So…who saw that coming? Crona is one of my favorite characters in the Soul Eater universe, so when a story idea popped into my head, it wouldn't leave until I actually wrote it down. Also, I know I left a lot of stuff vague this chapter, but I want to spread the story of Crona's new life out instead of just dropping a giant info dump. Plus, gotta leave a little mystery for the future, ya know?

As usual: Love it? Hate it? Have constructive criticism? Leave me a review or PM me.

Lastly, if anyone is interested, I am still searching for a Beta Reader for either this story or my other story 'Aura and The Void', a Kingdom Hearts-RWBY crossover story. If you are interested, leave a note in a review or PM me.

Well, I think that about finishes it up. Until next time.

Dr. Makenshi, signing out.