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Chapter One: I the lowly Musician...

Five years later:

At the bottom of his stomach, something stirred.

"Hey bud!" said a bright and cheery voice from the right front seat.

Soul cringed inwardly to look up from his book. Right now he was reading one of the Maximum Ride series, and he was just getting to the part where Fang kisses Lissa, when—

"Shouldn't you be studying or practicing reading music or something?" said the voice, losing a fraction of it's cordiality and becoming more like a scolding parent. Soul frowned and put the book over his head, feeling a bit ill. He knew cars, reading, and himself didn't truly (or regularly) mix, but still, it was turning out to be a good book. Soul never really read much these days except his textbooks and sheet music so it was a good change of pace.

"Hey, Evans? You okay?" said the voice again, now concerned. Soul peeked at his manager from underneath the book and sighed. Kaz was leering at him, he had pulled his shades down and raised a dark shapely eyebrow in silent question.

Soul looked outside the window and felt a slight case of vertigo. His stomach leaped.

"You're looking green, bud."

Soul just knew he should have skipped breakfast.

"Pull over!" he yelled, jumping up. The book tumbled onto the seat, and the limo skidded to a halt and he opened the door to puke.

Kaz looked at him blandly when Soul was finished and tossed him two more pills.

"I think they wore off, don't you think, Soul?"

Soul scowled and downed the motion sickness medicine quickly, chasing it with a bottle of Evian. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, wiping his mouth.

No more reading in the car for me.

"Hey," said Kaz brightly. "You're looking down, bud." He grinned from ear to ear. "I know what'll cheer you up." Kaz whipped out the newspaper. "Reviews~!" sang the manager.

Oh, no.

"Let's see, Soul Eater Evans." He point to the black and white page. "There ya are!"

Soul groaned, and pulled at his hair in silent anguish. Kaz didn't notice.

"Mr. Evans shows remarkable potential. If you thought his recordings were good, hear him in person!" Kaz grinned again. "I've been to several of his concerts, and each time I have been double-wowwed, again and again. Compared to his brother Wes—,"

"Stop."

Kaz pulled down his shades again. "Why, kid? I was just getting to the best part of the review."

"I don't need to hear anymore."

"But wh—,"

"You of all people should know I don't like being compared to Wes, we're nothing alike."

"Well, you look the same to me."

Soul grit his sharp teeth and stuffed his face into Kaz's, red eyes apprehensive. The startled manager shuddered at the sudden dreadful image of Soul chomping on his nose or something.

"We do not look the same. Got it?"

"F-fine," said Kaz weakly, putting his hands up in defeat. "You're complete opposites."

"Thank you." He settled into the leather seat comfortably and closed his eyes. We are not moving, we are NOT moving, Soul-Eater. "Where are we going again?"

"We are going to visit the casting director of Rogue Pictures. They asked specifically for you."

"Why a mediocre musician like me?"

-sigh- "You mean a brilliant recording artist like yourself can't figure it out?"

"No," stated Soul moodily. "Bring me up to speed. Enlighten me, Kaz."

"He wants you to star in this new idea of his friend, Atsushi Ōkobo."

Soul opened one heavy lid halfway. "You mean the manga-artist?" He'd read B. Ichi. Soul shrugged. He guessed the guy was alright if he made a decent series like that. "So what's his idea?"

"You."

Now the teen was confused. "What?"

"You, you're his newest idea."

"Imagine~" said the Japanese man, spreading his arms wide. " A world where people turn into weapons!"

Soul stared at him as he sketched his newest "project" as he called him. The boy had a scowl on his face, showing a perfect view of his special set of teeth. Ōkobo relished in the moment, taking in all of Soul's features: the spiky white hair, the menacingly vivid red eyes, the teeth—especially the teeth.

"And the ones who control these weapons are called Meisters!"

"Meisters?" asked Soul.

"Yes, weapon Meisters," affirmed the man, still drawing. "They go to this school where they fight evil. Called Shinigami Buki Shokunin Senmon Gakkō, "shibusen" for short ."

"You may want to translate the name..." said the fifteen-year old.

He smiled at Soul. "The school is run by Shinigami-sama..."

Soul felt his eye twitch. "Who?"

"Um...I think you call him 'The Grim Reaper' in America."

"And what do the students do exactly?" he was now intrigued.

"They're supposed to collect Souls."

"Souls?"

"Souls," stated the man simply. "99 evil ones and one of an evil witch. So that the weapons can become a— ," the translation was a bit sticky in his mind. "A Death Scythe, one of the Grimm Reaper's personal weapons."

"Cool. Are all of the weapons scythes?"

"Thank you, Evans-sama, but no there's all types. Swords, bows, pistols."

"Call me Soul. Now...where do I fit into this?" asked Soul, pointing to himself.

"You are to mostly act yourself, while staying in the boundaries of the story."

"Uh huh, so what's my role?"

"The main character."

"Who is?"

"Soul-Eater Evans."

"I get it that's my name, but who am I playing?"

"Soul-Eater Evans," said Ōkobo seriously. "A scythe, but nonetheless yourself." He held up the picture he'd been working on while they were seated across from each other in the room.

"That's me?" He saw himself drawn as this amazing anime character with a headband with his name and everything. A cool-looking jacket, and a zig-zagged grimace on his face. Next to the drawing of himself, however was that of a scythe.

"You can have the drawing if you'd like."

"Thanks." He accepted the paper from him and held it up. "So this is some kind of reality-yet-fiction show?"

A nod.

"I've got one question: who's to play the part of my, uh... Meister?"

There was an impatient knock on the door.

"Come in please," said Ōkobo. "I asked her specifically as well," he whispered to Soul, sho only stared at the doorway in disgust.

"Hello? Am I supposed to meet my co-star here?"

Those familiar little pigtails and bright green eyes. Soul kicked himself repeatedly in his mind, wishing he'd disappear any second. Just vanish, like now. The girl narrowed her eyes at almost the same time as he did.

"You," they both said in unison.

It's her.

That foul-mouthed mutt.

Ōkobo-sama might as well have set off an atomic bomb.

So...how was it? Please Review my friends.