Soul Eater: Resonance Regression — Heir to the Reaper
Soul Eater Evans died shielding Maka from a fatal blow—and then he woke up.
Thirteen years old. The morning of the entrance ceremony at Death Weapon Meister Academy. Three years before the battle that killed him. Three years before the kishin Asura, before the madness that swallowed his friends, before Maka screamed his name with tears streaming down her face.
He remembers everything. Every battle. Every loss. Every face of everyone he failed to save.
But this second chance comes with a warni
Soul Eater: Resonance Regression — Heir to the Reaper - Creaking Resonance — Emblem of the Abandoned Church
The training ground floor was cold.
The chill of the stone seeped slowly up through the soles of his bare feet. Soul Eater closed his eyes. Steadied his breathing. The air was a little damp. The remnants of yesterday's rain still pooled in the corners of the training hall.
One week since enrollment.
The Death Weapon Meister Academy building rose white against the morning light. Walking the corridors, the murmur of passing students filled his ears. Weapons and meisters. Pairs, talking everywhere.
Soul watched the scene from a slight distance.
(One week, huh.)
Only one week since time had rewound. For him, carrying memories of the future, this week had been a strange stretch—long and short at once.
"Soul."
A voice. He turned. Maka Albarn stood there. Her dark beige hair tied in twin tails. Her green eyes looked straight at him. She wore the DWMA uniform properly. Every button fastened, all the way to the collar.
"Ready?"
"Yeah."
A short answer. He bit down lightly on the toothpick-like stick in his mouth.
Today was the first resonance training.
Meister and weapon align their soul wavelengths. That was the purpose. For DWMA students, this was the first hurdle.
In the future, his and Maka's resonance had come naturally.
No—to be accurate, it hadn't gone well at first either. But back then, he hadn't been thinking about anything. Just layering his wavelength over Maka's. That alone had been enough.
The current him was different.
He had memories of the future. He knew how Maka's soul wavelength would grow. He knew the shape of completed resonance.
And that, ironically, got in the way.
"Today we'll start with basic wavelength alignment."
Maka stood at the center of the training ground. Good posture. Her back perfectly straight.
"I'm not sure I can do it well yet... but I'll try my best."
Maka blushed, just slightly.
Seeing that smile, something deep in Soul's chest twinged.
(She doesn't know anything.)
(Not how strong she'll become in the future.)
(Nor how much pain she'll go through.)
"...Yeah."
Soul looked away.
Along the walls of the training ground, several other newbie pairs had begun their own training. All with serious faces. Some pairs resonated well. Others failed again and again, sighing in frustration.
"Here I go, Soul."
Maka held out both hands.
Soul took them.
—Transform.
His body wrapped in light. Bones reshaped. Skin turned to hard metal. A moment of weightlessness. And then Soul's body became a single great scythe.
In Maka's hands, the handle was gripped firm.
(This is my true form.)
(A scythe. The first shape I take to become a Reaper's weapon.)
"...Aligning wavelengths."
Maka closed her eyes.
Soul slowly brought his soul wavelength closer to hers.
—Kiiiiin.
A grating sound rang inside his head.
(...Tch.)
Soul grimaced inwardly.
The wavelengths wouldn't match.
Maka's wavelength was still thin. Trembling, like a newborn chick. His own wavelength—maybe because of the future memories—unconsciously sought the shape of completed resonance.
His wavelength wouldn't layer properly over Maka's immature one.
A grinding, gear-teeth-not-meshing kind of discomfort.
"...Huh?"
Maka's voice was confused.
"It's not... working. Why...?"
Her hands tightened. Her fingers around the scythe's handle went white.
"I'll try again."
Maka took a deep breath.
Soul focused too.
(I'm the one who adjusts.)
(Not the future me. The current me, to the current Maka.)
Soul deliberately weakened his wavelength. He pushed the image of completed resonance—summoned by future memories—into a corner of his mind.
Maka's wavelength, as it was now.
