Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.

Dark Chocolate
by. Poisoned Scarlett

"Th-this is scary," Meme whispers, tremulously grabbing the drawstrings of her green hood and tightening them until only her nose and eyes are peering out into the Dark Forest. "M-Master Maka, do we really have to go through here? Aren't there better lit p-paths we can take?"

"This is the shortest path to Grandmothers," Maka states. Meme moans again, despairing at the thought of entering such a frightening place. But Maka gives her a comforting smile. "Don't worry, I know how to get there from here! We won't get lost! I did this all the time when I was your age!"

"I'm not worried about getting lost," Meme gulps, brown eyes opening exorbitantly when she sees the shadows cut frighteningly against the bark of a tree. She grabs Maka's hand, squeezing it so tightly her knuckles crack. For her part, Maka barely winces. "Ts-Tsugumi told me that a m-monster lives in the Dark Forest. She says he eats people and then takes their soul!"

Maka can't help it: she bursts out laughing. She smothers her giggles into her own red hood while Meme gapes at her. "So that's what you girls do at night," Maka shakes her head, grinning. "Tell scary stories and then you're too tired to bake in the morning! Don't believe her, Meme, there's nothing in there that can hurt us except our own imaginations. Whatever was in the forest is long gone by now—you heard the Rangers." She beams down at the girl, rubbing her head comfortingly. Meme's shoulders relax the tiniest bit and Maka considers it a victory. "Now, come on, we can't waste any more time. Grandmother is expecting us at dawn."

"Grandmother Liz sure likes dark places," Meme murmurs, hopping after Maka when she strides into the Dark Forest fearlessly. She considers the roughly hewed entrance that gave them access into the forest for a second before shrugging. Master Maka was responsible; there no way would she ever disobey the lands laws.

"It's not so bad during the day," Maka dismisses, surveying the dark trail ahead of her. She signals Meme to follow when she doesn't hear her footfalls, the corner of her lip lifting the slightest bit at her stuttered, "c-coming!"

Meme follows Maka's red, fluttering hood—the only tangible thing she can see in the oppressive darkness. She doesn't know how Maka can see herself, but figures she follows the moonlight that cuts through the canopies above them. The patches of lights are what Meme decides to focus on, not the shade that hides undulating bodies; maskless faces and bright, piercing, eyes. It was all her imagination, as Master Maka said. She grips her basket tightly in her hand, remembering her oath: she could never become a master baker unless she hand-delivered her best desserts to Grandmother Liz for approval. Then, she could leave the isolated cottage at the edge of Death Valley and acquire a luxurious job at the King's Castle—far, far away from her current home.

"Say," Meme begins, nervously. "Master Maka?"

"Yes?" Maka hums, her step never faltering.

"You're one of the best bakers Grandmother Liz's Baking Academy has ever seen…so that means that you passed Grandmother's test, right?"

"That's right. That's why I'm head baker at the cottage."

"Then…why didn't you go to the King's Castle and live richly, like all the other bakers?" Meme braves, holding her breath. Not one of the ten girls in the small baking school had dared ask Master Maka the question. It was well known that the school had been funded by the king in an effort to hire only the best of the best, Grandmother Liz having been legendary for her bread and elegantly plated desserts. Yet, despite Maka's cheerful and friendly demeanor, the girls had seen her angry too many times to be free with their words.

"Well, Grandmother Liz is too old to teach herself. So I decided to stay here and teach the next generation like she did to me," Maka answers simply.

But Meme had anticipated this answer. "B-but…you could have gone a few years to the King's Castle, couldn't you? Grandmother Liz could have stayed f-for a few more years, right?"

"Oh…well—!" Maka stops suddenly, Meme crashing into her.

"S-sorry—!"

"Meme, hold my hand," Maka demands, shielding the girl with her own body. She measures the dark around her silently while Meme's voiced cracks with her tears behind her, shaking so bad, the leaves that rustled above them were drowned out by the sound of her clacking boots. "Now, Meme," she motions for the basket held between Meme's knuckle-white hands. "I need you to spare a cookie or a muffin—…you didn't pack extra treats like I told you to, did you?"

Meme was practically crying now, squeaking a sob of apology while Maka pinched the bridge of her nose.

"It's okay—Meme, stop crying, it's fine! We'll just have to—!"

"Didn't know bakers were so noisy," another voice drawls, deep and husky. It sounds sweet, like melted dark chocolate on a tabletop. But like dark chocolate, there's a bitterness—aggressive, unyielding— that runs through it and Meme chokes out:

"Master M-Maka…"

"Master?" the man grins and Meme gasps: his teeth are jagged, unnatural in their sharpness. The rest of himself is shrouded in shadow. "When did you become a Master, baker's assistant?"

"Three years ago," Maka answers sharply. "If you want sweets, I'm sorry, but my protégé forget to bring extra desserts. I'll make it up to you next time."

"That's what you said last time, Maka," he sneers and when he steps into the moonlight, the light cut his face threateningly, revealing eyes the color of fresh blood and an unnatural lift of lip as he growls at her. "Five years ago." He roars and lunges for Maka.

