A/N: From my old, withered dictionary: "hand." Noun. Definition #6: "a promise to marry"

Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater or any of its characters. They belong to Atsushi Ohkubo-sama.

"I want to marry your daughter."

Crona practiced the words carefully, over and over, every single day for at least half an hour in front of the bathroom mirror. He wanted his voice to be strong and clear, not a murmur. He wanted to look sure of himself, not fearful. Then, near the end of it, he'd imagine it was Spirit's image facing him through the glass.

He wanted to do this right. Crona would ask for his permission first. Then he'd prepare for the one who mattered more than anybody else: Maka. A name that made him swoon at its very mention. A girl that sent his mind reeling and his heart fluttering. Just thinking about her made his chest tighten and his stomach fill with butterflies. He was certain. If she'd have him, he'd be the happiest, luckiest person in the world.

But, would she accept? When the time came, would she say yes? Even though they were a couple, maybe she'd think an engagement would be too much.

The thought left his whole body feeling cold. But his hope outweighed his anxiety. He loved Maka. He knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

He planned it all painstakingly. Everything had to be perfect for her, no matter what.

When he was ready, he began.

-xoxo-

Spirit leaned forward against the short wall, arms folded on top of it. A breeze ruffled his hair as he looked up at the sky.

Crona stood a few steps behind him, arms at his sides, hands clasped together. It was a risk, talking to him out on one of Shibusen's high-leveled platforms, because anyone could come here. Crona's eyes glanced around once again to make sure they were alone. He didn't want anyone else to know about this yet.

Spirit turned his head. "So? You wanted to tell me something?"

Crona inhaled, exhaled through his nose. This was it. The first big step. He was going to come right out and say it. His hands gripped each other more firmly, but remained steady. He held his ground, looking the Death Scythe dead in the eye.

He opened his mouth… and stammered. And after all that practice, too. "I—I w-want to m-m-marry your d-daughter." He felt his face grow hot with shame.

Spirit's lips tightened into a straight line. His eyes narrowed and his eyebrows lowered, causing a small but deep wrinkle to appear. He glared as if he'd just been told he'd never see his daughter again.

Crona waited; it was the adult's move now. He had to stay quiet and wait his turn. He would not speak until then. He had prepared for the many different responses Spirit might throw at him. If he said no or asked why, Crona would tell him just how important Maka was—that she was everything he could ever want. He would make him see how much he, Crona, needed her. If that didn't convince him, he'd go on to show Spirit that he was trustworthy. He would never break her heart or let anything harm her.

And if that didn't work, he was prepared to beg, grovel, plead, offer to do anything to get his approval. And if that still didn't work, then he'd have no other choice. He was going to ask Maka anyway. If she said yes but things proved difficult, then, worst case scenario, they might have to elope. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. He didn't want to run away. But if it ended up being the only way…

Spirit straightened up, turned to face Crona, and leaned his back against the ledge, hands dipped loosely in his pockets. He studied the boy intensely, wordlessly.

The silence that had descended on them was so absolute, Crona could hear the sun's laughing as if it were right next to him. It certainly was starting to feel that way. He wanted to tug at his collar, but couldn't. He had trained himself day after day not to reveal his nerves. He quietly prayed he wouldn't suffer a fever later. He let the sun mock him.

Spirit's voice was low and serious. "Nineteen," he said. "That's pretty young."

Crona kept his eyes from drifting down. He nodded. "I know… sir."

That last word made the older man blink in mild surprise. Then he closed his eyes as the tiniest of smirks made itself known. He shook his head so slightly, it was hardly noticeable. Another breeze swept by as he looked at the sky again and said, "I guess I was pretty young myself, wasn't I? When I got married."

He watched the deep blue heavens for a while longer, seemingly lost in fond memories. But they soon vanished, however, because he quickly frowned as if something had just occurred to him. He stared at Crona suspiciously—a dangerous flash ignited in his eyes. "Wait… Are you asking because—Did you—Is my Maka—pregnant?-!"

"No," Crona answered, making his voice as loud and clear as he could muster. "She's not."

Spirit huffed. His back broke away from the ledge as he pulled his hand out of a pocket, its pointer finger raised menacingly. He opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. He tried again to the same effect. He sighed heavily and leaned against the wall again. His hand rubbed the back of his head. "You're sure about this? I mean, do you think you're ready?"

"Yes. I'm positive."

"You haven't asked her already, have you?"

"No—I wanted to check with you first."

"Do you think she'll say yes?"

Crona hesitated. Against his will, his gaze fell to the ground. He spoke softly to his feet. "…I don't know."

He wanted to hit himself. This was not the time for weakness. But it was quiet now, and he was afraid to lift his eyes and see how Spirit was looking at him.

Therefore, he was shocked when he thought he heard the man… snicker. It was gone in an instant, but he could've sworn…

"It's still hard for me to believe, but my precious Maka isn't a little girl anymore."

