Chapter Text
“Thanks again for letting me stay with you Sid, I promise I won’t be a bother,” Maka said.
“You may have chosen a different lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t family,” Sid said. She’d been surprised to find her dear family friend in the strange position of being the reanimated dead, but he didn’t smell nearly as bad as she thought he would when he explained over the phone. She was just glad he hadn’t died for good.
“And you managed to keep my return a secret?” Maka asked hopefully.
“Nygus knows,” Sid said, which Maka expected. You didn’t keep things from your weapon partner. “Spirit doesn’t know, and I know he’s who you’re really worried about. Blackstar suspects something’s up, but he’s usually racked up enough detentions that you won’t run into him during the day. I had hoped he’d get a weapon partner that would be able to keep him in line and point him in the right direction, but she seems to enable him more than anything else.”
“Blackstar has a weapon partner?” Maka asked, eyebrows rising.
“He’s a year and a half into DWMA, of course he has a partner,” Sid replied. “They’re a hell of a team too, though I had to put them through some remedial lessons recently. Like I said, she almost seems to enable him, but I suppose that’s what a good weapon is supposed to do, help the meister reach their greatest goals.”
“So someone wants to help Blackstar become a god and lord his strength over everyone else?” Maka asked skeptically.
“I don’t make a habit of judging other meister/weapon relationships, that’s not the man I was, but as a guess, she’s a quiet, talented girl who wants to use her talents well without standing in the spotlight. You’d have to ask Tsubaki for a real answer. There are some things that get ruined when you’re forced to justify them,” Sid said.
“She must be a saint to put up with Blackstar for as many hours as a weapon does,” Maka said, “But I’ll keep to myself. Two weeks and I can go back to the dorms.”
“Tell me how your school has been going. I threw a pizza in the oven just before I got the door, we’ll have that tonight.”
“Okay,” Maka said, “But I’m cooking dinner the rest of the time. I mean it, I don’t want to be a burden, I know how much I’m asking of you.”
“I won’t complain. I keep money for groceries under the silverware sorter, so help yourself. Now tell me about your friends up at your school.”
“Oh, they’re great,” Maka said, “May is really smart and Alison taught me a lot of good recipes, she wants to be a chef when she grows up…”
Maka looked over her clothes. Her first real trip out into the city where she was born and raised, and she wanted to be inconspicuous. She had to dig under the blue and white of her school uniforms and soft sweaters to find the clothes she had taken with her to school a year and a half ago. Drawing out the old clothes was just as surreal an experience as it had been packing them. More like pulling out an old photograph than pulling out something actually a part of her wardrobe.
It was her spring break, the first week of March, but there was plenty of the heat that never left Death City. Not that that would stop a Deadbred. Children of the City knew its heat, and in all but the worst of summer, you wore black, white, yellow, and red, preferably looking a little rough and patched up. Then again, if she didn’t want to be recognized, maybe dressing like a tourist would be more appropriate? The wardrobe she had picked up in Washington was focused a lot more on cold weather and rain than the sunshine, that didn’t mean she didn’t have things for nice weather. Alison would have her in the stylish knee-length kaki skirt and pink off the shoulder short-sleeve shirt. Alison had been dressing Maka for their outings since they met, but after a year and a half, Maka had learned some tips. She looked cute in the clothes, everyone had said so, so Maka went with it. Then she applied makeup like May did, subtle but elegant, and put on a white headband with her hair down and white strappy sandals.
She took a mirror selfie and sent it to Alison with the text, Do I pass the test? Am I allowed to dress myself now?
She looked back at the leftover black coat tails and checkered skirt.
They probably wouldn’t even fit anymore.
The store had been easy enough. She picked up enough things for four dinners and some easy lunch meals. Cooking hadn’t been something she had expected to learn at her all-girl’s private boarding school, but Alison loved it, and Maka memorized just about everything she ever heard or watched, and had learned along the way.
When she left the store, the heat of the day had set in, and it fell around her like a familiar coat. Except for her face. Now even her light makeup had her face feeling sticky again, just like when May had first insisted she start to wear it. Maka thought she had gotten used to the sensation, but she’d never been in the heat of Death City with it on before.
That was okay, she’d adjust a second time. Or not, it’s not like she was going to be here very long.
By the time she got back to Sid’s house, her skirt was sticking uncomfortably to her thighs, and another early complaint she had forgotten about reared its head. Tight skirts seriously limited her movement. Maka’s naturally long strides were forced into demure steps in this skirt. Not a bad thing when May walked like a snail, or Maka was only half paying attention because she had her nose in a book at the same time, but a very bad thing when she just wanted to get back before the cheese melted.
Maka finally made it back to Sid’s place, where a motorcycle was sitting just outside the front door. A white-haired old man in a letterman’s jacket was sitting there, and she assumed he was Sid’s neighbor in the duplex on the first floor.
The old man turned at her approach and his eyebrows shot up. So did hers. Not an old man, but a kid her age with white hair and red eyes. Albino then, though he had a lot darker skin than she thought the uncommon disorder came with. His face and height were absolutely her age, he must have moved here recently since she would have known if a person who looked like that was local.
Wait. He was her age. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” she scolded.
“I could ask you the same question,” the boy replied.
“No, you can’t, I’m visiting from out of town on my spring break. All the local schools are still in session,” Maka said, shifting her bags of groceries to put her hand on her hip.
The boy’s eyes followed the movement for a second, then shrugged and relaxed against his handlebars, looking away. “Lunch break. We’re allowed off campus. My friend needed something, so I gave him a ride. Any other personal questions?”
Maka’s lips quirked in a smirk that she shut down. Neither Alison or May would have given this kid, or his razor-sharp teeth, another glance after the curiosity, no matter his sarcasm. They might have even thought he was scary. He would fit right in here.
“Yeah, actually,” she said, “Move your bike out of my way so I can get inside, or help me carry these groceries up. I’m not going to have my shredded cheese melt because you couldn’t park like a normal person.”
"Did you really just tell a stranger to carry your melted cheese?” he asked. “Aren’t you worried about me at all?”
Maka sized him up. Same height as her, muscle mass was hard to tell under the clothes, but he wasn’t broad like Blackstar.
“About you? No. My cheese? Yes. Now scooch before I shove your bike over on my way to the front door,” she said, looking pointedly at the door.
