Author's Notes: Wow, I haven't posted in a long time, and I almost forgot about this site! But anyway, I've been watching Soul Eater lately and I feel it's a good universe to have fanfiction on, so I decided to create an OC and plot him in there. I've only watched up to episode 23 so I'll need to catch up to the end, but review and tell me what you think about it! Should I write more or scrap the idea? Thanks!
"It's over Pollutena, you can't do anything now!" A boy, an amateur meister, exclaimed while jumping airborne about 70 yards. "Banshee, now!" He yelled to his weapon.
The raging boy found himself syncing with his weapon, intensifying and escalating their soul energy.
"Soul Resonance," They started in unison, the meister stretching the weapon's diameter as far as he could. "Blazing Turmoil!"
At around a yard's diameter, the infuriated boy empowered the disc in flames and threw it at the witch Pollutena in an arc like a boomerang. The disc surged with white, bright light at its centre, overflowing with sparks of blazing fire as it traveled to its target. She was surely about to be decimated, as they had disabled her limbs from moving. After all, it was fitting; the witch destroyed every part of the boy's history and he was about to finally obtain vengeance.
The witch, however, wasn't amused. She frowned, "You may have encaged me, Phoenix Fireheart, but you haven't prevented me from using my powers!" She retaliated, "And that will be your downfall!"
"I don't think I've ever seen this type of weapon before, and believe me, I've been around for a long time!" It was Lord Death.
"That weapon the child wields is extremely rare indeed." The other, a professor, said, adjusting the oversized screw loosely attached to the side of his head. The doctor stood next to Lord Death, analyzing the current situation between the novice meister and the unknown witch through the Death Portal. He studied their every move, occasionally fixing his glasses.
After a few moments, he began, "Lord Death, the boy displays skill, yes, but I haven't seen him around these parts. Is he one of our students?"
In response, the Grim Reaper conjured a rather comically large black directory and started to rummage through the book's enormous contents. Each page contained a pair of meister and weapon with related information known to step into the DWMA.
The professor, Dr. Stein, continued, "What's interesting is that the boy is fighting a witch."
The viewing portal shifted its perspective to focus on the witch, who donned an oversized black robe with an olive swirl trim. She wore an elongated pajama-esque cap on her head that split into two and dragged until her waist behind her. A cloud of protective vapor enveloped her body and as soon as the boy's weapon reached within her range, the gas quickly formed an invulnerable barrier that effectively blocked the meister's ultimate attack. The weapon shrinking as a result back to its normal state and lifelessly fell to the earth, almost as if the person behind the weapon didn't exist anymore.
"No! How did you...?!" The boy shrieked, his rage quickly transforming into fear while returning to the ground. Pollutena chuckled, sniffing the environment as she felt a sudden increase of power.
The two spectators, Lord Death and Dr. Stein, watched in curiosity, the Grim Reaper closing the large directory and returned it to nothingness. Stein readjusted his head-screw.
"The child is severely in danger Lord Death."
"Yes, I agree, the boy, a novice at that, cannot battle a witch single-handedly and expect to survive." Lord Death quickly thought of an idea and changed the viewing portal to contact a familiar meister-weapon pair.
"Maka, there is an urgent situation you must take part of." Lord Death then explained what had happened so far.
"You need to get them to safety; bring them here." He ended. "Yeah, we got it. No problem." was his response from a certain white-haired weapon, whose meister appeared irritated to his threshold of taking serious situations lightly.
The two observers switched to scrying the battlefield but noticed the situation was dramatically altered. The meister was struggling to regain freedom; his limbs were frozen, much like what he had done on the witch a few moments before. Pollutena simply smirked, slowly strolling to the disoriented boy, licking her lips and further strengthening the aura surrounding her.
A grown, crimson-haired man clothed in a black suit hastily interrupted the spectators. "So is it true that my baby Maka just accepted a vital mission to rescue a weapon-meister pair that no one had ever heard about?!"
Spirit, Lord Death's current Death Scythe, soon discovered a fountain of blood spewing as a result from a violent meeting of the Grim Reaper's humorously rectangular hand and the back of his head.
"Word does travel fast around here." Lord Death added.
The fight continued, the boy trapped in place; his body absolutely numb. Things turned hopeless fast for the boy, he had never imagined that the witch had possessed colossal amounts of power.
"Pathetic," she started, spitting on the ground when she stood near him and delicately lifting the boy's chin.
