A/N: Okay, seriously guys, do you want 1st person POVs or 3rd person? Because I am a bit confused, someone suggested I do POV so I did, should I stick to it? Or return to third person? Or switch between at different scenes? Tell me what you want seriously… otherwise I'll use POV only when I can't otherwise capture the depths of the emotion I want to describe. PLUS made this a bit longer to make up for not posting last week… Forgive me guys.

-Chapter 10-

A new adventure

"So, your choice…" Shinigama began slowly, the non-existent voice loud in Soul's ears, "is so: either I take you back to the Red Fort Prison, or you visit a friend of mine, I would be very interested to see where you got that extra power from, and Stein no doubt would be even more so…" The beast said each word with deliberateness and a slow finality.

"That's not a choice you lying shit." Soul spat. He was annoyed - he'd been hoping for at least a half-decent choice. He should have seen this coming.

"Hah. Hah." Shinigama rasped with each breath, his voice tearing unnaturally with the sound, "Yes it is, and I would think it rather an easy one to make".

"Fine, I'll see this 'Stein'" Soul reluctantly agreed, he ran his hand through his hair, sliding it to the side and out of his sight-line. "Where is he? What do I have to do?" he queried.

"Well I'm pretty sure that you have a certain someone you have to... take care of...first"

Shit, Soul thought, I completely forgot about her...

"Yea, give me a couple days, she's not a problem" Poor Aelia, she was so unlucky, Soul thought with a combination of indifference and lack of emotion. His mind returned to the God in front of him.

"Be there by the end of the month, or when I return I will make sure you regret it. He resides on the outskirts of Death City, look for the broken time-keeper with gnarled hands. Take this; you'll need it to get through the border, use the name you told Aelia... Kato…Hah" Another single rasp rattled out.

The bony hand delved into the depths of his shape, withdrawing and releasing into the air a small medallion. The metal object glinted slyly as it dropped so languidly, as though it weighed but a feather, into Soul's outstretched palm.

The sight was deceptive for as it touched his skin it seemed to increase its weight to that of a large stone. And, as Soul tried to keep his arm outstretched, the already tired muscles began to spasm against the sudden shock - pulling it close to his chest made holding it easier.

Soul carefully examined it – its shape was that of a squared cross; sharp edges pointed inwards like axe-blades at each end, the 4 great rivers depicted running in the centres met in the middle, surrounded by an embossed wreath of ivy.

It was not particularly ornate, but it was clear that it was crafted by the hand of a skilled smith – flawless. Glancing up Soul saw the Death God's shadowy existence swell and swarm around him, the polluting colours wrapping around his face and body in an undulating, bloated ball.

The once quasi-physical body now barely even that. The cloud thickened infinitely around the god, and compressed him, before exploding into a transparency.

"Mithras save me" Soul exhaled out loud, taking the name of some far-off religion's god in vain. He hated that Shinigama with a passion. His muscles were tight again, rolling his shoulders he groaned, the sheet of soreness that ran under his skin was uncomfortably constricting.

Goddamn I can't get a day of rest.

He had forgotten that he was still only in his boxers, the chequered material loose against him - his only modesty. The sheen of sweat that had gathered on his smooth skin had gradually cooled, like a thin lake of ice it sucked his warmth away.

The goose bumps that now made themselves visible like a million hills did nought to fend off the small shivers that trembled along his skin.

Throwing aside the heavy curtains a new wave of cold air flooded down and around his legs, causing him to shiver, the muscles rippling sharply, twisting him involuntarily. Wrapping an arm around his chest he looked out at the horizon through the mottled panes of glass in front that separated him from the peaceful, slumbering village.

The small trails of chimney-smoke sat in the air as though solid, so slowly did they move. The soft clouds on the horizon had begun to glow ever so faintly with the heat of the sun that had yet to emerge and show its sickly face; its large, manic, unceasing smile.

Soul estimated it was around 5:30, he hadn't had much sleep, but he was used to that. He lightly grated his nails across his chest, feeling his muscles hotter from the shivering. He was in good shape and though he needed to start training again, it could wait. He had more pressing matters on his mind, the shapeless Stein haunted him – he knew that if Stein was associated with Shinigama then he would not be a friendly character…

Making a concerted effort to push the thoughts of his new mission - he laughed out loud as he used that word – mission – like the old times… He focussed on the task at hand, or rather the person. Soul hadn't a choice, Aelia had proven herself a dogged follower throughout his travels, and he'd only ever been able to get ahead of her, never lose her.

