Maka knew Soul was more interested in girls like Blair: someone with big hips and an even bigger bust; someone well developed in all the right places. In other words, someone who wasn't her. After all, Maka didn't have a chest to speak of, and she was too skinny and plain-looking. How could someone like Soul ever be interested in a girl like her?
Yet they were still partners several years after the fact, the meister and her weapon, and she was beginning to notice how Soul was looking at her with an unmasked hunger. Naturally, Maka did not understand it at first. Was there something on her uniform? Perhaps her soul's wavelength was becoming a distraction? Several days of self-examination and intensive uniform cleaning revealed nothing.
She didn't realize what it meant until after a long afternoon of practicing soul resonance techniques in the forest near Shibusen. Exhausted, Maka fell back into the grass-covered clearing with open arms, sweat dripping down the contours of her cheeks and neck. She let out a tired yelp as Soul hovered over her body, cheeks flushed from exertion. But his eyes were different; his eyes held a strange sort of want in them Maka rarely saw, only when he was in the middle of a huge fight or during a moment of full soul resonance. Only Soul was not looking at anyone else but Maka, and it confused her deeply.
"Soul?" Her words came out as faint breaths. "Are you okay?"
Soul blinked, as if he was suddenly aware of his own actions. Maka resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest. "I-yeah. Is it wrong for a weapon to look at his meister like this?"
Maka managed a weak self-deprecating laugh. "I'm not much to look at, Soul." You could do better, she almost added.
"You're a lot to look at to me," he said with that straightforward kind of honesty that always took Maka back a bit. Even more so now, since Soul was talking about her, albeit in clumsy phrases and confused words. She always understood what he meant, though.
"Honestly, Soul, come on. Stop joking."
"I'm not joking." Soul furrowed his brow in confusion, looking frustrated.
Maka turned her head away from Soul's eyes; at that moment, they were too open and honest to look into any longer. "You don't even see me as a girl, just a meister." She blushed as the words escaped her lips.
Soul groaned. "What am I supposed to do?"
For once, the know-it-all star student of Shibusen didn't have an answer. Wind whistled past her ear, sending blades of grass scuttling across an ungloved hand. She felt something press lightly onto it, and Maka looked over to see Soul's fingers touching hers with all the pressure of a spring breeze.
"What am I supposed to do?" he asked again, his voice barely rising above a harsh whisper.
Be my weapon, Maka thought. Don't leave my side. Lend me your strength. Tell me you care. She didn't dare say these things aloud. The feeling of Soul's hand on hers, the weight of his body hovering over her own-she didn't want to lose these things. If she was too open, they would fall away from her and she would be alone. Again, Maka wished there was something about her (a beautiful face, a body of curves begging to be held) that would keep Soul by her side that much longer.
But there he was, looking deeply into her upturned face, looking for an answer that she couldn't begin to give him. So she gave him the only answer she could give. "Keep fighting for me, of course."
"See? You don't even see me as a guy, just a weapon!" Soul managed to echo Maka's previous sentiments with his usual casual grin, a mask to hide his disappointment. "Is that okay with you?"
"Why not?" Maka did not wait for an answer; she pulled Soul down with her bare hands onto the ground with her, their bodies knocking together with the same ease as if they were in the throes of battle, perfectly synced as weapon and meister. This was fine, Maka thought as Soul's fingers dug into her hips, pulling her skirt up over them in messy bunches of fabric. It wasn't because she was Maka, it was because she was Soul's partner; this was just another form of resonance, another way they were partners and this was their battlefield. It was okay, because it didn't really mean anything, so it couldn't hurt her if it ended.
Soul's mouth pressed into hers, and the heat of it made her wonder if that was how it felt to be one of the souls he ate on a regular basis. His hands moved from the waistband of her skirt to underneath her sweat-soaked shirt and Maka gripped the back of his jacket tighter with one hand as his fingers traced warm paths across her chest, touching places she never thought he would care about. She moaned without thinking, her other hand in the process of undoing his pants, and Soul whispered into her mouth, "See? You're everything I need."
Maka blushed. "Don't say that," she said, her voice strained as Soul sucked wetly at the curve of her neck. "I'm not-I'm not like her-"
"So?" Soul huffed; she felt his breath on her skin and shivered. "If I wanted someone else, would we be here right now?"
The force of his words hit Maka hard, hard enough to make her not want to think about them anymore. "All right, shuddup already Soul," she muttered. Her skillful hands slipped below the band of Soul's boxers and soon the only thing coming out of his mouth was strangled syllables. He grunted and took hold of Maka's hips as they ground against each other, her missing underwear becoming painfully apparent, and the lack of conversation was a relief for her.
With a sharp cry, Soul entered into her with deep strokes, sending shockwaves down her spine like it was the first time. She felt their wavelengths sync in time to the rhythm of their bodies moving together. When Maka came, she cried out Soul's name with such raw emotion that he followed suit a short moment later, barely registering the feeling of absolute resonance washing over the two of them.
They lay together in the open air, unwilling to move from the other's body. With uncharacteristic tenderness, Soul leaned down and placed a kiss on Maka's disheveled brow. "You're the best person I know, okay?"
Maka couldn't help but ask, "Even better than Blair?"
"What's wrong with Blair?"
She blushed again. "She's pretty."
Soul looked like he was going to say something sarcastic, but he didn't. "It doesn't matter though, does it? She's not you. She's not my Maka." He slipped off of Maka and fell onto his back with a thud, looking ridiculous half-dressed and hanging out like an obscene thing.
My Maka. She liked the sound of that. Although if he thought that meant he could boss her around, he had a Maka Chop with his name on it. Still, she smiled and laughed softly to herself, laughing even more when Soul asked what was so funny.