Once upon a time, it was just a myth.
After that, everyone who knew the myth died out, and then it was just a bunch of letters on a tablet on an upside-down island in the Dark Rift.
But before it was a myth, it was history.
Cultures all around Arcadia were founded on the magicks of the Moons - red, yellow, green, blue, purple, and silver - but there was never a Black Moon culture. The magic of the Black Moon was considered by sane people to be impossible to harness in any meaningful way. Occasionally it did dangerous things to distort the land underneath, so civilizations avoided building anywhere near it, and the land was untamed.
When Arcadian human life reached its darkest hour - total warfare using moon-powered mindless beings of mass destruction known as the Gigas - there was no Black Gigas created.
That's what everyone believed.
But these corrupt were masters of hiding their activities. While other cultures were building their weapons, so too were a tiny gathering of rogue individuals, those who rejected every society of Arcadia. Partly as a weapon and partly as an experiment, they channeled the magic of the Black Moon to create the Black Gigas.
They were a small group with limited resources, so though their creation was impressive, it was lacking the finite functional controls needed to make use of its power. Every other Gigas was complex enough to perform any task its commander gave it. In place of this complex magical circuitry created through ingenuity, the Black Gigas was infused with the unholy power of two human bodies and souls. It was also given a name - Ragnarok.
When the Rains of Destruction were finally called down by the Silvites to destroy the land and most humans, all who created the Black Gigas perished, and the Black Moon sank down close to the land. But the Black Gigas escaped death. It was forever bound to its Moon, unable to leave its dominion, which became the Dark Rift after so much of Arcadia's land was destroyed.
With nothing left to ravage in the Lower Sky, Ragnarok slept and slept and slept as its story and its patron Moon fell out of social consciousness.
There is nothing at all like being on an airship in the middle of the night, skies clear all around, billions of stars overhead, with a sleepy town perfectly in view on the island in front of them. Admittedly, Maka is right - it is a beautiful place. He's not gonna say it out loud, of course, but he can admire it quietly from beside her.
Esperanza is pretty small, a little city as far south as a traveler can possibly go on the continent of Nasr. The culture isn't purely Nasrian, though, because it was originally a Valuan settlement. Between history lessons at home and history lessons from Maka Albarn, nerd-pilot-magician extraordinaire, Soul has learned - against his will, more or less - that beautiful Esperanza used to be a total dump.
After all, it looks out on the Dark Rift. And decades ago, when Esperanza was supposedly still a terrible place to wind up, no one had successfully crossed the Rift yet. The town was a broken-down place full of broken-down sky sailors who had failed to cross the blackened, tumultuous skies of the Rift - and they were the lucky ones.
A number of things have changed since then. Not only has technology made the Rift a bit more passable (if still dangerous), but the culture of Esperanza has changed, too. The travels of more optimistic adventurers have turned the city from a place of despair to a place of hope, and now instead of cowering in the shadow of the Rift, Esperanza stands bravely, defiant in the face of darkness.
Sometimes he really cheeses himself out.
Maka is reasonably happy now, thank the Moons. Upon thinking of it more, he realizes he still feels guilty about denying her from using her magic on him. He has second thoughts, considers suggesting that they try it now, but then she'll be able to read his mind and they'll both regret it. Instead, he turns his head and offers her a serene smile.
"Yeah, okay, it is pretty nice here. You think it's too late to dock for the night?"
"Nope," Maka says, glancing at the clock at the top of the cabin. "We should be fine for at least another hour."
Maka helps him steer the Little Demon as it descends toward its destination. It's funny - they've known each other for slightly over a year, but she has started to feel like the first mate he never had. Then again, they spend even more time working on the Angel, and she definitely considers him a first mate. They've each come to know each other's ships as well as their own.
She says she's started to love the Little Demon with its sleek shape, its classy black hull and white sails and red mahogany cabin. And goodness knows, he's spent too much time helping her upgrade and polish the Angel not to be attached to it now, its homey, warm wood coloration, spacious cabin, and golden accents.
