Hey, Hiya, Wazz up? This was the first Soul Eater oneshot that I wrote, but the first one published was Titanic. I signed up for new classes for the Spring semester! Sadly, no writing classes. Another semester of just science. Anyway, I posted myself up for beta-ing! Yay! Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Happy November! I dunno.
~ Soprana
Steel was steel in the end. It was an alloy of iron and other mixtures in a elemental cocktail composed for construction, tools, ships, cars, appliances, and weapons. It wasn't always a transforming part of a human being yet, that type of steel were rare and not possessed by just any human. From experiments the witch, Arachne, had conducted over 800 years ago, a demon weapon was created that had possessed this type of steel that could bend and move just like a limb.
Demon weapons were humans who could transform into weapons, whenever able to of course. Demon weapons are just like humans in aspect, except that they can in fact, transform themselves or part of themselves into a weapon. When in weapon form, the metal making up their forms can change shape and even bend in ridiculous angles with fabled flexibility. With each transformation, the demon weapon glows the color of his or her soul before returning to or from their normal human form. Transformation from human to weapon is known to be dangerous without proper control, and some weapons have hurt themselves or those around them during the change. Because of this, they are sometimes feared in society.
Without a meister, or a human to wield the demon weapon in weapon form, a demon weapon cannot unleash it's full potential. This was one of the reasons the Death Weapon Miester Academy was created. The goal of every weapon at DWMA was to consume 99 evil human souls and one witch soul to become a Death Scythe. Death Scythes are the weapons of Shinigami, the death god. With the title of Death Scythe, enormous power follows the transformation. It is forbidden for a demon weapon to consume an innocent human soul, for they will become a Dark Weapon, opposite of a Death Scythe. When paired with a meister, the weapon's abilities grow and become more lethal. To be wielded correctly, however, the meister and the weapon's soul wavelengths must be in sync. In other words, the meister must understand that the weapon is a human being with objectives and vice versa.
If this does not happen, rejection will occur.
At least, that was what they learned in class.
Steel was steel:Steel was mostly hard. Steel did not wobble and wiggle like jello on a stick when the weapon wanted it stiff and deadly. That was not suppose to happen at all. Maka was positive of that much.
Steel constructed cars that were sturdy and buildings that stood tall for years. Why would steel wiggle?
She slammed her textbook shut with a growl and rolled off her bed with practiced grace. It had all started today when Black Star had challenged Soul to a spar. It wasn't serious at all, just healthy fighting for the sake of staying in shape. Soul acted normal enough, shrugging casually like cool guys do before following the hyperactive idiot out to the school grounds, hands in his pockets. It was just like any normal day. She rolled her eyes and let them banter on while indulging in her latest book, brushing her hair away to devour the words of the writer. All was well until Tsubaki gasped and the metal clanging stopped abruptly. Maka had glanced up casually to see a horror film unfold.
Black Star was quiet for once, frozen in a crouching position in front of Soul, holding Tsubaki in kunai form. His eyes were wide like a child who just broke something of value, mirroring Tsubaki's reflection in her blade. Maka's eyes fell to her partner, scouring for any reaction to an injury. Soul quietly shook his arm, and Maka was greeted with sounds of metallic wobbling. Her hands immediately shut her book and she was at his side in a heartbeat, only to choke back her breath.
Soul's arm was transformed into a blade, with the normal red and black zigzag design glinting in the sunlight. What wasn't normal, was it being warped over like a thin piece of aluminum and it's razored edge too dull to even cut butter. It dangled limply from it's junction to his elbow without the normal air of deadliness it once emitted. If Maka had known why it had happened, she would have laughed but, she didn't know: And that scared her. Soul could be turning into a sardine can for all she knew and he still had not reacted.
He stared blankly at his floppy blade, his face not betraying his thoughts at all. He gave his arm another shake, blinking when the same sound greeted the action. Immediately, all three people turned to her, silently demanding information: pleading she had the magic cure stored up in her ever knowing noggin with their eyes. Soul's eyes were the most pleading. He was desperate to stay calm and cool but, she could tell inside he was freaking out. Her face was laxed, but her eyes said it all. She didn't have a clue.