Meme screams, ravens fluttering from their roosts in the treetops. It becomes silent instantly; like nothing happened, even. She sucks in air and peeks between her fingers, watery brown eyes darting all around for any sign of her teacher. She drops her hands from her face when she finds none. "Master Maka?" Meme whispers, terror bolting through her heart. "M-MASTER MAKAAAA!?"

Meanwhile, Maka grabs the offending hand off her neck and elbows the man in question away, scowling heavily. It's completely dark where he had dragged her to, never for a second believing he'd hurt her. "Ugh, let go of me! Was that really necessary, Soul? Meme isn't brave like me—she'll breakdown if she's out there in the dark for too long!"

"Tch," Soul mocks, resting his shoulder against a tree. He was taller than she remembered, broader in the shoulders, sharper in his jawline. "Back in the day, they were tougher." His eyes, however, are just as bright red as she remembers: attentive and holding a mischievous edge that had always, always thrown her off. Even five years ago, when she was just a young girl skipping through the woods with her bright red cloak on, singing happily. "They had better voices, too, even though you still sound like a dying animal—!"

"Soul," Maka growls, grabbing Soul by his collar. "Don't forget who vouched for you in the Rangers Cabin!"

"And I'm wholly grateful that there aren't madmen after my expensive skin," Soul says, snidely. He wraps her hand around her wrist, scraping his sharp claws against her skin in a mock caress. Maka's cheek twitches but she stays still, letting him run three fingers down her arm until they reach the crook of her elbow. There, Maka's breath hitches, and Soul's crooked grin darkens. "You've always had a thing for sharp things," he smirks, pulling her in closer. His mouth stretches back in a savage grin and Maka follows a string of saliva down the edge of his jaw. He's absolutely starved, Maka realizes with an uncomfortable ache between her thighs. Had it really been so long?

"Soul, Meme…she can't be left alone," she hisses. Soul jerks her even closer and Maka's foot slips in the muddy undergrowth. She slaps a hand against the tree for support, but her other hand grips his shirt. She hesitates only for a second, just to allow her fingers the quiet, short, luxury of smoothing down his sculpted chest. "I told you I would come back," Maka states, no longer irked or angry. She was just tired and, most of all, she was sad. "I did, but—!"

"Five years later," Soul seethes, digging his fingers into her shoulder. She flinches, but his nails never break her skin. "You made me wait for you five years, Maka, without a word from you! I waited every day at that fucking tree for you like you asked for two years and you never came!"

"I wanted to but I couldn't!"

"Oh, but you could come now, right? After everything had blown over?—You don't even have that hag Liz with you! You had no one to stop you!"

"Listen to me—!"

"I waited five years and I'm tired," Soul snaps his jaw like a wounded wolf. He sounds like a wounded animal. "I'm here to tell you I won't wait anymore, not if you're going to leave me here like some fucking stray—!"

"SHUT UP!" Maka screams, slapping both her hands on his cheeks. This stuns him enough for her to lock their gazes together: one dumbfounded red and another blazing emerald. Her thumbs dig into his cheekbones to hold his head still. "SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME, YOU GRUMPY WOLF!" She barks, just like she did when she had been sixteen and gallivanting through the woods—meeting a starving white wolf with the most gorgeous pelt she had ever laid eyes on, feeding the ill-tempered hound and indebting his life to her with just a few simple treats. Dark chocolate, she thinks distractedly, because he did not like sweet things, but rather bitter ones. "I didn't come back because after I vouched for your life at the Rangers Cabin, I couldn't come back. Why do you think they stopped hunting you, Soul? Do you really believe someone like me, a baker's assistant, could stop an entire cabin of armed men for one wolf?" She searches his eyes and, upon finding them trained on her, she smiles sadly at the old pain he harbored—the wild thing she had tamed over many weeks, the animal she had once embraced so tightly his skin could have become her own. She held his heart in her hand and she hadn't been careful with it. "I told you where to go to get food to survive," she lowers her voice, remembering the mill that an old couple owned; the small patch of garden, lush with vegetables and nuts and trees of fruit. "And I told them…I told them I killed you."

Soul gives her a halting look, red eyes searching hers for signs of deceit. "They've been trying to hunt me down for years, how did you…?"

"Poison," Maka answers. "I told them I had found you in the forest, starving, and, scared you might attack me again, I had poisoned you with some berries and left you there. It had been two days by the time I told the Rangers—enough time for the other animals in the forest, the vultures, and other magical creatures to pick you apart…it's not strange for carcasses to disappear within the hours, not in this forest so they didn't question me further. When you didn't appear anymore, they decided I was telling the truth."

"Then why didn't you return to me?" Soul demands, one part of the riddle not sounding true quite yet.

"The forest has been closed off for the past five years, Soul," Maka looks at her toes, the wind whistling between the branches. The forest night is cold, loud and full of horrors, with things that whisper in the ear and disappear at the next moment; mud that clogs the steps, feeling as if it is sapping away all strength; trails that change every time the moon beam hit it at just the right angle, at just the right moment. After the death of the supposed blood hound that preyed on young village girls and travelers, the forest had been officially closed off by the King's orders. Iron walls had risen to prevent any entry miles ahead of the forest itself.