They are welcomed by friendly attendants into the airport of Esperanza. The city resembles the Angel in some ways, with its warm and bright color palette, and Soul wonders if Maka let the city inspire her when she asked him to help her paint it.
They camp out for the night on the airship, as usual. There are three small bunks accessible from the cabin - one on each side of the open cockpit and one stuffed right into the front of the bow. Maka likes that one because there's a window she can look out from. Soul likes it because it's bigger than the other two bunks and he can spread his arms in every direction. For now, though, he lets her have it, because he got it last night.
A full night had already passed since he'd left home. His thoughts were not quite as bright and cheery as he'd been hoping for, but then again, what else was new?
He'd gotten a lousy night's sleep, as the rooms on his airship were tiny and he felt unsafe and it made him restless; while he had nothing immediate to worry about, he didn't have a whole lot of experience sleeping in these conditions. It was kind of embarrassing and totally uncool.
Soul thought about luck, homesickness, and his future in the twilight hours of the morning, peering mostly at the ceiling, occasionally glancing out the little window to the pinkening sky outside.
Soul Evans had more than most Arcadians his age did. In fact, he had more than most Arcadians did at all, because his family was as rich as hell - or as rich as the sky was deep, which was the terminology they preferred. Not only did his mother and father have a large family airship for luxury cruising and concerts, but they also had a mansion (in Upper Valua, of course) and each family member had their own smaller airship. All in all, though he wasn't allowed to say it, Soul found the whole situation to be exceedingly pretentious and a waste of space. Why not just live on the family airship?
"It's only for concerts and outings, darling," his mother would say, tone fond but condescending. "We aren't sailors. You've got to keep your feet on the ground or you'll always have your head in the clouds."
Soul didn't bother reminding her that the whole world was a series of floating islands.
He guessed it was the stifling lack of individuality and creativity that drove him away from home at a mere 17 years old. He did love his family, but had a feeling it would be much better for everyone if he had some room to grow, and as much as stories about wayward youth wandering off to "find themselves" annoyed him, he had to admit that it might be the most effective way.
Besides, he could get out of his brother's musical shadow. The kind of music Soul played was free-form, emotional and "whimsical" (as little old ladies with odd hats would call it when it wasn't too dark for them) and was based entirely on his mood in the moment, which he took to mean he would also need some space to grow as a human being. Whatever he was looking for, he would not find it at home.
He did give his family a warning that he would be leaving, because it would be cruel to make them worry. He didn't give them a lot of time to argue with his decision, though, telling them only the night before he left. His mother was, predictably, worried and slightly offended; she didn't seem to understand how he could reject a life of such comfort in exchange for an uncertain future among the less-fortunate in faraway lands. But his father seemed rather relieved. It may have been because up until this point, Soul had been somewhat directionless in life, hadn't shown much initiative toward anything. He had to agree with his father - he'd certainly felt lost and low on energy.
Wes was the kindest. He gave a lot of advice, some of which Soul wasn't sure would be realistically useful, and helped make sure everything was ready. Soul would be taking his personal airship, the Little Demon, and Wes also helped see that it was fully stocked with everything from food to moonstones so Soul would not have to buy anything for a solid week if he used everything sparingly.
Soul left the little island that had been his stop for the night and sailed onward for the rest of the day. He could not decide whether he enjoyed the peace and beauty - the deep blue sky and towering clouds all around, lit by the brilliant sun - or whether it made him sad.
This far out in the sky, he ran across a few schools of loopers, obnoxious little blobby creatures like upside-down teardrops with tiny flippers. Around here, not far from the Yellow Moon of Valua, they were mostly yellow, but in other regions, they would correspond to other Moons. On the rare instances when they picked fights with him, each would float in a ring of its own energy and hover annoyingly nearby. But they were weak, and a well-aimed swing of the small sword he'd brought for self defense would usually send them scattering in every direction.
It was the evening of the second day when he arrived at Crescent Isle.