Weak, trembling, but straight.
He layered his wavelength alongside hers, as if nestling close.
—Jirijiri.
Still creaking.
But slightly better than before.
"...No, still no good."
Maka bit her lip in frustration.
"I'm just holding you back, aren't I, Soul?"
She looked down. Her twin tails hung, pulled by gravity.
Her voice was small, almost fading away.
Soul, still in scythe form, listened to her voice.
(No.)
(You're not holding me back at all.)
(In the future, you saved me—again and again.)
(In that final battle, I shielded you—not because you were weak.)
(Because you were the most precious person in the world to me.)
He screamed it in his mind.
But he couldn't put it into words.
He couldn't tell Maka about the future.
Soul returned from scythe to human form.
"Maka."
Maka raised her face. Her green eyes were moist.
"You will definitely get stronger."
Soul looked straight into her eyes.
"I guarantee it."
Maka's eyes widened, just a little.
"...How can you say that?"
"Who knows. Just a hunch."
Soul twisted his mouth, just slightly.
"But my hunches are usually right."
Maka stared at Soul.
Then she smiled, just a little.
"...Yeah. Thanks, Soul."
Her smile still held a faint shadow.
But it was far better than before.
(This is fine.)
(For now, this is enough.)
(Don't rush. There's still time.)
Soul told himself this, silently.
—Training ended.
As the two were about to leave the training ground, someone called out.
"Got a moment?"
A low, calm voice.
They turned. A man stood there.
A DWMA instructor. Stein.
Wearing a white lab coat. A large screw wrapped around his neck, turning slowly. Stubble on his face. In his hand, as always, a scalpel.
Soul knew this man well.
The strongest graduate in DWMA history. Eccentric, but a remarkably talented doctor and meister.
In the future, this man had saved him many times.
"I saw your resonance waveforms."
Stein gave the handheld terminal a light shake.
"Both of you—your wavelengths are abnormally distorted."
Soul's heart jumped.
"Especially you, Soul."
Stein's eyes fixed on Soul.
"Inside your soul, there's an abnormal interference that no ordinary new student should have."
Cold sweat ran down Soul's back.
(Shit.)
(Did he figure out about the future memories?)
(No, that can't be...)
"...I was just nervous."
Soul answered, feigning calm.
"First resonance training. I tensed up."
Stein stared at Soul's face expressionlessly for a while.
"...I see."
Stein nodded slowly.
"But let me give you one warning."
His voice dropped, just slightly.
"Secrets invite madness."
Soul's body went rigid.
"Soul wavelengths are honest. If you're hiding something, it will always show as distortion."
Stein spun the scalpel round and round.
"The distortion in your wavelength is too deep to be mere nervousness."
"...What are you trying to say?"
Soul's voice came out slightly hoarse.
"Nothing. Just an instructor's advice."
Stein shrugged.
"Be careful. Madness always starts from a tiny distortion."
With that, Stein turned his back and walked away.
The hem of his lab coat fluttered.
Soul watched his retreating figure.
"Soul... are you okay?"
Maka peered anxiously into his face.
"...Yeah. It's nothing."
Soul answered briefly.
(Professor Stein senses something.)
(But he's not certain yet.)
(I have to be careful.)
Soul clenched his fist tight.
—Night.
His dorm room.
Soul lay flat on his back on the bed.
Staring at the ceiling.
(Professor Stein's words won't leave my head.)
(Secrets invite madness.)
(My secret isn't just madness—it's a secret big enough to change the fate of the world.)
Soul sighed.
He looked out the window.
The moon was out. A thin crescent.
(...I have to go there.)
Soul sat up.
In his future memories, there had been nothing at the edge of town.
But in this world, it was different.
On the day of the entrance ceremony, Lord Death had mentioned it.
The Anamnesis cult.
A dangerous group that worshipped the memory-devourers.
A name that hadn't existed in the future.
And that night, outside the dorm window, a black shadow had flickered for an instant.
