Tsubaki's Church, tucked away in a corner of the Sector 5 slums, sat rotting. The ceiling gave even less coverage than it had at their first meeting, but Soul didn't mind. It was the only place where he could ignore the horrors of his own past; the death of Black Star, the loss of Tsubaki, and the tattered family who he had left behind.
He eyed the church warily from the street; something was amiss, though he wasn't sure what it could be; unless someone had set foot in his sacred place. His first thought was that some scavengers had seen him leave earlier and had taken advantage of his absence to steal the materia he had been collecting. He growled internally, he should've been more careful, leaving such dangerous thing lying about. The last thing that Midgar needed was a couple of kids running around with Firaga materia linked with an All. It would be the end of the restorative work that had been slow but sure since Meteor Fall.
He pulled organics from it sheath on his motorcycle and strode irritably toward the church. As he pushed the door open his mako enhanced nostrils were struck with the sweet scent of flowers mingling with the salty tang of blood. Beyond that, there was something else, far more calming and familiar, a scent that made his stomach lurch. Maka had been here. No…She was here now.
His heart jumped to his throat as he raced to the flower bed, dropping organics on his way. He kneeled on the blooms ignoring the crunch they gave. Soul pulled Maka into his arms and stared wide eyed at her wounded face. A cut dragged across her forehead, blood running from her temple to her cheek, dripping to the yellow petals below. Her lower lip was split and she had several dark bruises taking shape across her cheeks.
"Maka," he whispered, shaking her lightly, "Maka!"
Her head lolled to the right, away from his chest, her eyes opened into dull green slits, "You're late…" her voice was weak, her breath shallow and quick.
"Maka, who did this," he snapped, "Who did this?" His eyes hunted the sanctuary for any sign of Maka's assailant, several of the pews had been resorted to sawdust, and his materia stash had obviously been tampered with.
"He—"she coughed, "He didn't say." Suddenly she sat bolt upright in Soul's arms, "Fire!" She shouted, then she collapsed against him once more.
His thoughts ran wild. Fire, what did Kilik's adopted daughter have to do with this? Had she been here with Maka, had she been taken? Before he could affectively collect his thoughts, a sharp pain shot through his left arm straight to his head, he gasped and sputtered before he fainted, falling to his side in the flowers.
Memories of mako, reactors, and one-winged angels swirled through his mind. He remembered a promise made under a starry sky, and tender feelings hidden away. He remembered his first real friend playfully punching his shoulder saying; 'So you wanna be in SOLDIER?' He remembered delicate smiles filled with hesitance, a pink ribbon woven through ebony hair, and sunlight shining radiantly through a gaping hole in the roof of a slum church. His heart ached for them, his family, his friends, the people who he would never see again, and the people he had turned away.
He also remembered smooth black hair, slicked away from golden honeysuckle eyes, as a gun aimed directly at his forehead. He recalled glowing green monstrosities, howling and bellowing as his sword ripped into their flesh. And finally he remembered long, disfigured limbs, a disgusting rotting smile, and the one-wing of an angel born from hell.
Asura was still with him. Coursing through Soul's veins and poisoning his mind. Asura had taken everything from him, his closest friend, his almost lover, his identity, and now the Kishin was taking away the one thing Soul had left, his family. And there was nothing he could do. Just like when the soldiers had killed Black Star, not 20 miles away from Midgar, Just like when Asura had brought down his mighty blade and run it through Tsubaki's abdomen. Just like both of those times, and many times before, Soul was powerless. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do. He was no savior of the Planet, he was no hero.
He awoke to see Spirit and Stein standing over him, he was laid out across Thunder's bed. Maka lay on the bed next to his own, still unconscious. He looked longingly at her; he hadn't thought he was going to see her again.
"You're heavier than you look," Spirit quipped, rubbing a hand through his crimson locks.
"What—" Soul began, but he was cut off by Maka's grunt. He turned to her and watched warily as she pushed herself into a sitting position on the bed.
"Fire, Thunder," she whispered, "Where are they?" She glanced at Soul before her eyes fell onto Stein. "Do you know?"
Stein simply nodded his head, and then Spirit spoke up, "They took the children to the Forgotten City. We don't know what for."
"Then go," Soul whispered, "find them. I need to have a word with Kid."
They had both started for the door when Maka snapped out, "Are you serious Soul? All of this and you're still running? Yes people die, and yes it's sad but you need to move past it! Those aren't just some random children they took away, they're our children. Why do you keep running?"
Spirit and Stein both froze, "She's right you know," Stein murmured.
"We'll go talk to the Boss. You can go after the kids." Spirit resigned as he stepped through the threshold, Stein nearly stepping on his heels.
Soul looked to the floor, taking notice of a small crayon drawing of a chocobo beside Fire's bed, "I can't let anyone else get hurt because of me." He admitted.
Maka shook her head and glanced out the window, eyeing the stars. "Dilly-dally shilly-shally."
Soul looked to her confused.
"Dilly-dally shilly-shally." She was more sure of herself this time her eyes locking onto his. "You can't keep running Soul."
There was something in her unwavering green eyes that took him back nine years to the mountain village where they had shared their childhood. Her eyes had been the same the night of their promise as they were now; constant, calm, and kind, she believed in him, and, at least for a moment that was enough to send him out the door, onto his bike, and barreling toward the final resting place of Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, the last Grigori to have ever lived.
A/N: Yo, so I decided to do a crossover between my favorite video game and favorite anime! If it isn't obvious enough, I had to change a few things to successfully mix the canons. I'm thinking about doing a full multi-chapter story based around this concept… Please review!