The Other Side - Chapter 8: Soul Reaping

Wow…another chapter. I started this today…and somehow finished it! Huh…

The laughing sun was high in the sky, the clear sky allowing people to see the grand sun for all its glory. A cold breeze blew, picking up the leaves and floating them down the way. It was a quaint typical English village, the people all chatting and gossiping to each other as they continued their little lives. So concerned with each other and events that don't really mean anything. Yet here they all were, the entire population of this tiny village. All in the church field, the grass crisp underfoot, the people trudged along as if they had all the time in the world. Glancing at the items and games on offer at the market that was set up to raise money for the nearby church. Laughter and shouts occasionally could be heard over the din of chatter. However there was one person who did not match with the rest. One boy stood in the centre of the field, his black robe reaching down to his ankles. His hands threading over the material as his head was bowed low, his eyes scanning the area and not looking at anyone.

The people said not a word to him and gave him a wide berth as they passed him. A few onlookers whispered to each other and some even pointed and stared at him. Making Crona even more self conscious as he stood there among them.

"C'mon what are you waiting for?" A voice spoke to him, it was Ragnarok. He whispered low so as only Crona would be able to hear him. "The souls are all right here for the taking." Crona mumbled something unintelligible and his eyes scanned this way and that. He didn't like being around so many people, staring at him. What were they saying? He wanted to leave, wanted to get away and back to his corner. His fingers gripped his robe harder. Was there any where to hide? He couldn't deal with all these people around him…

"Why don't you just kill them? Just do it Crona." Ragnarok spoke to him, trying to push him to do it. Crona shook his head. He remembered Maka, she had said that it was wrong to hunt human souls…if it was wrong to her…then he wouldn't do it. He didn't want to disappoint her. No…he couldn't…but…but Medusa would be angry with him. She wanted him to do it. What should he do? If he didn't he would be punished…what if she punished Maka as well? No, he couldn't deal with that either. His hands left his robe and clutched at his head. Whatever happened he would hate himself, either way nothing good would happen. He felt trapped. Trapped in this moment, with no way out.

Crona felt a drop of fear edge into his skull, his breathing grew harsh. He felt as if a spider was curled up into the very bottom of his mind, waiting there. Silently balancing on its web, waiting to strike out if anyone came close. Crona shook his head. Maybe he should just get away, find somewhere to hide. He couldn't think, he didn't know what to do. He pictured Maka telling him not to hunt human souls, telling him he shouldn't do it…no he should listen to her…Maka wanted to help him. That is what she had always said…

"What are you doing Crona?" A sharp female voice spoke. Crona recognised it immediately. It was Lady Medusa. He looked up. There in front of him was Medusa…she glared at him as if he was being bad. He hated that look. Crona began to tremble and stepped away from her, his fingers gripping his head. The whispers around him grew louder yet oddly enough no one seemed to notice Medusa, they continued pointing at him, as if he was not even human.

"L-lady Medusa!" Crona stuttered out in alarm at seeing her. What was she doing here? Ragnarok shuddered inside him.

"What?! Where? Where is she? I don't see her…" He whispered to Crona. "Are you seeing things again Crona?" He mocked him, his uncaring tone made Crona's skin crawl…but he was used to it, unlike the whispering all around him. Medusa stepped closer to him, her bare feet striding over the grass.

"You aren't thinking about disobeying me are you?" Medusa spoke coldly to him, her dark stare made Crona want to turn and run away, yet his feet felt as if they were rooted to the spot. He couldn't move. "You do remember that disobedience is always punished." She continued slowly, as if explaining to a child. Crona couldn't look her in the eyes, he looked away and shook his head. He didn't want to be punished…no, he hated it. But…maybe if Maka was fine…maybe he could deal with it… That thought made him lighter, as if he had made up his mind, yeah…if Maka was safe then he would be happy, maybe she would be happy with him. He thought about her smile. How it made him feel warm, he wanted her to smile at him always. No one else smiled at him, he didn't understand why she smiled at him. But he loved it.

