Hey! This is my fic for Resbang, a Soul Eater fandom writing challenge that takes place from July to December. My partner in crime is the amazing Aqua-twin, who drew awesome (like holy balls is it great) art for this fic, which I will link to on my profile page! (additional thank you's will be posted in the last chapter) Also, sorry for the massive spam in your inbox.

Warnings: Violence, minor character death, bad guy oc

Bound

Chapter 1

His round eyes watched her as he bit into the over-ripe berry, juices rolling down his chin like tiny beads of blood in the dim light. He wiped the liquid away with a fat wrist. "So," he grunted, and his cheeks jiggled like the milk jello he'd stuffed into his mouth at intermittent points throughout the conversation. "I hear you're still badgering my men about joining the tournament."

"That's correct," Maka replied shortly. She glanced from the fat man to the twin guards that stood sternly on either side of him, both of whom watched her like she was a bug beneath their feet—ready to be squashed at a moment's notice. Though they had the bodies of men, their heads were that of pigs, their protruding tusks sheathed in a gold coating and the thin, fleshy bits of their ears pierced with ornate beads. One crossed his arms menacingly, the large gun hooked to his belt flashing. Maka swallowed thickly and returned her gaze to the large man before her.

He snorted. "I thought I told you that wasn't going to happen." The man, Tobias, lifted a hand and beckoned his servant closer. "Bring me more meat," he murmured to her, "not fish. Koas. The ribs." As the violet-skinned woman nodded and hurried away to do as he bid, his bloodshot eyes followed her swaying rear with a leering intensity. Maka cringed when he licked his lips.

"As I was saying," he continued once his gaze returned to Maka, "women aren't allowed in my tournament."

"You said all I would need was a wisp and the binding bracelets," Maka reminded him through gritted teeth—politely. "And I have the bracelets."

A loud, echoing laugh, halfway between a cough and a snort, erupted suddenly from his lips and reverberated around the elegantly draped room. "So you actually stole your deadbeat father's binding bracers?!" he asked, a great deal of mirth in his words.

Maka's gaze grew hard as she hissed, "He's not a deadbeat." The guilt, she noticed bitterly, made her tone sharper.

Tobias ignored her and wiped the tears from his eyes. "That is priceless," he gasped. "His own daughter stole his most prized possessions. You are wicked, my dear. Truly a treasure."

Maka clenched her fists. "You said I could join if I got them," she said, raising her voice over his joyful chuckles in an attempt to return him to their topic of conversation. "You said they were all I needed."

"Not all," he reminded through sporadic snorts of amusement. When he finally quieted down, after a sloppy sip of wine, he told her smugly, "As you so eloquently pointed out yourself, young lady, you are still in need of a wisp. And as you know, I am the sole owner of all bondable wisps on this planet."

Maka shifted her feet, felt the sweat collect at her palms. Glancing at the guards, she cleared her throat nervously and turned to Tobias. "If you would just let me try, I know I could prove to you how good I am," she implored, her stomach twisting. The small hope she'd harboured that this meeting would go as planned was rapidly fading. At his bored look, she tried a different approach. "The rules of the tournament don't say anything about restricting female participants."

"Yes," he allowed absently, a smile on his lips as he turned to the tray being placed on his desk. His fingers fluttered over the array of meats before he picked out a particularly juicy rib. Waving it at her in his thick hands, he said, "But, you see, you will never be allowed one of my wisps. Do you know why?"

Maka slowly breathed out through her nose. "Because I'm a woman?" she guessed, the battle to remain indifferent a losing one. Her eyes were hard as she glared at him, the tips of her nails digging half moons into her palms.

"And do you know where a woman's place is, Maka?" He bit into the rib and told her, mouth full, the slick bone in his fingers waving around the air, "On her back, on her bed, or on her knees."

