TA: Wow... It's been over a year since I last updated. I am sooo sorry. Several things happened to make this update super late, I swear. I don't want to make excuses, but I think you guys have the right to now if you decided to read this after such the long wait, which I greatly appreciate. D: So the first thing that happened was DoMo; it was my first MMORPG and those are extremely addictive, esp. if it's your first one. Second, my flashdrive spontaneously combusted on me! Well, not really, but it's long gone, along with the rough draft I had for this chapter (which took me several tries to start) along with its ideas. And third, high school happened. Last year was just... death. I think I died a little inside after last year...
Little side note here: I caught up on the recent chapters of SE and it turns out that Soul actually does become a death scythe in the manga. :( Which kinda puts my story in a bit of a pickle, doesn't it? Well, let's just say that this is on a different timeline, but everything that happened with Chrona remains the same (the church incident anyway). I did start this story shortly after they infiltrated Baba Yaga's Castle, y'know. D: And that was about 20 chapters ago.
Dedication: Yeah, no SE fact this time. I only ever got past episode 1, haha! No, this time, it's a dedication to One Manga, one of the best manga hosting sites I have ever been on, which is sadly going to be taken off sometime this week. I've been with you guys for nearly 4 years now! It's like I'm losing an old friend. D: I just want to say "Thank you for all your hard work" because without OM, this story wouldn't even exist. So, thank you.
Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.
Love's Melody
Chapter 4: A Capella
xXx
"Hey Papa, who's that?"
"He's the youngest of the Evans family. His name is Soul Eater."
Maka stirred in her sleep, throwing about her blankets restlessly as sweat dripped from her forehead, drenching her pillow momentarily. She gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles shifting to a troubling white, tossing her head in every which way with every second. Quick, unsteady breaths escaped her lips in hot pants as her dream continued on, sentencing her to a life unfamiliar.
"It was a surprise to a lot of people, but he's actually a weapon."
"Really? That's weird. None of the other Evans have the blood of a weapon right?"
Maka's mind floated above, hanging silently in the air to watch the scene from above. She gazed down curiously at herself, recognizing the scene somewhere in her dimmed memory. She knew this place; she'd been here before, but this much was clear.
"Yes, that's right. Maka, do you want to talk to him? I'm pretty sure he's about your age."
That question. What had she answered to that again? Didn't she deny it? Her eyes wandered over to Soul, who stood casually, leaning against the wall in a stance not suited for a gentleman of his stature, and yet he looked like he could conquer the world. He had this aura about him that drew her to him, she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it, for sure, was not the feeling she felt when she faced him in reality. What was this exactly? A dream? A memory? Whatever it was, she was sure she walked away from the offer.
"Yeah, okay. He looks pretty lonely anyway." Young Maka approached the solemn boy with a smile, extending her hand and proclaiming herself as Maka Albarn, the scythe technician, and as she did so, Soul would become captivated with her confidence, if not her alone.
Maka drifted down to the point where her feet could touch the ground, making her way through the crowd to view the scene more clearly. This wasn't what happened, not from what she could recall, but... was she really in the position to base something off of her memory? As she drew ever nearer, the beating of her heart quickened to a fast-paced, adrenaline rush.
Soon she found herself running through the stray bodies that blocked her path, pushing them aside without care of what ruckus it might have caused. She wanted to see it. She wanted to see the end, or perhaps, as a better word, the beginning.
There, she reached the pair exchanging greetings and introductions just as the upbeat song in the background switched to a slow, steady beat, a couple's song. Maka stood beside herself, sharing in the moment to stare at Soul's face, that tired, sluggish face that hinted at artistry, but was most accented by his sweet smile. He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it before he spoke.
Badump, badump
The beating of her hearts synched, sucking her spirit into her younger body, the one Soul faced kindly and the one he held out his hand for. He moved his lips, but she couldn't quite catch it. Her body seemed to be on auto pilot though, as she grasped his hand and nodded with a smile of her own. She relished in the feel of their touching hands, the connection of their souls, of their hearts.
"Will you dance with me?"
A soft gasp from her lips ended that sweet romance, the effervescent dance of their hearts before it had a chance to begin. A few tears mingled with the drops of sweat on her pillow, staining her reddened face. They just slipped past her eyes as she gazed at the ceiling, unmoving and dazed. What had she dreamt again? She didn't know. She forgot again.
There was an aching in her chest, but she didn't try to give way to it; she wanted to savor this heartbreak, hoping to bring back the fleeting images that had passed through her hazy mind. Needles. That's what it was like. Needles piercing her heart in all directions, weaving threads of sorrow to leave patches of pain. Needles on her skin, but the tingling that remained... she liked. It felt familiar, like the caress of an old lover, or the touch of an old friend that had gone and passed. A feeling filled with memories only her body seemed to remember.
