[ se ] set in stone.
set in stone
maka albarn, soul/maka
(1/2) of promises made and broken, a necklace clasped in scarred hands, and the wrong three words uttered on a bloodstained hospital bed.
When they meet, Soul's fingers are gliding over the piano keys and each note he plays sings a melancholic melody, beautiful and haunting, and Maka knows that she wants this boy to be her partner. She's seen him fight; he has good reflexes, can throw a decent punch and he moves quickly. He does not think twice about his actions and his eyes are occupied, always thinking about the next move. But when she sees him like this, human and strong and not just a weapon for her to master, she understands and she is determined.
So she walks into the room, strides brisk and a little nervous and he immediately stops playing. He looks a little bit embarrassed but does not show it (because it wouldn't be cool for him to look embarrassed in front of a girl) and turns towards her, hands pressed flat against the piano bench. His eyes are a peculiar red and they are staring directly at her, unflinchingly, and she tries not to falter.
"Maka Albarn," she says, sticking her hand out. "Meister."
He doesn't hesitate. "Soul Eater. Scythe."
She can't help herself, raising her eyebrows at his name. Tilting her head curiously out of habit, she asks, "Is that really your name?"
A smirk slowly spreads across his lips, teeth sharp to the point.
"I guess you'll just have to find out."
.
They don't officially become meister and weapon until the Shinigami approves of them. Even so, he tells them to, "Get to know each other more, ne? Find out each others' strengths and weaknesses, and then I can send you two out on missions."
Maka purses her lips, folding her arms, but she does not object. It is a reasonable request, after all, and she is not one to argue with the Shinigami himself. Soul lets out a sigh and mutters something about wanting to fight and eat kishin souls and she rolls her eyes. Spirit, who'd previously been flailing about and objecting and screaming, "MAKA IS NOT OLD ENOUGH TO HAVE A PARTNER! AND IT'S A MALE PARTNER TOO AND -" now quiets and grins approvingly of this decision.
Soul has long gotten used to this behaviour, and Maka clearly has been fed up with his whole over-protectiveness.
But then the Shinigami smiles good-naturedly through his skull mask and suggests, "Why don't you two start out by living together?"
Spirit promptly has an aneurysm, Maka's face flushes against her will, and Soul's eyebrows go up to his hairline.
.
"So," she says awkwardly, dragging her suitcase into their brand-new apartment. "Dad's helping us with the rent for now, until we can go on missions and earn money for ourselves." Maka then pauses and scans the room warily as if expecting Spirit to jump out and attack Soul again.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna go check out the rooms," Soul says, only a backpack filled with clothes over his shoulder. She does not ask about it and he does not ask about her mother. She wanders around the apartment as well, grudgingly noting the furniture that Spirit surely bought for her, and enters a room with a bathroom and a Jacuzzi.
"Soul!" Maka yells, grinning. "I call this room!"
He appears in a flash and spots the Jacuzzi in a split second. "No way."
"I called it first, so it's mine!"
"Yeah, well -"
"Well what?"
They spend the next hour on arguing on who gets the Jacuzzi, and they both agree to share it.
(But it's mostly Maka's, and Soul knows better than to argue with this fact - he's already lost too many brain cells from her Maka Chops.)
.
When they train and fight together, Soul does not soften his blows because she is a girl. He treats her equally, breaks her nose, her thumb, and she does the same to him. But he always makes sure to never hit her in critical places, never to aim at her neck or her head. But Maka is different than any other girl he's ever known, and, when she's really angry, kicks him where it hurts.
When the Shinigami accepts them as meister and weapon - Spirit had explicitly lectured Soul about how to protect his "baby girl," after which Maka promptly hit him and ran away with Soul - she finds that his chivalry goes farther than letting her have the last piece of meat. At first, his actions are subtle and she barely notices them. When they fight together, he is always one step ahead of her, switching into a scythe without her telling him to and moving on his own to block attacks. But soon, she starts faltering in her rhythm, and he has to return to his human form and protect her with his body.
They've only known each other for a few months, and she cannot understand his actions.
But she stares at him, the way he fights, and she watches the movements of his arms and his feet as he punches and kicks the training dummy, the gliding way in which he moves. She observes this and tries to mimic it because she cannot be left behind, she will not be a burden, and she trains until the laughing moon has risen and the grass has turned red.
.
He finds her one day, punching away at a tree trunk. Her knuckles are bleeding and her hands are raw, face filled with determination.
"Oy, Maka."