Crescent Isle was known for being one of the newer colonies in the world, originally a base for Blue Rogues - though they had since allowed many other people to move there. It was small, situated on a tiny island, but it bustled with activity. Soul didn't have much energy to explore, so he went to bed early. It was a good thing he enjoyed sleeping so much.
The next morning, he dragged himself out of bed and resolved to walk around among fellow humans for a while. At this point he was just looking for something interesting to happen - for a job to come along, really - and while he didn't particularly enjoy crowds, he'd never find anything to do if he wasn't around people on occasion.
And that's how he met Maka.
They were both turning a corner in the bazaar, and she crashed into him (although she maintained that he crashed into her). After exchanging petty insults for a full minute, drawing curious stares from some onlookers, the blonde's natural curiosity combined with his disinterest in fighting with people, and they settled into a real introduction over the background hum of people talking.
"It's fine," she said. "We were obviously both distracted, um…?"
"Oh - yeah." He let that hang in the air, but she kept looking expectant, so he added, "My name's Soul." He considered telling her his last name, but decided against it in case she'd heard of his family.
"Alright, Soul, I'm curious about you. You're obviously new. Why are you here?"
He shrugged. "I needed to get out. I'm looking for work away from home, I guess."
"You don't have any goals?"
"Only finding work," Soul said. "...I guess. As long as I can stand it."
"Oh, what are you looking for? I could probably get you to work on my ship." Her eyes twinkled when she said it.
"You have a ship?" In retrospect, he could have offended her by sounding so surprised, but she either didn't notice or didn't mind.
"Oh! Sorry. I'm building and upgrading my ship," she clarified. "Papa helped me build the basic structure, but I'd much rather work with someone else for the rest of it."
"Huh. I see." Soul nodded, noncommittal.
"I can't really give you a lot of cash for working with me," Maka continued uneasily, her left boot digging its toe into the dirt floor. "But I can give you a little - it should be enough to feed and supply you."
Very interesting. He wouldn't need a lot of cash - just something to do…
Soul shrugged. "Sounds like it might work. What are you eventually gonna do?"
"My two main interests are fighting off Black Pirates and reading books, so I'd like to eventually make the Angel - that's my ship - equipped for battles and also have a library in it."
"A traveling library and battleship?" he said. "Isn't that kind of an odd mix?"
"Maybe, but what can I say? I really want some adventure, but I also really love books." She grinned, green eyes shimmering. "If you can prove you're not a jackass, maybe I'll even let you be my first mate."
He studied her, eyelid twitching a bit at the word "jackass," but he already knew his answer. "Fine. I am pretty bored. I'll hang out for a while. But don't call me your first mate, I'm not some nerdy sidekick."
She rolled her eyes. "My name is Maka, by the way."
The next morning when she wakes up, she notices that the bed smells like him - in a good soap-and-cologne way, not a sweaty way. She usually springs right out of bed, looking for something interesting to do, but this time she spends a few minutes letting herself imagine him lying here, genuine and unpretentious. He doesn't like being vulnerable in front of people, but surely he is when he sleeps.
The sun's angle has changed by the time she pulls herself out of bed and shuffles around on deck, watching the port's activity from many different spots and unsubtly making noise to try to wake Soul up.
He finally stumbles out of his bunk, yawning obscenely, hair a disaster.
"Good morning, sunshine," she grins, beaming cheerful sarcasm.
"Ungh. Bright." He rubs his eyes. "I'm hungry. Let's go find some food."
And with that, they venture from the docks to the rest of the port to the warmly-colored, brand-new city. There's an Old District, which contains homage to ships and sailors who never made it through the Dark Rift; and a much larger New District, which is designed to be modern and hopeful, and though Maka wants to explore this more optimistic neighborhood further, the first eatery to attract their attention is Don's Bar - which seems to sit just on the line between the two parts of the city.
It's small and heavily occupied and appears even more crowded with sketches, old photographs of varying qualities, and detailed notations from the 'round-the-world adventures of the bar's founder. Though the space is busy and small, it also feels cozy, and Maka doesn't mind squeezing into a stool so close to Soul's spot that they're crammed together.
