Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.
Monster
by. Poisoned Scarlet
She still wonders how she had been caught in such a dangerous situation; as helpless as a fish caught in a net.
The details often escape her addled mind but the situation doesn't change, no matter how much she wishes it would.
The cell they've imprisoned her in is smelly, dank, and cold.
It's dark, and the tall window behind her doesn't offer her any light.
The only thing keeping her sane in a building that exudes madness are her own thoughts.
And even they aren't trustworthy anymore.
It all began when Soul became a Deathscythe a year and a half ago.
When Lord Death had handed them Arachne's soul, the witch she had slayed with the aid of Medusa, the victory had been both sweet and bitter.
Her scythe hadn't changed all that much aside from the way certain areas became darker and the red stood out brighter than before on his blade. He grew in length, blade becoming sharper if that was possible, and curved dangerously inward with a glare that would intimidate even the most stony-faced individual.
Maka had only watched when he swallowed Arachne's dark violet soul whole, chewing and swallowing it whole.
"Who would've thought that old hag would actually taste good?" He had joked, showing off his sharp teeth. Maka had smacked him on the shoulder and muttered for him to shut up and be grateful they had survived the battle in the first place.
Lord Death had been more than pleased with their success. The pride and joy that came from him inflated Maka's ego exorbitantly; for once, she felt like boasting it to the entire world in the way Black Star would.
Those had been one of the happiest moments in her life...
Of course, her papa was still Death's primary weapon until further notice. Maka would continue to be Soul's partner in order to train him to his utmost potential and she had showed her relief with a bow and bright smile to Lord Death.
As long as they were still together, still partners fighting for the same cause, she wouldn't mind that the entire school population – both male and female – crowded around him whenever he walked into a room or even down the street.
She wouldn't mind the seemingly endless flow of partnership letters that were always inside his locker at school, while her own remained miserably empty. Not to say she hadn't received her own pile of partnership letters, but they still weren't nearly as many as the amount Soul received on a daily basis. It seemed the importance to be converted into a Deathscythe wasn't as popular as partnering up with someone who was already a Deathscythe.
Maka still didn't understand the logic behind that.
Soul had also been appointed more solo missions. And she hated the way she was seemingly pushed into the background again in favour of the ultra cool, ultra slick, Soul Eater Evans, who struck awe in people by being the youngest Deathscythe behind Justin Law...
Regardless, Soul being sent on solo missions became a constant in their lives before Lord Death also began sending her on solo missions. It wasn't anything she, or even a one-star meister, couldn't handle, however. They were mostly recon missions since Soul handled the action-packed ones. They were still sent regularly on duo missions but the distance was palpable.
Soul was starting to become a stranger.
Maka hates – no, she's terrified – of that.
She would scrape up the little time she had with her weapon and force herself into his life – force herself to remain a constant in his new life – and if she knew anything about her partner of five years, it was that they were usually on the same wavelength about these kinds of things.
Soul seemingly tried to spend as much time as humanly possible with his meister but his duties always hindered these attempts. It wasn't to say he stopped – oh, no, Maka knew he tried – but with becoming a Deathscythe came responsibility and with responsibility came obligation.
It's the reason she had been landed in this situation: responsibility.
Lord Death had been hesitant to send her on something so dangerous.
She might be the strongest meister beside Black Star and Death the Kid but without her weapon, she was about as helpful as a lost tourist.
But Soul's mission had been taking longer than first thought and Maka had gotten impatient...
"It's just another recon mission, right? I don't need Soul for that, Lord Death, all I need is a notebook and a pencil." She told the Death God who peered down at her with a thoughtful hum.
"Yes, it is technically a recon assignment, but it goes far deeper than that!" The Death God rose one of his large hands, tone darkening several shades. "The coven of witches that resides in the deeper reaches of Northern Canada aren't to be taken lightly, Maka-chan. They've grown in numbers recently due to the rise of an old book..."
"Book?" Maka perked up.
"Yep!" Lord Death regained his jubilant tone. "It's this thick book about dark magic – I think you'd like it if it didn't have all that bad stuff in it!" He laughed. "That is what I wish for you two to retrieve."
"Just a book?" Maka pursed her lips. That didn't sound too hard. "If it's a dark magic book, then it must be heavily guarded..."
"Yes! And that's where Soul comes in! I'm positive that with your skill and his strength, you two will be able to break through the defensive charms and spells and obtain the book! But for that you need Soul..."
"We're running out of time!" Maka declared, after a moment of silence. "The more time we waste standing around here, the more time they have to study that book and wreck havoc! If I don't at least do something, they'll end up massacring a town because they went crazy with power!"
Lord Death floated toward his mirror, humming thoughtfully again. "Maka, have you ever matched your soul-wavelength with someone else?"
Maka blinked in surprise. What a weird question for a Death God to ask. Didn't DWMA teach that your current weapon was your one and only weapon unless tragedy struck? Or if you managed to convert your weapon into a Deathscythe; however, matching soul-wavelengths was still years away for her... "Um, once, with Tsubaki. But it was difficult to hold the connection..." She trailed off, slowly.
"Are you averse to the idea of using another weapon for the time being?" Lord Death interrupted, in that peculiar voice of his.
Maka was startled. What the heck was he even asking? It went against all the rules he upheld! She had no experience in that, none whatsoever. She wanted to say no, Soul was the only one who could bond with her soul, but instead she found herself saying, "No, who did you have in mind?" and hoping the Death God hadn't caught onto the reluctance and confusion in her words.