She turns slightly but never stops. "Umm, hey, Soul. What's up?"
"It's dark."
"And?"
"You've been training for hours."
"You do that, too."
He looks irritated. Soul strides right up to her. "We're going home. That's enough."
"I'm not going."
"Yes," he says forcefully, gritting his teeth. "You are. You're bleeding, Maka. You should know when to stop."
"You train until -"
Soul cuts her off. "That's me, not you. Weapons are - are built differently than meisters. Our bones are thicker, stronger."
When she ignores him and continues to train, he reaches out and grabs her wrist before it can connect to the tree. She struggles in his grasp and he grabs the other. He pulls her closer to him so that they are almost eye-level - he is slightly taller than her, quicker and stronger as well, Maka thinks - and says in a low voice, "Training also means you need to rest. You're strong, Maka. You don't need to - keep doing this. Please."
Maka looks at him almost desperately, stubbornly. She remembers the travel pamphlet she saw on his side table and is reminded that he is always, always trudging forward. "I can't keep up with you," she tells him quietly. And he knows, somehow, that she doesn't just mean in battles.
Soul doesn't know what to say to that. He looks at Maka, her cracked lips, messy hair, sheen of sweat on her forehead but what catches his attention the most is her eyes, rimmed with red, and the faint drop of water that falls from her cheeks as she turns away and runs.
.
Later, he finds her in her bedroom, curled up in a ball and sleeping. "Great," he mutters to himself, running one hand through his hair. He'd planned some big speech, but she isn't even awake to hear him say it. Still, he sits beside her bed and listens to her snore softly. Her hair has grown long, almost to her waist, and her face is less rounded, slightly more angular. It's been a long time since he'd met her.
"Don't..."
...hurt yourself.
"...keep training so much. It's not cool to have to drag you home; I look like some kind of freaking stalker or something. And I'll tell Spirit, and you know how he gets. He'd probably break my nose and give me a concussion and make you live with him again, and I really don't think you want that."
Soul pauses, looks up at the ceiling. "You're the only partner that's stubborn enough to deal with me. I'm not leaving without dragging you around with me."
She stirs slightly, fingers touching his hand.
He retracts it quickly and stands. As he closes the door behind him, the snoring stops.
Maka's hands are bandaged, many of her fingers broken.
After being submitted, and taken out later on from the hospital, she cannot seem to remember much of what happened beforehand. She remembers fierce determination, Soul talking to her when she was asleep. But, deciding that it isn't important, she turns to Soul and frowns, looks at him a little sadly. "Guess I can't fight for a while, can I?"
She is dragging him down again, pulling him away from his dream to become a Death Scythe.
"I'm sorry." She looks at the ground. "I know I'm supposed to take care of my body, and now I can't even hold you..."
"It'll heal," Soul finally says dismissively, staring straight ahead. "Don't worry about it."
"...Okay." She sneaks a glance at him, but his expression is wary, and he will not turn to her.
There's a pause in which Maka takes this time to stare at him until he'll look at her. "Soul?"
"What?"
"Next time you sleep with Blaire, I'm banning you from the Jacuzzi."
Soul splutters indignantly and his face goes red. Maka inwardly cackles at his discomfort, but gives a tiny, gentle smile on the outside. "I did not... sleep... with - with her!"
"But she was lying next to you, sleeping." Maka shakes her head. "Eww, you pervert. What did you think I meant? Just for that, the Jacuzzi's mine!"
"Wha - that isn't fair!"
Maka laughs, and Soul smiles a little.
At the school party, their class is the oldest - they are seniors, ready to be pushed out into the world, and not one of them has collected ninety-nine kishin souls and one witch soul. Maka walks into the room, hair carelessly let down and pushed aside, looking for anyone she knows. She spots Tsubaki staring helplessly at Black Star, who is vacuuming all the food into his mouth.
"Hi, Maka. I don't suppose you can help me with this...?" Tsubaki gestures at her partner. Maka laughs; she knows Tsubaki is not really angry, and that is just how their relationship is.
"Sorry, but no." She pulls on her dress self-consciously, tugs up the strapless dress Liz forced on her. She is not a beauty, like Tsubaki or Liz, but she is Maka, in-between and sort-of-pretty. "Have you seen -"
"Maka!" Liz and Patty walk over, the former in a floor-length dress that dips down too far and the latter in something that resembles pixies in fairytales. Liz scrutinises her. "You look pretty. You know, some make-up would totally work on you, some warm tones here and there..."
