Pictures Worth a MAKA-CHOP

Soul walked in the door to the apartment he shares with Maka. He looked around and let's out a sigh before walking toward the kitchen. He stopped abruptly when he heard a noise. Looking back and forth his breathing stopped for a moment to listen closely.

He turned to the hallway and followed the mumbling sounds. At first he figured it was the cat but the closer he got to the back room the more masculine the grunts sounded. As a precaution his arm became the red and black of the known scythe blade.

When he entered the room, he was surprised to find that at the tip of the scythe blade was a red-haired man, known to him as Maka's dad.

Spirit stared warily at the blade point. "Oh hello there. "

"Sooo, uncool!" Soul rolled his eyes a little and hunched over putting his human hand into his pocket. His hand dug into his pocket until his pants seem to be on the verge of falling down.

"I just wanted to see if there was a picture of her here that I could take. Maka looks so much like her mama but I want a picture of the real thing. That's all!" Maka's dad burst into a -manly- fit of tears. "Oh, why can't Maka stay with her daddy and share her mother's photos with him?"

Soul twitched at the outburst. Maka's dad started going through Maka's personal possessions quicker than before.

Soul wanted him out of the house. "Uh..."

Maka's dad looked up at Soul. "Spirit, my name is spirit." Spirit closed that drawer and pulled on the next. Spirit gave Soul a glare almost worthy of Maka's pre-MAKA-CHOP look. Spirit moved slightly to block the sight of Maka's underwear drawer from Soul.

Soul looked at the grown man and couldn't help but put away his weapon, his blade once again becoming his arm. He was looking at Lord Death's scythe and he couldn't believe that this man could work so closely with death and be this emotional, must be some sort of midlife crisis. "Uh well what do you mean?"

Spirit looked at him puzzled for a long time, heck Soul didn't even understand the question he asked. "Well, Maka has her mother's eyes and kind heart; she has her will, determination, and spark. She is as stubborn as her mom and she will stop at nothing to get what she wants or deserves." Spirit ticked off fingers turning slightly away from the drawer. As soon as the finger-ticking was done he moved back into place so Soul couldn't look into the drawer.

Soul looked at the man again and stood there awkwardly. " I see."

Spirit started going through the drawer a bit more frantic. A few things fall onto the drawer and Soul couldn't help but look at them for a moment or two. One being a bra with bows on the connector piece between the cups another a pair of panties with a ribbon falling down the front. Soul tried very hard to look away from them.

Spirit, oblivious to the embarrassment he was being to his daughter, kept rummaging through stuff while Soul took in what he had said only seconds ago. " Ah, I found one."

Souls leaned over Spirit's shoulder a little to see the picture he had pulled from the drawer. In the black and white picture was a woman that had long flowing hair and, probably, pretty green eyes. She was holding a black scythe and was smiling at the camera. She was in a long white coat and had on a to-the-knee length skirt with a slit on the side. Her shoes were barely shoes they were like ribbons wrapped around her feet and tied in bows.

It looked like Maka only the hair was longer and curlier. The only other big difference was the chest she sported. Her boobs must be the size of small watermelons.

"Doesn't Maka look just like her?" Spirit turned to Soul, not noticing Soul's certain interest in the photograph.

"Well... yeah like exactly, except for you know..." Soul was hesitant, the wrong word and he would be sliced in two, or glared at for eternity, or have a moping middle-age man on his hands.

"What?" Spirit looked between the picture and Soul a few times. Soul crammed his other hand into his pocket and slouched a bit more.

"She's not flat chested." Spirit for once in his life laughed at the thoughts of Soul regarding his daughter. He would usually be mad but this was different, somehow it was different.

"She takes after her mother that way too." Spirit nodded to himself leaving Soul a bit confused.

"Huh?" Soul watched the man carefully.

"Her mother was flat-chested until she was older. This was just before we went after the witch's soul, our friend, you know Sid's partner... ugh I can't remember her name, she thought that it was the happiest we had looked since we had managed to get out of our 15 soul rut, we were stuck at 15 souls for about 3 weeks before we managed to get another one; so she took a picture of us, it had taken forever for us to get 99 souls, but we got them." Spirit had a nostalgic look centered in his eyes. Soul briefly wondered if he was in the room with him or in his memories.

"So you're telling me that Maka will one day have a chest like that?" Soul's voice opted for a hopeful octave that Spirit noticed immediately.

"No, I was telling you that she's a lot like her mother." Spirit looked at Soul before taking out a camera of his own and snapping a picture of the photo he was holding. He turned around and dumped the picture into Soul's arms and left, all the while he was smiling.

Soul looked at the picture and just kept looking at it, even after Spirit was long gone.

When Maka got home, he was still in her room with the picture in his hands. Maka took one look around the room, her covers were a mess, her drawers weren't in order, a shirt and a few pieces of underwear were littering the floor. She was not happy.

When he tried to explain that he wasn't the one to go through her stuff she wouldn't listen, instead she put a book-sized dent in his head.

Soul never forgot the conversation he had with Spirit and waited patiently for Maka to love him back.

Okay, maybe he wasn't very patient, but what else was a teenage boy to do other than to irritate the girl they like?

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