If he did, he didn't make it known. "Oh! It's just this strong weapon who has recently lost his partner! His weapon form is not a scythe, however, it's a machete! Are you any good with a knife, Maka-chan?" Lord Death asked cheerfully, tapping his comically large hands together in apparent excitement.
Maka smirked with a twisted confidence she didn't know she had. "No problem."
Maka groans and throws her head back, colliding with the stone wall. She shuts her eyes, teeth grinding against each other as she feels a thick stream of blood trickle down her neck.
But she can feel the madness creep in on her; the insanity begin to lash out from the fringes of her fragile consciousness, slowly consuming her reason.
She needs a distraction.
Whatever spell they have cast around the building, it's strong and it's trying to break through the plexiglass barrier she's put up in her mind as protection. The black is like a manifestation of her worst nightmares, by the way it pounds against the glass viciously; roaring a roar she only hears in her head before it retreats back into the fog of her mind to keep vigil.
It watches for signs of weakness.
Maka bites her lip, drawing blood.
"Why are you resisting? Just give in already."
She opens her eyes, her hands white-knuckled fists. "Who's there?"
"It's painful, isn't it? Being holed up in a filthy cell without any hope. I can help you, though."
"I said, who's there!" Maka discovers she's lying on her side and sits up, her world spinning for long seconds before she grasps hold of her surroundings again. She sees no one in the room, hears nothing but her own labored breath.
"Damn it!"
She's losing it already.
"Your friend, isn't he in trouble? Those wicked witches won't hold back simply because he's a weapon...they'll use him, experiment—!"
"Who the hell is there? Show yourself!" Maka snarls, eyes darting to every corner of the room wildly. But it doesn't look like a cell room anymore – it actually looks like she's sitting on a bench? Maka traces the wooden benches before her with her eyes, the wood darkened with age, before they land on an alter? She's sitting in the pews, what?
"You're running out of time..."
This snaps her attention back to the voice.
The voice sounds so close. It has to be somewhere around her - maybe behind her or alongside her. She can hear it with such clarity, nearly sees the deceiving grin that stretches across chapped lips...
"Silly girl." It rumbles paternally. "I'm inside you."
"Inside...?" She whispers.
"And I can help you – from the inside, of course."
"How—!" But the answer comes to her instantly and she's never felt more terrified in her entire life, her arms wrapping around herself as if to protect herself. The fact that this voice, this eerily familiar voice, sounds just like that demon that resides in her dear partners soul only makes things worse. She knows she had been infected with black blood when she resonated with Soul Eater but she never thought much of it. She never felt any different, and Stein had assured that her Anti-Demon Wavelength would exterminate any remaining black blood in her body...
The fact that she can feel it now, the way the black specks flow through her veins, race through her heart painfully before disappearing down the track of her body again, only makes her realize that whatever spell those witches have blanketed over the building is bursting with undiluted dark magic, and it has awakened the black blood that laid dormant within her due to her Anti-Magic Wavelength.
It isn't working anymore, Maka thinks in panic, if the black blood is active.
"Oh!" She breathes suddenly.
The book!
She needs to retrieve the book... What is the book called again? She can't remember. Had Lord Death even mentioned the name of the godforsaken book? She can't remember that, either.
But Conner, the weapon she had been assigned, is nowhere to be found so she's hopeless; useless.
And this voice, this demented voice that keeps tempting her, is making everything more complicated.
"Give in..." it whispers, making her chest tight with a crazed excitement. The more he whispers those two words, the harder it is to keep a straight mind, and the more she feels close to giving into the clutches of insanity.
Conner had been captured a few minutes after their arrival at the cathedral.
The building shot into the sky, looming over them with menacing gargoyles and stone sentinels that held tall spears in their unmoving hands. The thick wooden doors, reenforced with two horizontal planks of steel, were shut tightly; coveting the dark secrets that wandered freely inside for their taking.
The clouding madness that pressed down upon them, making Maka want to just buckle her knees, was suffocating but it was nothing she couldn't handle. She'd faced worse, like being stuck in that lair of insanity when she battled with the original Kishin Asura. She comforted herself with that as she took in her surroundings.
"Are you ready, Conner?" Maka asked, holding the weapon tightly in her hand. He was heavy, too heavy, and she knew it was because they weren't resonating properly. She knew it was her – as he seemed willing enough – because it almost felt like betrayal to use someone other than Soul. In fact, it was betrayal. DWMA stressed the importance of keeping ONE weapon unless you had chosen a duo weapon-choice or if your weapon became a Deathscythe. But even then, she was on a strict training regiment with Soul; she had no time to train her wavelength to accept other weapons...her soul wasn't that flexible, like Stein's, it was rigid.
"Um, we're not going all the way inside, are we? I mean, I don't think we can take on a whole coven of witches..." Conner trailed off doubtfully, his reflection in the blade exposing his anxiety.
She only smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry – this is only an observation mission until Soul gets here! I doubt the witches will be able to sense us with all this madness so we're safe unless we do something to draw their attention."
Conner gulped. "Like?"
"Oh, I don't know, attack the cathedral or cause a ruckus outside or something." Maka shrugged, not caching the weapons fearful expression. "But that won't happen so we'll just wait over here—!"