Maka took a step towards him, the sizzling anger a slow burn in her chest. It festered, writhing up from the pit of her stomach like an old wound until her shoulders shook with the force of her rage. "You said—"

"I lied!" he spat, chortling loudly as food sprayed past his greasy lips. Tobias wiped them with an arm and nodded to someone behind her. "Now go away. I'm done with you," he lilted as two heavyset guards wrapped their meaty claws around her arms, their serrated, iron coated nails digging into her skin. Maka struggled against them in vain.

"And Maka," Tobias called, his tone smug as she was forcefully pulled away, "tell your father he still needs to pay off that gambling debt. I haven't received money since last week and we wouldn't want anything bad to happen to him, now would we?"

They threw her from the luxurious room and out onto the dirt-filled streets. The people walking by shrieked and scattered from the path as she landed in a large plume of dust. The two guards laughed from the doorway, and their oversized snouts made them sound like two snorting pigs as they slapped imaginary dust from their hands. "Stay away unless you wan' some o' this," one called back suggestively, cupping his crotch and licking his incisors. "I'll show you what a real gladiator looks like."

Cheeks burning with humiliation, Maka angrily pushed herself off the ground. When the two snickering oafs disappeared behind the red drapes that acted as a doorway, Maka pulled out a sheet of paper from the waist of her pants. It was worn, folded so many times that the creases had lost their colour—but the vibrant design it boasted was still legible.

The page was an advertisement for the Death Planet gladiator tournament held at that time each year. It brought thousands of visitors to the planet—providing the merchants with more revenue than most knew how to manage.

While the tournaments had been going on for centuries, it was only in the last five decades that they had become the main attraction for Death Planet. Fifty years before, a drought began, turning the otherwise lush planet into a rocky desert. Crops dried up, farmers ran out of business, and people were dying from lack of food and water. As a last solution, the gladiator tournaments were advertised throughout the galaxy and increased in size. Within a year they had more money pouring in than ever before.

The tournament she was currently interested in, the one advertised on the flyer, wasn't like the ones the planet held every month. This one had been created for the purpose of finding and initiating new gladiators. They allowed new warriors to participate and if they won, they would receive—in addition to the other prizes—a job as one of the warriors who lived in the colosseum and fought regularly.

The paper crumpled in her fists.

A gladiator wasa being that resulted from the bound combination of a warrior and a wisp, the unity of both melee and magic. With the combined skill of both disciplines, gladiators were heroes, seen as gods and icons among the planet populous. Maka had the ability to fight required of a warrior—had been taught to defend herself from a young age by her father. The problem lay in finding a wisp, an ethereal spirit that inhabited the magically sustained forests of the planet who would supply the magic.

She also had the bracelets that would bind them as one, arguably the more difficult of the two to obtain as they were complicated to craft, and therefore extremely expensive. All that she needed now was the wisp. Which, in itself, shouldn't have been the problem—had she been a male it wouldn't have been. Unfortunately, all known wisps were owned by Tobias and only given to up-and-coming male warriors who had shown promise, or at the prodding of influential families.

Maka kicked the dusty road with her worn-out sandal, stuffed the flyer back into her pants, and shuffled miserably down the street towards home. Or she would have, had something not caught her eye—something blue that was climbing up the side of Tobias's building. Her head automatically darted left—back to the entrance she was just thrown out of—and the guard positioned there blew her a mocking kiss. Making a face, Maka moved towards the short alley and looked back up the building.

Now that she was closer to the building and could see more clearly, Maka recognized the person. Before he'd gotten a job in construction, he used to be one of the orphans that ran around the city, stealing from people and generally causing havoc. This particular brand of street vermin owed her three apples and a lady's handkerchief which she had rightfully stolen first. "What are you doing?" Maka called up to him, crossing her arms.

The man jolted in response, barely able to keep his hold on the window sill. He looked down nervously, but ultimately rolled his eyes upon seeing who it was that had spotted him. "Oh, it's you."

Narrowing her eyes, Maka looked from his face to the window he still clung to. "Are you spying on Tobias's daughter?" she asked, incredulous. Maka glanced behind her quickly to make sure no one was listening and, under her breath, added in a hiss, "Do you have a death wish?"