Without a word, Soul's blade became his arm, and he was off walking away from them. "Ha? Wait Soul!" She cried out before chasing him down. He didn't reply. He didn't look up from the ground as he trudged to school, ignoring her.
They were halfway up the vast staircase up to the school when she finally snapped. Stamping her foot down hard, she riveted herself on the spot and glared at her white haired weapon. Soul stopped and sighed, not turning to face her.
"Maka, not now." He held out the first syllable of her name in annoyance but that didn't phase her. He finally spoke to her.
"No Soul! Did you not see? That was not normal! You could be sick, injured, dieing, changing without even realizing it! This is serious!" Soul whipped around, his hair curling and uncurling. "I know that!" He hissed between his clenched teeth, his eyes aflame. She had sensed his anger and sighed.
"Lets just calm down and go talk to Stein, okay?" She had hoped she sounded calm. Soul simply nodded before continuing up the stairs, with or without her on his heels.
Everything was eerie quiet until they had reached the hall before the dispensary. The last person either of them wanted to see appeared before them with an ecstatic grin on his face. Spirit Albarn, the current Death Scythe, studied Soul for a moment before rounding on his daughter.
"Oh Maka! My Maka! Sweet Angel! Maka!" He chanted directly into her poor ears before she cleaved her book into his head.
"Bad Papa." She simply stated before stepping over his prone body. They had made it halfway down the hall before Spirit gruffly called out, "Having trouble with your consistency today, Octopus head?"
He chuckled, causing both young meister and weapon to freeze mid-step before whirling around. Spirit's grin grew in satisfaction.
"Ah yes. You are now reflecting how you usually are: lazy, floppy, useless, dull. Ring a bell?"
Maka was sure her book had wings as she chucked it at astonishing speed, nailing her father in the center of his forehead with a loud bap!
"Soul is not any of those things! Stupid Papa!" She screeched, fuming. She faintly hears Soul snicker, 'bulls-eye' before she tromped away from her deranged father, not even noting Soul hadn't followed her. She left him to see Dr. Stein on his own. It was time to put her bookwormish habit to work.
She was alone all the way home, and all the way in her room, and all through her books. There had to be an answer somewhere.
She honestly feared Soul was sick. He never showed it, never asked her for help, never gave her a clue to his troubles. She would only notice his slow reactions, his sniffles, his lack of appetite, or his insomnia. He always let her help then. But the look in his eyes today, it was fear.
He had no idea what was wrong and he had looked to her for help. He rarely got sick because of his weapon blood. He could slice through monsters, his blood could slice through germs. She nearly laughed at the thought. Soul? Sick? Once in a blue moon.
She let her fingers run down the spine of her textbook thoughtfully. Do weapons have certain sicknesses? Deadly sicknesses? She bit her lip in fear. Soul would probably never tell her, he was always like that. Trying to protect her by keeping her in the dark. It was utterly pointless of him. She would never stop worrying about him.
She snapped her head up when she heard the familiar sigh as the front door opened. Soul was finally home.
Her legs acted separately from her will as she dashed around the corner and smacked into Soul at full speed. He released an ungraceful 'oof' as he caught her shoulders.
"Soul!" She cried as her face was muffled behind his black jacket. "Where were you?"
Soul grinned softly before shrugging. "Information hunting."
That was it? She pulled away with a curious face.
"And? What did you find? My books had nothing helpful." she asked quietly. Soul sighed and turned away. "Figures. Books are useless anyway."
"Maka Chop!"
Soul staggered over. "Ow! Damn it woman! Stop hitting the sickly!" Maka froze up. Sickly? If he said sickly, does that mean it was serious? Tears touched the brim of her eye lids. Was she going to lose Soul? Was she going to be alone now? Was there a cure? What if there wasn't? How long did he have?
"Maka? Oi! Maka!" Soul said as he shook her, rather forcefully. "Don't get all starry eyed on me, Maka!" She blinked before looking into his ruby eyes. He seemed startled that she was crying, because he stayed silent. She took that opportunity to voice her questions.
"Is...is it serious? Does Stein have a cure? Is it like a rare disease that turns you into a soda can? What's wrong Soul? It's scaring me that I don't know." She sounded weak, scared, pathetic. She hated it. She hated not knowing. Books told her everything, anything she needed. They have failed her. Soul blinked in bewilderment before scratching his head in resignation.