"THAT STATUE JUST MOVED!" Conner shrieked, staring wide-eyed at the statue that robotically moved from its position by the entrance. It's face was still stone, wiped clean of any emotion, but the way it moved, followed by its partner that loomed just as menacingly, clearly delivered its message to the duo.
They were getting too close.
They needed to back off or face them.
Maka gripped Conner tightly in her hand, preparing for a confrontation. She hadn't had a decent dose of action in a while! She wasn't going to back down from this one! "You ready, Conner?"
"B-b-but Maka—!"
"C'mon, they're just statues! You can cut through stone, right?" Maka smiled down at him, flashing her eyes back up to the statues that advanced with predatory steps. "They're coming!"
"Y-yeah, but, Maka—!" Conner barely managed to squeak before Maka cried out fiercely and rushed forward, feeling the high of battle pump through her veins. She ripped into the first statue, cutting it straight down the middle, and jerked to the side to stab the tip of the demon machete into the other statues stomach, tearing upward and slicing it in half, too.
Maka leaped back, observed her work, and grinned. "See? Nothing to worry about—!" Until they began to move again, piecing themselves back together. Maka blinked. "Or not."
"M-M-Maka! I really think we should wait until Soul arrives! I don't think we can take them on by ourselves!" Conner stated, frightened. He stared at the statues that began to build themselves again with disturbed awe.
"We can take them!" Maka insisted. "We don't need Soul for this! They've been bewitched with magic, that's all! They're harmless!"
"We should wait for Soul!" Conner protested.
"No way! I bet he's taking his sweet time – by the time he gets here, we'll be dead meat! Let's just take care of them now!" She was getting really irritated with Conner. She knew he was scared but defeating those statues was seriously nothing a little effort couldn't fix. Why would Lord Death pair her up with someone so weak? It didn't sound right. Had he lied? Lord Death had said Conner was strong...
The madness had lightened considerably, too – her Soul Perception was sure to be clearer than it had been a few seconds ago! She could use that to count how many witches were inside the church, a vital piece of information for when Soul arrived.
"C'mon, one more blow should do it—!"
"NO!"
Maka gasped when his handle became horribly heavy. She dropped Conner, their soul-wavelength's too unmatched for their partnership to continue, and nearly kicked the demon machete for his stubbornness. "You moron! We're not running away – we can take them! Now stop being a scardy cat and fight! That's the whole reason you were partnered with me!" Maka angerly shouted, trying to lift the weapon. He seemed to only grow heavier with every tug.
"No, our mission was to observe until Soul got here!" Conner tremulously stated. "Lord Death never said anything about f-fighting!"
"Ugh! We don't have to time for this! Those things are gonna' really hurt us if you don't quit being a baby!" Maka would have kept going had she not felt that oppressive madness slam down on her like a sledgehammer.
She gasped in alarm, falling to her knees, when the tolerable madness became like a tsunami of negativity. She clawed her fingers in the slushy ground, gasping for breath, and barely managed to see Conner howl in pain as he transformed back into his human form with an intense burst of color, clutching his skull as the insanity creeped through the weak cracks of his mind.
The madness was tangible; a thick sludge of evil that threatened to drown her.
"C-Conner..." Maka choked out, shutting her eyes as panic swamped her. She could still see those bright lights. Why could she still see bright blotches of light? Almost like an explosion. She was starting to hallucinate! "You have...to fight it—don't...let it...take over...you..."
Maka guesses, as that same wave of oppressing madness sweeps over in the confinement of herself once more, that she should have predicated what came next: that they wouldn't be able to withstand the clutch of madness and they would both succumb to the darkness they carried in their hearts.
Conner began to laugh.
Maka's breath hitched and she forced herself to look at him as he convulsed on the floor with that same mad laugh. His fingers dug into his sandy blond hair, gray eyes bloodshot as he tore out thick bunches of hair. His fists banged on the floor, laughter growing higher and higher until it became a shriek of sheer lunacy.
"CONNER SNAP OUT OF IT!" Maka screeched, tears starting to cloud her eyes from trying to keep the formidable insanity at bay. It was wearing her out – both mentally and physically – and she was already weak emotionally because of Soul. "C-Conner...please..." She wouldn't last long. She could only hope Soul wasn't dragging his feet to reach them.
She needed him right then and there; needed him to pull her out of insanity – but the madness felt so nice now, like it was something she should be welcoming, not shunning – why the hell should she shun it, anyway? What would be the point? – It felt so free, so pleasant and nice – !
A giggle choked up her throat.
The last strand of logic snapped.
She suddenly felt free of... everything.
"Hehehe... hahaha! HAHAHAHA!" Maka threw her head back in hysteria, eyes wide with unseeing glee. She laughed maniacally, the statues back in their respective spots as the wooden doors creaked open.
A figure loomed before them, the two students hysterically laughing as they felt the true liberty insanity offered. If the shadows weren't so thick, they would have seen the wicked grin on the witches face, the way her hands trembled with excitement as power flowed through her veins.
"Guests..." Her grin was insanely wide. "SISTERS, WE HAVE GUESTS!"
Maka and Conner didn't even know they had been dragged inside until the cathedrals doors slammed shut, the echo a painful reminder of the fact that their chance of survival had just sunk to zero.
Breaking free from insanity is no easy task.
She had laughed and laughed and laughed and rocked herself back and forth, back and forth, in the corner for what felt like hours.