“Wait, you’re going in there?” he asked, jerking a thumb towards Sid’s door.
“Yes, any other personal questions?”
“Just give me a sec—” he was pulling out his phone.
Maka rolled her eyes and jumping with all her strength to compensate for her bags, cleared the bike and the boy’s head, landing easily on Sid’s porch.
She pulled the key out of her pocket and went for the door.
It was already unlocked.
She looked back at the boy, who held his hands up, “Wait, I can expl—”
Maka flung all her groceries at him, and while he was blinded, hurried up the stairs.
Sid was a teacher, but also a three-star meister. Unlikely but not impossible that the robbery was for money, but Maka would put money on someone looking for the trick to reanimating the dead. It wasn’t exactly something Sid could hide.
Cursing her skirt on the stairs, she yanked it up enough to free her thighs. Keeping her strides long would hopefully keep it from coming undone.
She flung open the door, also unlocked, to Sid’s darkened room. She had turned off all the lights and put all the blinds down before she left, leaving just little cracks of light.
A noise came fro Sid’s work room; Maka charged in.
A figure was going through his desk. They were turning towards her as her roundhouse landed. Not to the chest like she had aimed, but she clipped the shoulder, sending them stumbling. Maka followed up with an upper cut. The thief caught her hand with a “woah!”, and she immediately followed up with a turning throw over her hip, which finally got him off the ground.
He landed on his feet, giving a hint to his level of combat training, just before he launched himself back at her. A cellphone went off, as she ducked the right hook, but caught the left jab on her breast.
She spun, then forced herself through a backspring to recover, her body remembering the motion while her mind processed the moment of blinding pain.
Her back hit the wall, and she immediately went low to miss the next punch. Target open, 90% sure the thief was male, she slapped him in the nuts, dropping him on top of her with a groan. From her crouch, she threw the man into Sid’s desk, but miscalculated the weight. The body went sliding across the top instead and tumbled onto his chair. Maka jumped onto the desk and then jumped to pin him down, the chair broken beneath the..
He recovered much faster than she thought he would, and was rising as she made her jump. Her legs wrapped tightly around his neck and shoulder instead of his waist, sending them both towards the back window. Her face smashed into the blinds and glass cracked on impact.
The thief was prying her legs off. Barely able to see around her hair, she punched through the glass and gripped the center metal stand in the window.
The thief was light, and the best weapon was the one unique to the fight. Using her entire core in a way that would most definitely pull a muscle, sandals and feet hooked rock solid around the man, she launched them both out the window, only letting go of her pivot point when she was sure it would be the thief to hit the ground first.
Three impossible seconds and her calculations were correct, the man’s legs hit first and the rest of their bodies took the rest of the blow. Her legs kept the torso of the man pinned, even though something was definitely sprained and they were all gashed up from him clawing at her to let go.
The thief was still struggling, trying to get the right leverage to pry her legs off even now. She kept one arm on the ground for balance trapping one of his hands and pulled her other one back for a punch if he didn’t knock it off. Maka flipped her hair out of her face, wishing it was pulled back with something sturdier than a headband. She finally got her good look at him. He had a very distinctive blue hairstyle. He looked up at her, and familiar dark eyes widened as they met her own.
“Maka!”
“Blackstar!”
It wasn’t Maka who yelled her childhood friend’s name, it was the albino kid with the motorcycle. He was standing at the mouth of the alley they had crashed into, out of Sid’s office window.
The boy’s mouth had fallen open, and Maka took mental stock of the picture she made. Her hair was a mess, possibly bloody from being shoved head first into a window. Her skirt was covering her underwear, but almost nothing else. Her chest was heaving from the battle, and the rest of her body was tense with the effort of pinning Blackstar.
“This doesn’t count!” Blackstar whined from under her. “You went for a nut shot, and you destroyed Sid’s office! Nothing below the belt and no collateral damage, those were the rules, so this doesn’t count.”
A triumphant grin spread across her face as she switched her punch to a palmstrike and rubbed his face against the cement.
“It totally counts. You went for a boobshot first. Now say it. Come on, I haven’t won in three years, and I’ve said it loads of times. Say it! Then you can explain to me why you were sneaking around Sid’s house. It’s your house too, idiot! Why were you sneaking around his desk in the dark like a thief?”
He tried to buck her, but she just smashed his face even more.
“Aggh! You’re desecrating the face of your god! The great Blackstar bows to no one, now get off me!”
“Say it!” she demanded, “Maka is the greatest meister in the world!”
He raised his head off the ground, against all of Maka’s weight, eyes and veins bulging, “But you ran away from being a meister. You may have beaten me this time, but we both know cowards can’t be meisters.”
Her mouth twisted and she forced his head back down, his neck muscles finally giving out. “You’ve always been a terrible loser Blackstar.” She got up and off him.
Folding her arms, she turned back towards Blackstar’s accomplice. Whatever she was going to say to him vanished when she noticed him staring at her ass. Specifically, her red underwear, which was visible with how high she had hiked her skirt to pull that last leg pin.
“Stop looking you pervert!” Maka shrieked, yanked her skirt back into place. Her ankle shot some warning pains that would absolutely be worse later when she got off the foot, but for right now she grabbed the pole of plastic that had once been the bottom of the plastic window shutters and hit the kid over the head with it. “Maka Chop!”
“Ow! What the hell? What is with you and turning everything into a weapon?” the boy asked, rubbing the spot on his head. “First your groceries, now pieces of the window you broke?”
“My groceries!” she yelled.
She rushed past the boy and groaned. The milk carton had busted, as had the tortilla chips, rice, and flour. Looking over the scattered piles, everything else seemed fine, even if the butter and cheese were softer than she liked.
“Blackstar! Get your friend to help me carry these things up! Don’t pick things up off the ground, but if it’s still in the bag, it’s fine.” She grabbed as many perishables as she could and caught something about her voice being loud and bossy as ever as she dashed up the stairs.
Both boys were making their way up the stairs when she finished putting her things away, and she started on some lemonade for them in the blender with ice, blitzed it a couple of times, then helped them put the rest of the groceries away. She’d have to go back to the store tomorrow to replace the items lost, but they’d be good for tonight.