"Maka...it's...it's...it's Feeble Steel Transformation Sickness." The tone of his voice, the serious baritone sound he made as he spoke it's name tore her apart. It sounded serious enough.
Soul saw the terror cross her face, but before he could stop her, she was gone around the corner into her room. "Maka!" He stopped at her door, only to get hit in the face with a book. "Agh! Damn it Maka!" He griped as the book plopped to the ground. Another book flew past him, and that was when Soul noticed Maka digging in her bookshelf frantically sobbing like a lunatic.
"Maka! Hey!" He shouted over the rustling of pages as he stepped to her and grasped her arms from chucking more books into his face. His eyes narrowed: She was trembling. "Maka?" He asked in concern, forcing her to face him. Tears ran down her face as she breathed in huffs of panic. Her bottom lip trembled as she attempted to keep herself together. She was doing it horribly.
"Maka, what's wrong? Stop crying already." He admonished gently, wondering what he did to deserve this. Her pupils were dilated and her eyes would have looked like crisp olives if she wasn't blinking so much. He was shocked even more when she hugged him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder with a sob.
"S-S-S...oul...I...dun-wan-looose...you!" Was all he heard before she sat back. "I can't find anything about it, I've never even heard of that sickness! I'm so stupid! If I had read more, I would have been able to pin point the symptoms before it was too late! Soul! I'm so sorry!" She shouted through her tears, her fist clenched in her lap as she looked down in shame. "I should have taken better care! My cooking got you sick! Or was it my school habits? Could it have been my Maka Chops? Oh no! What if it was! Soul I doomed you with my violent chops!" She all but yelled to the world, her hands on her cheeks in horror. "I'm such a bad meister! A horrible meister! The worst meister!"
Soul burst out laughing. Maka looked flabbergasted.
"Soul! There is nothing funny about 'Feeble Steel Transformation Sickness'! Why are you laughing at a time like this?" She cried.
Soul lost it. His chest refused to let him breath as his booming laugh shook the air around him. He clutched his sides, the laughing dieing down to a chuckle before he faced a startled Maka.
"Maka, I have the 'cure' right here. Trust me, it wasn't anything you did. It was all me. No reading would have helped you in this situation. Although, your Maka Chops probably had a hand in it." Soul fumbled in his jacket before producing a small yellow bottle with pinkish pills inside. Astounded, Maka took the bottle like it was a goblet of pure gold. She nearly cried out in joy until she read the label.
'Iron supplements for weapons. Take one by mouth for five days. Best if taken with food. Prescribed for Soul Eater.'
She re-read the words for clarity before looking up at her weapon. "Iron supplements?" She questioned. Soul nodded.
"Your iron was low?" Soul scowled and looked away. Maka blinked owlishly.
"So, there is no such thing as 'Feeble Steel Transformation Sickness?'" Soul looked at her with a smirk.
"I came up with the name myself. Pretty cool huh?"
Maka was silent for a moment, her hand inching to a specific volume of the Oxford encyclopedia...the 'S' section. The 'S' standing for, "Stupid Soul!" Maka howled as she brought the book down on his skull.
"You scare me like that and let me get all teary eyed and worried only to tell me you made a new name for iron deficiency? Mega Maka Chop!" She brought down the 'R' volume for 'Revenge'.
With a satisfying crack and a grunt of pain from Soul, she felt better. Relived actually. She didn't even have to reach for the 'T' volume. 'Termination' was not needed.
"I'm glad it wasn't anything serious." She breathed, patting his white head. Soul looked up at her with a confused face. "Huh?"
Maka smiled. "This means I have to make sure less unhealthy food is in the house. I don't want this happening again! Say goodbye to your vanilla cake in the fridge." She sang as she skipped to the kitchen.
"Wha? No! Maka please leave my snacks alone! I'm sorry!" Soul shouted as he blundered to stand, disoriented from the Maka chops.
Steel was steel, but demon weapons were people that weren't strong all the time. Yet, when the time came and they needed care, they would always have their meisters giving them protection away from the battlefield.