A/N: This is a one-shot fic that I blabbed out in a really boring class to fill out my RP blog. I might add more later, but I'm not sure yet. Note that this takes place after the end of the anime, and ignores events of the manga.
Asura was…drifting. It was the strangest feeling. His thoughts were falling around him like snowflakes; quite apt, as that was what all of the souls he had spent so many years collecting were doing as well. That weird girl's punch had popped him like a piñata, and he was having a hell of a time patching himself back together. He had no sense of how much time had passed. It seemed he had been like this forever. He knew that wasn't right though. He distinctly remembered existing, and it was that memory that was keeping him from flickering out entirely.
That; and the burning desire to rip that little bitch apart.
Now there was a thought. A strong, concrete idea he could latch onto. The Kishin held onto that thought with the tenacity of a drowning man, pulling pieces of himself back in with the strength of his obsession. Bit by bit, he managed to snare passing souls, and each one brought him closer to re-attaining his former self.
His first landmark was opening his eyes. It took him a moment to realize he was actually seeing the world rather than just sensing it, but he soon found he could look around.
And blink.
You never realize how nice it is to blink until you can't do it anymore.
He spent several days (Days! He could define days now! The sun proved that time was in fact moving forward.) simply staring at the things around him. Who knew trees could be so damned fascinating?
It wasn't hard after that to begin piecing together the rest of his body. Once he was able to walk, gathering souls became much quicker. Especially once he began running into the Kishin-eggs. It was almost funny how quickly they had gathered around him. They all wanted to be the next Kishin: what better way to accomplish that than to finish off the first one? He made sure to thank each one for his kind consideration as he devoured their souls. Pathetic.
The first Witch soul was what made all the difference. She was young, stupid, and not particularly powerful, but her soul was enough to re-awaken his control over the Madness. He was careful to keep his wavelength pulled in tight to avoid any overanxious Meisters, but he was finally beginning to feel like himself. Whoever that was.
He had done all of this with the sole goal of finding her. She was the only coherent thought he had managed to hold onto while he was scattered and distorted. How he hated her. Hated…
He hated her?
Obsession is a strange motivator. Somewhere along the way, no matter how strong the hate may have started out, the item of obsession begins to consume everything. It becomes your every thought. Your every feeling. For this time, this minute, this second, this eternity, he thought of nothing…but her.
The girl. That girl with her pigtails and bravery. That girl that had known madness and come back from it. That girl that was a Weapon but didn't know it. That girl that had screamed under him as he broke her ribs with his bare hands. That girl he had been close enough to taste.
Maka…Maka Albarn. He tested the name, noting how it felt as it fell from his lips. Like poison. Like silk. Like death.
He could feel her now. Feel her tiny little bird soul flit around her chest as she went to class and trained. She was so very certain he was gone forever. But she had never left him.
Asura smiled as he stepped through the barrier to Death City. He had learned to hide his wavelength so thoroughly that not even Death could detect him. He breathed in the warm desert air and looked up to the blazing sun above. She was here. So close. So unaware. "Maka Albarn. I'm coming for you, my little…Angel."