As if she had read his mind Medusa continued to speak. "Oh you think you will be the only one punished?" Medusa laughed out in the market, yet no one reacted to the shrill sound. "No, you won't be punished at all." Crona looked up at her, he didn't understand. "Maka will." Crona's heart skipped. Why? Why? Would she do that? His face grew full of fear for Maka and his eyes widened, his fingernails dug into his head, piercing the skin, drawing blood. "You wouldn't force me to punish Maka would you? I thought you wanted to protect her, I thought you were her friend." Medusa pushed onwards in her argument. Her face never changing expression, that same cold stare. Crona started to feel ill, his face paled as he grinded his teeth in his mental battle.

No he didn't want to be the cause of anymore suffering, he wanted her to smile at him. Not to look at him in hatred for the punishment that he had caused her…no, no, no, no! Crona sucked in a quick intake of breath through clenched teeth. But yet…if he killed these people…would she smile at him ever again? Would she hate him for that? He didn't know what to do! Crona shook his head harder as he fell to his knees. A slight grin peaked at the edges of his mouth. He didn't know what to do…damned if he did, damned if he didn't. His eyes grew dark as he stared around him, the people around him had stopped what they were doing now and stared at him. Even children with their parents were pointing and asking what was wrong with him.

---

Soul sighed out into the corridor. He was stood just outside the Death room. The somewhat ominous door was before him. He had been summoned here by Lord Death. It was the day after he had stormed from class, he had gone home that day and not cared about anything else. He had seen no one that day, he was debating whether or not to even show up today. Yet the choice was decided for him when Sid himself turned up at his apartment. The blue zombie telling him to go to the Death room first thing tomorrow.

Well that was now today, Soul still didn't feel right being on his own. He glared at the other students as they carried on with their lives, as if nothing had happened. He didn't understand them anymore. He felt apart. He gritted his teeth. He was starting to hate them. His rested his hands in his pockets. His posture was low with his head bowed. He didn't even talk to Black Star anymore, the dude just irritated him. He swore he was going to start a fight with him if he so much as spoke one more word about himself. Soul shook his head, maybe he should just avoid him for now. He couldn't think straight. He also didn't want to see Tsubaki's sorrowful face…that was worse then Black Star, he didn't want or need to be pitied. He hated that look, as if he needed it. He was a guy, he didn't need it.

Clearing his throat once more Soul took a hand out of his pocket and pushed open the door, inside was a room far bigger then should have been possible. The room defied nature itself as Soul ventured in. It was like walking into another dimension completely. He felt amazed the first time he was here, yet now. It was just a gimmick, just a trick he didn't care about. Soul walked underneath the guillotine lined hallway. The blades ever sharp above his head. Further down the corridor until a small platform appeared up ahead. There on the pedestal was a mirror, yet it was not the mirror that held his gaze. The two figures before it was. One, on the left was Death Scythe, or Spirit as he was also called. Maka's father. He bore bright red hair the colour of blood. Soul tensed and gritted his teeth at the man, he already knew this wasn't going to be a good day. He hadn't been looking forward to seeing the man. Not after losing Maka. That pit of shame that he carried around with him grew a little bit larger. The other figure was the Lord of death himself, the black cloaked god with the comical skull mask on his face. As Soul drew closer to the pedestal the two figures turned.

Spirit with his suit clad form glanced his way. And when his gaze caught who it was his face grew harsh. Soul guessed he probably blamed him for Maka's disappearance. Hmph, he could blame Soul all he wanted. Soul knew he was to blame, so what if someone finally said it. But Spirit held his tongue as Lord Death spoke first…in that high pitched sound like he always does.

"Hiya there! How ya doing?" Lord Death raised his hand in greeting. Soul nodded to the god.

"Hi…" he managed out. Not really answering him. Lord Death's eye holes in his mask turned sad. As if the mask was his actual face. Sorta creepy if you didn't know the man.

"Down in the dumps still I see." The black cloaked god's eyes reverted back to normal. "Soul, you are a promising weapon of this academy…" The pair didn't miss a small grunt from the direction of Spirit. Lord Death turned to his weapon. "Problem Death Scythe?" Spirit shook his head.

"Nope…" Lord death paused to study the man.

