Chapter 1
"Papa? Why didn't Mama come with us?"
"Because she has to work late, honey. So I thought we could spend time with each other! This theater is beautiful, isn't it?" Spirit commented, convinced that this was a great idea.
Maka took in her surroundings and noticed her father making weird faces at well-dressed ladies. He had been doing that a lot lately, whenever Mama wasn't around. Maka wasn't sure how to feel about that.
Papa forced her into this nice, itchy thing that she didn't care for, but she did it to humor him. He seemed excited to come to this show. "It's the Evans Family Concerto," Papa explained. "The Evans' are the most famous musical family in the world, so it's guaranteed to be a lavish affair, Maka-chan. So we have to look our best."
"How did you get the tickets?" Maka asked, since it seemed like a big deal.
"Papa has his ways," he mused, straightening out her skirt. He didn't elaborate further.
Death City Concert Hall was warmly lit and ushers escorted various guests to their luxurious, red cushioned seats. Maka never dreamed of Death City having someplace this lavish in its vicinity. She bounced a little in her seat, moving the itchy floof of her dress out from under her legs. There were a lot of adults here, barely any children – the few who were seemed uncomfortable in their suits and clearly not excited to be here. Maka turned to her father, about to tell him her observations, but he seemed engaged with the woman next to him, the woman's hand on his knee.
Feeling out of place, she stared at her hands and noticed some of the lines in her tiny fingers. Tsubaki-chan once told her that those hand-lines could tell how long she could live. Maka is skeptical of that theory, but she does hope that she will live a long time. At least long enough to see Tsubaki again. She moved back to Japan to train in her family dojo and Tsubaki said that she could not get out of it. Maka's pigtails drooped further as she sank deeper in her seat.
A series of claps brought Maka out of her thoughts. The red curtain rose on stage to reveal a young man with a full orchestra behind him. As he bowed, the claps became louder as he straightened to face the crowd. In the light, his hair was almost white, his sharp suit moved as he did. He smiled gratefully and did his best to quiet the crowd to begin. In his hand was what, to Maka, looked like a violin and he cradled it on his neck while his arm lifted the bow and pulled his first note.
The concert continued on like that. Song after song. After the young man finished, a platinum blonde woman came on stage. Maka deduced her to be the man's mother. She played the flute. Next was an older man who played the cello. Then a younger woman. Then the young man again. The crowd cheered loudly after each performance. Maka clapped politely, not understanding what people really liked about the pieces, but they seemed nice to hear. She was getting bored though.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Maka?"
Maka, surprised, turned to her father and he was smiling at her, "It's quite good, isn't it?"
"I think it's okay, Papa. I don't think I get most of it, but it seems nice," Maka said honestly.
"Oh," Spirit's clapping faltered. "Not your cup of tea, I suppose."
"If you like it, I like it too. Thank you for taking me, Papa," Maka insisted and gave him one of her big smiles. Spirit gave her a knowing half grin and kissed the crown of her head.
Maka turned back to the stage and suddenly noticed that it got very quiet. Footsteps were heard and a boy about her age stepped toward a piano that wasn't there before. In the light, his hair really is white. The clean, simple suit didn't suit him at all. After he finished his bow, Maka noticed that his eyes were not quite brown- almost red. He took his seat on the bench and Maka saw that he had a hint of a slouch before correcting himself and sat up straight. The quiet of the concert hall unnerved her, as if everyone was holding their breath.
What is wrong with everyone? Maka thought. The boy lifted his hands to the keys and there was a pause. He seemed to be concentrating on something. Almost like he was making a deci-
CLANG!
The people around her gasped. Maka, undeterred, straightened up.
CLANG! Silence.
…And then began something that was not boring to Maka at all. She watched his fingers fly across the keys. After the first minute or two, she caught him smiling, almost crazed. She couldn't look away; the boy's music was enchanting, going loud, then soft, and it spoke to her soul. It was different than any other music Maka had heard before, and the boy seemed to be enjoying himself. It didn't feel like he was putting on a show, instead he was playing from the heart. But like all pieces, for once sooner rather than later, the boy ended his song.
His last note rang. Stunned silence met him and he pulled his hands away from the keys.
Maka stood up abruptly and clapped. She clapped louder than she had clapped all evening. The boy whipped his head to the audience with shock, their eyes met. And Maka could do nothing but smile brightly and clap harder. It was really good, she expressed, hoping her body language told him that. The boy blinked twice and then smiled awkwardly. He stood up and bowed deeply. Maka swore he was sweating really hard.
