Soul looked outside the small apartment flat he and Maka had shared since they were thirteen, the window was blurred with pouring rain. He sighed and decided to make dinner. For one.
It had been five years since Maka had disappeared; and Soul was counting. He was the one who missed her the most out of everyone, even Spirit, who as soon as she left cried for four days straight but made up for it by then going to the local bar. Soul on the other hand was still sad, still waiting for her return, and wondering what could have possibly made her leave him.
It had been about three days after they defeated the Kishin altogether. He still remembered her sudden aloof attitude and blank stares, how she would spend hours clutching her mother's postcard. One day she left suddenly, without anyone seeing, hearing, or knowing. The only thing she had left was a small note for Soul. He recalls the morning she left everyday in his head, waking up late instead of waking up to her voice calling for breakfast. He remembers so easily trudging from his room to the kitchen expecting breakfast only to find a napkin on the table. There were five words scrawled in her elegant yet rushed handwriting, it read: Forgive me. I love you.
At first he was angry with her. It took him a year to finally be confused as to why she had left. Another year passed and sadness had overcome him entirely and now he was just waiting. Black*Star, Tsubaki, Kidd, Liz, and Patty had all been sad, but none knew the bonds these two had. It couldn't be compared to friendship, it was love.
He awakened from his thoughts by burning his finger on the stove. He flinched pulling back his finger and sucking on it as if it would numb the pain. Suddenly his cell phone rang, he ignored it; knowing that the only people who called them these days were Tsubaki, to see if he was still eating, and Telemarketers. He wasn't in the mood to talk to either right now.
The phone rang all through the night finally at quarter to midnight he couldn't take it anymore. "Hello?" he asked harshly.
There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "Hi Soul." A familiar feminine voice answered.
He almost dropped the phone, his head was dizzy. It was Maka. "Sorry, Hello?" he asked again, not knowing if he had finally gone crazy and was imagining this.
"Soul." She repeated his name which made him shiver. It really was her. "Do you still live in our old flat?" she asked innocently.
"Are you kidding me?" Soul started getting angry. "You've actually got to be kidding me. You leave and finally after five years I finally hear from you and that's all you have to say to me?"
"Well if you're worried about catching up that's not a problem." She said calmly back. The other line made lots of noise, lots of crackling and the sound of her footsteps.
"That's not it!" he yelled into the phone. But before he could continue there was a knock at the door. "Hold on there's someone at the door." He mumbled.
When he opened the door he did drop the phone this time. Plus he felt his heart fall to the floor. There she was. Every inch of her soaking wet. Her hair wasn't in pigtails any longer it was hanging loosely at her shoulders dripping onto her clothes. She no longer had girly bangs, her bangs had grown out and her hair was layered. She wasn't a girl anymore, she had gone innocent and come back sexy. Her body wasn't flat and skinny, curves had set in and she had grown. She was almost a different person, the only way Soul could tell it was her was her eyes. The same olive green eyes that had caught him off guard when they first met; the same eyes that assured him he loved her.
She wore a black tank top despite the cold weather and rain, and a pair of navy jeans to top it all off she was walking in black boots with at least 6 inches on them. He didn't know what to say, he could tell she was just as shocked as him. He hardly ate or went outside anymore.
"You look like a hooker." He accused.
"You look like a homeless person." She retorted.
Touche. He thought. He helped her with her bags, lifting them both up with ease. With her shoes on she met his height and almost made him feel intimidated.
"So where should I start?" Maka asked Soul. They were both seated at the small table just like old times, only it was opposite. There was tension in the air.
"How about why you left and where did you go." Soul was looking down at the table with his arms crossed. He didn't dare look at her. "And what happened to you?" he added.
"I went to Las Vegas to find my mom." She said simply.
He finally looked up and raised his eyebrows. "And…?"
"Well if you want the full story here it is," glanced around suspiciously and leaned in closer to him. "My mom contacted me a little bit after we defeated the Kishin. It turns out she had been in Vegas for a while, she was gambling, and pretty good at it. So she was in Vegas with all this money and it turned out all these people were after her, casino owners and mafia and all that stuff. After she told me I got all worried and didn't know what to do. So I just left to go and help her and now I'm back."
"And why now you come back?" he understood how much she loved her mother and wanted to help her. "And why leave such a dramatic note like this?" he tossed the napkin he had received from her 5 years ago, it was still in perfect condition. He treasured it because it was the last thing she had given him; even if it hurt him.
"My mom decided things were getting too violent and graphic. It had gotten to the point where I had to carry a gun and a bodyguard had to be with me at all times. They all really wanted my mom, but I was just as much as an asset." She whispered. "As for the drama, I didn't know if I was coming back."
He shuddered. "Well why are you whispering?"
"They still might be after me." She shrugged as if it were nothing. "Now go take a shower before I faint from your smell." She said plugging her nose and waving her hand like a dismissal.
Soul wasn't sure if he was happy with the new Maka yet. But he was positive he was still in love with her, even if she was starting to lock all the doors and windows hurriedly in case of an assassin.