Still standing, she cleaned most of the blood off her face and got herself and the boys some lemonade. The new boy looked confused, but Blackstar took it with a grin and put it away in one take.
“So, what brings the coward back home? If you couldn’t make it at your prissy little girl’s school, there’s no way you can make it here,” Blackstar said. This was why she hadn’t wanted to let him know she was back in town.
“I’m here on spring break. They kicked us out of all the dorms to do some renovations, then I’m out of here again,” she said. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t breathe a word of this to Papa.”
Blackstar rolled his eyes, “Like I have any reason to talk to that old pervert anyway. I guess that means you’re going to ignore Lord Death too? His kid’s in our class, you know, and he’s pretty good, even if he’s no match for me.”
“Lord Death has a son?” Maka asked, “You mean I could have had another friend growing up besides you?”
“No, because you never needed another friend besides me,” Blackstar said with a grin, he flicked her hand holding her lemonade, “Come on, admit it, your life got a hundred percent less awesome without me around.”
“If by that you mean, a hundred percent safer and a one hundred percent decrease in my likelihood of ending up in a fight, then yeah, you’re right. One hundred percent less awesome. What ever will I do?” Maka said. Soul snickered.
“Don’t worry Maka, your god has you covered. All you have to do is transfer back into DWMA, between your family and the fact that you can still get a lucky shot in that might win you a bout against yours truly, they’ll let you in. You can even partner with Soul here, he’s desperate enough for a partner he’ll even take your bossy attitude,” Blackstar said.
Soul knocked shoulders with him, “Not cool man, not cool at all.”
“A weapon without a partner?” Maka asked, raising an eyebrow. Halfway though their second year, he should have a partner. DWMA was careful to let in only as many meister applicants as they had weapons attending, and Soul had had two batches of meisters to pick from, his year and the year below.
Soul rolled his eyes, “Look, I don’t need to hear it from anyone else, so drop it. And can I get some information on this total stranger you’re dumping my life too?”
Curious. For a second her eyes unfocused and a ball of light took over where Soul was standing, white slanted eyes and a jagged smile.
“Right, forgot. Can’t have my disciples not know each other,” Blackstar said with a grin, breaking the image. “This here’s Maka, she’s Deathscythe’s kid, and overall better than most of the idiots in our school. She got scared of a little pain and hard work and ran away to Idaho to an all girls school instead.”
“Shut up, you know there’s a lot more to it than I got scared! Hell, you probably don’t even know what I got scared of,” Maka challenged.
Blackstar rolled his eyes, “Right, she’s also got enough Daddy and Mommy issues to make her crack like a twig.”
“Look, just because I changed what I wanted in life, doesn’t mean I’m a coward or I was running away,” Maka said.
Blackstar gave her the blank face he usually reserved for people pushing on pull doors. “Really? Cause I never heard anything about that. All I heard was that you ran away. So what do you want to do with your life, since you’re not fighting against the forces of evil? Something lame like be a librarian?”
“I’m going to be a doctor,” she said haughtily. “Maybe I can get a life that won’t end in shambles if I spend my time fixing people instead of hurting them.”
“B.S., but if you’re going to stick to that lame story instead of taking my awesome idea, then you really have become boring. I can’t believe you were what Sid was hiding from me,” Blackstar said.
“Door’s right there,” she said, gesturing with her glass.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Blackstar said, “Come on Soul.” He started heading for the door, and Soul looked conflicted as he trailed after.
“Tell Sid that you broke in and busted up his office,” Maka called out, collecting the glasses.
“The Great Blackstar doesn’t have to justify himself to anyone!” he called back.
Soul paused at the doorway, and turned back to her, “Hey, are you going to be okay?” he asked.
Maka shrugged, “The homemade pasta is going to have to wait until tomorrow, but otherwise I’m fine.”
“I mean physically,” he said, “You look a bit banged up. You’re still bleeding, and Blackstar wasn’t going easy, no matter what he says later.”
That was…kind of sweet.
“I’m fine,” Maka insisted, “Nothing I haven’t gotten from sparring with him in the past. Don’t worry, I’m tougher than I look.”
“If you’re sure,” Soul said, eyeing her forehead suspiciously, “Take care, Maka.”
He left and a minute later she heard the motorcycle roar off. Maka finished the dishes, popped some pain killers, bandaged the rest of her cuts, cleaned as much of Sid’s office as she could, and started prepping for dinner. The longer she kept moving on her foot, the longer it would take for the pain to set in. If she could make dinner and leave a plate for Sid to find when he came home, she’d be able to ice it in her guestroom all night, and hopefully have movement by morning.
Like usual during partner training, Soul slid out the side door of the training room while everyone else was practicing and started wandering the halls. Technically he was supposed to be working on self-wielding since he still didn’t have a partner, but he didn’t feel like it today, like he didn’t feel like it most days. Nah, what he felt like was being the Ghost of Death Academy. Two and a half more years of this, and he’d be able to graduate and go find some low paying job and disappear completely from everyone’s radar. He’d do it as many times as it took to find something he was actually good at and he cared about.
He wandered a bit, but made his way back to the room he usually found himself in.
Opening the empty, tucked away room, Soul went straight for the piano. Maybe it wasn’t cool, being so eager to play music, the very music that separated him from his family and the only person who might have actually cared about him, but the keys were addicting in a way he couldn’t deny.
He could get through the rest of this failed experiment of a life change if he could keep making music speak the things he couldn’t say. He started the scales, listening for the familiar out of tune notes and checking to see if any of the others were off.
Though, maybe Blackstar would miss him. Soul hadn’t thought Blackstar capable of missing anyone, so focused on himself and his own goals. He had always assumed Blackstar would charge ahead and maybe notice when he left someone behind, but not long enough to actually miss them. Then Maka showed up, the girl that was apparently DeathScythe’s daughter. That conversation had been the equivalent of Blackstar begging Maka to come back to the academy.
He saw her all sarcasm and soft colors, the contrast definitely worth some extra time studying. Some muscle definition he wouldn’t have expected from someone that stylishly dressed. And the style was weird. He hadn’t noticed before, but Death City didn’t really do soft colors, unless you were wearing a riot of them or it was the middle of summer. Then there she was, and then there she wasn’t. He had got off a text to Blackstar before tending to his bike that was covered in milk.