"Hmm…anyway…" he turned back to Soul. "… I hate to see you giving up." Soul clenched his fists in his pockets and turned away. Giving up? They were the ones giving up on Maka. Not him. "Scythe weapon Soul Eater, you need to continue with your education here at the DWMA. You do still want to become a Death Scythe, do you not?" He asked of him. His voice a little too serious for Soul right now. But Soul turned back to the god.

"Of course…but…" He started. Yet he stopped talking. What could he say? That he didn't want to continue on as a lone weapon? That he was waiting for his meister to return? Either…both?

"Well then. For now until your partner returns you will be put with the rest of the un-partnered class." Soul didn't react, but he knew what he was talking about. Some meisters and weapons never did team up together. Such loners either worked alone or banded together all as a group, trying to find a partner in the teams. He had never worked with them before as he had always had Maka. Soul gritted his teeth once more, starting to grind on them. Why did everything always come back to Maka? It was driving him nuts.

"Fine…" Soul answered, not really caring. He wanted to argue that he could just work alone…but he had never worked alone. So for now he would put up with these loner teams. Though he wasn't too keen on the idea of someone else trying to use him, it made his eye twitch at the thought. When silence reigned over the room for a minute Soul couldn't take it anymore. "Anything else?" he spoke, perhaps a little too harshly, but Soul didn't bother to apologize. The figure beside Lord Death had been glaring at him all this time. Soul glared right back. Spirit jerked and swiftly moved from where he had stood. Marching right up to Soul's face.

"Yeah! Yeah there is something else!" The weapon shouted at Soul. Soul didn't move, he wasn't afraid of the man. He was just an annoyance, and not a cool guy like he was. Soul grinned at the man. But that only seemed to aggravate him more. Spirit growled out like some sort of animal. "Where were you when Maka needed you?! Tell me why she isn't here!" Spirit shouted right in Soul's face. Soul didn't lose his grin, in fact he laughed. He laughed at Spirit, and at himself. Spirit was voicing all of Soul's inner thoughts. The ones he went through over and over in his head.

"Death Scythe…" came the voice of the god of death behind Spirit. Yet neither hot head backed down. Soul knew he deserved this, yet a part of him couldn't take that it was coming from her father. The loser who didn't care enough about Maka or her mother when she was little, he was there whenever she talked about her father. And what he was like. Oh he knows what her father is like. And doesn't particularly like having this cheater talk to him like he abandoned her.

"You think you can say that to me? Hell if you were anyone else I would agree with you! But for you to say that? Gimmie a break. You…Mr Cheater don't deserve to have Maka as your daughter!" Soul cursed right back at Spirit. Soul expected the man to argue right back. He saw it coming, the thoughts swirling around in Spirit's head. Yet…he did nothing.

Spirit's face paled…and tears came to his eyes. The man seemed to lose all his bluster from a second ago and the man simply fell to the floor. Soul stepped back from the man who had crumpled to a heap on the floor.

"Oh Maka! Where are you?!…Maka!" Spirit cried out in pain on the floor as great waterfalls of tears fell down his face. Soul grew uncomfortable at his reaction. "Papa loves you Maka!" Soul looked up at Lord Death. The god came closer and actually laid a hand on Spirit's shoulder. He looked up at Soul.

"Sorry about that. We are all feeling her loss…but don't give up hope. Either of you. If she's out there…we'll find her." He spoke in a sad tone, but then he quickly perked up and stood back up. "Tomorrow is another day! You never know what it may bring." Soul stared up at the god of death, he smiled. He sure was an odd dude. But he oddly made Soul feel a bit better. Maka wasn't forgotten, he would find her again. In fact…a thought occurred to him. If he went on missions he himself might find a trace of her again. With renewed zeal Soul's smile grew into a warm grin. He then turned and left. Cringing as Maka's father continued to wail on the floor.