Crona raised his head. Spirit was smiling at him.

"She's old enough to make her own decisions. She's a strong woman now, just like her mother. And I know you won't make the same mistakes I made, so…" He paused to take a deep breath. His smile vanished as his face turned serious again. "You have my blessing."

Crona stared, eyes widening. This… It… He did it. He got Spirit's permission. He was actually okay with him marrying Maka. Or, at least, with him asking for her hand. And… it was easy, for the most part. He didn't have to throw away his dignity. It hadn't taken a lot to persuade Spirit, so maybe it'd be easy with Maka, too…?

Crona showered his potential father-in-law with many thanks and promised he would take care of her and do whatever it took to make her happy. Then he asked that their meeting be kept a secret for now. The last thing he wanted was for rumors to spread.

"Alright, I'll keep it between us. But the rest is up to you."

For a moment, Crona wondered if Spirit was privately hoping his daughter would reject the proposal. He shook it off almost instantly, deciding not to let it bother him. What mattered now was the next step. He had to move on. He needed to create a day that he and Maka would always remember for years to come.

-xoxo-

The ring was shiny and silver, embedded with a little emerald cut into the shape of a heart. Other than that, there was nothing unique about it.

Crona placed his hand at the side of his leg, confirming that the small black box was still in his pocket. He had done the same thing during their walk around the city and during the play they'd gone to see. Now, at the restaurant, he had done it for the last time. Their night was almost over.

He was glad the music playing inside couldn't reach out here. Their table, along with a few others, was set on the wide balcony of the fancy two-story establishment. At the moment, each table was occupied, but they were all spaced well apart for moderate privacy. He and Maka were seated nearest the edge, the furthest away from the vast archway that led into the crowded room filled with golden light.

At first, he thought he'd made a mistake. He thought maybe Maka would prefer to be in there, amidst the crowd and the noise. He thought he was being selfish by bringing her where he liked to be, in the place that was more dark, empty, and quiet. But she didn't seem to mind. It made him relax.

There were an unusual number of stars tonight. There must have been thousands of them. Crona wished he could've stretched out his hand and plucked one to use for Maka's ring, to make it special. It certainly would've been more interesting than the simple jewel nestled in his pocket.

The night was also unusually warm. The two candles at their table were lit more for decoration than for lighting or warmth. He watched the flames sway for a while. Then he looked at Maka.

The two of them had already eaten dinner and the waiter had already taken their order for dessert. Crona gazed at her and wondered if he should ask the question now or wait until their slices of blueberry pie arrived.

Maka lifted her glass of sparkling cider and took a sip. He wondered what would happen if she didn't say yes. He didn't know what would be worse—if she laughed at him or if she told him no in a gentle, pitying voice.

A lump rose in his throat, choking him. He forced it down. But now his foot was beginning to tap nervously. He held it still.

Maka set her drink down and looked at him. Maybe it was the candlelight or maybe it was the stars, but her eyes seemed to have a soft, fiery glow to them.

He had to do it now.

Before the jitters got worse.

"M-Maka?" He spoke her name, breathless.

She perked her head with a questioning hum.

His ears blazed.

"S-Sometimes I'm not really good with words like you are, but… Being with you is the best thing that's ever h-happened to me." His hands were writhing in his lap. "N-Nothing means more to me… than… you." He clumsily slipped his hand into his pocket, making sure she couldn't see what he was doing. "So that's why…"

Underneath the table, his trembling fingers pulled out the box. They twisted it around and around, grasping, trying and failing to open it. His eyes never left hers.

"I was wondering…"

He pried it open, but it was upside down.

"If you'd…"

His heart pounded.

"If—If it's alright with you… I was wondering if you'd…"

He sensed his mistake and moved the box right side up.

"If you'd…" He glanced down.

The box was quite empty.

The ring was nowhere to be found.

Where—?

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. It was on the ground, rolling away from him. It headed straight for the edge of the balcony—straight for the rail. It rolled between the bars and fell, disappearing abruptly.

"If I'd… what?"

"If… you'd wait here, for me." Trying to keep his voice from sounding panicky, he snapped the box shut and stuffed it in his pocket.

"Huh?"

"Wait here." Crona stood and edged away from the table. "Please, just… Wait right here. I have to—I'll be right back!"

And he ran. Without even daring to look behind him, he bolted through the archway and into the golden room. He weaved between tables and people and raced down to the first level.

He felt Ragnarok sprout from his back. "Well, this sucks!"

"Not helping," said Crona, grinding his teeth.

"Four eyes are better than two, right? I'm gonna help you find it. Although, I have to admit," he laughed, "you would screw something like this up."

"Again, not helping."

"You're lucky she didn't notice. That would've been priceless, though."