The internal battle to regain control of her body, her mind, is exhausting and, as she shuts her eyes and tries to block out that demons voice, she is beginning to feel the loss of sanity again.
No...
She's losing it again.
No...!
She needs to regain control – her soul is trembling in fear of being taken over again – her mind and soul are in danger of being drowned in the icy waters of lunacy – she has to get control – control, control, control – why is this place not a cell room anymore but a goddamn church? What the hell is happening – is she hallucinating again? – has she already lost the battle with insanity – ?
"But why do you want control? You were so happy when you let go. No fear of death, no fear of failure, no fear of anything. Not the witches, not the statues, not your exams, nothing." She can almost feel its rancid breath against her ear as it says: "Don't you want to feel that freedom again..?"
No...
"But you'll get stronger. You'll finally be able to take a mission by yourself. Isn't that why you hate all of them?"
"I don't hate anyone."
"Don't lie to yourself, Maka, you hate them. Hate them because they're treating you like you're nothing without your weapon, nothing without Soul. But you're better than that, aren't you? I can make you better than what they think. You'll be powerful, you'll be able to make that annoying boy from the Star clan shut up, you'll be everything you ever wanted..."
Maka clutches her head and moans. "No...no, no, no—!"
"Yes, yes, yes! Power! Strength! POWER! You'll finally be able to have your own spotlight – the spotlight you rightfully deserve—!"
"NO! ST-STOP IT!"
"I can give it to you! Just say the word and I'm there..."
"NO! SHUT UP! I DON'T WANT IT!" Maka screams into the silence of the cathedral. Her eyes dart to stare at the vaulted ceiling, mouth twisted in a demented grin of uncertainty, as her fingers tangle in her messy hair and dig into her scalp.
How can this thing, this demon that resides in the confinement of her mind, be so persuasive?
How does it know just where to poke, just what to say, just how to say it, to tempt her so badly?
How, how? She wants to know. She knows she should know why but she just can't remember why at the moment...
All she can think about are the demons whispers, its alluring words, and how damn COLD it is in this fucking room – why isn't she in a cell? Wasn't she in a cell before – she was, wasn't she? She's sure she was in a cell – why isn't she in a cell and why is it cold, why – ?
"You're running out of time..."
A scream tears through the building and Maka stops struggling.
Conner?
"They're hurting him. Are you just going to let that happen? Didn't you promise Lord Death to protect him?" It taunts, making her tremble. "Let me help you. I can help you."
"No, you can't! You can't help me, you lying piece of shi– !"
"I can save him."
She freezes.
"I can save you both – and Soul. Don't you want to help Soul...? He's in here, too... being tortured, beaten, experimented...do you really want that to happen again?"
Tears trail down her cheeks; throat clutched with emotion because the sheer thought of Soul being hurt because of her mistakes is debilitatingly painful.
"Soul?" She croaks, like a lost child.
"Yes, Soul... That's right, let me help you! That's right, give in—GIVE IN!" It sounds so excited, so exuberant as it wheezes his glee with that wide grin of his on its face. She slowly relinquishes the reigns of her sanity to it; the last shreds of it she has left because Soul should have arrived by now and he has no doubt been captured...
Not even a Deathscythe like him can take a whole coven of witches alone; not without a meister.
He's probably being tortured – beaten – cursed – dying – experimented – !
"Yes, yes, yes! Give it to me, all of it! ALL OF IT! I WANT ALL OF YOUR WORLD!"
She has to.
That's why she did it.
She has to.
The little monster inside her head told her so.
The thin line between right and wrong has blurred because of this cloud of madness.
Its tempting words are too enticing to pass up.
She feels like she's tip-toeing down a line like a tight-roper in a circus, losing her balance because it's suddenly smeared into oblivion and she falls down pit of darkness instead of a tent. No one is there to catch her: she's gone before she can even scream.
And she just falls and falls and falls and things are passing by her, like a light show, until she realizes they're memories, fading the father down she falls in this rabbit hole...
"MAKA!"
A voice... it sounds so familiar. It makes her heart leap in her chest with hope.
It penetrates through the thick deluge of black that coats her body until she finally can't see where the black starts and where it ends.
"—aka?"
The black water parts enough to allow his voice to cut through her mind again.
"Maka, thank god you're okay—Maka? Shit... no, Maka...!"
Soul...?
"It's all mine."
"Ma—!"
"Your world is mine."
That window of opportunity shuts with an echo; reminding her that she has thrown away the key to salvation and locked herself up in this strange place where everything is dark and nothing feels worth looking at anymore.
"Snap out of it, Ma—!"
A pulse ripples through her.
Nothing more, nothing less, before it becomes totally drowned by the screech of silence.
His voice becomes one in the cacophony of silence.
Now there is nothing.
Maka stops falling, stops feeling the clumps of filth lick down her skin. Wherever she has landed – or hovers, she can't tell – it's peaceful but cold. Serene but dark. She feels like she's submersed in cold water, numb, as she gazes emptily at the folding dark overhead.
She swims up once only to drift back down.
It feels pointless to do anything more than float.
She's in too deep, she realizes with unnerving calm.
Far too deep.
So deep she can't even see anything anymore...
And just like that she snaps out of it.
Her sense comes back in the form of a sharp ache in her chest.
It all feels like a sick joke has been played on her.
