Who Am I?
By Soul-Eater J. Evans
Summary: "You're going to kill yourself if you keep this up, Evans." I shook my head furiously. No, be quiet, I'm not listening to you..."Evans? Evans!" The screaming grew softer as the darkness consumed my soul.
Author's Note: OK, this is my second fanfiction, and I hope you guys like it. I was feeling down before, and this kind of explains how I felt...I guess. After I post this, I hope Chiu-tan will forgive me! This could be a one-shot, but if you guys like it tell me if I should continue. Please review, my friends...I need them more than you know.
Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater, but my friends call me Soul, and my best friend I call Maka. See the irony? No? Well then, go ahead and read it.
I've always struggled with this one daunting question: "Who am I?" Often I would ask this aloud, and the answer would always be the same familiar amused flash of green eyes and swish of pigtails as my Meister would reply: "You're Soul-Eater, silly!"
I only can look back on those times and sigh to myself quietly. No more crying for me, there was to be no more crying, no more pitying. It was time to grow up.
Silently I climbed to the top of the small grassy hill, yellowish grass flaking away at my feet and floating away in the wind. Another sigh. Winter was aproaching fast, and the grass was dying away already in Whales. My hometown never looked so dreary.
This misson, my misson was going to be difficult, I'd heard. Several Weapon and Meister pairs had taken it on and come back to the academy more than just battered and bruised, each and every one had been on the brink of dying. It didn't comfort me in the least that Lord Death had asked me personally to accept the responsibility of taking this witch's soul. Granted, I only needed one more to become a Death Scythe, but still, it wouldn't be the same without Maka.
My breath hitched in my throat as a tear unwillingly escaped from my eye. I brought my sleeve to capture the offensive thing and wiped it away in one motion before my hand went straight back into the pocket from whence it came. Crying wouldn't change anything. Maka was dead and no amount of crying would miraculously bring her back.
As night fell, I roamed the empty streets in search of this witch. Alone. These days I was feeling more alone than ever. After the funeral it seemed that everyone, all my friends, simply couldn't confront me. Black*Star stopped talking to me, as well as Tsubaki, and Kid, Patty and Liz simply looked too ashamed to even glance in my direction, especially Kid. Most likely he felt guilty, but it was redicoulous; I wouldn't directly blame him for Maka's death, even if he was a Grimm Reaper. Death was simply something associated with him, nothing more. He understands more than anyone, if that. Since the original Lord Death faded none too long ago, the academy has seemed a less-than-cheeful place in general. And now, with Kid as Grimm Reaper, it seems that the DWMA has taken a very grim change in atmosphere.
Alone. I've been alone since...Since... I can't even remember clearly. Maka perished none too long after we collected our 62nd soul and frankly I've lost count of the day-no-week-no-years. Sometimes I wonder if my mind is all that stable considering I can't remember the last time I've smiled. Maka. She would have slapped me on the back and whipped me into shape. But she's gone. I can't even bear to remember more than just a moment because the second I do...a horrible ache rips through my chest and I feel like I can't even stand. Truthfully, at her funeral, I believe I remember collapsing in pain.
Alone. These days I go on missions alone. I train alone, becoming faster, stronger, everything I wasn't before, now I am. I isolate myself every day from everything I once associated with Maka. "She is gone," I have to tell myself to keep me going. "But she would want you to finish the mission."
"Finish the mission," I muttered, before I heard a scream puncture the stangant night air. Around the corner, I ran, arms pumping. There. The witch. She was a thin, willowy figure, like a ballerina. Her face as smooth and round as a porceliean doll and pale like bleached bones. Her vivid, almost shimmering red eyes locked with my own. Her hair hung in springy tufts of black hay, and she was wearing a red and black kimono with a picture of a bat embroidered on the front. Both of her arms were covered in glowing cherry blossom tattoos. She was leaning over a young girl's dead body, the innocent's blood still dripping from her mouth. She licked the thin stream from the corner of her lips and grinned at me malevolently.
"Hello again, Soul Eater. How's Maka?" Her voice was sickeningly sweet, and all too familiar. I felt rage explode within my heart as my arm quickly took the shape of my blade. This was to be ended quickly. She was not to be given the mercy of torture. She was not to be given the satisfaction knowing that she was hated. I kept my face blank as stood there, waiting for the attack I knew was coming.
"Almaria the bat witch," I almost wispered. "Your days of murdering are done. Your soul is mine..." In a flash she was at my throat, but I ducked and her fangs were only met by air. My blade came closer and she hissed grotesquely. I almost smirked as Maka's murderer was given due justice, her screams stirring the insanity buried within my disturbed soul.
I hadn't noticed really, how much blood-loss I incurred with my fight with Almaria. At this point I seriously didn't care. Stein looked over my chart and shook his head, muttering "tsk tsk" or at least something that sounded like that.
I sat up quickly, ignoring the soreness of my ribs. That witch fought dirty, but in the end it was I who won. Her soul was quite tasty. Shame she didn't suffer as long as I had liked. Walking to the front of my cot, Stein made another "tsk" sound and looked me dead in the eyes. His expression was serious beyond anything I'd ever seen.
"You're going to kill yourself if you keep this up, Evans..." he placed the clipboard on my food tray and said in a low voice. "I think you should take a break, even if you are now a Death Scythe." I shook my head furiously, my chest burning. Even if our mission was complete. Kid was counting on me being his personal weapon. It was what Maka would have wanted.
No, be quiet, I'm not listening to you... I gave a heavy sigh, as the burning grew stronger. It spread across the scar on my chest and my vision grew dimmer by the second.
"Soul?" asked Stein. It was like hearing him through cotton. I felt my body wrench forward slightly as I tried to fight the burning.
"Evans? Evans!" The screaming of my name grew softer as I fell backwards, and the darkness slowly but painfully consumed my soul.
I awoke to hear Maka calling me. She was smiling and holding my hand as we sat on a fluffy white cloud.
"Who am I?" I heard myself say, the words distorted and weak. Her hair was out, fluffy and shining like spun gold. From her back were two slender wings, folded casually.
"You're Soul-Eater, silly!" she replied brightly, before pulling me to my feet.
"Where am I? Heaven?"
And suddenly the landscape darkened, I could hear cackling and the crackle of fire. Sulfer attacked my nose as all around me I saw red sky. In the cloud a trap door opened, revealing fire.
"No, silly!" replied the Maka angel with a breezy laugh. "You're in hell!" Her voice was so kind and so strikingly sadistic as she pushed me into the searing flames. I coughed miserably as my lungs beheld the horror of my situation.
Falling, falling, I was falling face-first into hell.