Crona slowed down once he reached the front doors. Please, please let me find it… Please don't let it be broken… much…

As he stepped into the night, he wondered what he would do if he couldn't find it. What should he do if he did find it, but it was in pieces? What if a chunk of the emerald had been chipped off? How could he face Maka with a damaged or missing ring?

They were alone just in front of the restaurant. Crona turned and raised his head. He was looking up at the underside of the balcony. He took a few steps backwards, moving until he felt he was in the proximity of where the ring might have fallen.

In front of him was a low garden wall serving as the base for a row of tall rosebushes. A spring of hope welled within him. Perhaps the plants or the dirt had cushioned its landing.

He hurried forward, telling Ragnarok to start at the top while he searched through the soil. Crona leaned down, keeping his hands firmly on the brick structure. He used only his eyes, determined to spot a glint of silver or green among the darkness. Wherever it was, he wanted it to stay there until he found it. Carefully, he bent closer. The scent of fresh earth entered his nostrils as a few leaves and petals tickled his hair. When he went too far, a thorn poked his chin.

He pulled back, scarcely, and readjusted before going deeper. He would not turn back. A couple of scratches were nothing.

When he could go no further, he slid out and sidestepped to the next new area of dirt. He nearly gasped aloud when he thought he saw it, but it was only a rock. His eyes opened wider, refusing to blink. He then heard a snap above his head.

"Be really careful, Ragnarok. Don't wreck anything."

"I know what I'm doing. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

They continued looking, and Crona received a few more scratches, no matter how cautious he was. He tried squinting his eyes to see if that would help. He tried using his hands to gently move aside some of the flowers at his level, hoping to maybe shake the ring loose somehow. He felt around and examined the shrub with the attentiveness of a doctor but also the hesitancy of someone lost in a maze.

Taking another sideways step, he was reminded of the phrase "finding a needle in a haystack." But no matter the difficulty, he had to find it. It was here; he knew it. It had to be… But every now and again he caught his mind wandering to thoughts he didn't want to think about. He focused. If he was distracted, he might miss it. At last, after several minutes of slow work, he heard Ragnarok's voice above.

"Found it—Oops."

A rustle, a tap, and then a chirp.

The meister and weapon pair glanced at one another. A chirp?

Crona straightened up slightly and nudged some leaves and branches aside. There, in the center of the rosebush, a grayish bird with a long tail sat in a nest. It turned its beady eyes at them and chirped again, louder this time.

Crona looked closer and saw that the ring had slipped into the huddled collection of sticks. It was still in one piece. It looked okay.

The bird puffed itself up, feathers bristling. Crona bit his lip. Slowly, carefully, he reached for the jewelry. The bird gave a shrill call and stood on its legs, wings arched. Beneath its body, a small cluster of eggs peeked out.

His hand retracted. He knew the bird was just being protective, but he wished it would calm down. He wished he could tell it he just wanted his ring back. He needed it back.

"R-Ragnarok? Distract it, b-but don't hurt it."

"Oh, for crying out—Just grab the damn thing!" And with that, the demon stretched out his arm.

Of course, the bird thought he was attacking. So it decided to do the same. With a piercing screech, it beat its wings furiously and lifted itself out of the nest. It went straight for his head, clawing, pecking, scratching, and shrieking up a storm. Ragnarok batted and cursed and swung, trying to keep the angry creature from stabbing his eyes. The tussle made the plant tremble, causing leaves and petals and thorns and branches to shake or fall.

In the commotion, Crona managed to pick up the ring without disturbing any of the eggs. As soon as he did, he ducked out of the rosebush, earning even more scratches on his hands and face. He fell to his knees and used his arms as a shield when the bird finished with Ragnarok and started attacking him, too. It only lasted a second, though, and soon the sounds of traumatized chirping died out.

Crona lowered his arms. The bird had retreated. He was surrounded by—and covered with—several bits of the shrub and a fair amount of grayish feathers. He stood and dusted himself off with one hand while Ragnarok took out sharp thorns, twigs, and feathers from his hair.

He cupped his hands together, palms up, and saw the ring resting in them. He inspected it thoroughly and was immensely relieved to find that it had no cracks. Nothing had been chipped away. He was sorry for ever thinking of it as plain. It was beautiful. It was perfect.

"There. That's all of it." Ragnarok gave the top of Crona's head one final sweep.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Now get up there, already. And you better not choke this time." He dissolved into Crona's back after getting a solemn nod as an answer.

Crona pulled out the little black box and placed the ring back in its cushion where it belonged. He made sure it stayed nice and snug. Then he put the case back in his pocket and returned to the restaurant.

He walked with a purpose. When he passed the archway, his feet refused to slow down.

She was still there, waiting for him. Their dessert had arrived. She hadn't touched hers. She was leaning back in her chair, hands folded in her lap, staring at the stars. The candles' burning lights flickered.