What... just happened?
What has she just done?
Her eyes widen in horror; dread balling in her stomach at the realization that she has just surrendered her body to the very being that only wanted domination and destruction. The room she thought was a cell flashes back to her in pieces, replaced by the alter and bench she had seen through her haze. All of those memories she had lost herself in, the way they made her squirm because they sounded so ridiculous, what the hell had that been? A hallucination?
Or madness?
The black ripples and fear chokes her.
She wants yell no, give it back! Stop it! but she's mute.
Maka clutches her neck, shaking with fear, and looks back up to the infinite stretch of black above.
Maybe she can fix this.
Maybe she can fix everything!
There's no use cowering in fear now!
She summons whatever is left of her courage and lowers her hands, clenching them into tight fists to stop the shaking.
She has to try, at least.
She swims up and up and up and up until her arms feel like they're on fire. She grunts at the pain, wheezing for breath, but doesn't stop climbing, even though it feels pointless to do so. It feels like she's just swimming in place; everything is the same, nothing ever moves or changes.
But, Soul...
I have to go! He can't take on those witches without me! Soul, wait for me! I'm coming! Are her desperate thoughts as she continues her struggle to breach the surface. Suddenly, just when she has begun to lose hope, she feels everything dissolve around her; as if an imaginary hand had just plucked her off a shelf and let gravity have her way with her.
She falls back, away from the rippling surface she can just barely touch.
She screams, voice finally breaking through the monotony, but chokes it down when she lands roughly in a chair. It's cushioned, antique, and she springs her eyes open – when had they even closed? – to see a neatly built room. The room gives a pleasant rustic feel, furnished with the chair she sits in and soft lavender curtains that drape against deep jade walls.
She notices a bookcase that stretches for two walls, ceiling to floor, and the remaining two walls holding other, smaller but curious, furniture like a deep mahogany desk with a tall, curved, lamp beside it; the last wall riddled with picture frames of her friends and family. Small plushies of animals scatter the floor along with pencils and paper and open books; curious objects like flashcards, drawings, paint brushes, tape and padlocks also scattered in an almost strategic order.
She steps off the pedestal she had been dropped in, walking down the short steps and onto the polished hardwood floor. She's dressed, surprisingly, in colorful mismatched thigh-high socks, bright orange sneakers, a light gray school skirt, and a yellow and black track jacket that fits her too big – the very outfit her mother had once cooed made her look so cute... but she hasn't worn that outfit since she was ten...
It doesn't add up.
Where is she?
She reaches down to pick up a shark plushy, its teeth reminding her of someone...someone...?
"Soul." She murmurs, holding the toy with both hands now. It even has red eyes.
She smiles fondly: did she honestly believe him to be a shark in some dark part of her mind?
Suddenly, the overlapping curtain ahead parts to reveal, to her shock, Soul. He looks distressed, dressed down in his old outfit, surprisingly. She hasn't seen that mustard yellow letterman jacket since they were pre-teens. The wine red jeans, monstrosities for shoes, old headband that kept his wild hair in check...it all feels so nostalgic to her.
"What the...?" He glances down at himself, tugging at the jacket for a second before glancing around. His eyes lock on the large picture frame dominating the middle of the wall: a pair shaking hands with grins on their faces. Its surrounded by other, smaller, frames of he and Maka. But the image of he and Maka shaking hands is the biggest: its the memory of the day when they had first become partners. "Maka..." He breathes, to himself more than anyone.
So this is her soul room.
It fits her, even with the simplicity and rather random furniture.
But just being here makes him apprehensive.
Entering a persons soul by force usually didn't have positive side-effects...
"Soul?" She murmurs, a small smile breaking on her face. She squeezes the shark closer to her chest. At her delighted smile, he relaxes. "You're okay! What are you doing here? Where are we?"
"I think we're in your soul." Soul assumes this is like her own version of the black room. It isn't as bad as his, he thinks, at least the color scheme was a little happier than his own black and red.
Her smile fades. She hugs the toy closer to her. "What?"
"Look, Maka, you have to fight it." Soul is in front of her now, clutching the sides of her arms tightly. "Fight back! Don't let it consume you – you can still do it! You can still fight it!"
"Fight what?" Maka frowns, pushing back from him. What's up with him? "What are you talking about, Soul?"
"You surrendered to insanity!" Soul tells her. He doesn't have much time – he knows this for certain. "You're insane right now, Maka, you're not even coherent enough to speak! I forced resonance with you to get you out of it! You have to – !"
"Oh, the mission." Maka says, suddenly unable to remember much aside from blotches of black. She had been falling down a tunnel...or was it a pit? She can't really remember but all she knows is that she likes it infinitely better in this room. "Did you complete it? Did you guys get the witches spellbook yet?"
"Spellbook?" Soul furrows his brows. "Maka, what spellbook?"
"The dart magic spellbook!" Maka insists. "Lord Death sent me on a mission with Conner to retrieve the spellbook but you took too long—!"
"Maka..." Soul begins slowly. "Who's Conner?"
Maka stares at him, dumbfounded. "Conner. He's the guy that Lord Death assigned me to resonate with...because you were away on a mission...you-you were supposed to catch up." But the way his expression keeps twisting in confusion makes her stomach drop to her ankles. She backs away. "W-we were supposed to get rid of the coven of witches..."