His next good look at her, her calf length skirt was up around her waist, her legs keeping Blackstar, the physically strongest meister in their year, possibly in the academy, in a pinning chokehold in her red underwear. One hand drawn back to deliver another punch. Her forehead was bleeding, crimson blood running down her face and into her teeth.
He was fourteen and a half years old, and he didn’t think he had ever met anyone cooler than her. Shame she probably wanted nothing to do with Blackstar or Soul after the way they were kicked out yesterday, but that wasn’t a surprise.
Finishing the scales, he noticed the center G had somehow come back into tune. It had been out of tune for as long as he had been coming here, and he struck it a couple of times to make sure. Either his ears were failing him, or that note had gone back into alignment. Cool, he didn’t know that sometimes pianos can fix themselves. The handful of other notes were still out of tune, but since the G was fixed, he went into his favorite of his own compositions.
With the G back in tune, it served as the backbone of piece, really letting the chaos run its course from his fingers. He’d made corrections over the years, and the parts that were meant to feel like screams, really did feel like screams among the swirling expunging of all the emotions of not fitting in, of not being enough, or wanting to look death and evil in the face, knowing you weren’t strong enough for that, but wanting to anyway.
Until the end, when you’ve gotten everything out, and you’re a dry, empty husk, waiting for the next moment to start the process over again.
But the silence wasn’t silence. Someone was breathing.
He spun around and saw Maka, looking at him wide eyed, mouth slightly open. “Amazing,” she breathed, pulling out a smile that was all sunshine. She was sitting with her back against the wall, and her feet were both raised up against chairs on either of side her in a V that could only have been completed by a trained gymnast.
“What?”
“That song!” she said, still smiling, “I’ve never heard anything like it. It was amazing! Who wrote it?”
Soul blinked, “You liked it?”
“Yeah,” Maka said tilting your head, “I just said that. Wait, did you write it?”
Soul looked away, knowing he might have a tiny blush. At least her pleated yellow skirt covered her better than yesterday. “Yeah.”
“Will you play it for me again?” she asked.
“No!” No way was she faking liking it if she was asking to hear it again, and none of her sarcasm was present, so she wasn’t mocking him. “What the hell are you doing here anyway? You made it pretty clear yesterday that you aren’t a student.”
“I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine,” she offered.
“No,” Soul said. “Don’t actually care that much.” Who knows what she’d ask him. He stood up and closed the piano. Sanctuary ruined for today.
“No, wait, don’t go. Look, I’m here because Sid noticed my twisted ankle and made me get it checked out at the DWMA infirmary. Then my dad went in to flirt with the school nurse, and now I’m bored and stuck here until my dad leaves,” she said. “Unless you’re dying to get back to class, and I would never get in the way of DWMA’s world class education, please stay for a bit longer, at least until my dad leaves?”
“Well, if you’re going to beg,” Soul said, sitting back down but not opening the piano again. Maka looked at the instrument behind him longingly, but didn’t say anything else. “Are you supposed to be stretching like that with a busted ankle?”
She looked over at her right ankle, which did have a brace under her white sock now that he looked for it, and shrugged. “The nurse didn’t say I couldn’t, just that I shouldn’t walk too much on it. I was actually going to see how far I could get walking on my hands.”
“Wait, if Sid brought you to school, how did he expect you to get back to the apartment?” Soul asked.
Maka sighed, “We decided I’d head to the library and he’d take me home during lunch. Of all the people I wanted to avoid, none of them would be in the library. I was actually looking forward to that. Maybe giving Lord Death a visit while I was here.”
“Were you going to walk on your hands down that ridiculous staircase?” Soul asked.
“Actually, I was going to slide all the way down on the banister, then see how far I could get walking up the staircase on my hands, and hobble the rest of the way when that got boring,” Maka said. “Do you ditch class to play music a lot?”
Soul shrugged, glad for how bored his expression was, “Not like partner practice does me any good without a partner.”
“You want to explain that?” Maka asked. “Because you seem pretty easy to get along with. You’re saying there’s a meister that would rather be weaponless than partner with you?”
“Two meisters broke under the stress of classes within the first month and dropped out. And yeah, no one was a good match for me,” Soul said, his tone uncaring,
Maka was still frowning and kind of squinting at him, “Still don’t get it. Are you a complicated weapon? Nun chucks or…I don’t know, a boomerang?”
Another chance to see if she’d be scared off. He smiled in a way that he knew showed his teeth at their sharpest, “I’m a scythe.”
“Really?” she said, leaning forward. Her eyes caught a beam of light from the half-shuttered windows, making the fierce green sparkle. “An actual scythe is rare, even though we give the name deathscythe to any weapon that reaps enough souls.” Then she pulled back, shaking her head, “Never mind. A scythe is still a polearm, it wouldn’t have been difficult for a meister to make the adjustments needed. That leaves…what do you want?”
“What do you mean, what do I want?” Soul asked.
Maka unhooked her legs from their v shape between the chairs and walked forward on her hands. Halfway across the room she curled her feet under her and swung her feet so that she was walking on her hands. Her skirt fell down, but she was wearing white shorts underneath this time, though her legs were still absolute works of art. She grimaced as her hair brushed the dirty floor, her headband coming undone again.
Feet first, in a way he hadn’t know a body could bend, she folded over from her handstand onto the bench beside him, pulling herself upright so that she was sitting facing the opposite direction. She quickly fixed her hair before turning towards him.
“I mean, that resonance compatibility isn’t just about fighting styles,” Maka said, “I’m surprised a teacher hasn’t gone through this with you by now, but a meister and a weapon can work together to find the fighting style that works for them, but if they want fundamentally different things, that’s a lot harder to work around. So what do you want that no meister can work with, Soul the Demon Scythe?”
Well, wasn’t that a deep, soul searching question. And since the only answer he could come up with was a pathetic ‘somewhere to belong’ or ‘someone who wants me for me, as dark as that is,’, he grinned at her instead. “Hell if I know.”
Surprise crossed her face, then she started with a snorting laugh her hands moved to cover up. Which just made Soul grin wider. Always a good day when you could reduce a pretty girl to obnoxious laughter.
“That’s what you got!” she laughed. “Deep moral question about the meaning of your existence, and you come back with a shrug?”