"Nah," Maka says, remembering her make-up phase back in her pre-teens. She inwardly shudders at the memories. "I'd probably end up looking like a clown, and -"
She's cut off by a horrible, tortured wail. Maka looks around, shifting into a fighting stance, ready for whatever enemy that decided to appear at their school dance. Liz sighs, massages her temples, and says, "Relax, it's only Kidd, probably freaking out over something asymmetrical."
True to her words, Kidd appears in a flash. Liz ignores him as she adjusts her earrings, and -
"I specifically told you two to wear the red dresses, the exact same ones!" he almost shouts, staring wide-eyed at Liz and Patty's mismatching outfits.
"Come on, Kidd, can't a girl wear what she wants for at least one day?" Liz says, and sighs again as Kidd collapses on the floor, head in hands, muttering psychotically to himself.
"B-b-b-but your outfits don't even match and you wear jeans while the other doesn't and-and-and..." Kidd trails off in a dramatic pause and suddenly bounces up to his feet with a wicked, maniacal glint in his eyes. Maka quietly wonders if he needed some help - no, it is beyond that, he needs to be sent to an asylum. "Your clothes - no, no, the entire closet - should be - should be burned and destroyed, yes, yes, that will do."
Liz shrieks, "What? You can't do that! Wait, wait, calm down, Kidd, please I'm begging you - no, Patty, don't encourage him -"
"Clothes go bye-bye!" Patty squeals. "Boom, boom, boom!"
"And," Kidd continues, pacing a path into the ground, "I shall alter your dresses right now until they are perfect." He whips out a pair of (symmetrical) scissors and snips them in the air dangerously. Liz just looks at him, and when he bends down and actually starts to cut away pieces of her gorgeous (expensive) dress, she explodes.
"Kill him, kill him!" Patty cheers, dancing in place.
"Aa, this is a mess," Soul murmurs. Maka jumps and swivels around, and sure enough, Soul's standing right next to her in a familiar black and red suit.
"Yeah. It is." Tsubaki still hasn't reigned in Black Star, who has now taken over the stage and is screaming a speech about his supposed 'awesomeness' to the world, his classic 'I will surpass God' comments flying through his lips. The younger students watch the scenario - Kidd, lying on the floor with blood pooling around his head (courtesy of Liz) and Black Star, destroying their eardrums and brainwashing them - and they have mixed reactions ranging from hysterical laughter to sheer terror.
Soon, a slow song overtakes Black Star's voice, and the chaos is slowly melted away by the gentle melody. Couples make their way onto the floor, swaying to the music. Soul looks at them, and then at Maka, raising his eyebrows. She shrugs, taking his hand and their hands automatically find their places. She thinks about this, how it's all so familiar, how this all will change once the year is over and they've graduated.
Tentatively, she leans her forehead against his. He closes his eyes, and for a moment they are silent, listening and peaceful and she never wants to stop. "I've been thinking," he suddenly says, opening his eyes.
She waits, tightening her grip around his neck.
"...About leaving."
Her heart thuds and her throat constricts and her chest is tight and she can't breathe and she stops moving altogether. He sees her expression and hurriedly explains. "I mean... travelling. Finding other places, not just Death City. There are other areas where we can kick kishin butt, you know?"
Maka clings desperately to the we, but on the outside, she is calm and collected. "What if..." she clears her throat. "What if I don't want to leave?"
There's a pause that's much too long. "Then I'll stay," he finally says, but if she knows that if he is kept caged in this city he will never be at rest. He's already looking far ahead to a future she can't see, and she can't help but wonder if he wants her to be in it. And suddenly, suddenly, she realises that she's been holding on to the bond of meister and weapon without knowing how easily it could be broken, and she's reminded of her mother and father.
"I'm sorry." Then, "Thank you." Maka peers up at him from under her eyelashes, tentatively swaying to the song again. "Once I make you a Death Scythe, maybe we'll have enough money to travel the world," she promises rashly. She ducks her head so she can't see his expression, but they both know that once he's a Death Scythe, it'll be harder and harder to get away from the duties and responsibilities that the title holds.
.
The day Soul becomes a Death Scythe is the day Maka learns his last name.
He is taller than her now, battle scars on every inch of skin. Maka and Soul stand proudly as he joins the revered, elite group. Black Star whoops and catcalls, Tsubaki smiles gently, Kidd looks contemplative, Liz is clapping and observing her nails, and Patty is being distracted by a spider on the ground. Spirit comes up to (grudgingly) congratulate him, and when he turns to Maka, she swiftly dodges his flying hug. He gets up, composing himself, and there's a strange expression on his face when he looks at Soul.