He snorted. "No, but I hear you do," he said conversationally, lifting himself once more to peer over the ledge. "Trying to become a gladiator, are we? Ambitious."

Maka glared. "It isn't when you've trained as hard as I have," she defended, then after a moment, "and would you please get down?"

"Look, I'm not going to give up the chance to see the hottest tits on the planet just because some uptight little girl has a problem with it. Now go away."

Lips pressed tightly together, Maka quickly searched the ground and spotted a stone roughly the size of her fist. She lifted it up, bouncing it in her hand a couple times. "Uptight, huh?" she muttered, gauging the distance as she set up her arm to throw.

"That's what I—Ahh!"

Maka watched with a great deal of satisfaction as the boy fell from his perch to the hard-packed earth below. She sauntered closer, her face smug as she crossed her arms and stared down her nose at him. He just glared.

"Hey!" Torn from her musings, Maka turned to see one of the guards run into the alley. His solid black eyes moved from Maka to the boy on the ground, and his expression grew angry. "You're Bluestar," he growled, stepping closer, "that pick-pocket! I thought I told you to stay away from here!"

The boy gave a long suffering sigh and briefly rolled his eyes at Maka before tilting his head back in the dirt. "It's Blackstar, you idiot," he stated, promptly making a rude gesture at the guard.

The guard growled, baring his teeth, and stomped through the alley towards them. He pulled the sophisticated gun from his hip and aimed it. With a wicked laugh, Blackstar quickly scrambled to his feet and scaled the nearby fence. Once he'd climbed to the top, he called back over his shoulder. "Oh yeah! She stole your money!"

Maka could only gape in shock as Blackstar gave them both a little wave before jumping to the other side of the barrier with a wicked laugh. She turned with wide eyes to the guard. "Uh—"

The man's head whipped to her, a cruel snarl on his face as he patted a quick hand over his hip. Finding nothing, he started slowly upon Maka, advancing until her back hit the clay building. His beady eyes stared down menacingly into her own. "You think you can steal from me?"

Maka lifted her leg and kicked him as hard as she could in the balls. He immediately doubled over with a high pitched squeal; she took the opportunity to smash her elbow into his neck. He collapsed.

"Hey!"

Maka turned her head to see more guards pooling around the alley entrance. With a curse, she took a running start and leapt up the wooden fence, slamming into the surface roughly. Hands barely reaching the top, Maka gritted her teeth and pulled herself up, using her legs as leverage.

Bullets slammed with quick succession into the wood, and she accelerated her pace until she managed to land with an oof on the other side.

Groaning, Maka pushed herself up and dusted off her knees. When she looked up to see Blackstar counting out the gold pieces in a satin coin purse, she growled.

Maka stomped forward and, when he looked back upon noticing her presence, punched him square in the face. "You asshole!" she hissed vehemently. "You could've gotten me killed!"

Blackstar's hands flew up to clutch his nose. "Crazy bitch!" he spat, the blood already dripping from between his fingers.

She took the opportunity to pinch the purse from his fingers. "If they report back to Tobias, you might have ruined my chances of getting a wisp! Some friend you are!"

Blackstar snorted, or at least made a snort-like sound, from behind his bloody fingers. "Are you blind or just stupid? Tobias will never give you a wisp, let alone let you join the most prestigious tournament in the galaxy." He released his nose tentatively before looking down at his fingers. Grimacing in disgust, he wiped them on his shirt and addressed Maka once more, "Your only chance is to get one yourself."

That made Maka pause. "Myself? You mean go in the forest?" She swallowed thickly. "It's forbidden."

Blackstar grinned up at Maka, resting an arm on his leg as he raised an eyebrow. "You scared or something?"

"It's forbidden, you idiot."

His grin widened. "You're not exactly a law-abiding citizen."

Maka sighed, eyes rolling heavenward before they locked on the blue-haired thief once more. "Even if I did think that would work, which I don't, I would still need a cloaking device to enter," she said, crossing her arms and giving a brief shrug. "Without it, the creatures in there would rip me apart."

