Raylean-Ann-Bowie: Thank you!

theotakuprincessofgotham: Oh, yes, I definitely plan on continuing this!

Confetti108: I hate the stories where Lord Death falls dramatically in love. T.T He can be a dramatic character, but that's a bit overboard

OPA26: Glad you find it interesting so far

Sorry it took me so long, I was kind of struggling with this chapter. I already have the next chapter written up, but it needs to be tweaked. Let me know if you think this one could be improved as well!

I do not own Soul Eater!

Death looked around slowly. "Where did you go?"

He thought he could hear the witch and he focused on pinpointing her wavelength. It was a tactic he was just starting to get used to. He looked at his warriors, noticing Asura was no longer there. He heard a screech and they took off in the direction of the horrible sound.

The purple soul of a witch was on the ground, twitching. Asura was clutching his weapon partner tightly with one hand while the other was by his mouth. He was chewing his fingernails again. Death went over to him.

"Excellent work, Asura." He praised, placing a friendly hand on his apprentice's shoulder.

"Thank you, sir." Asura's voice came out muffled from the dozens of scarfs he had wrapped around his head.

Asura was strange, but Death trusted him with his life. He had grown up with him and Eibon, being a couple hundred years older than the two of them. He turned to his warriors.

"Go back. I still have business to attend to." He commanded.

They bowed and disappeared, leaving him in the dark forest. The sky was painted blood red, the moon leering abhorrently down at him. He liked the moon, with its bloody mouth. It put him in the mood for reaping the souls of sinners. He looked to his list and his eyes narrowed. The top name was "Ophelia Thioren."

This time for sure. He headed back to the town and was mildly surprised he didn't find her wandering the streets like the last two times. He caught the townspeople by surprise and watched them in amusement as they scrambled to the nearest buildings, locking the doors behind them. He looked around, determining her house, and spotted it with ease. It was the only house with a garden full of flowers. He walked through the gate and grabbed the doorknob, turning it. It was unlocked.

The house was open and airy, light filtering in from the number of windows. The air in the house was sweet smelling, the scents of different species of flowers lingering together. Like the outside, there were flowers all over the place. Death squinted his eyes, unused to the light. How did she get it to be so light in here?

"I'm in the kitchen!" She called, not knowing who her guest was.

He moved into the kitchen and paused in the doorway, casting a shadow across her. Ophelia turned around and smiled.

"Hello, Death. What are you here for today?" Her tone was teasing.

"I have come for your soul." He said.

Her smile widened. "Alright. Go ahead and take it."

Death pulled out his scythe and leveled it with her throat. She stood there patiently, eyes on his mask. He imagined ripping through her wispy body, leaving behind her light blue soul. His arm twitched, but otherwise didn't move.

"Well? Aren't you going to take it?" She asked, her smile beginning to fall. She was as confused as he was.

He growled and she visibly flinched from the grating sound. "Of course I'm going to take it!"

Ophelia looked up at him and tilted her head to the side. "...Well, if you aren't going to take my soul...would you like a slice of pie?"

Death lowered his scythe and stared at her, puzzled. "What?"

"Or, do you not eat? I don't know much about gods, except, you know, they're immortal." She smiled sheepishly.

"We're not immortal." He replied automatically.

"Huh? You die?"

He put his scythe away. "In a way, we are immortal. We'll live forever as long as we don't die in battle. However, we do not get ill. We can eat, but I see no need to consume human food."

Why was he telling her all this? He abruptly turned around and began to leave. "Mr. Death, what about my soul?"

"Wrong human." He called back, leaving her house.

The next day he did the same thing. She was kneeling in her garden, carefully getting rid of weeds, the sleeves of her dress rolled past her bony elbows. Her skirt was dirty and she had a smudge of dirt on her face, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Ophelia Thioren, I am here for your soul."

She didn't turn around and Death tilted his head in confusion. He repeated himself louder and got the same result. With a small snarl, he pulled out his scythe and placed the blade against the back of her neck. She stopped and slowly turned around.

"Wow, you're impatient, aren't you?" She asked nonchalantly.

"I do not like to be ignored." He stated, keeping the blade against her neck.

"Naturally." She winced when he dug the tip in, a thin line of blood blooming. He stared at it hungrily.

"Well, I won't stop you."

Death blinked and looked at her. She was staring evenly at him. He pulled his scythe away. "Why are you not afraid of death?"

"Like I said, it's a beautiful thing. It's life I am afraid of." She said the last part so softly, he almost didn't hear it.

"You are a strange human." She shrugged and turned back to her garden.

He watched her for a few minutes. She carefully dug the earth around the weeds and plucked them out of the dirt, tossing them in a neat pile off to her right. She did it methodically without a moment of hesitation.

"Why do you pull the weeds out that way?" He queried after she uprooted the fifth weed.

Ophelia paused and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Weeds have feelings like flowers do. It's a shame. If they didn't harm my flowers, I wouldn't mind them."

Death furrowed his brow. "Plants do not have feelings."

She turned around and looked at him like he had said something obscene. "Sure they do! They also respond positively to soft music."

He shook his head at her and repeated himself. "Strange human, indeed."

She smiled. "That may be, but with all due respect, Mr. Death, I am not the one tarrying with a condemned soul."

His eyes narrowed and he wrapped his claw-like hands around her throat tightly.

"If you speak to me like that again I will flay you until all that is left is muscle!"

She didn't seem particularly unruffled, but it was her eyes that led him to believe she was afraid.

She croaked hoarsely, "Forgive me. I do not wish to anger a god."

While he was sure she meant for it to sound condescending, he released her. She landed clumsily on her feet, stumbling back a step or two. He watched her rub her sore neck with disdain.

"You humans are such foolish creatures. You view me as a god. There is no such thing. I am before your time, something beyond your understanding." He spat.

Her cheeks flushed and she crossed her arms childishly across her chest. "You look down on us because you believe we can't comprehend you? You greatly underestimate us."

"I do no such thing. Each time I think humans are intelligent, they do something to prove me wrong. Wars, murder, rape. All done by humans. You are primitive, savage. You've no idea the number of innocent souls I have taken because of someone else's doing." He pointed his scythe at her accusingly.

Ophelia frowned. She rolled down the sleeves of her dress and wiped her hands on her skirt. She walked past him toward the front door of her house. She tossed carelessly over her shoulder, "You don't need to convince me there are some evil humans out there. There is good in the world. You need to look out for it more often."

She closed the door behind her, leaving Death to stand outside in bewilderment. With a snort, he left her yard, walking down the street.

"'Good in the world.' Humans ruin my world, there is no good when they are present." He groused to himself, ignoring the apprehensive glances he was getting by the few souls brave enough to venture out.

As he walked, he tried to convince himself he was right. Yet, he began to notice the people in the town helping each other. He watched a woman purchase an apple for a hungry looking child. A man was fixing a toy for a group of boys. He walked past them, watching the boys' beaming faces as they ran off with their mended toy. He felt an odd twinge, something he had never experienced before, that followed him until he returned to the camp where his warriors were.

"Did you get the soul?" Eibon inquired from where he was seated beneath an oak tree.

Death froze and scowled. "Dammit. I got sidetracked."