The thought of that failure hurt his pride; the only way he had risen to his now lost position was through consistent and exceptional success in all areas – including evading an enemy. Well, the lack of choice would certainly make killing her easier, seeing as he no longer needed another reason to justify the heartless action.

Removing the only article of clothing he was wearing, he stepped under the shower, using the pain from the too-hot water to clear his mind. The searing liquid was burning his skin, but he didn't adjust it. The silky fire scorched deep into him, cauterising the present. As soon as Soul realised that the Sun's intense rays now bleached his room, he got out and got dressed.

He chose a new suit, one that mattered less to him but was still perfectly fitted to his shape. The charcoal grey punctuated by cyan pin-stripes that ran almost invisibly down him. A white shirt clasped itself to him, almost too tightly, taught around his broad chest. Lacing his pointed shoes, he did them up tightly, reminding himself what he had to do.

Trotting down the stairs he went to have his breakfast – as it was still early he was going to wait for Aelia to wake and come down herself, as he knew she would to search for the person hiding under her nose.

Sitting quietly in his familiar corner, he closed his eyes and leant back; enjoying the blanket of tiredness that covered his mind, slowing him down. He wasn't concerned, a strong coffee would wake him quickly and he had a fresh pot sitting on the edge of the table, the rich scent of the hot vapours filling the room.

The light sound of heels made him look up, and as his target was here, he decided that he'd need that coffee now. Pouring a cup he drank it quickly, knowing he had burnt his tongue but not caring.

He cleared his throat purposefully, drawing her attention. Aelia walked softly towards him, curious as to what he may want. She knew that she could never truly tell what was going on in the inside of his mind, but she figured she had him read pretty well.

"Hey Kato" She wondered whether she should be more formal, but his normal poker face didn't change so she figured she could continue "I was wondering whether, seeing as you're a military man, you could help me find the serial killer… I'm sure the government would give you a hefty reward?" She hoped the money would interest him.

Perfect thought Soul maliciously "Yea why not, I get so bored on holidays…" He spoke with only the slightest nuance of sarcasm underlying his speech, as mostly it had been true, as much as he regretted its being so. "Do you have any ideas as to where to start?"

Aelia looked at his rhythmically moving lips, their contrasting colour captivating her. "From the beginning?" She hesitantly said the obvious, not having thought so far ahead.

Grabbing the blazer he had removed, he lifted and folded it over his left arm, before gesturing forwards with his right – imitating some high-born gentleman. She let her eyes trace over the skin of his fore-arm which she could see as he'd rolled up his sleeves -the veins pushed gently against the skin, the muscle beneath leaving no room for them.

He snapped his fingers in impatience and the small action resulted in the pulsing of muscles. She apologised, and taking her old, muddied cape from the stand by the door, she pulled it around her, the fatigued material hung limply around her – tired of its long duty.

As Aelia walked out the front door she didn't see Soul behind pull back his lips in a slight sneer as he looked at the dishevelled cloth on her back. He was glad that he'd never had to wear the same thing for so long that it looked like it would tear at a moment's notice. He slid his left hand along the door as he followed Aelia into the fresh morning air.

It was a bad move, the old wood had splintered from where people had decided to dramtically kick the door open, and one lone piece speared its way into his palm. The sliver went deep, Soul inhaled sharply; yanking his hand back the sliver tore from the door and stayed lodged in him.

Quietly Soul followed Aelia, his teeth gritted as he dealt with the pain – his face belied no emotion and, bar the tensed jaw, was a perfect image of tranquillity. Each beat of his heart sent pulse after pulse of throbbing, white needles of pain up his arm.

Blood now seeped around the wound; the viscous life slowly trickled its way down the inside of his partially hanging hand, catching in the lines and callouses of his palm. Lifting his palm to his mouth he enveloped the puncture, gently prodding with his tongue he found the end of the splinter and carefully - delicately bit down on it and drew the barbed wood from his flesh.

The molten copper that flowed into his mouth as he took the last of the piece out was more than he expected, he spat out the wood as the door slammed behind him and sealed his lips around the puncture.

Looking around, Aelia saw Soul's mouth covered with blood, and his palm pressed against his lips. It looked as though he had chewed into his hand. She exclaimed.

"No, just a small splinter. I'm fine." His voice was muffled from behind his hand, using his clean hand he slid carefully the jacket from the crook of his arm, careful for it not to get bloodied, and placed it over a nearby bench.

Using his freed hand he blindly grasped inside his pocket before drawing out from it a silk handkerchief, the icy white cloth melted against the wound, the hot blood flooding through the threads, and as the microscopic plains filled, drips did trickle through.