She blinked away the last of her tears. What was it again?
xXx
Maka pushed open her bedroom window to be greeted by a soft breeze flitting through the symmetrical maroon curtains, lifting her blonde locks from her shoulders and into the air. Her eyes hurt, and she knew why... but not exactly. Sometime during the night, she had dreamed a sad dream and tears had flowed, but what about she wasn't sure. She just knew that it hurt her, and that was enough to not ask why.
"Why can't I remember it?" Maka frowned, shutting the window exasperatedly. She cast her eyes to her untidy bed with pillows scattered on the floor, half the blanket pushed off the bed and parts of the bedsheet coming off the mattress. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought there was a struggle in her room, but she did know better, and she knew that it was all her doing. Something compelled her to act like a madwoman in the night, but she couldn't remember what. Wasn't that all too strange?
Soul Eater Evans.
The blonde pursed her lips and sat at the foot of the bed, her fingers interlaced and woven together. Her lips pressed against them lightly and elbows propped against her knees. Was it him?
Maka let out an aggravated groan, throwing her hands up in the air when she could only draw a large question mark the size of Death City. Throwing herself back onto the messy bed, she fixated her eyes on the ceiling patterns. Perfectly symmetrical. As if a line were drawn to cut the room in half, each side had a partner on the other. A star could be drawn on the left and without doubt, there would be another star of equal magnificence drawn on the right.
"Partner." Maka whispered, lifting her hand up to the imaginary symmetry line. "Who is mine?"
That emptiness in her heart... Was it because she hadn't found a weapon for herself yet? Yes, that's got to be it. It has to be... She was a scythe technician without a scythe; what good was she? Maka closed her eyes, letting her hand linger in place. She had a weapon though, or so they said. It was him. Soul Eater.
"Maka, no matter what, I'm going to make you remember me. Even if I have to make you relive it all."
She shuddered at his voice, the sultry tone of his statement, the sweet passion laced in each letter. This wasn't just a figment of her imagination, no, his sincerity was real. The thought of Soul made her both happy and pained; she just didn't know which was the correct reaction.
Perhaps if she wielded him... If she could touch him as a weapon, she would remember, she would-
Maka let out a mind blowing cry as she doubled over on her bed, clutching at her head in writhing misery. Every corner of her head was being assaulted, pounding at every available space, purposely trying to break her, shatter her, dissolve her train of thought to nothing. It took all she had to not dig her rigid fingers into her skull, knowing that doing so would only further cause her pain, but if this continued on, she wasn't sure she'd make it.
"M-Maka!" Liz cried out, bursting into the room and instantly lunging to the other girl's side, her eyes wide with worry and face wraught with distress. "H-Hang in there! Maka!" Nothing else seemed to register into her brain as she was beginning to get lost in a sea of white, a flurry of nothingness, of white absence.
What good was she? A technician without a weapon. She could cry and no one would hear. Her voice would get lost in the noise, or lack thereof, and no one would come for her. She, too, was alone. So she could cry, cry for the world to hear, but not a single hand would be held out to her.
"Will you dance with me?"
Her head was being hammered down into oblivion as the question seeped through the depths of her subconsciousness. Who said it?
In the imageless white, she held her arms close to her, hands to her chest and head held high. If someone could just hold her hand to lead... She sang. She sang a song, distorted, out of tune and lacking in any sort of proper rhythm... but she sang. Her soft, lone voice reverberated off the infinite color, unaccompanied by music or even another voice.
A song without a tune. A technician without a weapon. A voice without an instrument. She continued to sing her melody, waiting for a response, anything to steal her back into reality. She didn't want to remain alone, to be a single, unheard voice. She had read a term for it once. She wasn't quite sure where, but she knew it.
"I'll do anything to have you back."
Oh, that's right. The term was... 'a capella.'
xXx
"I don't know if this is such a good idea Soul." Liz's mouth slanted in a wary line as she observed the boy fix his tie in the mirror, clad in all black, aside from his crimson shirt beneath his stylish jacket.
Soul Eater grinned sharply at the mirror, briefly popping his collar before flashing Liz with a charming, uncharacteristic smile. Without much effort, his hair had been fixed in such a style that the way it framed his face looked professional, almost adult-like, not the Soul that was usually quite a brat with his messy stylings. No, this Soul was different.
He raked a gifted hand through his soft hair as his other hand was casually hidden away in his pants pocket, creating a look of utterly beautiful grandeur. This was no longer just Soul Eater; this was Soul Eater Evans.
"Don't worry too much." With that, he headed out of the room, wearing an outfit he'd long since discarded. It only brought him bad memories of nonsensical parties among the rich and spoiled, none of which he cared to remember. All but one.
Soul smiled warmly. As he neared the large, golden double doors to the Shibusen ballroom, he whispered to himself, "Memory number one."