She feels obligated at first to keep her legs to herself, since if they hang comfortably from her seat, they lean against his. But why? They're friends, right? There's nothing wrong with letting your legs lean comfortably on a friend's. She's never thought twice about it with anyone else. And he did hug her that one embarrassing time, so they've - well, touched before.
It's not chilly outside, but there's something delicate and cozy about casual touching like this that contrasts with the rest of the world and makes her feel warm. He doesn't give any indication that anything is different. Still, if anything, they only lean closer together as they drink and eat in comfortable quiet.
They spot it on their way back to the Little Demon, after hours of poking around in the city; their wallets are considerably lighter, and they carry some souvenirs (especially books and scrolls). First, they notice a crowd of onlookers at the docks.
"What the hell are all those people staring at?" Soul squints at the crowd, and then he squints toward the docks. No one unusual has arrived.
But Maka looks further out into the sky.
"Soul!" she says breathily. "Out there - it's an arcwhale!"
"Huh?" he hums, but he's already spotted it. "Oh."
Even from this far away, the creature is obviously colossal, a dozen times the length of the Little Demon. But it is also beautiful, a sleek purple-blue beast drifting gently past the port.
"We should follow it! This is a once-in-a-lifetime sighting," Maka says.
"I thought they were extinct?" Soul shields his eyes as they head toward the ship already.
"I thought they were extinct, too! But apparently not! This is probably an important thing to witness. Come on, let's hurry up."
They leave the port as soon as possible. The whale has already gone far, but the Little Demon has the speed to catch up, so they can find a safe following distance and stay there for a while. They have plenty of moonstone fuel and Maka decides it will be fine not to worry about running out until later.
They aren't the only ones who follow the whale, but they stick with it the longest. Everyone else tires of chasing it. Maka thinks maybe she and Soul were looking for a reason to come out here.
"It's headed toward the Dark Rift," Soul murmurs. The massive, deep gray cloud bank, which stretches all the way from somewhere beneath the Lower Sky to somewhere higher than the Little Demon can go, looms in front of them. "Think it's safe?"
They can hear thunder, always crashing from within the clouds, though it sounds distant.
She studies his concerned face and can't help but poke at him a bit, smug. "What, are you so sheltered you've never even been here before?"
He scowls.
"Don't worry," she says, stepping close and squeezing his shoulder. "I know it looks bad, but it doesn't suck you in or anything. It's just there. As long as we don't try to breach any of the clouds or go in through one of those holes," she gestures at an even-darker spot on the side of the rift, "we can hang around near the edge here and be perfectly fine."
He gulps. "Are you sure?"
She finds this place beautiful, in a way. It's so mysterious and unchanging, something few people venture through even with the progress that civilization has made. If there is a place more mysterious than what lies beneath the Lower Sky, it's what lies beneath the Lower Sky in the Dark Rift.
Maka nods. "I was here with Mama once. We'll stay a healthy distance away. I bet the arcwhale will, too."
She loved her island, little though it was.
Crescent Isle had been founded by real heroes. Not war heroes, not the kinds of heroes who took people's land, but genuine explorers and peacemakers. They'd come to think of the people who eventually moved to their isle as family, and everyone who lived there was a kind of honorary Blue Rogue.
The Blue Rogues did less fighting than they used to, since Valua had become a force for good and it would no longer be fair to steal from their ships. But the Black Pirates still crawled the skies, and in some ways they had gained strength from the destruction of Valua's old Armada, so there was still a place in the world for Blue Rogues.
That was where her mother was, out sailing. Maka hoped to follow someday. Their family had not been wealthy, but they'd done all right, and after all, she wasn't above taking advantage of her smarmy father's money just a bit, so she was well on her way to fulfilling her own dreams with her own private little ship. She might yet live up to the standard her mother had set as an adventurer and explorer and heroine and all-around incredible person.