Soul watched one drop, its curved body serenely fell, caught in the air, the light glinting off its smooth skin. The bloody tear struck the powdery ground, a tiny explosion caught in the muck as the blood now settled in a tiny circle at his feet.

He clenched the handkerchief in his hand; excess crimson squeezed out between his fingers, staining his nails. He ran his now incredibly red tongue around his lips, tasting the drying blood. Aelia's eyes widened.

"Go on ahead; I just need to wash my face." He commanded as he walked away to the stables, intending to use the water trough. Aelia was somewhat dazed, his apparent enjoyment at the taste of blood perturbed her and she was secretly glad to get some distance.

The trail into the humble village was guarded by two great weeping willows. Their shoulders high as their cracked and coarse arms hung over one another, like two people about to embrace, the leafy ceiling breaking, shattering the light that came through form the sky.

The eddies of wind scuttled through the leafy fingers up above, a dazzling show of light upon the ground as the shadows ran side to side, their random patterning flickering over Aelia as she passed through, the tendrils brushing her hair like long fingers draped from the sky.

Soul walked quickly, his hand still clenched around the stained silk, he no longer looked like a wild cannibal, rather he was back to his character - the smart officer. The right side of his mouth pulled up in a smirk as he thought that.

Head down, he soon caught up to Aelia, the pain in his hand now reduced. He was thankful that it was his left that was injured, as he'd need his right to finish her. Walking through the same natural doorway, a breeze over took him; the leaves shuddered as Soul passed underneath, their branches creaking, and trunks moaning. The leaves huddled close together above him.

"Hey" Soul grunted, letting Aelia know he was close behind her.

"Oh, hey, what happened?" Hoping for an explanation to settle her stomach.

"Nothing, just a small splinter I had to take out" He nonchalantly replied.

"Looked like a lot of blood for a small splinter…"

"Nah, it must have just clipped a vein is all, I'm sure the bleeding will stop soon"
Truthfully Soul was slightly worried; he'd known people to die from less. He clenched the stained cloth tighter, knuckles whitening, he wanted to make sure the bleeding stopped soon; he needed that hand too… "Hey, why don't we check further up the tracks, then we can get a good heading where he was going, he may have tried to throw some stuff over the cliff edge too, we should check there…" He led her, hoping that he wasn't being too obvious.

"Wow, you really know your stuff huh…" Slightly impressed at his quick plan.

"Yea I've done a lot for the government in my time" Shit, that implies I'm no longer working for them… Hopefully she doesn't realise…

"Oh, that would make sense I guess. My husband was only in the local guard, he wouldn't have had any of the experiences you'd have had in the real army…" "She reminisced forlornly, ending with a soft sigh.

Eurgh, emotions. Soul thought, disgusted. They are so annoying. They stop you being successful, stop you winning, stop you from being on top.

Though Soul didn't like to recall, he had experienced emotions, and so felt his arguments were justified. Emotions are too clouding. Soul hadn't realised the subtle influence the Imp was having, from the armchair in its room it guided Soul's thoughts, the smile warping around the misshapen head; pointed nails clicking together in rhythm.

The forest thickened substantially to the left, great trees filled every space, and the vines that climbed fought to find light. Their large dark leaves like plates. The bushes' gnarled twigs pierced against the trunks, and the spines viciously grabbed at anything that came too close, their sharp fingers unmoving yet so dangerous.

The heady scent of the forest fell into the road, the heavy hum of life buzzing statically. The right was considerably emptier, a sharp plummet formed from a jagged tear in the earth.

The bare, sun-scorched rock exposing the lines of a millennia. The glowing chestnut and cardinal strips of stone rising majestically upwards. Almost floating islands balanced precariously on needle thin towers that extended down below, the land mark of a dead silver birch that sat upon one had many a story in the town.

The sterling bark and entwined branches reaching up, as though it would help, the dead alabaster roots hung from and clung to the platform, like a large hand grasping for purchase. The radiation from the stone gently baked their skin.

This is the place, she'll soon become just another story of a girl who fell while reaching for the tree.

"I think I see something up there." Soul pointed to a small outcrop that he had noticed jutting over the precipitous edge.

Aelia scurried forth quickly in eagerness, Soul was close behind. He was on her heels and she had no idea. As she crouched examining the empty ground Soul took a strong stance and using his good hand, grabbed her collar. Lifting her off balance and over the edge…

A/N: Sorry, I bet you guys hate me for leaving it here, but I have work I need to do!