"I killed everyone... Everyone in your tiny tribe." Her stare spelt murder, " And you, the sole survivor of that tribe, can't muster the anger and strength to defeat me and get vengeance?" She wrapped her hands on his shoulders, drawing her face closer, her voice extremely sinister and evil.
"You're a disgrace to yourself, your tribe, and your puny false gods." She exaggeratedly licked her lips, "If it was up to me, I wouldn't have granted you that foolish weapon." She pointed to the still lifeless disc-weapon that rested on the hard earth. She leapt back, leering but simultaneously trying to resist her own lust. She chuckled maniacally, as if she had trouble controlling her actions. "Your false gods decided to give you THAT to try and take vengeance?! HA! They pity you! They don't believe that you can take justice on your tribe! You're merely a lost cause."
The swirls that ran around her robes glowed vibrantly. "Do you smell what's in the air?!" She shouted, her voice purely evil at this point. "I'm siphoning your energy! All of it! Soon, your organs won't have the energy needed to sustain your body and then you'll DIE!"
The Death Portal distorted for a moment, even it couldn't fully withstand the power of Pollutena.
"I fear that they don't have enough time. She is merely demonstrating her capability."
"Maka and Soul need to double their speed and pronto!" replied Death.
"Something's wrong." The witch whispered to herself, and after a small pause she resumed, "I suppose I've overstayed my welcome."
"You're so lucky Phoenix! You'll only have to experience a quick, painless death! I'm so envious!" She scoffed, insanity building within her.
All the meister could do was shut his eyes in trepidation of the furiously swift witch charging at him. He had no means of escape, his weapon completely disabled and no hope from his gods.
"Oh no you don't!"
"What?!" Maka effectively blocked Pollutena's attack. She wielded a large crimson scythe that represented her weapon; the eye adorned near the top handle appeared ruthless and prepared. Relief ran through the amber-colored meister, my life's probably not yet over, he thought.
The witch merely sighed with impatience, "Please excuse me, I don't need your flat-chested body to get in the way of the entertainment I was oh so having."
Maka considered her statement a direct insult and she used it to fuel her irritation. Her pigtails flowed with the slight breeze as she hastily positioned her weapon for the inevitable fight.
The lifeless disc-shaped weapon regained consciousness and transformed into a young girl no older than ten years. She was entirely transparent, only her outline was visible. A portion of the trapped novice meister was freed as well from the witch's clutches. "Banshee!" he shrieked.
Maka lunged toward the witch, but she parried effortlessly like defending herself was a chore. The girl possessed an eerie aura being entirely devoid of color.
"Allow me to unshackle you, Fireheart." She spoke with formality and with a mysterious echo.
The skilled meister forcibly stepped back, "I can't do much, Soul, her body's rough as stone." Her breathing heavy.
"We're only supposed to stall her, not do any damage." Was her reply.
"I know of a method to distract her." The slightly visible weapon, Banshee, mentioned to their rescuers. The recently freed meister stood ready nearby. Maka listened with caution, focusing on the witch while she yawned in boredom.
"Get a head start along with Fireheart, I am capable of handling the situation." Soul transformed back into the white-haired, canine-toothed human. "I'll have your word, strange weapon." He said. The veterans relayed the situation to the novice and he had no other option but to comply. After all, they are his saviors, without their interference he would be dead. They headed toward the academy.
Banshee and Pollutena were left alone, Pollutena exasperated with boredom while Banshee concentrated. The ghost-like weapon began to draw energy from her soul wavelength. She altered the energy to mimic the effect she received when the witch disabled her earlier, effectively utilizing the witch's own attack against her.
Pollutena teleported behind the weapon, but Banshee perceived this. "Your effort mocks me." The witch said, oddly calm but analytical. The weapon was her only threat that the witch cared about. Still, she was cautious not to overexert her power. Not leaving a lasting remark, the barely visible weapon started toward the trio that caught ahead, tracking the trail that was left behind and leaving the witch to bask in her own madness.
She could have easily broken free out of her own technique, but she decided that pursuing the four would be worthless and only prove risky.
The three traveled across grassy plains and rocky mountains. Banshee caught up with them.
"Will that witch follow us?" questioned the fang-toothed weapon. "No, I made sure of that." Was his answer. Soul made a note of the strange echo in her child-like voice.
Phoenix Fireheart was Banshee's meister. Nothing the novice wore spelt symmetry, the right side completely opposite of his burnt left side. While he wasn't always like this, the raiding of his old tribe altered more than his life. Along with the seemingly peaceful tribe he lived with, a part of him remained burned, both physically and mentally.
Banshee, however, wasn't always a ghost.