"Maka...there was no mission." Soul approaches her slowly, carefully. "Conner doesn't exist: you made him up when you got sucked into insanity."
"No..." Maka's bottom lip quivers Had she? Had she made Conner up? No, she couldn't have! He felt so real... "No, I came with him...we-we were here. We saw the statues move—!"
"Maka, you were kidnapped while on a mission with me." Soul stresses, causing everything to come to a standstill. "You, Black Star, Tsubaki and I were on a mission to hunt down two witches by Washington, D.C.. You got separated from me during an explosion... Maka, you were never on a mission to retrieve a spellbook from a coven of witches. Lord Death would never allow someone to go alone!"
"But – Conner – !"
"Much less with someone you've never trained with." Soul adds rationally, a few paces from her as she keeps baking away; face frozen in denial. "The witch who got away kidnapped you and bewitched you with madness. That's all... you're safe now, but you have to fight – !"
"No... No, that can't be right. T-that can't be right, I – !" Maka's breath catches in her throat when she feels it suddenly. Trembling, she slowly shifts her eyes to the side. Her heart stops, blood running cold, when she catches sight of a pair of razor teeth grinning from beside her.
She drops the toy.
The room pulses and Soul gasps when it contracts into a twisted room of black and white. The furniture decays, the dolls rot and tear, the books crumble to dust and the curtains rip with the force of the alien soul that resides inside of her now.
Suddenly, she knows: the overpowering madness that clutches her greedily, the reason why nothing makes sense. She feels its hands now, large and scarlet and meaty, curling around her neck.
Her eyes widen with terror when finds she can't breathe.
How long had it been fooling her?
"L-let me go!" She screams, struggling against the strangle. She sees Soul rush forward only to be stopped by a hiss; a growl of warning. He watches helplessly as his meister struggles against the demon who started all of this – the lies, the counterfeited memories – and who tries to suck her deeper into a grave of lunacy. "NO! Let me go! What're you doing – ?"
"But I thought you wanted to grow stronger." It purrs, sounding innocently confused. "You told me. You gave me ownership – !"
"I gave you nothing!" Maka hisses, viciously. "Now let me go! This is my body, my soul, my mind, and you're not taking it! It's MINE!" She feels a crack, a chip, somewhere inside of her as she digs her nails into the demons leathery skin. "If this is insanity, if Soul did force resonance with me, then I have to go back! Give it back, give me back!"
"We made a deal!" It snarls.
"Fuck off!"
"You made a deal with me and no one breaks my deals!" It bellows.
"NO, I DIDN'T!" Maka snarls, green eyes flashing with rage. "Let me go, you fucker, let me go NOW!"
"Such a potty mouth..." It snarks. It rises black eyes to Soul, grinning widely. "Long time no see, Soul."
"Let her go, you demon." Soul growls, baring his teeth at it. "Now."
"You were never one for formalities, now, were you?" The demon replies, disdainfully. "But I'm afraid I cannot let her go. She has already surrendered to—!"
"You bastard, I didn't surrender anything to you!" Maka's throat hurts. His hands only grow tighter around her neck. "Fuck—let me go—shit—damn you, you sick piece of fuck—!"
The demon smirks sadistically. "Do you see, Soul? See the real Maka Albarn? Such a liar and hypocrite, am I right? Always one with the correct speech, always one with the right set of morals, but look at her now – cursing and damning me! So unlike – !"
"What're you talking about?" Soul smirks. "This isn't anything new."
Maka hears another chip.
"She's always been a violent, potty-mouthed, frustrating, complicated woman."
Crack!
"I've always known her real self, even if it she tries to hide it from me. If I didn't, why would I have even considered partnering up with her for so long?"
"Power." The demon hisses convincingly. "Your desire to become a Deathscythe – !"
"That was my cool reason." Soul shrugs. "The real reason was because... she was the only one who ever listened to me play the piano until the end and accepted it for what it was." He gazes at the rotting hardwood floor for a second before looking back up. "Maka is Maka. I wouldn't trade her for anything."
A loud crack tears through the darkness in her soul.
"Not even your Deathscythe status?" It challenges.
Soul merely smirks at its feeble attempts of persuasion. "I'd give it away if it meant staying with her."
Maka suddenly feels a weight lift from her shoulders, a slight smile breaking her face as she straightens. The room contracts again, straightening back into the light colors of jade and lavender. The darkness that looms behind her doesn't seem so bad anymore and she grabs the suddenly weak hands of the demon that had tried to drag her to the edge of hell to no success.
She holds him up by the wrist. He seems so small now, staring at her with wide, scared, eyes. She smiles at it, rather sadistically, and raises it until it was level with her eyes. "You were saying something about ownership of my mind...?"
"You – you weren't supposed to fight back! I wasn't supposed to be trapped here any longer! You were mine, all mine – !"
"Not anymore." Maka rose her other hand to grab its other disproportional hand, voice dark. "And, unlike Soul, you'll never be apart of me because you never were me." She walks toward one of the velvet curtains that adorns a wall and pushes it back. She knows Soul watches her closely as she reveals a pit of pure darkness."You stuck me in here once. Now it's your turn to see what it feels like."
"No..." It whispers, staring at the repugnant dark with wide eyes. "No, no don't! Don't throw me in there! Don—!"
"You've caused me enough trouble." Maka frowns, stretching her arm out. She avoids its terrified eyes. "See ya." She lets go and blocks out its screams of outrage and terror as she let the curtain cover the hole to her subconscious once more.