"What if I told you I could get you one?" Blackstar asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What then?"

Maka felt her heart pick up at his words, but she willed her face to remain carefully blank. There was always a catch with Blackstar; she'd learned that the hard way. "I would ask what you wanted for it."

"I dunno," Blackstar laced his fingers behind his head and leaned against the wall, legs kicked out in front of him, "what do you have?" His position was relaxed, and had Maka not known him since she was young, she might have been fooled by his demeanour. Despite his appearances, Blackstar was smart, conniving, and good at getting what he wanted.

"I could give you part of my winnings in the tournament," Maka offered.

Blackstar snorted. "So I would get my money after you survive the incredibly dangerous outlands and after you win the impossible to win tournament?"

Maka shifted on her feet. "Yes?"

"No," Blackstar deadpanned. "What else you got?"

Maka sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as she thought. Her stomach turned queasy as the solution came to her. She swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut briefly before turning back to Blackstar. "I'll give you the locket," she said quietly, "the one you always ask me about." It was her father's locket. Blackstar had seen it once in passing and had pestered her about it incessantly ever since.

He smirked, and the sparkle in his eyes told her that that was what he'd wanted all along. "Meet me at the city border as soon as the sun sets."

...

Later that day, Maka slipped from the crowd and disappeared into the shadowed, dusty alleyways of the city. Her woven sandals clapped loudly against the dirt as she sprinted through the shadows, her bag banging against her hip as she ran.

When she deemed herself a far enough distance from the bustling people, Maka darted behind a small house. She crouched low and dumped her daily findings onto the earth. Two pieces of stale bread fell out, followed by three rings, a rusted dagger, and the coin purse she'd taken earlier from Blackstar. She picked it up and untied the string to reveal several copper pieces. No silver. No gold.

It would buy food for tonight at least.

A noise erupted close by, jolting Maka from her thoughts. She looked up, heart racing in her chest, before she forced herself to quickly collect all her things and stuff them into her pack. She spared the alley behind her a hesitant glance before sliding out onto the main road and hurrying towards home.

The rumpled old shack she lived in with her father soon came into view from across the street, a small structure that would have collapsed years ago had it not been for the two towering inns it was squished between. Her gait slowed to a walk in an effort to appear less suspicious as she crossed the busy road, sliding past shuffling carts and loud, complaining animals. The door to the shack was made of a crude leather drape that hung haphazardly from several nails in the wood, and the smooth surface of it crackled pleasantly beneath her hand when she pushed it aside. Maka stepped in and the familiar musky odour enveloped her. "Dad, I've got—"

"Uhnn!" Maka's head jerked around to the small bed in the corner and saw two bodies slapping lewdly together under the blanket. "Mmh!"

"Spirit!" she shrieked and flung her hands over her eyes. "What are you doing?!"

"Ayy, Maka!" was the slurred response. She heard the rustling of sheets and didn't dare look. "You're home early."

She peaked through her fingers so she could see his face and nothing else. "You can't keep bringing prostitutes home, I told you! We can't afford them!"

Her father stood up from the bed and wrapped the thin sheet around his hips, leaving the woman he left completely bare. He stumbled over to the corner of the room where a large bottle of booze waited for him. "It's fine..." Spirit mumbled with a disinterested shrug, picking up the alcohol and taking a healthy swig.

Spirit was a tall, gangly sort of man, who hunched greatly and swung his greasy hair from his eyes frequently throughout the day. Now, as he wiped away the liquid smeared on his prickly chin, he appeared as apathetic as ever. The disinterest rolled off him in waves.

Smothering her growl, Maka looked to the painted face of the blue-skinned prostitute. She was braiding the tentacles that wriggled at her back. "You have to leave," Maka told her firmly, though not unkindly. She was trying not to imagine what her father had been doing with those tentacles.

The woman shrugged, wiping her face and blinking her long lashes up at Maka. "I'm gone just as soon as I get paid."