"The only reason its open now…is because I broke through against the law. It took some time, but I found a weak spot about two miles away from the actual entrance."

"You…broke the law?" Soul asks, blankly. "For…?"

Maka's cheek burn. "I…I know it's been five years but I thought maybe…you'd still be around and you'd catch my scent and…find me," she finishes with a near-quiet whisper, taking his silence negatively. "I didn't know they'd close the forest after I told them you were dead! If I had known, I would have told you, but they…I didn't know," Maka ends, the wind stinging her watery eyes. The longer she is in the forest, the more she can feel the pressing dark—the loneliness, the brittle hope of someday seeing another person who cared about you, but only finding darkness in its wake. "I'm s-sorry, Soul," she says, jaw clamped tight. "After I told you you'd never be alone again, I left you alone for five—!" She hiccups against his lips, wet cheeks pressing against his nose when he holds her tight—just like before, tight enough that it feels as if his skin is her own. But there was an edge this kiss, something desperate and wild in the way he slants his mouth over hers and parts her lips with his long tongue.

"I waited five years," Soul breaths against her mouth, hands gripping the back of her thighs to lift her up. He presses their chests together, her heavy pants matching his. "Even though I thought you wouldn't come back again, I would have waited another five years," he confesses and takes her bottom lip between his teeth, biting them until they are swollen and red; until she has scratched her nails down up his back, anchoring them on his shoulder blades. Her shaky moan was what makes him pull away, short of air. "Don't do that again."

Maka nods into the hollow of his neck, getting her breathing back. The dark doesn't seem so dark when one had company. With this in mind, Maka looks up at her faithful wolf companion. "I need to get back to Meme—we're on our way to Grandmother's."

"That old hags place is through here?"

"Well—kind of. It's shorter through here."

"By?"

"Five or so hours…" Maka mumbles, flinching when Soul growled lowly. "I did it when I was sixteen!" Maka argues. "And I was fine!"

"That's because I scared away a lot of the things that could potentially kill you."

"Then keep scaring them away," Maka decides, smiling brightly at him when he cocked a brow. "Come with us. Say it's because Meme didn't bring you something to eat—it'll also teach her the importance of listening to her teacher," she adds at a mutter.

Soul is quiet for a second, just enough for Maka to look up at him curiously. "And after?" He utters, quiet. His arms are warm—he's very warm. Maka doesn't need to clutch her cloak for warmth with him so close.

"I need a new heater," Maka mumbles against his chest. "It's not in the budget for house repairs, not until the winter season…" She looks up at him and her smile can never match his jagged-tooth grin, but his teeth aren't so terrifying anymore. His eyes aren't so terrifying anymore, not when they're such a tender shade of red.

"That's one way to put my expensive skin to use. Feed me those frosted cookies you did before and I won't leave in the morning," he grins wolfishly when she slaps his arm, tangling their fingers together so she could lead him back to where Meme was—where the poor girl was pacing in a small circle, crying out her name, pulling the edges of her hood so low on her head, Maka is sure the seams have ripped.

"Meme! I'm okay, I was just—I needed to settle some things!"

"M—MASTER MAKA! YOU'RE—OH, NO, HE'S BACK!" Meme shrieks, backing away in fear. She flails her arms. "Maka," she sobs, calming down only when Maka insisted the mysterious man meant them no harm—he was only angry for the lack of cookies, Maka persisted. "Cookies?" Meme sniffles. "He just…wants cookies?"

"We—are renowned for our sweets, Meme, we make King-worthy desserts. That's why our school still exists," Maka coughs, hoping her thin lie broke through. Either Meme was as dense as Anya said she was or she was simply too spooked to really think about her excuse. Regardless, she accepted it, but clutched into her hand and would not move unless Soul led the way.

"M-Master Maka?" Meme whispers halfway through the forest, after stumbling over an uproot tree. Maka seemed more at ease with the frightening man, much to Meme's nausea. But Maka had returned fine and the mysterious man hadn't made one approach to hurt her…

"What's wrong?"

"…Is it just me, or does he have ears on top of his head?" Meme flicks her eyes to Maka before squinting against the dark, trying to discern the mysterious man Maka had decided to bring along in their journey from the dark.

"It's the dark, Meme," Maka dismisses, her trained eyes catching the sharp edges of his wolf ears. If Meme had looked down just a little, she'd see the sway of a tail as well. But Maka decides she doesn't need to see that quite yet. Not until daybreak, when the dark was not so scary and the forest not so full of secrets.

Ahead, Soul gives a barking huff, and Meme nearly leaps into her arms.

"Wh-what was that?! Master Maka, what was that? It sounded like a wolf, oh no…"

"It's fine. It's just the forest," Maka repeats, patting Meme's arm. Her eyes don't leave Soul's back as she says this, lips upturning. "We'll be out of here soon. All of us." As an afterthought, Maka adds: "Together," and smiles when Soul's tail wags a little in the not-so-dark shadow ahead.