That is when they learn that Soul is being summoned immediately to work in another country for a while.
"Soul Eater Evans," Spirit reads monotonously, "is thereby requested to serve in the Civil War in the Southern Lands."
Maka goes still and stops smiling, because she knows this is for weapons only and her name was not mentioned and she cannot follow.
Soul is looking at her when he asks, "How long?"
"Two months, at the very least," Spirit replies solemnly. "A year or two at the most."
Maka stuffs back the urge to scream and protest. Two years? She thinks unhappily and there's a strangled feeling in her throat, a prick at her eyes. She stands strong, staring right back at Soul, because she won't cry - not in front of him. "...Maka?"
Spirit takes this as a question for him, and Maka takes this as asking for permission.
He says, "She can't come" at the same time Maka says, "Go."
Soul closes his eyes, and when he opens them, there's a promise in there - a promise to return. "Alright," he says quietly, then stretches as if he'd done something tiring. A yawn escapes his mouth and his hand brushes hers, deliberately, as he passes by. "When do I leave?"
"A week from today."
"Got it. Well, I'm gonna get some sleep. You coming with me, Maka?"
Spirit snaps out of his solemnity and proceeds to flail about Soul's apparent injustices against his daughter. Soul snorts, shark smirk pulling to one side of his mouth, and Maka rolls her eyes and gives her father her famous Maka Chop, saying, "He didn't mean it like that."
Spirit grumbles under his breath. Just before they leave, Soul raises an eyebrow at Maka. "Your bet?" he mouths to her, and jerks his head towards Spirit. She scowls at him and turns reluctantly to her father, pasting on a weak smile and mustering up a Daddy's Little Girl voice. "Good night, daddy! I love you!"
She and Soul run away just before Spirit faints, regain consciousness, and starts squealing to Dr. Stein about how his daughter finally acknowledged him.
Maka looks at Soul, grinning, for a moment forgetting what happened.
"You owe me twenty-five bucks."
.
As he packs his things, Maka watches as the room turns empty. He'd never had a lot of things in the first place, but the little things that make up Soul are missing: the array of headbands, pins, posters, and dirty clothes littered around the room.
"I'm gonna be back before you know it," Soul tells her.
"I know."
"Two years isn't that long. It'll be a breeze."
Her mouth opens but she closes it. She knows that two years will not pass by quickly, that it is long, too long, and she does not know what to do now that she's out of a partner - without a weapon, without Soul.
"We both knew that this was going to happen," Soul says quietly, zipping up his backpack and turning to look at her.
"I know. But," she suddenly says, sitting up and looking at him, "you'll be going into a civil war. I mean, the whole stopping the whole insanity-kishin-war thing was one thing, but a war... You're only seventeen. We're only seventeen."
"I'll be fine." Soul stares at her straight in the eye. "Really," he says again, gently, "I'll be fine. And I'll be back before you know it."
"Okay," she whispers, closing her eyes, daring to believe it. "Okay."
She takes a deep breath, then pulls out a chain necklace with a tiny forget-me-not flower charm hanging onto it. "It's, you know. Something to take with you. Since a headband would be kind of troublesome..."
He snorts a little, but it isn't derisive. He accepts it and pulls it around his neck, taking a moment to clasp the ends together. "Heh, this totally isn't cool for me to wear something so girly."
"It's so you won't forget all us little people now that you're a Death Scythe," Maka tells him. "So, forget us not."
"...Was that supposed to be a joke? Or a pathetic attempt to be meaningful?"
"Shut up, Soul."
.
It is not one year or two years that he comes back, but four.
He's strapped to a white gurney and being wheeled into a hospital room, bandages wrapped around every vital spot. Red blossoms decorate the white he's been dressed in.
Maka shoves her way through the nurses, shouting and protesting because she has to see him and when they finally let her, she collapses beside his bed, face scrunched up as if she's going to cry soon. Soul turns his head to her, red eyes blank and dead and when she touches his hand, he hasn't the energy to pull away. She feels something hard clasped tightly in his fingers and when she tries to pry them apart, she thinks she can see a dulled, blue flower stained with red. "Soul," she says, over and over again. "Soul, I -"
She's cut off by the piercing look in his eyes, and he's regarding her with an expression of unfamiliarity and she draws back, mute. "...Soul?" she asks in a tiny voice, attempting a comforting smile.
"Who are you?"