"Harsh." Soul's voice cuts through the air. She feels something warm touch her hand and she looks up to see Soul's soft red eyes gazing into her own. "But cool. Let's go. The others are waiting."
Soul's smile washes away the gloom in her heart.
"Yeah. Let's."
They make their way toward the lavender curtain Soul has walked through and Maka lets out a soft giggle. "You know, that was probably the most uncool thing you've ever said to anyone!"
Soul grins, gripping her hand tighter. "Tell anyone and I'll burn your book collection."
Maka steps through the curtain and into obsidian, able to say, "Promise I won't" before they fade and she feels the warmth of his hand leave hers.
Suddenly, she becomes aware of the sound of pit-pattering. A clap of thunder startles her, as rain pelts her body. She feels cold and she begins to shiver, eyes springing open to stare into bloody red ones. Soul leans back, holding his head with a grimace as she slowly comes to the conclusion that she is outside and her knuckles hurt as if broken.
"Maka! Soul! Black Star, they're awake!" Tsubaki's relieved voice makes Maka turn her head to see the girl slide to a muddy stop right beside her. "Maka, are you okay? Soul?"
"She's fine." Soul grunts. "All nice and sane again."
"HA! I told you so, Tsubaki! As if Maka'll let herself stay crazy!" Black Star huffs in certainty, grinning out: "I never doubted ya' for a second, man!" He claps a hand on Soul's back.
Soul groans. That hurt. "Yeah, whatever..." He flashes his eyes back to Maka, who had yet to breathe a word, and jerks forward to help her up when she tried to sit. "Hey. You alright?"
She gazes at the damage around her. The cathedrals doors were busted open. Her eyes dart to her hands, raw and bloody. Had she done that in her fit of madness? "What... happened?"
"It was awesome! You broke through the front door!" Black Star exclaims. "You got kidnapped by this dumb witch – which I took care of, of course – and Soul came back to get you—!"
"We don't really know what happened because we were still battling the witch who took you." Tsubaki cuts her partner off wearily. Black Star only grins. "Soul came to get you but by then you had already given into madness. Once we caught up with him, you were fighting Soul."
"You broke through the front door," Soul jerks a thumb behind him, the splintered doors that're hanging by their hinges, "and I managed to catch you right here and force soul-resonance with you before you hurt yourself."
That scream she heard and mistaken for Conner's must have been the witch Tsubaki and Black Star had defeated. The call of her name must have been Soul and when she had lost all sense of reality, it must have been when she battled with Soul – !
She feels something sick twist her gut. "Did I...?"
Soul furrows his brows. "Huh? Speak up, Maka."
"Did I hurt you?" She repeats, tremulously. She looks up, lake green eyes desperate. "Did I hurt you, Soul? Answer me!"
"No." He replies, understanding her fleeting panic. "No, you didn't." He forces a small grin. "Do you really think you'd be able to hurt me, Maka? I'm a Deathscythe now, remember? Besides, you didn't have a book with you, for once, so no harm done."
Maka drops her eyes from his easy smile. If all of those memories had been faked by the demon that was now floating somewhere in her unconscious... then had the thought of Soul becoming distant from her also been fake? He didn't feel like a stranger. He felt like he always had: scarily but delightfully close. She felt that warm emotion clutch her heart when he was near, make a smile lift the corners of her mouth, make her stomach flutter, head spin with content...
"Maka?" Soul calls, concernedly. She looks so lost and confused. He wanted to pummel that demon that tried to control her using such cheap tricks. Whatever memories it had made her believe, it had really shaken her up. "Hey, look at me." He crawls forward and places a hand on her shoulder. She lifts big, lost, green eyes at him. "You're okay now. The witches are gone and you're back." He smiles, reassuringly. "Don't beat yourself up over it. You got a direct hit by the spell so – !"
He doesn't get to finish.
She lunges and crushes him to her. Vaguely, he hears Black Star snicker but he's sure Tsubaki had smacked him silent because in the next second he no longer hears his obnoxious laughter. He faintly wonders why the assassin thought this was all some huge joke – the situation had scared the living shit out of him when he saw that crazed grin on her face and huge, giggly, green eyes.
"I..." Maka sucks in a breath, shaking. "...please don't leave me..."
Soul lets out the breath he had been holding. He snorts softly, shifting to his knees between her legs and letting his arm drop down to her waist. She's trembling horribly. He instinctively brings her closer to him. "Idiot. Where did that come from?"
Maka only squeezes him tighter.
Soul sighs to himself, smile tugging his lips up. "You're my meister, Maka. If anyone does the leaving, it'll be you."
"No." She mumbles stubbornly, shutting her eyes and burying her face in the crook of his neck. She shakes her head. "I'll never leave you."
"Good, 'cause that wouldn't be cool." Soul smiles slightly when he feels her arms slacken around his neck. He leans back slightly to get a good look at her face. It's tear-streaked, which makes his grin falter, but the content sparkle in her eyes is enough to reassure him that his meister would back on her feet in no time. "You done being a baby?"
"Shut up." She mutters, cheeks warming when she notices their proximity.
Soul seems to notice as well because he clears his throat and looks away. When he feels her hand, which she had clutched when they let go, shake a bit he remembers they're out in the cold, being hit by thick drops of rain, and he removes his leather jacket after a seconds thought.