The morning she met him, she had been on her way home from the bazaar with some supplies - paint, nails, hardware. He was spacing out, not looking where he was going. It was understandable, since he was obviously new around here and the bazaar could be pretty busy and impressive, but he should have been paying attention to the people around him!
He was such a sullen person; she assumed she would find him boring once she got past his interesting red eyes and sharp teeth. But he seemed in need of some attention and she was in need of a teammate, so she invited him into her life, willing to work with him for as long as he behaved himself.
Soul liked to be stoic. Maka discovered quickly that he had strong feelings and opinions, but would almost never own up to their strength. He was curious, but would shy away from learning. He had hope, but his exterior was toughened and cynical.
The main problems Maka noticed were that he was lazy and also didn't know anywhere near as much about shipbuilding and repair as she thought he would, considering he owned one himself. She had a feeling he must have been rather sheltered, although he did an excellent job with tasks like woodcutting.
And she had to admit that when she explained what she wanted, he was better than her at crafting things to look pretty.
"Now that you're getting used to life around here," Maka said about a month after Soul settled into a routine on the island and work on the ship, "We should work on learning some magic! At least, that's what I'm gonna do."
Soul made one of those predictable grunting sounds he did whenever he was too lazy to do something, but his answer surprised her.
"I already know some magic. Green." He pulled a small necklace with a subtle green trinket from inside the collar of his shirt. "Started learning on this as a kid, never really bothered with any other colors."
"Great!" Maka said, beaming. "And I know a bit of red magic." She showed him the tiny stone on a ring on her right middle finger.
"Hey, that's rude," he mock-scowled when she gave him the middle finger without realizing what she'd done. She stuck her tongue out.
"Don't try to be smart. Anyway, I want to refine my skills more."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Does this mean more time in the library?" Of course he would ask that, the lazy bum.
Learning magic on Arcadia has always been about patience and money. Maka was pleased to find that Soul had patience in spades when his progress was visible.
She was shocked to find that he seemed to have money in spades, too, though she would eventually find it made sense.
"We'll need to look for more moonstones if we want to learn other kinds of magic. If we don't carry them with us, our spells will be so weak they're not really worth using…"
"How much are they around here?" Soul asked.
"They're a little pricey," Maka said shiftily. "Well, the silver, blue, and purple, anyway, since they aren't found locally. Red and yellow are easy to get - we make fuel out of those - and even green aren't too hard to import."
"Maka, I don't want to have a discussion about it or anything, but believe me when I say I can probably afford a couple of them," Soul murmured. "I, uh. I didn't come with empty pockets."
An hour later found them at the bazaar in front of a booth that sold moonstones. Maka was particularly fascinated by the small, sparse piles of silver and purple moonstones.
"Oh, wow," she said, voice soft. "They're absolutely beautiful."
Soul chuckled. "You're so enthusiastic."
She fixed him with a glare that she knew was playful, but he might not. "Of course. It's exciting. Silver is the magic of life and death and purple is the magic of the mind! Really, it's so cool! I mean, it's all cool. You know, they say red is the magic of passion, did you ever think of that?" She put a hand on her hip. "Maybe that's why I like it so much."
Soul merely gave her an inscrutable grin.
"And green is life magic," she continued, not even caring that she was rambling because she clearly had his attention anyway and he seemed unguarded. "That's really neat, considering it's the one you started with. Maybe you're secretly a healer type."
He looked a bit smug, grin becoming lopsided.
"What?!" she said. "I think it's interesting!"
"You act like I've never heard these things before - it's like being excited by telling me grass is green."
She looked more disappointed, more shut-down, than he expected, and it made him surprisingly sad.
"There's nothing wrong with it, it's just funny. What do you think of blue and yellow?" he prompted.
"My mama likes blue magic a lot because it's about movement. And yellow...it's really gross, but for obvious reasons, my papa likes that one."
"Why's it gross? It's just energy…"
"Yeah, but it's - he views it as virility. You know. Sexual energy."
