Author's Note: Alright, so I guess I owe an author's note right about now?

Hello to everyone who's stuck with me thus far! And thank you to all the people who commented/reviewed/ liked! I'm still sort of new at writing fanfic and actually using an account so pardon me if I don't have proper etiquette while using this. But yes thank you. So now for the real author's note!

Around this time it would be good to watch Soul as he enters/exits places. It's going to become important later on. :3 Okay thank you for reading this bit and enjoy chapter three!

The wind ruffled Soul's hair as he sped through the narrow streets of Death City. People murmured and gawked at the death scythe, as he had yet to speak to anyone since Maka died. That had been a five days ago. This was the first of Soul Eater Evans anyone in the city had seen in a while.

Soul swerved to a stop beneath the DWMA, with its soaring midnight towers and gigantic flaming candles and overall Halloween-esque look. A yellow and black sneaker kicked out the stand, and Soul tossed the goggles back on the seat, dashing for the stairs. It was a Friday morning, of course Lord Death would be in school, Soul told himself. Perhaps Soul's arrival would not be anticipated, as death scythes did not need to go to school, but he would get the souls removed as soon as possible.

"Soul. What are you doing here?" Spirit called from the side of the entrance, leaning against a pillar. A cigarette hung from his mouth, a new habit he had picked up after Maka died. A puff of smoke escaped the side of Spirit's mouth as Soul paused to look at the man.

"What are you doing, Death Scythe," Soul mumbled, staring at the only other person who could compete with Soul's untidy appearance. Spirit had become a waste of a man after Maka died. He smoked, he drank, he missed sleep and rarely ate, along with developing a strong disregard for hygiene.

"I could be asking you the same question," Spirit answered, greasy hair sliding in front of his face.

"Get that damn cigarette out of your mouth, Death Scythe. Maka would chop you if she could," Soul reprimanded, fists clenched. Spirit had always ticked off Soul, but with Maka gone, Soul no longer had to play the "calm partner" role.

"Like you have the authority to talk about my daughter," Spirit answered, glaring at Soul, cigarette bobbing as he talked.

"Damn right I do. You're not the only one who's lost sleep around here," Soul replied, angrily marching into the school.

"The day that octopus head shows me something…" Sprit mumbled, staring at the vast city beneath the academy. The cigarette hit the ground, smoldering with heat, before being smothered by a shoe. "Soul. I owe an apology."

Soul strode past the classes full of content meisters and weapons, all smiling or concentrating or dozing off like he used to. None glanced outside at the brooding, unkempt death scythe, and Soul quickly appeared outside the doors to the Death Room, a giant black door decorated with golden spirals. His hand clenched around the handle, frozen around the cool metal. Soul glanced away from the door. This wasn't right. Trying to bring dead people back, making deals with shifty strangers, all of it. Soul huffed, and then swung the door open.

"Lord Death!" he called as the door swung open, taking one large step, but freezing solid as he spied a meister and weapon with the powerful Shinigami.

"Oh, sorry, Soul! I wasn't expecting you! Just give me a moment!" Lord Death answered, holding up one large hand.

Soul, no doubt disheveled and ominous looking, attracted the attention of the younger partners. The girl had long hair and glasses, along with a formal shirt and attentive gaze. Her partner, and likely the weapon, slouched over, wearing an oversize sweatshirt and a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Their gaze lingered on the death scythe, before snapping back to Shinigami.

"No, you get it you two?" Lord Death finished, staring at the children in question.

"Yes, sir!" the girl declared.

"Good. Great. Can we get out of here now? I'm starving," the boy complained.

"You're not very mature. You're lucky you're a weapon so you don't do any work," the girl glared.

"I do too. I eat the souls. And I have to shift between forms. Duh," he said, whirling around to start walking out the door. "At least I look better than that guy."

"That's a death scythe, idiot!" she admonished quietly, the two leaving the Death Room. "And he's a real scythe just like you!"

"Whatever. Let's get going," he said, and the door slammed after the partners, leaving Soul and Lord Death alone.

"Hiya Soul, how's it going!" Lord Death questioned with a wave.

"Lord Death, I need to ask something of you. I need you to remove the souls. All 100," Soul stated.

"Now, Soul, why would you do that?" Shinigami asked with a cock of the head.

"Lord Death, trust me. I can't be your death scythe right now."

"If this is about—."

"This isn't about Maka," Soul interrupted. "It's something this cool guy's gotta do."

"Are you sure? This really is a big decision."

Soul grinned, jagged teeth gleaming. "Yeah."

"Okay, Soul. If that's what you want," Lord Death answered tentatively, stretching his fingers. White light erupted in the Death Room, throwing shadows across Soul's face. There was no turning back.