When she saw him, she smiled. It made him falter. He'd half-expected her to immediately start asking questions about where he'd been and why he had to take off suddenly without any explanation. He'd thought she'd be mad. Or worried.

He headed for his seat but felt her hand close around his wrist before he could sit. He heard her stand up. She stepped close to him. She grasped his shoulders and turned him around.

Oh, there it was. That look of concern. Crona looked into her eyes and stopped himself from letting his own shift to the ground. He would answer the question truthfully, no matter what.

Maka loosened her grip and raised a hand hesitantly. It settled lightly on the side of his face. "What happened to you?"

Crona blinked. The scratches should've been somewhat faded already, but she still noticed them right away. A small smile grazed his lips as he realized she was more concerned with his well-being than with knowing where he'd rushed off to.

"I…" He paused. He breathed in and out, gathering all his courage. "I dropped something… before I left. It rolled off the balcony so I ran downstairs to go and get it. It fell in a rosebush out front. That's how I got scratched. But I found it, and it was worth it."

Maka's arms had lowered to her sides. Her frown was very slight. He knew she was wondering what he had dropped.

"It's something I got for you." He reached into his pocket. "And there's s-something I w-want to ask you."

He remembered what he was supposed to do, but his legs felt like jelly. He concentrated, putting all his energy into making the simple movement happen. With difficulty and more time than it should have taken, he awkwardly got down on one knee.

Heat flooded his face as he presented the black box to her and opened it with quivering fingers. But to his own amazement, despite how nervous he must've looked, he didn't stutter.

"Maka Albarn… Will you marry me?"

It was as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He'd finally made it to this moment. Though the night had come close to being completely ruined, it was alright. All that mattered was now. Everything hinged on Maka.

There had been many occasions where Crona wished he could read her mind. This was one of them. He stayed stock-still, trying to guess what the widening of her eyes meant. Was she surprised in a pleasant or disturbing way? Was she more shocked at the proposal itself or at the fact that he'd almost lost something so important?

She stood like a statue, the astonishment clinging to her face as she stared at the ring he was offering. Her eyes grew glossy.

The sight made Crona's stomach clench. They looked moist. Was she going to cry? He never meant to do that. Did this mean she wanted to say no, but didn't want to hurt his feelings?

A single tear slid down her cheek and fell—just one, only one.

He felt everything around him begin to crack. It was starting to rip apart, and he was afraid. Terrified that if it cut deeper, he would shatter along with it.

Suddenly, Maka blinked and the wet shine dimmed. Her lips parted and barely moved. A whispered sound slipped out when they moved a second time.

She put her hand to her mouth, fingers spread a little. Another quiet, muffled mumble.

He strained his ears to listen.

She spoke again and it was hardly there, but he heard it. "Yes."

He remained motionless, in case he imagined it. Maybe he was wrong, and she really said something else. Maybe he was just forcing himself to hear what he wanted to hear.

Maka's hand lowered to rest at her side. The word came out more clearly. "Yes."

Please don't let him be dreaming this. He tried to open his mouth, but it was glued shut. He could only look up at her dumbly, willing her to repeat her answer, to prove that he wasn't mistaken.

The cutest and most angelic of smiles broke out on her face. She nodded slowly, deliberately, elegantly. "Yes," she said again. It left her lips and enveloped him, wrapping him in a warm bundle. It was an elated tune that flowed into him, soothing him, reassuring him.

He was on his feet before he even knew it. Impulse was driving him. He stepped to her and took her in his arms. He leaned down and let his chin sink to the valley of her shoulder blade. His eyes closed as he nuzzled against her, his breathing raspy but calm. The ring box stayed securely in his hand.

Maka hugged him back tightly; her fingers bunched up a bit of his clothing. She had accepted. She was going to let him be her husband. And she would be his wife. They were going to get married. They were going to become even closer than they already were.

Crona knew he didn't have to ask, but he couldn't stop himself. "You—You'll have me?"

Her head moved and her cheek rubbed softly against his. She said the word again, as if she'd forgotten how to say anything else.

"Yes."

He felt as if his heart would burst. It was filled to the brim with an emotion he couldn't name—love, of course, but also joy and a mix of excitement and protectiveness. It was overwhelming and he started to shudder. The dizziness threatened to make him faint, but then Maka planted a tender kiss on his cheek, lulling him at once. An almost inaudible sigh of content emerged from him. He was putty in her arms.

They held each other until Crona opened his eyes and drew back, still standing close. He smiled at her, marveling at how lovely she looked and at the fact that they were now engaged. A new path was unfolding ahead of them, and as long as he was with her, he knew he could deal with wherever it led them. He eased the silver ring with a heart-shaped emerald out of its nest. It seemed to glitter in the starlight. Maka gave him her hand, and he placed it on her finger.

A perfect fit.