“I’m fourteen,” Soul said, “Who needs to know the meaning of their existence anyway.”
Maka quieted down, and her face turned serious. Before she could say something about what was probably actually the meaning of existence and maybe the universe, the door to the music room flung open.
“Maka? Was that my baby that I heard?” Death Scythe said, his eyes bright and a giant smile across his face. “Maka!”
Death Scythe’s face froze in its joy. Having located Maka, he had also located the teenage boy skipping class and sitting next to her on the piano bench.
Growing up, as much as he had tried to tune it out, Soul had still heard the high society gossip around teenage sons and daughters who got caught in compromising positions by the powerful parent. After the story of being caught, the gossips would giggle and whisper about how awful it was and how much trouble those kids were. But they never actually said what happened after getting caught.
Now, the most compromising thing he was doing was skipping class, but, as Death Scythe’s blades came out, three on his back and two on his arms, Soul had a feeling that didn’t matter very much to Death Scythe.
“Papa!” Maka squeaked. “Papa! Put your blades away, now!”
“I will, as soon as the disgusting boy gets away from you. Why don’t you come over here and you can tell me all about the wonderful things you’ve been doing at that brilliant all-girls school you picked?” Death Scythe negotiated.
“Blades away.” Maka ordered, voice like ice. “And we talk like civilized people. Unless you forgot how to do that after so much time spent around uncivilized whores.”
Well, that kinda answered the Daddy issues question.
Death Scythe’s blades retracted and he put on a placating smile, “Just let Daddy take care of this, you don’t know what teenage boys are like. Especially that one. Only weapon in a decade to not find a meister partner—”
“Hey, shut it old man,” Soul interrupted. “That’s none of your business. And Maka’s in here avoiding you, so I’d be careful about treating her like some kind of wimpy princess.”
“That’s not true, is it Maka?” Death Scythe asked, falling to his knees and clasping his hands together, “You wouldn’t do that to your dear Papa. Tell the nasty boy that he’s wrong and come here and give me a big hug. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! I want to hear everything about what you’ve been up to!”
“There are two demon scythes in this room,” Maka announced, “And one of them hasn’t betrayed me, my Mom, and broken apart my family, so no, I won’t be correcting Soul about who I would rather spend time with.”
Harsh. He could see the man pale under his daughter’s words, and slump against the doorframe. Maka was firmly looking away from her dad. And now he’s caught in a family dispute he barely knows anything about except that either father or daughter would be willing to kill him if he stepped wrong. Goodie.
“Right, fun as this is, I’d rather be in class than caught between you two, so I’ll just be leaving,” Soul said, standing up.
“Wait, Soul!” Maka said, reaching out for his sleeve. He looked down and her green eyes were pleading with him. But what did she expect him to do about this?
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Can you carry me to the Death room?” she said quickly. She was certainly one of the most direct people he’s ever met. Even more than Blackstar, who said what he wanted to, always, but not without exclaiming his own ego first.
“What? Why would he need to carry you to the Death Room?” Death Scythe demanded.
“Cause I busted up my ankle beating up Blackstar,” Maka said, rolling her eyes, as though her Dad should have guessed that. She focused back on him, “Please?” Wow, she really didn’t want to be alone with her dad. Which meant it would be seriously uncool not to help her out.
“Fine,” he sighed. He better not get detention for skipping class after this. He crouched down in front of her.
“Wait, Papa can carry you where you want to go,” Death Scythe pleaded.
“If you don’t embarrass me, you can walk with us and I’ll tell you why I’m here,” Maka negotiated. “Then you leave us alone after we visit with Lord Death. Deal?”
“But I’d be much better at carrying you than this strange boy you’ve never met before,” Death Scythe protested, but didn’t move any closer.
“We’ve met before,” Maka said vaguely, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He was careful of her right foot when he pulled her the rest of the way off the seat, keeping a steady grip on her thigh.
“Where did you meet before?” Death Scythe asked, following them out of the room.
“Through Blackstar,” Maka said. “I’m staying with Sid for the next week and a half. My school is renovating the dorms so everyone had to clear out for spring break.”
“You’re always welcome to come home and stay with me while you’re here,” Death Scythe said, “You’re room is just how you left it, and I promise that it will be just you and me the entire time.”
“Even if you could keep a promise,” Maka said, “I’ll pass.”
“Offer’s open,” Death Scythe said, undeterred. “So, tell me how school’s going. Are literature and PE still your favorite subjects? I’m surprised you aren’t carrying around a book, but I suppose that’s expected when you have a poor ankle.”
“Literature is good, they have a weird set of books in the curriculum outside of Death City, but they’re still interesting to read and discuss. For P.E. I took gymnastics and weight training, since they didn’t offer martial arts classes, and those have been interesting. Like going at my training sideways.”
“That’s so exciting!” Death Scythe gushed. “I’m so happy to hear it! My Maka’s the best athlete around. Obviously, since you gave Blackstar a beating. You take after your Mama and your Papa like that. Sometimes training in a different environment or a different way can have beneficial side effects for your fighting style. When you were six, your Mom and I would go do yoga together. Not the typical training of a Three-star Meister and the Death Scythe she made, but it was brilliant for focus and fine motor control.”
“You went to Yoga,” Maka said, turning her face away from her dad, “Mama gave up after the third week and went running instead, because you spent the class flirting with the other women there.”
“No, no, no,” Death Scythe muttered, “That can’t be right. I’m sure Karina was at the class as well. I spent most of it focusing on her ass—assets.” Maka still didn’t turn around to look at him. “Right? Right?” Death Scythe was sweating now, doubting his own memory.
“Maka, your dad’s seriously uncool,” Soul said casually, trying to break the moment. He’d rather have Death’s weapon yelling at him than stew in Maka’s childhood hurts and her whore father’s ramblings.
“Tell me about it,” she muttered in his ear as they turned down the long staircase to the Death Room.
“Cool guys don’t go back on their partners,” Soul said. Hell, if he’d had one person willing to stick around him for the long haul, long enough to turn him into a Death Scythe, he’d follow that person anywhere.
“I don’t know, sounds like you’re setting the standard too high,” she said sarcastically, “Have yet to meet a guy cool enough that he wouldn’t eventually stab his partner in the back for something he thought was better.”