---

Crona stood there in a sort of limbo. Still stuck on what to do. His mind couldn't deal with either scenario. What would Maka think of him if he killed again? What would Medusa do if he didn't? His mind swam with these thoughts. Over and over and over again he saw their faces, saw their glares, saw Maka smile at him. The two women who owned him, his soul caught between the two. It was sort of funny. Maybe…maybe it was like the little one. If he got it over with, he could deal with it later…would that work? Is it like a plaster…maybe if you just rip it off quickly the hurt would be a quick shock and then over…yes…yes…

Medusa stood in front of him, she said not a word, as if watching his mind slowly unwind before her. The grin on his face started to grow ever larger, as his eyes shook with his indecision. He needed to pick one…but picking one would be bad. Picking one would mean no going back. Picking one would mean the end of something. The people around him started to walk away, their gaits gaining speed as they walked. The brave few who were still there stood and stared. No one asked if he was ok. No one tried to talk to him. No one cared in the slightest.

"Hey!" Someone shouted out. Crona glanced up, he saw Medusa still in front of him. But it wasn't her that spoke. The voice was male…and sounded younger then he was. Crona's eye twitched. The image of Medusa shimmered and vanished right before his eyes. In her place stood a man, a teenager of about fourteen. He wore a grey hoodie and a threatening look on his face. "Hey guys! Look at this freak!" he shouted out behind him. Crona watched as four more boys in similar outfits ran up to him. All of them looked hostile. But Crona didn't care anymore. He looked them all over, they were all human.

"Hey fucker! What's with the dress?" One shouted at him while laughing.

"You a girl? C'mon show us yer tits!" Another vulgar one spoke. Crona didn't answer, didn't speak. His eyes swung to each of them in turn. His grin growing in size once more.

"You deaf? I think the idiot is deaf!" One more laughed to his friends. As if what he said was hilarious.

"Hey! We're talking to you dick!" One of the group shouted out and charged in close, Crona didn't try and defend himself as he was pushed to the floor. His body crunched down on the floor, he didn't even try and catch himself. He just let himself fall. His shoulders fell with a smack onto the cold grass underfoot. His eyes stared into the clear sky. It was nice out today. It was nice to be outside…

"It sure is nice today…" Crona spoke out. His voice sounding alien to his ears. The boys around him all laughed to each other and nudged each other, sharing in the big joke.

"You're a nut! You belong in the nut house dick!" One of the boys shouted. Crona didn't know which one, he didn't bother to look. His gaze grew shaky and his eyes wavered. These boys weren't nice like Maka, she would understand. He could kill them. Maka would understand… His pupils dilated as his face twisted into that of his old madness. Gripping him, sticking to him like tar. Pulling him down into the crevice where his mind would rot that little bit more.

"You aren't nice…but that's ok. It's nice today." Crona spoke to the boys. One of them…perhaps the first one…he wasn't sure, came close to his lying form and brought his leg back. To kick Crona in the side. Crona turned his head to the boy. "Ragnarok" Crona spoke to his weapon. His voice dull and low as he spoke, the sound monotonous.

"Finally!" Came the high pitched reply of his weapon. The sword formed in his hand. Crona gripped the cold handle of the blade. The lips formed on the sword in a dripping smirk. The other boys saw this and flinched, fear appearing on their faces. As if they had finally clocked onto what they were dealing with. The boy who was about to kick him however…was not that bright. His leg kicked out to hit Crona right in his side. But Crona was faster, and he swiped his weapon down.

A scream rang out through the partially empty markets.

Crona's slash had cut the boy's leg clean off from the knee. The leg fell useless to the floor, blood flowed from the wound and onto the grass underneath. Staining it crimson. The boy fell, shouting in utter agony and shock from what had happened. Crona giggled as he raised himself up. His mind had gone. Now he was only his body. Movement incarnate as he lifted himself. The other boys didn't have time to move away, the one who had pushed him to the floor looked on in horror as he watched Crona swing in his direction. The sword swinging in an upward arc as he split the boy up through the middle. The black blade slicing through flesh and bone. Blood spilled out as the two halves of the boy fell to the ground. A tiny blue soul hovered above the mutilated body. The look of horror frozen on both sides of his face. The other boys screamed out in pure fright as they turned and ran.

"Just like a plaster, one rip and it's all over." Crona spoke out his nonsense. Ragnarok didn't respond, he licked his lips and screeched out across the field. Causing the sword and Crona's hand to vibrate fiercely. He stood over the bodies of the two boys, one still screeching in horror as he stared at his dead friend. Crona ignored him and turned instead to the fleeing boys.