Her smile shatters.
maka albarn, soul/maka
(1/2) of promises made and broken, a necklace clasped in scarred hands, and the wrong three words uttered on a bloodstained hospital bed.
When they meet, Soul's fingers are gliding over the piano keys and each note he plays sings a melancholic melody, beautiful and haunting, and Maka knows that she wants this boy to be her partner. She's seen him fight; he has good reflexes, can throw a decent punch and he moves quickly. He does not think twice about his actions and his eyes are occupied, always thinking about the next move. But when she sees him like this, human and strong and not just a weapon for her to master, she understands and she is determined.
So she walks into the room, strides brisk and a little nervous and he immediately stops playing. He looks a little bit embarrassed but does not show it (because it wouldn't be cool for him to look embarrassed in front of a girl) and turns towards her, hands pressed flat against the piano bench. His eyes are a peculiar red and they are staring directly at her, unflinchingly, and she tries not to falter.
"Maka Albarn," she says, sticking her hand out. "Meister."
He doesn't hesitate. "Soul Eater. Scythe."
She can't help herself, raising her eyebrows at his name. Tilting her head curiously out of habit, she asks, "Is that really your name?"
A smirk slowly spreads across his lips, teeth sharp to the point.
"I guess you'll just have to find out."
.
They don't officially become meister and weapon until the Shinigami approves of them. Even so, he tells them to, "Get to know each other more, ne? Find out each others' strengths and weaknesses, and then I can send you two out on missions."
Maka purses her lips, folding her arms, but she does not object. It is a reasonable request, after all, and she is not one to argue with the Shinigami himself. Soul lets out a sigh and mutters something about wanting to fight and eat kishin souls and she rolls her eyes. Spirit, who'd previously been flailing about and objecting and screaming, "MAKA IS NOT OLD ENOUGH TO HAVE A PARTNER! AND IT'S A MALE PARTNER TOO AND -" now quiets and grins approvingly of this decision.
Soul has long gotten used to this behaviour, and Maka clearly has been fed up with his whole over-protectiveness.
But then the Shinigami smiles good-naturedly through his skull mask and suggests, "Why don't you two start out by living together?"
Spirit promptly has an aneurysm, Maka's face flushes against her will, and Soul's eyebrows go up to his hairline.
.
"So," she says awkwardly, dragging her suitcase into their brand-new apartment. "Dad's helping us with the rent for now, until we can go on missions and earn money for ourselves." Maka then pauses and scans the room warily as if expecting Spirit to jump out and attack Soul again.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna go check out the rooms," Soul says, only a backpack filled with clothes over his shoulder. She does not ask about it and he does not ask about her mother. She wanders around the apartment as well, grudgingly noting the furniture that Spirit surely bought for her, and enters a room with a bathroom and a Jacuzzi.
"Soul!" Maka yells, grinning. "I call this room!"
He appears in a flash and spots the Jacuzzi in a split second. "No way."
"I called it first, so it's mine!"
"Yeah, well -"
"Well what?"
They spend the next hour on arguing on who gets the Jacuzzi, and they both agree to share it.
(But it's mostly Maka's, and Soul knows better than to argue with this fact - he's already lost too many brain cells from her Maka Chops.)
.
When they train and fight together, Soul does not soften his blows because she is a girl. He treats her equally, breaks her nose, her thumb, and she does the same to him. But he always makes sure to never hit her in critical places, never to aim at her neck or her head. But Maka is different than any other girl he's ever known, and, when she's really angry, kicks him where it hurts.
When the Shinigami accepts them as meister and weapon - Spirit had explicitly lectured Soul about how to protect his "baby girl," after which Maka promptly hit him and ran away with Soul - she finds that his chivalry goes farther than letting her have the last piece of meat. At first, his actions are subtle and she barely notices them. When they fight together, he is always one step ahead of her, switching into a scythe without her telling him to and moving on his own to block attacks. But soon, she starts faltering in her rhythm, and he has to return to his human form and protect her with his body.
They've only known each other for a few months, and she cannot understand his actions.
But she stares at him, the way he fights, and she watches the movements of his arms and his feet as he punches and kicks the training dummy, the gliding way in which he moves. She observes this and tries to mimic it because she cannot be left behind, she will not be a burden, and she trains until the laughing moon has risen and the grass has turned red.
.
He finds her one day, punching away at a tree trunk. Her knuckles are bleeding and her hands are raw, face filled with determination.
"Oy, Maka."
She turns slightly but never stops. "Umm, hey, Soul. What's up?"