It was then everyone else got with the program and clapped politely, with more murmurs than hand movement. Maka continued clapping until she realized everyone had already stopped and that the boy had already left the stage. She sat down and took a breath. She couldn't believe how good that was.
"So Maka, are you enjoying your evening?" Spirit asked amusedly after she sat down.
She nodded excitedly and said, "Yes Papa, thank you so much for bringing me! I hope he comes out again!"
"Hmm, let's see what the program says!" He produced a thin booklet Maka hadn't noticed before, and they scanned the list of names. He pointed at the name Soul Evans near the bottom of the page, "We just finished listening to him and it looks like… there are only two more songs left, darling, I'm sorry. He won't be coming out again."
"Awww! He was the best part," Maka pouted and slouched on the armrest. Spirit chuckled and brushed her hair out of her face. "If you like him so much, we can go to another one of their concerts in the future, how's that?"
Maka nodded, "Yes please."
The stage was already set with the violinist from earlier and with a crescendo fifteen minutes later, the concert ended with a loud, boring sound. Maka was then herded by her father out of their aisle.
"Wait, Maka! Papa has to go say hello to someone very quickly, come with me this way," Spirit said and dragged her to meet a black figure in the corner with a funny, three-holed mask.
"Death Scythe, I was wondering where you were!" the figure said, waving a large gloved hand.
"Shinigami-sama! Thank you so much for the tickets tonight. Maka and I enjoyed ourselves, didn't we Maka?" Spirit said.
Maka looked up to the man in the mask and then realized it was Lord Death himself. She gasped and smiled widely, "Yes, thank you, Shinigami-sama! I really enjoyed the piano boy toward the end."
"Ah, yes I did too. He was very intriguing!" Lord Death remarked jovially.
"I thought so too, Father!" said a boy, his short legs running up to the masked man. "I wanted to go backstage, but there's too many people," he pouted. Maka stared curiously at his striped hair.
"Kiddo! Just in time. Allow me to introduce you to Maka-chan and my current Death Scythe, Spirit Albarn. She and her father won the tickets from our "death raffle" a while ago, remember?" Lord Death waved a large hand over at them.
"Oh, congratulations!" Kid greeted politely and then turned to Maka. "Did you like the boy too? With the piano?"
"Mhm!" Maka nodded.
"Me too. I saw a lot of people didn't though. At least you did!" Kid expressed inclusively.
Maka smiled, already liking him. After bidding Lord Death and his son goodbye, Maka sat in the back seat of the car while Spirit drove them home. She wondered if the piano boy really had red eyes.
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Over the years, Spirit Albarn would sometimes update Maka on the Evans's family appearances. Maka would tune out the rest until she asked about the piano boy. More often than not, there wasn't anything about him whenever Spirit would bring them up. Maka soon lost interest in whenever Spirit talked about them.
Mama continued to work. Papa had Death Scythe duties. Her parents were never home at the same time, and if they were, they were always shouting at each other. Maka did her homework and chores, not wanting to cause any trouble. She tried intervening once, but got yelled at herself, so she stopped trying. At thirteen, Maka was now aware of her father's vices and she watched her parents' marriage fall apart. The shouting was soon commonplace and Maka often went up to her room to tune them out.
Whenever Spirit tried to talk to her, it fell deaf in her ears, and the only noticeable pique Maka made was whenever the Evans' family was brought up.
"Was Soul at the performance?" Maka asked curtly. Spirit cringed and said, "No, there was no word of him in the article."
"Hm," she hummed, continuing to ignore him.
At sixteen, her mother moved out. A few months later, just shy of turning seventeen, Maka watched from the stairs as her parents signed divorce papers.
Two months after her birthday, Spirit Albarn came into her room and gave her the morning's Death City Daily Newspaper. It was opened on the third page to a small article about the Evans Family:
Soul Evans, 18, second son of the prestigious musical family, was pronounced dead at 6:42am on Friday, 2 of April. Details of his sudden death are kept quiet at the family's request, despite rumors of a suicide attempt. No official statement about the cause has been released.
"I thought you would want to know about it," Spirit said quietly, and left the room.
Maka blinked and flipped the newspaper upside down. She closed her history textbook and decided she's had enough studying for the day.