Sending Spirit a scathing glance, Maka dug into her bag and pulled out the coin purse. She picked out four copper pieces that should have been used to pay for their dinner and handed them to the prostitute. After counting them out, the woman left the room with one wave at Spirit.

"What are we going to eat tonight?" Maka intoned without looking at her father.

He set the bottle aside with a clunk on a nearby table. "I don't care."

Maka rolled her eyes and bent down to lift one of the floorboards, the space beneath used to conceal their more valuable belongings. She set the wood to one side and sifted through the various knick-knacks and nostalgic junk.

Her heart jumped to her throat. "Spirit," she began in a quiet voice. "Where is the money?"

"Hm?"

Maka turned to him. Spirit moved with jerky steps back to the mattress—his almost permanent residence as of late—and stretched his body like a lazy feline beneath the thin sheet before collapsing back. "Where is my money?" she repeated carefully.

Spirit snorted. "Oh please, it isn't like you earned it yourself. You stole it from the people waiting to see the gladiators." The last part was said with a haunted wistfulness, the same tone he used whenever he talked about the gladiators, the colosseum, the fighting… his partner.

Maka's eyes strayed to the mark burnt into his shoulder; two connected rings with a horizontal sword between them. The mark of a gladiator.

The mark of a man partnered with another so intrinsically that he went near mad after his death.

Spirit often spoke about his days in the colosseum, the heat against his skin, the sweat on his palms. That was what it meant to be alive, he'd say to her, his eyes glassy and distant, though for a moment they'd lose their haziness and spark with life, those were the days.

They say when a gladiator loses his wisp, it's like a part of his soul is torn from his body. Maka never believed it, at least not at first. How could a man be so influenced by something that had happened over two decades ago? Besides, she had always been with him.

She should have been enough.

Years ago, during one of his less coherent nights, she'd heard from one of their neighbours that Spirit had fallen hard when his wisp died, gambling away the extensive fortune he'd accumulated over his career into Tobias's eager hands—abandoned by his fans and those he once called friends in his fall from fame. In his despair, Tobias had taken advantage of Spirit—was still taking advantage of him. Spirit was supposedly too mournful to hold a grudge against those that had scorned and used him.

Maka, however, wasn't.

"Get out of bed, you drunkard," she told him as she stuffed her findings into the hiding space. Before she replaced the floorboard, Maka slipped her hand inside and pulled out her father's locket—given to him 25 years before when he'd first met his wisp. Gritting her teeth against the guilt, Maka stuffed it in her bag.

"But Maaaaaka," he whined, burying himself further under his ratty blanket so only his greasy red hair was showing.

"You need to go to work!"

"Can't. Fired," he slurred.

"Spirit!"

"I told you to call me papa," Spirit muttered, his voice muffled by the covers. "Get my bracelets, would you? Papa wants to hold them." He meant the golden binding bracelets that had permanently bound him and his partner together. When death had torn them apart, the bangles had fallen off. He now kept them in a velvet bag in the corner, often holding them throughout the day. He didn't use to so much when she was younger, but as she'd aged his obsession with them grew.

Maka swallowed. "They're not there," she told him.

"What?" asked Spirit, who grew pale. He lifted shakily off the bed, appearing sober for the first time as he turned to her. His breathing picked up when he prompted, "What do you mean?"

She didn't meet his eyes. "I'm sure they're just misplaced. I'll look for them later, okay?"

While he still looked worried, Spirit nodded. "That's my girl..." his voice faded as his eyes returned to their hazy appearance, her father once again replaced with the broken man who was appearing more and more as the years past.

"Anyway, I just dropped by. I'm going to go get dinner," she told him, pulling her bag over her shoulder—the weight of the binding bracelets she'd hidden inside sent a twinge of guilt racing through her heart.

"To steal, you mean," Spirit mumbled into the pillow.

Maka ignored him. "I'll be back soon."

…

The shed was a little worse for wear, but she supposed it would have to do. Maka closed the door, wincing as it groaned in protest, and locked it firmly. If she did find a wisp tonight, she would need a place to hide it until the tournament began.