"It's dark."
"And?"
"You've been training for hours."
"You do that, too."
He looks irritated. Soul strides right up to her. "We're going home. That's enough."
"I'm not going."
"Yes," he says forcefully, gritting his teeth. "You are. You're bleeding, Maka. You should know when to stop."
"You train until -"
Soul cuts her off. "That's me, not you. Weapons are - are built differently than meisters. Our bones are thicker, stronger."
When she ignores him and continues to train, he reaches out and grabs her wrist before it can connect to the tree. She struggles in his grasp and he grabs the other. He pulls her closer to him so that they are almost eye-level - he is slightly taller than her, quicker and stronger as well, Maka thinks - and says in a low voice, "Training also means you need to rest. You're strong, Maka. You don't need to - keep doing this. Please."
Maka looks at him almost desperately, stubbornly. She remembers the travel pamphlet she saw on his side table and is reminded that he is always, always trudging forward. "I can't keep up with you," she tells him quietly. And he knows, somehow, that she doesn't just mean in battles.
Soul doesn't know what to say to that. He looks at Maka, her cracked lips, messy hair, sheen of sweat on her forehead but what catches his attention the most is her eyes, rimmed with red, and the faint drop of water that falls from her cheeks as she turns away and runs.
.
Later, he finds her in her bedroom, curled up in a ball and sleeping. "Great," he mutters to himself, running one hand through his hair. He'd planned some big speech, but she isn't even awake to hear him say it. Still, he sits beside her bed and listens to her snore softly. Her hair has grown long, almost to her waist, and her face is less rounded, slightly more angular. It's been a long time since he'd met her.
"Don't..."
...hurt yourself.
"...keep training so much. It's not cool to have to drag you home; I look like some kind of freaking stalker or something. And I'll tell Spirit, and you know how he gets. He'd probably break my nose and give me a concussion and make you live with him again, and I really don't think you want that."
Soul pauses, looks up at the ceiling. "You're the only partner that's stubborn enough to deal with me. I'm not leaving without dragging you around with me."
She stirs slightly, fingers touching his hand.
He retracts it quickly and stands. As he closes the door behind him, the snoring stops.
Maka's hands are bandaged, many of her fingers broken.
After being submitted, and taken out later on from the hospital, she cannot seem to remember much of what happened beforehand. She remembers fierce determination, Soul talking to her when she was asleep. But, deciding that it isn't important, she turns to Soul and frowns, looks at him a little sadly. "Guess I can't fight for a while, can I?"
She is dragging him down again, pulling him away from his dream to become a Death Scythe.
"I'm sorry." She looks at the ground. "I know I'm supposed to take care of my body, and now I can't even hold you..."
"It'll heal," Soul finally says dismissively, staring straight ahead. "Don't worry about it."
"...Okay." She sneaks a glance at him, but his expression is wary, and he will not turn to her.
There's a pause in which Maka takes this time to stare at him until he'll look at her. "Soul?"
"What?"
"Next time you sleep with Blaire, I'm banning you from the Jacuzzi."
Soul splutters indignantly and his face goes red. Maka inwardly cackles at his discomfort, but gives a tiny, gentle smile on the outside. "I did not... sleep... with - with her!"
"But she was lying next to you, sleeping." Maka shakes her head. "Eww, you pervert. What did you think I meant? Just for that, the Jacuzzi's mine!"
"Wha - that isn't fair!"
Maka laughs, and Soul smiles a little.
At the school party, their class is the oldest - they are seniors, ready to be pushed out into the world, and not one of them has collected ninety-nine kishin souls and one witch soul. Maka walks into the room, hair carelessly let down and pushed aside, looking for anyone she knows. She spots Tsubaki staring helplessly at Black Star, who is vacuuming all the food into his mouth.
"Hi, Maka. I don't suppose you can help me with this...?" Tsubaki gestures at her partner. Maka laughs; she knows Tsubaki is not really angry, and that is just how their relationship is.
"Sorry, but no." She pulls on her dress self-consciously, tugs up the strapless dress Liz forced on her. She is not a beauty, like Tsubaki or Liz, but she is Maka, in-between and sort-of-pretty. "Have you seen -"
"Maka!" Liz and Patty walk over, the former in a floor-length dress that dips down too far and the latter in something that resembles pixies in fairytales. Liz scrutinises her. "You look pretty. You know, some make-up would totally work on you, some warm tones here and there..."
