At first it didn't matter whether you had a soul or not, so long as you carried out your purpose.
Everything had fallen into place. The princess' soul scattered. It forced you to go on a journey and carry out your purpose.
Your "soul" was a bit bothersome, however. It limited your abilities. At first, that seal-that fragment-dictated your demeanor, your love, but not your sacrifice.
You made that wish. You wanted to save her. You, yourself! That had no relation to the fragment in your blinded eye.
But that didn't matter. Because it forced you to fulfill your one and only purpose. To collect the feathers, without fail.
Now that the seal has broken, your methods have become a lot more effective. You no longer wince at the sound of a child's cry, the sight of blood and injustice, of flames and horrified screams.
You no longer have any regard for life, not even your own. Pain doesn't stop you, not physical, nor emotional. I saw you how you hesitated back in Tokyo - the one ruined by acid rain.
You stopped to look at her. Though stripped of a heart, you contemplated her words.
"Don't go." the princess said. Were you really considering staying?
At first it didn't matter whether you had a soul or not, so long as you carried out your purpose.
But why you carry out your purpose may prove to be troublesome, even though it's become so suppressed you've forgotten the "why" altogether.
.
.
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Prompt challenge: Try a new point of view. Choose between First Person POV and Second Person POV for this story.