“You really haven’t met that many guys, have you?” Soul said.
“Au contrair, I’ve met just the right amount,” Maka said, her voice poisonously sweet. With a history she had, Soul wasn’t going to be able to change her mind about that, even if he did feel insulted.
“Since I can’t do anything right, I’ll just shut up now,” Death Scythe said, and Soul felt Maka’s head turn with his to look at her father. There was a self-depricating smile on his face, and his hands were up in surrender. “I won’t say anything else, just…just talk. I miss hearing you talk. You really do have the sweetest voice.”
Maka buried her face in his shoulder and said something about embarrassing her. Soul had to readjust his grip on the girl, and decided they were maybe halfway to the death room.
“My roommate Alison taught me how to cook,” Maka said slowly, coming out from his shoulder. She waited to see if her dad would talk, trying to make the conversation about them again, but the man just smiled and nodded for her to continue. “She wants to take over her family’s restaurant when she grows up, so we spent a lot of time in the kitchen where she’d share her food and share some tips…”
Maka continued on about her friends, and it was obvious she was devoted to them. One of those all or nothing people then. If you were her friend, Maka would remember everything about you. Every birthday, every milestone, and there was no second guessing. If you weren’t her friend, kind ambivalence. If you were her enemy, she held back no punches, as the insults to her dad showed.
A very straightforward view of the world that probably wouldn’t work out with how complicated people actually were, but it fit her and the way she didn’t shy away from going after what she wants. Blackstar was different though for her though, maybe a different category. Possibly like a brother? Because she didn’t hold back insults against him, but they were definitely friends, and those insults were given with a kind exasperation.
They made it back to the Death Room without Death Scythe saying another word. Soul had made a few comments, mostly about her roommate’s crap taste in music and asking why learning how to put on makeup was anything she cared about. He’d gotten a couple of smacks on the shoulder for those, but not hard enough to make him drop her, so there was one benefit to being her donkey.
They arrived at the Death Room, and Death Scythe smoothed down Maka’s hair, “Thank you for talking with me. I’m always here for you, and I hope that one day I’ll earn enough of your trust back for you to believe me. I love you, beautiful girl.”
“Whatever Papa,” Maka said, her face turned away. Death Scythe went towards another part of the room.
“So, do you want me to carry you to Lord Death, or are you gonna give your handstand walking routine another try?” Soul asked.
“Just let me use you as a crutch for a bit, if that’s okay,” Maka asked, dropping from his back.
He turned and she was blushing red and looking at the ground, “I’m sorry you had to see that. I was trying to avoid him, and now you know why. So much for keeping my presence a secret, everyone I was avoiding found me within two days.”
“Getting in a fight with Blackstar isn’t going to help anyone keep a low profile,” Soul pointed out.
Maka sighed and gave him a rueful smile, similar to the one Death Scythe was just sporting, “You have a point. Still, thank you for not leaving me alone with him. I can’t stand him touching me, and he would have insisted on it if he saw me hobbling. It really means a lot.”
Soul’s recently discovered weakness for green eyes was really bothersome. “Don’t mention it. It wouldn’t be cool to leave someone who asked for help.”
Maka chuckled a bit, “No, it wouldn’t. Does this mean that this cool guy is going to help me a little bit more?”
“Might as well see this weird detour through,” Soul said with a shrug. “Human crutch or Scythe crutch?”
She blinked, “Huh?”
“Pole arm weapon,” he pointed out, “I can turn into a weapon that would probably work better as a crutch than human me, but up to you. I don’t care.”
Not quite true. He did care. A lot more than he should. He had a good feeling about Maka, her mood swings and crappy taste in music. So far, only Sid and Stein had been able to handle him in weapon form with ease, experienced three-star meisters, but he had a good feeling that Maka would be able to handle him.
“No-no thanks, human Soul is good,” she said, blushing a bit. He shrugged like he didn’t care, and decided not to take it personally. Her family issues were probably tied up with her issues with DWMA. No way did she need his issues with finding a partner on top of that.
They slowly made their way towards where Lord Death was watching the world from his mirror, and it took a bit, but Soul eventually got the hang of how Maka was stepping to keep the pressure off her foot and the slight tightening of her mouth when the step went wrong and she ended up in pain. Once he figured that out, with his arm around her waist and hers around his shoulder, they doubled their speed.
Lord Death finished up a call and turned to them as they entered the clearing.
“Hey, hey, hey! Hello! What’s this? My dear Maka is back after so long, with the talented Soul as well. How lucky to have such wonderful visitors. Please, sit.”
He moved and two chairs were behind him. Perks to being a god, apparently. Soul helped Maka sit, but opted to stand to the side.
“Thank you,” she said, smile bright again, “It’s just a sprain, I hurt my ankle fighting Blackstar. But I won this time!”
“You’ve always been an excellent fighter,” Lord Death complimented, “Does this mean you’ve kept training while away at school?”
Maka nodded, then hesitated, “Not to be a meister! I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being a meister, but I was training in other things. Weightlifting and gymnastics instead of combat forms. But I didn’t forget my combat forms, so it’s like I’ve been training. My body, I mean. Uhh, Blackstar tells me that you have a son?”
Lord Death nodded, “Oh yes, Kid is finally on his way to being my successor and I am very proud of him. It took a bit of complicated workarounds, he’s a very organized soul, but he’s growing up wonderfully. I think the two of you would be good friends.”
“He’s mine and Blackstar’s age, right? Why wasn’t he around when we were kids?” Maka asked.
“He was a shy boy, and I didn’t often let him leave the death room as a child, too vulnerable. When he was strong enough to venture into the world, he insisted on leaving immediately and set out to travel. There was just never a good time for the three of you to meet, and I dare say Blackstar would have been a bit much for him most of the time.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Maka said. “Have you read any good books lately?”
The two of them continued with small talk while Soul waited, finding pictures in the clouds that roamed the impossible room.
“Soul?” Lord Death asked.
He focused back on their conversation, “Yeah?”
“No, I was asking him why you haven’t gone to see if you could match with any meisters from the international branches of the school,” Maka said, blushing a bit. “I was curious.”
