/Greetings. This started as a drabble on my RP blog, but It's been fairly popular, and rattling around my head, so I think I'm going to stretch it out. Be warned, you will encounter Masura within these words. Lots of it. And no SoMa. Let's get that out of the way right off.

Also, this will contain things that will make you blush. It's rated M for a reason, and that reason is that I cannot make it MA. I might export this to somewhere less weird about smut later, if I feel like making it really spicy. Also, I do not write Asura nice. Do not expect the Kishin to be a fluffy kitty. There are plenty of others for that.

I am clearly not Okubo Atsushi, and I do not own Soul Eater. It would be better written if I did.

Chapter 1 - His Little One

The Kishin had watched her, from day to day, as she went about her business. It had been simple boredom at first—he'd watched a great many of the humans from his kingdom above—but in time, he'd found himself turning his attention to the little blonde Meister more and more.

She was fascinating, really. Especially when she thought no one was watching. Oh she was cute enough around her friends, or in class. Always so cheerful and hardworking. Even if her temper showed at times, especially around the one that seemed to be her father, she shrugged it off, trying her best to make it up. Just a normal girl, nothing special, nothing at all noteworthy.

When she was alone though, or at least, when she thought herself that way, she was perfect. The smiles of triumph and pride when she studied, knowing she understood the material. The sadness that weighed down her soul on the lonely walks home alone. The tears that she allowed to flow in the shower, washed away by the water that cascaded over her shoulders, leaving no trace behind once she exited, fake smile back in place.

He had watched her for months, memorizing her routines, and learning her emotions. His favorite game was to predict her. Whispering her words to the darkness that surrounded him even as they left her lips.

It was only a short while afterwards that he realized he was in love with her. Love. Obsession. They were the same thing to him really. He had perfected his observations, able to keep watch over her even as he slept. Sometimes, he fancied himself her guardian angel. Or something more. A god watching over her from the heavens above her. His chosen one, innocent and strong, pure and perfect.

He had learned the curves of her body, and the sway of her movements. His fingers danced in the darkness, aching to caress her, to know her, to feel her struggle beneath him. He knew her words, but not the sound of her voice. How would it feel to hear her whisper pleas and pant prayers in his ear while he held her against him?

His precious angel, she was pure. No man or woman had touched her in all the time he had been watching her. Oh, her little Weapon had tried. Staring after her with hopeful eyes that escaped her notice. But Asura knew, she was saving herself for him. Her purity was his to tarnish, and he could already taste it.

He traced her image lazily before him, the lines remaining in his sight, her phantom silhouette dancing for him as she undressed. Down below, he kept his attention partly on her true actions, for the moment less interested by them than the shadow of her he had conjured. She was looking up, her Weapon by her side. Searching for something? It was unimportant. Her ghost knelt before him, offering herself to him, her lips parted in desire. He beckoned her closer as her wavelength below expanded, searching, searching. His hand brushed over her, so close it was nearly truth as her lips skimmed over him, eager to satisfy. Gods he could nearly feel her. The Maka below, the one that existed in covetous flesh, nearly escaped his mind, he was so captivated by the fantasy he had made of her.

And then it happened.

After so long watching her, she looked back. He felt it, felt her soul brush alongside his. Crimson eyes flashed open, his phantom lover vanishing in a heartbeat. She had found him. His soul lurched, feeling the recoil of revulsion from her. He disgusted her? He frightened her? Impossible. He loved her, how could she be afraid of him after all of the nights he had held her? Didn't she know she was his?

She would tell them in the end. Tell the others where to find him. It wasn't her fault. His poor little misled queen couldn't know her words were betrayal. She was just too innocent. But it was alright. He would forgive her. He would always forgive her.

The Kishin relaxed.

All would be well. There was no need to worry. So she was aware of him, she had seen him. This was perfect, in fact. Who would believe her if she spoke? He had taken care of the loose ends, and now it was time to stop dreaming and make her his. His Clowns would take care of the others. They would have a blood red carpet for their wedding, and a captive audience for their vows. All he had to do was wait. His queen was coming to him, and soon there would be no more need of phantom fantasies to fulfill his desires.