"What are you doing...?"
"Here." Soul drapes the jacket around her shoulders.
"But what about you?" Maka asks, worriedly.
"I'll be fine." He shoots her a grin. "My body temperature is naturally higher since I'm a weapon. I'm not as cold as you think I am." He shifts, kneeling now. He extends his hand to her again. "C'mon, we're getting soaked!"
A soft smile blossoms on her face, so warm and gentle it makes his breath hitch because he has never been at the receiving end of such an adoring smile. He almost forgets what to do when she grasps his hand, their souls syncing unexpectedly and sending a jolt of emotion through his chest; the intensity of her own feelings overwhelming him.
He's almost thankful Black Star had decided to interrupt.
Almost.
"Hey, are you two done with your lovey-dovey moment now?" Black Star whines. "It's freakin' cold out here! A god shouldn't be standing around in the rain when he could be in his palace eating Tsubaki's god-worthy food!" As if on cue, his stomach gives a loud growl.
"Black Star!" Tsubaki hisses, sighing when she sees that the sweet moment between Maka and Soul had been blasted to bits by her partners big mouth. And they had been so close to kissing, too, she was sure of it! "Shh!"
"Y...yeah, let's go. I'm sorry I caused so much trouble for you guys." Maka apologizes guiltily, standing with help of Soul.
"No hard feelings, Maka, as long as you're fine!" Tsubaki kindly says, offering a bright smile.
"Yeah, it was pretty cool when you broke through that door." Black Star marches ahead with his hands clasped behind his head. "My godly strength must've influenced you." He winks. "But I still could've done better – like, break through a wall or something – !"
"Shut your mouth, idiot." Soul grumbles, adding with a devious grin: "As if you could be as cool as Maka."
Black Star gasps loudly, freezing in place.
Soul merely snorts because he knew he had hit a sore spot. Serves the idiot right, for being so damn loud.
"LIES! Soul, how could you betray me, Black Star, your best friend and god? Why, my brother?" He wails, looking away in comical betrayal.
"Oh, I'm sure Soul didn't mean it like that!" Tsubaki frets, looking towards Soul hopefully. "Right, Soul?"
"No... I'm pretty sure I did mean it like that." Soul replies, bored with the conversation already.
"THE BETRAYAL!" Black Star screeches, clutching his heart. "I always thought that symmetry freak would betray me but not you Soul! Never you!" He shakes his head in sadness. "Bros before hoes, remember? We promised!"
"Black Star?" Tsubaki blinks, confused.
"Black Star, shut up, your voice is giving me a headache!" Maka groans, massaging a temple. She feels so tired and the way it was raining didn't make things better. It's also freezing despite Soul's warm jacket over her shoulders.
Snapping out of his melodramatic fit, Black Star screams: "DON'T WORRY MAKA! THE SIGHT OF MY GODLY FACE SHOULD MAKE ALL YOUR PAINS DISAPPEAR—!"
"Soul..." Maka grunts. "Do you have a book with you?"
"Why the hell would I carry a book with me?"
"I have a book!" Tsubaki offers helpfully.
Maka extends her hand to her, not questioning why Tsubaki had a book with her in the first place.
Tsubaki hesitates. "Um... you won't hurt him too badly, will you? It's a long way home..."
"We'll see." Maka answers, noncommittally. She motions for the book Tsubaki had taken out, which was smaller than she'd like but good enough for the moment.
"Oh, alright, here!" Tsubaki hands the book to Maka resignedly and, closing her eyes, sighs when she hears the tale-tell sound of the spine of a book slamming against a skull. Black Star falls with a thump, his naturally loud voice silenced, and Tsubaki sighs once more before hurrying to his side to pick him up, his slurred words of "see? All better now... ow..." lifting the corners of her lips.
"Finally." Soul sighs in relief. "Thank god you're back to normal. No one would be able to shut that moron up if you were still insane."
Maka just smiles. She lowers her arm and leans heavily against Soul, vision blurring from overexertion. "M..mmhmm..." Her scratchy eyes feels so heavy. It's a battle to stay standing with how much she just wants to close her eyes and sleep away the days events.
She feels a hand touch her forehead. "You're burning up... Go to sleep, Maka." She's suddenly being lifted and she wants to complain but feels too weak to do so. Instead, she focuses her blurring vision on Soul's face, which is angled at Tsubaki and Black Star as the boy tries to regain his spinning head and the girl half-drags him to the road where their rides back home were parked at.
"Soul, Maka, are you coming?" Tsubaki asks, tilting her head to watch them from the corner of her eye.
"Yeah. We're coming." Soul answers, hoisting his meister up higher in his arms and starting his trek to his motorcycle.
"Hey, Soul?" Maka mumbles, each step rocking her to sleep.
"Yeah?"
"Did you really mean that?"
"Mean what?"
"Burn my book collection if I ever told anyone..?" A faint smile curves her lips.
Soul breathes out scoff. "You better not be thinking about having some dumb girl talk with Tsubaki and Liz, Maka, or I will seriously sabotage your bookcase."
Maka giggles. "That's not cool."
Soul grins, crookedly. "And you would know all about cool, huh?"
Maka suddenly knows all those insecurities about Soul becoming distant are false.
They sound ridiculous now, as she drifts off to sleep.
Soul will never grow distant.
Not if he – or she – can help it.