Soul wrinkled his nose. "Oh. Yeah, that is pretty gross, coming from your dad."
In the end, they left with a purple and a silver moonstone each.
They're out here on their own, and she sounds like she's flirting with him. Is she? Dear moons, she's so hard to read. No, maybe he's just horrible at reading people. Maybe he's seeing what he wants to see most of the time.
They've become so close in the space of a year. In a way, he thinks that if he told someone that even as two single adult best friends who nearly live together and have feelings for each other they had never been romantic, that someone would never believe him.
And maybe that someone would be right.
He's come to think of Maka as a very blunt person. She would say something if she wanted to be with him as more than a friend, more than a "first mate," right? A part of him shouts, No, obviously that's not true! She's scared as well! She's straightforward, but she's not actually an idiot no matter how many times you call her that, you idiot.
Anyway, even if she does want to be with him and things work out initially, how much does he trust romance? Not at all. It's known for mucking things up, especially as it relates to people like himself. Lonely musician types don't usually fare too well in love.
"You're pretty grim, aren't you?" Maka says, laughing. Soul frowns.
"Where'd that come from? I was minding my own business," he answers, blowing a raspberry at her. He hopes it comes across as playful and less grim.
"I dunno, you had this look on your face like you were really unhappy."
Soul shrugs. "Just my face, I guess."
"Anyway, I was wondering if - well, a few days ago, when we were practicing our new spells…"
He startles, not expecting her to bring that up again so soon. Either she doesn't notice or she considerately chooses not to point it out.
"When we were practicing, I realized there was some other spell. The magic-sharing resonance one, that wasn't the only one I learned from the moonberries. There's something else, but when I try to use it, I can't."
Ah. So she's not going to bring up their discussion. She does look worried, though, eyebrows drawn into a frown.
"Honestly, the same thing happened to me," Soul says.
"Oh, all right," Maka sighs, relieved. "It's not just me."
"Yeah. We did eat two berries each, right? I'm sure the second ones just take a while to work or something."
He wasn't sure why he was letting her make him sit here again, in the dingy Crescent Isle Library, poring over musty old books on the day they'd promised themselves they'd rest. They'd been studying magic for months, just learned how to cast some higher-level silver spells, so he thought they deserved more than a one-day break, frankly.
But here he sat. He folded his arms and rested his head over them on the table. There was a lamp in the middle and Maka was excitedly flipping through pages. Occasionally they got dust in his face, but he just wrinkled his nose and didn't move.
"Ah, there it is. See? I told you!"
What he saw was a drawing of the Black Moon Stone he had insisted did not exist.
"That's a drawing," Soul said, holding back a yawn. "It doesn't mean anything."
"Yes, it does, because if you read here, it says the crew saw it themselves. In the Dark Rift. And this record was written by Vyse the Legend himself."
"So? Just because he's famous doesn't mean he didn't make stuff up."
"Normally I'd agree, but look at how well-documented this is. His crew did all kinds of incredible exploring. I'm absolutely certain everything here is true."
He leaned closer to the book - and to Maka, who seemed to be wearing some kind of flowery new perfume - so that he could read. Apparently, the Black Moon Stone had been found in the Dark Rift, and its existence suggested the presence of a Black Moon. But no one had actually seen the Black Moon; it could have been destroyed, or it could have been a myth, or whatever happened to it could have been lost in the mists of time.
"You heard of all these Blue Rogues, too, right?" Maka said out of nowhere. She was looking at a list of explorers, apparently crew on the historic ship.
"Yeah, I do remember them - most of them." Soul nodded into his elbow. "I remember a lot of names from back then. They jam that stuff into history lessons."
"I wish I'd had better history lessons," Maka frowned. "I'm glad I grew up here and got my ship, obviously, but our history is a little more bare-bones than yours was, I think."
"You seem to have done well enough for yourself by just reading shiploads of material," Soul cheeked.
Maka glanced at him, but accepted the compliment without comment, only a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth showing she found him amusing. "Anyway, what I really wonder is this - do you think there's a Black Gigas?"
