Disclaimer: Randomcat23 does not own Soul Eater.
Ever smiling, the yellow moon shined above the thin clouds, watching Soul trudge through the black woods.
Relax.
Soul's tendons screamed against his weak march. Mud sucked at his feet and gnarly roots blocked a straight course. Even as he commanded his legs to move faster, his pace only slowed. How far had that damned beast carried him? How far was he from Maka?
Relax.
Soul dared not to look, but he knew each beat, each pump of his heart dumped rivers of blood down his chest.
There was no coming back from this wound.
Relax.
That was the voice of death between his ears, so much like the tantalizing speech of madness. Soul grinned wolfishly at the tempting words, "Not yet."
His head pounded with memories of the last battle and the snarling, black beast that plunged its claws through Soul's scarred skin and muscle.
Reliving it helped him focus. They had chased their foe deep into this ancient woods, following its howling cries. In a clearing under the brilliance of the moon, the beast suddenly turned and launched an attack.
Maka, confident as always, had swung Soul with precision, landing hits across the beast's arms and chest. Before she could pull and slash it in two, the beast had whipped around and threw Maka and Soul far into the woods. It licked its fangs hungrily, glaring at the fallen girl.
Soul transformed instantly and blocked the beast's attack on Maka. He slashed its snout just before Maka leapt back to her feet. With what should have been the final blow, Maka embedded Soul into the creature's back, blasting through thick muscle. A claw retaliated, pushing the girl away again into a pile of leaves.
It then had turned, dug its paws into the soft earth and pounced away with Soul deep in its back.
As the beast sprinted away from his meister, Soul transformed again and clung to his ride's slick fur. With a snarl it shook its head savagely and one of its flailing claws punched through Soul's chest with sickening ease. Quickly, Soul sliced through its neck and tumbled as his foe finally fell for the last time amongst the damp rocks and moss.
Mission complete.
Soul then began retracing his steps with uneasy satisfaction.
Let go.
"Maka!" Coughs wrecked his body. He spat a bloody mass and then scanned the darkening woods.
Rest, you did well.
No, death was not like madness, he decided. Rather, it was a calm voice, welcoming instead of demanding.
Too welcoming.
Too promising.
Tripping, Soul tumbled to the ground, knees smacking into the muck. He forced the thick air from his lungs. "Breathe, idiot, you're not done yet." He made a mistake then by dipping his head and resting it on his sticky chest.
Blood, so much of it, leaked from his torn flesh, taking his strength with it.
Come now.
Soul willed his head up, latching his gaze onto anything but the busted mess underneath. "I have to find Maka..."
Sleep, Soul Evans.
"...and make sure she's okay."
"Soul!" Like a bell, Maka's call rang through the woods, shattering the voice of death. He could not hear her sprinting over the blood pounding in his head, but Soul smiled.
"She's up and running, good." His knees sunk a little more into the mud. As his eyes focused, Maka arrived and dropped to level with her partner, horror clear on her unharmed face. "Promise fulfilled."
Her frantic hands hovered over his bleeding skin, useless. "We have to get you to Professor Stein, now!"
Stein's needle and thread were the fix for wounds, Soul remembered, pulling his teacher's face from his ebbing cloud of memories. Stein was also unfortunately nowhere nearby. Maka wrapped her arms under his and futilely tried to lift him. She stepped away with red, red hands and wet eyes. "Soul, you have to use your legs. You have to help me!"
"Maka's so persistent." Soul could not find the strength to crack a joke or muster another cocky grin for her. "She's safe, that's what matters." His eyelids drooped as coughs shook his entire body, breaking what will he had left.
You're done, Soul.
It was not an unkind voice.
"I am," the Death Scythe resigned.
Hands pushed his shoulders upright and green, so green, eyes met his hazy red ones. "I'm going to get you out of here." The moon flashed on her trailing tears.
He shook his head.
Maka clenched his shoulders, "Soul Eater, don't you dare give up!" Her screaming pleas came to his hears as muffled whispers.
He was not giving up.
He was giving in.
Now rest.
So comforting.
So right.
Unlike madness, which liked to scream its demands, death simply asked and waited for him to accept.
"Maka," he sputtered her name as she kept him from falling. "I'm...not sorry."
"I'm not sorry we became partners."
"I'm not sorry I promised to save you, whatever the risk."
"I'm not sorry I fell in love with you."
"I'm not sorry I saved you today."
Soul's head fell, his once white hair stuck in a matted mess, and relaxed on Maka's trembling shoulder.
"Soul!"
Rest.
"Please get up!" Maka's hoarse yells barely registered in his mind.
Rest now.
He could not feel her tears, or even her grip.
"Soul, please!" Maka turned her head away, screaming for help. The dark woods absorbed her cries and offered no comfort.
There was nobody to hear her anguish except the grinning moon.
Now that I got that angst out of my system, I think I can return to work on my other stories. For anyone interested, the title of this story is after the song "The Killing Moon," by Echo and the Bunnymen.
I'm sure I could sit around and ponder how exactly Shinigama-sama fits in with people dying and their last moments. However, in this story 'death' is more of an internal voice.
Let me know what you think!-randomcat23