It might have been his imagination.
But he couldn't stop thinking about it.
(I have to confirm.)
(If the future has changed, what exactly has changed?)
Soul quietly left the room.
The dorm corridor was dead silent.
The other students were already asleep.
Soul killed his footsteps and slipped out the dorm's back door.
The night wind was cold.
At night, the streets of Death City emptied out. Only streetlamps dotted the road with light.
Soul started walking toward the edge of town.
—The edge of town.
The residential district ended, giving way to an empty lot overgrown with weeds.
And beyond it, there it was.
The ruins of an abandoned church.
A crumbling stone building. More than half the roof had fallen in. Vines coiled around the walls.
(...Here.)
Soul stopped.
In his future memories, there had been nothing here.
It should have been just an empty lot.
But now, the ruined church definitely stood there.
(The future has changed.)
(Because I came back? Or for some other reason?)
Soul swallowed.
His heart pounded like a drum.
(Go in.)
(I have to confirm.)
Soul carefully slipped through the crumbling entrance.
Inside was pitch black.
Moonlight filtered thin through gaps in the broken roof.
A dusty smell. A moldy smell. A sweet, rotting smell.
Soul advanced deeper, minding his step.
He came out into what seemed to have been a chapel.
At the front, an old altar.
A simple altar of stone. Nothing placed on it.
And the floor.
Something was carved into the floor before the altar.
A crest.
An unfamiliar, bizarre pattern.
Within a circle, many lines intersected. Shapes like eyes. Shapes like gears. Shapes like letters.
(What is this...?)
Soul crouched and stared at the crest.
Searching his future memories, he'd never seen a crest like this.
Was it the Anamnesis cult's crest?
Soul nervously extended a finger.
He touched the crest.
—In that instant.
'Your memories—I'll take them.'
A low whisper echoed directly inside his head.
Not a man's voice. Not a woman's.
Not a human voice.
A viscous, crawling, repulsive voice.
"...!!"
Soul scrambled backward.
He fell on his rear.
His heart felt about to burst.
His breathing was ragged.
(What... was that?)
(I heard it. I definitely heard it.)
(Your memories, I'll take them...?)
Soul pulled his phone from his pocket with trembling hands.
He launched the camera.
Photographed the crest.
Click.
The flash lit the dark church white for an instant.
Soul stood up at once.
(I can't stay here.)
(I have to get away. Now.)
Soul bolted from the ruined church.
—On the way back.
He walked the night streets at a fast pace.
His heart was still pounding.
(What was that voice?)
(The Anamnesis cult... memory-devourers...)
(Are my future memories being targeted?)
Soul walked toward the dorm, thinking.
Then.
Something caught the corner of his vision.
Soul stopped.
Slowly, he raised his gaze.
The dorm roof.
A black shadow stood atop it.
It had a human shape.
But he couldn't see its face.
Something like black mist covered its whole body.
The shadow looked down at Soul.
"...Hey."
Soul forced out his voice.
"Who are you?"
The shadow didn't answer.
It just stared down at Soul.
Soul took one step back.
—In that instant.
The shadow vanished like smoke.
Without a trace.
As if it had never been there at all.
Soul stood frozen in place.
His legs wouldn't move.
(I was seen.)
(I am definitely being watched.)
(Someone is after my future memories.)
Terror crawled up from his feet.
Cold sweat ran down his forehead.
Soul couldn't move from that spot for a while.
—The next morning.
Classroom.
Soul sat at his desk, staring blankly out the window.
Last night's events still clung to his mind.
That whisper.
That black shadow.
(Someone definitely knows about my regression.)
(The Anamnesis cult... memory-devourers...)
(An enemy that didn't exist in the future is after me.)
"Soul."
A voice pulled him back to reality.
Maka was peering at his face from the next desk over.
"Were you talking to someone last night?"
Soul's heart skipped.
"...Huh?"
"I thought I heard voices. In the middle of the night."
Maka t
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