Soul shrugged. "I doubt it?" he said, though it was a question because he simply could not know. "The original Gigas were all weapons, and every story I've ever heard has claimed there was one based on each of the six moons, not seven. I don't really think everyone would straight-up forget about a colossal walking weapon of mass destruction that fought with other colossal weapons of mass destruction."
"I dunno," Maka said. "Just because there is one doesn't mean it fought in the war. Technically, anyone with enough Moonstones could probably make one."
"Maybe," Soul said. He glanced at the book again. "But the Black Moon's powers sound kinda useless, too. It says it turns positive energy into negative and negative into positive, so it makes everything opposite. How do you use that? Seems like it would just make everything insane."
"I wonder if the Black Moon or the Black Gigas could have destroyed themselves with their own power," Maka mused.
"Why all this, anyway?" Soul asked warily. "I'm sorry, but I don't really want to go hang around in the Dark Rift or something."
"I'm just really curious," Maka murmured. He found it comforting that she was so engrossed in the book, still flipping back and forth through the pages. It meant she had no plans to bop him on the head embarrassingly. "I do…want to go, someday. But I know now's not the time." She glanced over and made eye contact, reading his thoughts. Great. "Don't get all nervous. Even if it's ten years from now and we're both really strong, I won't try to make you come somewhere so dangerous."
There were a couple of things his mind immediately responded with, including: We barely know each other and you're assuming we're still going to be together in ten years? and We barely know each other, but I'm definitely not gonna watch you go into the Dark Rift alone, you idiot.
But he bit them back, smirked, and nodded.
"Soul?" she asks softly.
He turns his head to look at her, apparently recognizing the note of concern in her voice.
"Are you happy? With where we are?"
Soul's mouth drops open, and he stutters. She even notices his cheeks flushing rapidly when he looks away into the sky around them. "I- well, I think-"
"I mean," she says, because she knows he thinks he's being pushed to answer something he's not ready for and her cheeks are turning red as well, "in terms of leaving your home, coming to Crescent Isle, and working with me."
"Oh," he says, gaze rushing back to her face. "Yeah. I am."
"Really? Sometimes I think you seem a lot - well, a lot more interested in the world than when I met you, but sometimes, I think you must be bored."
Soul shakes his head. "I promise, it's better than before. Even though every day isn't always thrilling, at least I feel like I'm doing something."
Maka smiles and relaxes her shoulders; she didn't even know they were tense. "Okay. Thanks. Good to know."
He nods, already whale-watching again, his brow set more sternly than usual as he looks off into the distance. Maka moves to stand next to him, leaning on the side rail, close enough to believe she could feel some warmth coming from him but far enough not to be touching. She isn't sure how long they stand there, but he doesn't move away.
His breaths seem slow and deep, and her eyes stay closed for longer than the average blink.
"Think maybe we should head back?" Soul asks eventually, cutting through the silence. She knows he's concerned about the night falling soon, and he is right, so she huffs.
"Okay, I guess that makes sense." Maka offers him a smile, noticing the way his white hair has taken on the colors of the setting sun. "Your hair looks nice in this light."
He turns a charming shade of red and she just knows he's struggling to hide a grin. "Flattery won't keep us out any later," he says.
"Tssk. I know. I'm just saying."
They haven't even finished turning the ship around when Maka notices a dull roar coming from the Dark Rift.
"Huh. That's really loud," Soul says.
Maka glances over. The Rift is not terribly close, about twenty times the length of the Little Demon in distance from them, although of course it also towers over them. The whale has drifted closer to it. There doesn't seem to be any lightning in the dark clouds on the outside.
"That didn't sound right, though," she says. "It didn't sound like thunder…?"
As she says this, the roiling wall of the Rift, almost at the point where it touches the clouds in the Lower Sky, begins to move. There is another sound, an incredible noise that is definitely not thunder but more the ethereal rumble of a dying beast the size of a continent.