"Nah," Maka says, remembering her make-up phase back in her pre-teens. She inwardly shudders at the memories. "I'd probably end up looking like a clown, and -"
She's cut off by a horrible, tortured wail. Maka looks around, shifting into a fighting stance, ready for whatever enemy that decided to appear at their school dance. Liz sighs, massages her temples, and says, "Relax, it's only Kidd, probably freaking out over something asymmetrical."
True to her words, Kidd appears in a flash. Liz ignores him as she adjusts her earrings, and -
"I specifically told you two to wear the red dresses, the exact same ones!" he almost shouts, staring wide-eyed at Liz and Patty's mismatching outfits.
"Come on, Kidd, can't a girl wear what she wants for at least one day?" Liz says, and sighs again as Kidd collapses on the floor, head in hands, muttering psychotically to himself.
"B-b-b-but your outfits don't even match and you wear jeans while the other doesn't and-and-and..." Kidd trails off in a dramatic pause and suddenly bounces up to his feet with a wicked, maniacal glint in his eyes. Maka quietly wonders if he needed some help - no, it is beyond that, he needs to be sent to an asylum. "Your clothes - no, no, the entire closet - should be - should be burned and destroyed, yes, yes, that will do."
Liz shrieks, "What? You can't do that! Wait, wait, calm down, Kidd, please I'm begging you - no, Patty, don't encourage him -"
"Clothes go bye-bye!" Patty squeals. "Boom, boom, boom!"
"And," Kidd continues, pacing a path into the ground, "I shall alter your dresses right now until they are perfect." He whips out a pair of (symmetrical) scissors and snips them in the air dangerously. Liz just looks at him, and when he bends down and actually starts to cut away pieces of her gorgeous (expensive) dress, she explodes.
"Kill him, kill him!" Patty cheers, dancing in place.
"Aa, this is a mess," Soul murmurs. Maka jumps and swivels around, and sure enough, Soul's standing right next to her in a familiar black and red suit.
"Yeah. It is." Tsubaki still hasn't reigned in Black Star, who has now taken over the stage and is screaming a speech about his supposed 'awesomeness' to the world, his classic 'I will surpass God' comments flying through his lips. The younger students watch the scenario - Kidd, lying on the floor with blood pooling around his head (courtesy of Liz) and Black Star, destroying their eardrums and brainwashing them - and they have mixed reactions ranging from hysterical laughter to sheer terror.
Soon, a slow song overtakes Black Star's voice, and the chaos is slowly melted away by the gentle melody. Couples make their way onto the floor, swaying to the music. Soul looks at them, and then at Maka, raising his eyebrows. She shrugs, taking his hand and their hands automatically find their places. She thinks about this, how it's all so familiar, how this all will change once the year is over and they've graduated.
Tentatively, she leans her forehead against his. He closes his eyes, and for a moment they are silent, listening and peaceful and she never wants to stop. "I've been thinking," he suddenly says, opening his eyes.
She waits, tightening her grip around his neck.
"...About leaving."
Her heart thuds and her throat constricts and her chest is tight and she can't breathe and she stops moving altogether. He sees her expression and hurriedly explains. "I mean... travelling. Finding other places, not just Death City. There are other areas where we can kick kishin butt, you know?"
Maka clings desperately to the we, but on the outside, she is calm and collected. "What if..." she clears her throat. "What if I don't want to leave?"
There's a pause that's much too long. "Then I'll stay," he finally says, but if she knows that if he is kept caged in this city he will never be at rest. He's already looking far ahead to a future she can't see, and she can't help but wonder if he wants her to be in it. And suddenly, suddenly, she realises that she's been holding on to the bond of meister and weapon without knowing how easily it could be broken, and she's reminded of her mother and father.
"I'm sorry." Then, "Thank you." Maka peers up at him from under her eyelashes, tentatively swaying to the song again. "Once I make you a Death Scythe, maybe we'll have enough money to travel the world," she promises rashly. She ducks her head so she can't see his expression, but they both know that once he's a Death Scythe, it'll be harder and harder to get away from the duties and responsibilities that the title holds.
.
The day Soul becomes a Death Scythe is the day Maka learns his last name.
He is taller than her now, battle scars on every inch of skin. Maka and Soul stand proudly as he joins the revered, elite group. Black Star whoops and catcalls, Tsubaki smiles gently, Kidd looks contemplative, Liz is clapping and observing her nails, and Patty is being distracted by a spider on the ground. Spirit comes up to (grudgingly) congratulate him, and when he turns to Maka, she swiftly dodges his flying hug. He gets up, composing himself, and there's a strange expression on his face when he looks at Soul.