“Now that’s not your business, child,” Lord Death wagged a finger at Maka, who did looked ashamed, “It’s always good to foster curiosity, but it is more important to foster respect for people’s privacy. Just as I would no sooner tell your father about our conversation, nor would I talk about my conversations with Soul. Do you understand?”
“Yes Lord Death,” she said, ducking her head.
“Wonderful. Tell, how has your Maka Chop been going?”
She brightened up again. “Still not as good as a Reaper Chop, but I’m getting there. Wasn’t much chance to use it away at school, they got really fussy the one time I tried, but I can still pull it out when I need to.” Apparently that weird move she used after catching him looking at her panties was something she learned from Lord Death himself.
The mirror started ringing, and Lord Death gave Maka a final pat on the head, “You’re growing up lovely. But remember that wherever life takes you, this academy will always be your home, and you are always welcome here. Now, I have to take this call, so I’ll leave you in your new friend’s care to get you out safely. Toodeloo!”
Lord Death went to his mirror, which was suddenly much farther away, out of hearing range, and Maka turned to Soul. “Okay, one trip back up the stairs, and I’ll be out of your hair and you can actually get some learning done.”
Soul snorted and pulled her to her feet, setting their easy pace again. “As if that will happen.”
“You should at least try,” Maka scolded, “What classes do you have after lunch?”
“Soul theory, followed by algebra,” Soul said, “So nothing I couldn’t miss.”
“Of course you can’t miss those!” Maka said, absolutely scandalized, “Soul theory is all about how resonance actually works and covers all kinds of enchantments and how magic interacts with witches’ souls and honestly, I’m bummed that only Death City offers those classes, it’s so fascinating. It’s like…souls are the science behind all magic in the world.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t say that if you were taking the class with Stein. His classes are creepy and wicked hard. He spends more time dissecting living things than actually teaching us about souls.”
“What!” Maka screeched, causing them to fumble, “But that’s…that’s a crime against education! The one place in the whole country that teaches Soul theory at the high school level, and your teacher doesn’t even teach it? And who is Stein? I don’t remember him at all.”
“Geeze, do you have to be so loud?” Soul complained, rubbing his ear, “Stein recently came out of retirement, I think. He’s a hell of a meister, and when he’s not dissecting stuff, he teaches us through making us do crazy experiments, that sometimes end up with us learning. It’s exactly what I expected from the school, so I don’t understand what your problem is. And I’m not interested because it’s not like I can apply anything. Maybe it helps meisters who can see souls, or even just make a good plan of attack, but that’s not exactly me.”
“Kay, I’ll ask you,” Maka said stubbornly, “Why didn’t you look for a meister among the international schools like you’re supposed to when you don’t find a local match?”
“Meister’s lead the partnership,” Soul scoffed, “I’d have to transfer to whatever school they were at even if I did find a match. I don’t know any other languages, and I’m not interested in moving again, thank you very much. I’ll just…just graduate, then figure out my next step from there.”
“You want a meister, don’t you?” Maka asked, frowning.
“Moving on,”.
“No, I’m just confused. Your soul looks fine—No, you’re right, moving on,” Maka said, rushing forward a step even though he jerked to a stop. She winced, but he didn’t really care.
“You have soul perception,” Soul said, voice flat, “It really is a different world for meisters, isn’t it? Weapons have to come here to get training in their abilities, but third generation meisters, that’s how many generations it takes to develop the soul perception ability, they can walk away whenever they want. You are the coward Blackstar says you are.”
Maka ripped her arm away. They were at the base of the stairs, only a glance at where her father was practicing kept her voice at a hiss instead of the yell she wanted.
“Shut up,” she said, “You don’t get to judge me like that. I’m not a coward, and hell if it actually is soul perception or I’m just making stuff up. You want to know why I left? Because I saw my future, the future I thought I wanted, and it was nothing but death and misery and me broken to pieces by the time I’m thirty. So shut up.”
He looked ready to yell at her some more, but let out a deep breath instead. “You know what, I don’t care. I don’t care at all. So we’re going to get you to the library, and we’ll never see each other again.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you help me after what you just said,” Maka retorted, “Time to get today’s workout in.”
Lifting her injured foot off the ground, she kicked off and straightened into a handstand and started walking towards the stairs.
"Seriously?” Soul asked, “There’s five hundred stairs here, if not more. Are you really going to walk on your hands up all of them just because I offended you?”
She looked at him between her arms, “Watch me. You have no idea how petty I can be, and how much I enjoy pushing myself. So go ahead and leave, I can take care of myself.”
Soul sighed as she continued up the stairs, walking slowly behind her, ready to catch her if she fell. Maka curled into a sitting position once, but it was to fuss with her hair, turning her stretchy headband into a scrunchie, which only functioned marginally better.
“Look, I’m sorry for making assumptions,” he said, when she took a break a third of the way up the stairs. “I ran my mouth and my own issues with not having a partner got the better of me. I’m sorry. Please let me help you the rest of the way?”
Maka snorted, “Yeah, pretty sure you did mean it. And don’t act like weapons are automatically conscripted. You had the choice. Instead of coming to the Academy, you could have said no and the academy would have provided you with a private tutor for a year to control your abilities then you move on with your life. So maybe you really should be attending class instead of ditching all the time.”
Soul groaned, “Why do you need to be so smart all the time? I admitted it was stupid.”
Maka didn’t say anything, just pulled herself into a V walk for the next set of stairs. How the hell was she doing this? She couldn’t be completely human.
Of course she wasn’t. She was half weapon, and at least three generations of meister.
She glared at him during her next break, two thirds of the way to the top.
“Why are you still here?”
“In order? One, just because I said I don’t care about why you left Death City, doesn’t mean I don’t care if you fall down the stairs and get even more hurt,” Soul said, “Two, because Lord Death all but asked me to make sure you got somewhere safe, and I don’t break promises, no matter what you think of me. Three, because it clearly makes you angry, and it feels good to make you angry after you refused to accept my apology or my help.”
Maka rolled her eyes, “Whatever,” she said.
She took a longer break this time, and her arms were still shaking as she got into a handstand position again. Quietly Soul moved behind her. He caught her twice when she faltered, straightening her back into a handstand.
The second time she thanked him.
In the main hallway, she went down in a sloppy roll against the opposite wall and let her arms flop, clearly spent. The lunch bell had already rung, leaving various students loitering. He slid down to sit beside her.