Her father had built the shed for her to play in as a kid—when he still paid attention to her—and for the most part it had remained untouched over the years. It was located on the outskirts of the city, just before the forests of the outlands began. No one should bother to look inside anytime soon and, as it was hidden behind a small outcropping of rock, no one would accidentally see anything either.

Wiping her hands quickly on her pants, Maka looked up at the sky. The sun had set not too long before, revealing the stars and three moons above. She was late for her meeting, but she wasn't worried; the heat of day had yet to cool and Blackstar was not one known for punctuality.

Maka walked alone beneath the stars, her small lantern banging against her leg every now and then. Her heart felt heavy as she thought of the tournament. She paused a moment to pull out the flyer before continuing on—she knew the path and felt confident even as her gaze fell upon the worn paper. The 100,000 gold reward glared back at her like an impossible dream, and Maka had to keep herself from tearing the page apart when her fingers unconsciously clenched around it.

It was the only way for her to make money. No one would hire her, and the constant ridicule her father received, coupled with his almost legendary irresponsibility, insured he never had a stable job. More than anything, though, it would be a chance to prove herself. Her eyes drifted to the stone colosseum that stood proudly at the centre of the city, taller than any other building for miles. Even as far away as she was, the great building was easily discernable within the darkness.

Her heart ached with longing at the sight. Gladiator battles were said to be as ferocious as they were beautiful, and people traveled far and wide to witness the magical partnership within the great stone arena. If she did this, if she succeeded, she would be revered in the eyes of those who looked down upon her, and no one would dare make fun of her father again.

"Hey!" Maka turned at the familiar voice to see Blackstar running over to her. He clapped his hands together, ridding them of dirt, as he sauntered forwards. "I wasn't sure you'd show, although who could resist a meeting with the great me?"

Maka folded the paper and carefully put it away. "Do you have it?" she asked.

In answer, Blackstar held up a small, rounded object. Its face was smooth, obstructed only by a few dents and the twisting wires embedded into its surface. The edges were slightly coarser, ripples carved around the sides. "And your end?" Blackstar urged, tearing her from her thoughts.

Maka pulled out the gold locket. When Blackstar reached for it, she pulled it back. "You can't sell it until after I win the tournament," Maka said at his look of confusion. "I'm going to buy it back with the money I win."

Blackstar blinked and quickly shook his head. "No deal."

"What?" Maka sputtered. "Why not? You know I'll pay you double what it's worth."

"I'm going to give it to Tsubaki."

"Tsubaki?" Maka repeated, mentally wracking her brain for the familiar name. Then it hit her, and she could have groaned. "Tobias's daughter?" she asked, disbelieving. "You can't actually believe you have any chance with her?"

"It's more likely than you becoming a gladiator," he sniffed.

Maka wanted to argue—on the grounds that hell would sooner freeze over before Tobias would allow anyone but a prince to even look at his daughter—but decided it wouldn't do her any good.

"Fine, you can keep it." She ignored the stab of guilt. It wasn't like her father cared about anything lately other than his precious, dead wisp. Blackstar handed over the cloaking device; Maka relinquished her father's locket in exchange.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Blackstar chirped, carefully wrapping the chain around the gold pendant neatly before placing it in his pocket. He fastened it closed with a button.

Maka watched him handle the locket with a raised eyebrow, noting the uncharacteristic care he took with it. Shaking her head, she looked down at the object in her hand. It was pleasantly warm in her palm—a strange sensation in the cold night air—and also much heavier than she would have thought. "So this will keep me safe from the creatures in the forest?" she asked, twisting it around to get a better look at it.

Blackstar nodded. "It should last until morning. Never tried it out myself, mind you."

That didn't exactly help her confidence but it would have to do, Maka decided as she shoved it in her bag. It wouldn't do her any good to turn back now.

"So you're really going?" Blackstar asked curiously. "Now?"

Maka nodded. "The tournament begins in two days," she said, turning to face him. "I need to get my wisp."