That is when they learn that Soul is being summoned immediately to work in another country for a while.
"Soul Eater Evans," Spirit reads monotonously, "is thereby requested to serve in the Civil War in the Southern Lands."
Maka goes still and stops smiling, because she knows this is for weapons only and her name was not mentioned and she cannot follow.
Soul is looking at her when he asks, "How long?"
"Two months, at the very least," Spirit replies solemnly. "A year or two at the most."
Maka stuffs back the urge to scream and protest. Two years? She thinks unhappily and there's a strangled feeling in her throat, a prick at her eyes. She stands strong, staring right back at Soul, because she won't cry - not in front of him. "...Maka?"
Spirit takes this as a question for him, and Maka takes this as asking for permission.
He says, "She can't come" at the same time Maka says, "Go."
Soul closes his eyes, and when he opens them, there's a promise in there - a promise to return. "Alright," he says quietly, then stretches as if he'd done something tiring. A yawn escapes his mouth and his hand brushes hers, deliberately, as he passes by. "When do I leave?"
"A week from today."
"Got it. Well, I'm gonna get some sleep. You coming with me, Maka?"
Spirit snaps out of his solemnity and proceeds to flail about Soul's apparent injustices against his daughter. Soul snorts, shark smirk pulling to one side of his mouth, and Maka rolls her eyes and gives her father her famous Maka Chop, saying, "He didn't mean it like that."
Spirit grumbles under his breath. Just before they leave, Soul raises an eyebrow at Maka. "Your bet?" he mouths to her, and jerks his head towards Spirit. She scowls at him and turns reluctantly to her father, pasting on a weak smile and mustering up a Daddy's Little Girl voice. "Good night, daddy! I love you!"
She and Soul run away just before Spirit faints, regain consciousness, and starts squealing to Dr. Stein about how his daughter finally acknowledged him.
Maka looks at Soul, grinning, for a moment forgetting what happened.
"You owe me twenty-five bucks."
.
As he packs his things, Maka watches as the room turns empty. He'd never had a lot of things in the first place, but the little things that make up Soul are missing: the array of headbands, pins, posters, and dirty clothes littered around the room.
"I'm gonna be back before you know it," Soul tells her.
"I know."
"Two years isn't that long. It'll be a breeze."
Her mouth opens but she closes it. She knows that two years will not pass by quickly, that it is long, too long, and she does not know what to do now that she's out of a partner - without a weapon, without Soul.
"We both knew that this was going to happen," Soul says quietly, zipping up his backpack and turning to look at her.
"I know. But," she suddenly says, sitting up and looking at him, "you'll be going into a civil war. I mean, the whole stopping the whole insanity-kishin-war thing was one thing, but a war... You're only seventeen. We're only seventeen."
"I'll be fine." Soul stares at her straight in the eye. "Really," he says again, gently, "I'll be fine. And I'll be back before you know it."
"Okay," she whispers, closing her eyes, daring to believe it. "Okay."
She takes a deep breath, then pulls out a chain necklace with a tiny forget-me-not flower charm hanging onto it. "It's, you know. Something to take with you. Since a headband would be kind of troublesome..."
He snorts a little, but it isn't derisive. He accepts it and pulls it around his neck, taking a moment to clasp the ends together. "Heh, this totally isn't cool for me to wear something so girly."
"It's so you won't forget all us little people now that you're a Death Scythe," Maka tells him. "So, forget us not."
"...Was that supposed to be a joke? Or a pathetic attempt to be meaningful?"
"Shut up, Soul."
.
It is not one year or two years that he comes back, but four.
He's strapped to a white gurney and being wheeled into a hospital room, bandages wrapped around every vital spot. Red blossoms decorate the white he's been dressed in.
Maka shoves her way through the nurses, shouting and protesting because she has to see him and when they finally let her, she collapses beside his bed, face scrunched up as if she's going to cry soon. Soul turns his head to her, red eyes blank and dead and when she touches his hand, he hasn't the energy to pull away. She feels something hard clasped tightly in his fingers and when she tries to pry them apart, she thinks she can see a dulled, blue flower stained with red. "Soul," she says, over and over again. "Soul, I -"
She's cut off by the piercing look in his eyes, and he's regarding her with an expression of unfamiliarity and she draws back, mute. "...Soul?" she asks in a tiny voice, attempting a comforting smile.
"Who are you?"
Her smile shatters.