MORE EARLYFIC. BECAUSE IT'S ALL I WRITE APPARENTLY.
honestly - i have currenteventsfic. somewhere. it's still. trying to be at a point where i can pretend i'm happy with it. UNTIL THEN...
ORIGIN STORY
/pseudonymosity
Scythes have always been child's play for Maka. She is and always has been a Scythetechnican.
Her first Scythe wasn't Soul.
Her first Scythe was her Mama's makeshift scythe. It was for a primary school project - for what she wanted to be when she grew up. It was made up of thick construction paper and designed with all sorts of vibrant puffy paint - and created to be small and short, just for her. She remembers the kids playing with it, almost breaking the pop-up mechanism of the blade from the staff, before the teacher swept in to forbid any more playing. Maka and her scythe, that day, had been a distraction from lessons. It was the only day Maka was not quite the model student.
She doesn't know what really happened to it. She just assumes that after that presentation day, it disappeared - as most school projects do.
(One half of the paper - what made up the staff itself - is now refolded into a heart, laminated, and hangs thickly as a ridiculously huge keychain to hold Mama's keys. Every two years, she relaminates her Heart because it naturally goes through a lot in those two years.
Mama's always been good with her hands - origami is nothing different.
The other half - what made up the scythe itself - is now a folded square and resides in an inside pocket of Spirit's jacket. He has to be mindful that he takes out a handkerchief from the right pocket, and not his Square, when he offers it ever so gentlemanly to ladies.
He's never been good at doing things on his own, so Spirit can't do origami. And he loved his wife's idea, but didn't have the guts to ask her to fold it into a heart for him. It felt wrong. Always asking more from her, than giving to her.)
Her second Scythe wasn't Soul either.
Her second Scythe was her Mama's actual scythe.
It was a time before primary school, before laminated hearts, and wrinkled, worn squares. She remembers it as a dance, playing and holding her Papa in his Weapon form, and Mama behind her, carefully leading them along around the living room. (Her form of bicycle lessons.)
As a Death Scythe, Spirit was more than capable of making sure his blade wasn't at all so close or so sharp enough to harm her. Likewise, as a Meister, Maka's mother was more than capable of ensuring her daughter's safety from him. (And perhaps, as a mother, less so capable.)
And for that time - it was enough.
So, yes. She's had practice and exposure as a Scythe Technician. Sort of.
Soul thinks it counts.
But he still curses every time she drops him. How hard is it keep him steady?
god. the fluff and the marshmellow in this fic is sickening. WHERE IS MY ANGST AND MY DARK.