“Hell of a workout,” he commented.
“Yeah well, outside of Death City wasn’t what I thought it was,” Maka said looking down and still breathing hard. “Washington shouldn’t have been that different from Nevada, aside from the weather, but it was worlds different. Maybe meisters don’t have the same pressure to join DWMA, but kids raised in Death City are raised different, in ways I didn’t even know. Third or second grade, you had to play a wind instrument, right? A recorder or something?”
“Something like that,” Soul said, purposefully shoving away the year of forced flute lessons in addition to piano practice. “It’s good for kid’s lungs or something.”
“In Death City, we didn’t play cheap plastic flutes, we spent an hour playing a game with blowdarts three times a week instead,” she said.
“Seriously?”
“I’m not saying I spent my entire childhood being trained as warrior,” Maka said, pulling her knees up to her chest, “We played tag and had coloring time and who cares if I don’t know how to play a recorder, I can nail the back of Blackstar’s head with a paint bullet at thirty feet away. But we never shied away from talking about death either. My childhood stories had princesses and princes, witches and kishin eggs, the heroes returning triumphant, but always losing someone along the way. I know about souls and reapers. One of my parental figures was the god of death himself, and when I went to boarding school, I didn’t fit in like I thought I would. I didn’t know their music or their celebrities. I went all out at sports, once I learned the rules, and no one could keep up with me because they hadn’t been running ten miles once a week for PE since they were eight. Ten miles, because that’s how far it is to get out of the city and to the emergency safe house in case Lord Death has to get up close and personal with an enemy.”
“Sounds like what it was to find out you had active weapon blood, at least a little bit,” Soul said, “Everyone knows weapons are sturdier and heal faster. Though thank goodness most people don’t know that we eat the souls of murderers. But you start thinking about your every interaction. Is this being said because you’re a weapon, are you acting differently? It’ll drive most kids crazy, I think, and that’s why most weapons end up at DWMA anyway, even with private tutoring as an option. At least going to school with other weapons and meisters, they are as much a freak as you are.”
It was different, and it was the same. They both thought they had normal childhoods, then went somewhere else where normal was completely different, and you really didn’t need that at the same time you were trying to get control of your freaky abilities. He hoped he conveyed that right, he wasn’t good with words.
“Life sucks,” Maka said, which suggested she might be about as good with words as he was.
“Hey, you going to be okay for a second if I grab a drink?” Soul asked.
“From the vending machine around the corner?” Maka asked, reminding him that she was just as familiar with this place as he was, if not more. He hadn’t been to the library after all. “Sure. I should text Sid anyway about where I am.”
When Soul returned with a sports drink for Maka and a juice for himself, Sid was there.
“I’m sorry Maka, but I forgot that I have to get back to the lunch detentions for today. Can you hang out in the library until school’s over? I should be able to leave about thirty minutes after the bell.
“Of course that’s fine,” Maka said, “You’ve already done so much for me. I promised I wouldn’t be a bother, and look at the trouble I’ve already caused. I’ll head over to the library, and stick around there, then make it to the elevator after the bell. I’ll meet at your car, okay?”
“I can take you home if you want,” Soul said, offering her the sports drink, which she took with a slightly confused expression, “I rode my motorcycle to school today, and we’re allowed to leave during lunch.”
“No way,” Maka said, “I refuse to be responsible for someone missing class.”
“I have to get back, but I agree with Maka,” Sid said, “You don’t have the best track record with coming back for classes. Maka, let me know if the plans change.” He hurried off.
“Will you let me take you home if I promise to come back and sit in on classes?” Soul said.
“With how slow I’m moving around, even if I did make you promise to come back, you’d still be late, and I’m not going to be responsible for that,” Maka said.
“Drink up, you’ll get dehydrated after all the sweat you poured on those stairs. Seriously, it was a safety hazard walking up them behind you,” Soul said, taking a sip of his own can of juice.
“Thank you, I guess,” she said, opening the bottle and taking a swig, “For the drink I mean, the insults were unnecessary.”
They were necessary. She was clearly five hundred steps via handstand stubborn, and she would have refused anything he gave her if he hadn’t bullied her into it at the same time. By insulting her, she didn’t have to feel bad about him spending money on her.
“So, the library?” she said, using the wall to get to her feet.
An idea sparked then, but he had to be careful about manipulating her. She was clearly weary about placing her trust in people, but if he made the deal too sweet, she might go for it even if he was blatant about the manipulation. And if he was obvious about it, then at least it wasn’t deception.
“Okay, if that’s where you want us to spend the next three and a half hours, you’re going to have to lead the way, because I’ve never been there,” Soul said, holding out his arm.
She froze, “Oh no, you are not ditching your classes to spend time in the library with me.”
He smirked, “Reason number two still stands. Lord Death himself told me to make sure you’re safe. Can’t disappoint him by letting you fall reaching for a book in the library. Or if Sid gets called away again after school and you really don’t have a ride. He is still active duty after all. Nope, to keep my promise, I need to stick with you until you’re in Sid’s car or back at his apartment.”
“Why are you so desperate to skip class? I’ll be perfectly fine, even Lord Death can’t hold you accountable if you leave me safely tucked into the library,” Maka said desperately.
“Nope, you’re just stubborn enough to try getting a book with a ladder and sending the whole bookcase down,” he said, shaking his head, “If you want me in class, then you’re just going to have to come to class with me. Stein and Miss Drake won’t mind if you’re just listening in.”
“Fine. Unlike some people, I have no aversion to learning,” she said, sticking her nose into the air. “You are going to go to class and actually try if I have to sit on you to do it.”
He immediately imagined her pinning him painfully the way she had pinned Blackstar, and mentally winced, but couldn’t stop the grin.
“Welcome to the DWMA,” Soul said, wrapping an arm around her waist as she threw one around his shoulder.
“I’m literally just sitting in, so you don’t weasel your way out of an education. It’s for your good, not mine,” she ranted, “Now tell me where you are in your classes. What’s the chapter title, and do you know what we’re learning today?”
He answered her questions poorly, and wondered if he could use this same trick to get her to attend classes for the rest of the week. Because he was with Blackstar, Maka belonged at the DWMA.
He had found someone he wanted as a meister. He just needed to convince her she belonged here too.