"Get them Crona!" Ragnarok grated out to him. Crona stared at the teenagers as they ran for their lives. Crona dipped low with his body and forced his body into a run, his crazed mind fuelling his weak legs to disproportionate effort. He sped along the grass, catching up to the three boys, his sword held high he thrust it into the back of one of them. That grey hooded lad never stood a chance as the blade pierced his heart. And he fell dead. The other two skidded to a stop and turned to him. One bore a fright backed anger filled face. The other full of horror. Crona's face was pulled back into a crazed grin, his eyes seemed lost in his ocean of madness.

"You bastard!" The angry one yelled out, diving his hand into his pocket and pulling out a knife. Crona's gaze flicked to him. The knife was lunged in his direction, aiming right into his face. Crona was still quicker and raised a hand in the way. The knife plunged right through his hand! The angry teen's face bore a grin of victory as he thought he had managed to wound him. But he was wrong. Black blood dribbled down the blade, down over his arm and to the floor.

Crona's face lost his grin.

"My blood is black you know…" The lad stared at him like he was crazy…which he was actually.

"What the fuck are you?!" The panic filled voice showed through his angry façade.

"…bloody needle." With that Crona's black blood changed from liquid to sharp spikes. The spikes shot out like lightning and speared the boy through the chest. The lad bore a shocked face for a second, blood leaked from the corner of his mouth…his hand still gripped the knife as he crumpled to the floor. The knife was pulled from Crona's hand. Crona swiped his hand away, the drops of blood falling to the grass. Then he raised his arm and gripped his other in a vice like hold. The grin on his face that faltered before was now back, as he stared at the last boy left. The last one had fallen to his backside in the dirt. His teeth chattering and his eyes wide in his fright.

"Please! Please don't kill me! I don't want to die!" He whimpered out to Crona. But Crona didn't listen. Instead he walked closer to him. The horror on the boy's face grew worse, an odd wet patch appeared on his crotch. The smell carried into the air. Ragnarok of course noticed it.

"Urgh, what's that smell? Kill it already!" he growled out from the sword. The lad's eyes panned to the sword and then back to its wielder.

"Are you scared? It's ok…" Crona spoke to the boy as he raised his sword high. Then he slashed down through the air and cut right through the neck of the boy. For a split second nothing happened, the boy stared on in absolute sheer panic. Then the head fell from the shoulders and pounded to the floor. The body fell with it, the muscles no longer receiving orders from the brain. "…Because so am I… " Crona whispered out. Then like the others, a small soul hummed into existence above the now dead boy.

"You forgot one moron…" Ragnarok's voice called out to him. Crona looked down to his weapon.

"Oh did I?" he answered. Crona raised his head and saw the one he forgot. The first boy, with only one leg was trying to crawl away. Frantically he clawed at the grass, inching slowly away from the deadly pair. Crona didn't even bother moving close to him, he gripped his weapon and threw it across the space. The blade whistled through the air and plunged into the back of the teen, blood splurged from his mouth as he too fell dead. Another human soul bobbed into existence. Ragnarok was still buried in the dead boy beneath him. Crona didn't move, instead he just stood there gripping his arm with his face in his own twisted form of agony. Close by a breeze blew up…but it was no breeze. Ragnarok was sucking in the five souls for his first meal in days. The air grew harsher as Crona's robe and hair flocked around him, the items on the stalls around him fell to the floor. The souls were swept up in the gale and were swallowed up by the black blade.

"Mmmm…" Ragnarok hummed out, licking his lips and grinning at Crona. Glad of his meal.

Crona looked up as he heard the call of sirens blaring through the air. His head moved slowly as if he was drugged as he looked around for the source of the noise. There…off in the distance as a few people who were still there looked on. Was a white car with the words 'police' on the side. Who were they? Two men appeared out of the car and started to run closer…

Boom there we have it. A chapter in a day…phew.

Bit of crazy Crona there for you all. Bless him. Having him beating up…well killing bullies was kinda fun, I gotta admit.

Hope you all enjoyed and I'll see ya next time !