He had a good feeling about this. It was the first time in days he'd felt confident about what he was about to do. Surely with this, she would remember, that instance at the very least. It may not have been at Shibusen, but it was close enough. He'd ask for that slow song to play just as he'd ask her to dance and in that dance, surely she'd remember.
"Of course she would," Soul assured himself quietly as he stood center stage in the ballroom, beneath the glowing chandelier, waiting for his meister, his friend, his...
The lights began to dim until all was black. This is not the black that Soul feared; this black that gave rise to anticipation, unbearable excitement and sheer joy. Not a single sound was made as the sound of innocent heels clicked and clacked against the floors of Shibusen, making their way to the ballroom steadily and unwaveringly. Every heart in the room was pounding in anxiousness, waiting to see the blonde's face when she entered.
A crack of light peeked into the dim room as the door opened slowly, the sliver of lighting reaching the tip of Soul's polished shoe. He grinned as he could already make out the silhouette of his meister, her dangling pigtails with its loose ribbons, the black dress that clung tightly to her shoulders and even the gloved hands pushing against the golden doors.
The two stared at each other for a while, neither one really making a move for the other. Soul continued to stand in the hallway's lighting, just barely enough for Maka to make out his form, and Maka stood at the doorway, skeptical of the whole situation.
Soul spoke, loudly and clearly, his voice resonating throughout the ballroom, "My name is Soul Eater Evans, a weapon, a scythe."
Feeling the need to introduce herself also, Maka answered back in a reply she felt like she had regurgitated from long ago, "My name is Maka Albarn, the scythe technician." She grinned at Soul as he himself grinned at her response. With that simple introduction, it was like seeing Soul in a whole new light. She couldn't comprehend the meaning of their introduction.
Soul held out his hand in a strangely familiar stance, an enchanting smile across his face.
Maka's heart skipped a beat. She still couldn't understand.
"Will you dance with me?"
"Will you dance with me?"
Her legs buckled slightly, hearing the question echo in her head, repeating, reverberating, resounding in different tones and distortions. She had heard this question before, she was sure of it. Her head was aching again, the hammers continuing in their work once again, but at least... at least the needles were gone.
She brought one heeled foot forward, then the other, the next one... Maka finally confronted Soul, standing no more than an arm's length away. She bit her lip from screaming; it hurt; it hurt more than words could describe, an impalpable pain attacking, retreating, and assaulting her once more with an attack tenfold of its last. By logic, she should have been on the ground crying and whimpering, but there was something she had to do.
She had to take this hand.
"I will."
Light began to lift the darkness from the ballroom in the form of dangling chandeliers and incandescent candles. As the ballroom took form, so did the many other people in the room, face after face, friend after friend appeared around them, surrounding them with their light, their souls and their hopes.
A slow beat began to play from the band as meister and technician looked at each other in the eye for the first time in what seemed like eons.
Soul placed his left hand around Maka's waist, pulling her ever closer, not knowing what he was causing her internally. He waited for her to assume the proper position before beginning the first dance of the night.
Maka cringed as she pressed her hand against Soul's broad shoulder, swaying along with him to the rhythm of the beat, the melody of the song. The pain didn't lessen with their dance, only increased with each step, but she continued on. She needed to see this through. She couldn't remember why, she just knew, so, for the first time in her life, she let her body control her movements and ignored the swirling thoughts in her head.
She brought her mind to a standstill, numbing out the pain and the confusion in her muddled head. This dance felt right, as if she belonged here, to follow in his stead and move where he lead. Maka gripped his hand unknowingly, a rush of nostalgia coming over her.
Slowly, their surroundings began to change and transform. The simple flooring of the Shibusen ballroom suddenly took on designs too elaborate for a school, the walls were decorated with paintings more suited for the interior of a mansion and even the friends that had decided to dance alongside them took on a shape unrecognizable.
The song remained the same; her partner was still Soul. She danced with him.
"Maka!" Soul's urgent cry went unanswered as Maka dropped to her knees, gripping onto his hand like no tomorrow. The boy held her in his arms as she dug her nails into his skin, wincing but never pulling away. He tucked her head under his chin, wrapping his arm around her shaking body. "Maka, I'm sorry. Come back, please. Remember me."
His heart was crying with her, ripping apart any hope he had. As he held her, he began to wonder if it was really Maka shaking or if it was him. He was lost, perhaps even more than she. How much more he could bear to take... He was sure it wasn't much.
"Please... Please..." He chanted, closing his eyes in an attempt to calm himself. The darkness seeped up, passing his legs, his torso. He was ready to drown, neck deep in the blackest of black. "Please..."
The beautiful house that had replaced Shibusen's walls vanished with her wails, her voice shattering what little fantasy that had come to play. She wanted to see more of it... The dance, the memory...
"S-Soul," Maka choked, pressing herself even closer to the trembling weapon, only to have the pain multiply in pressure. Tears flowed in hot streams, her mouth began to ache, and her voice was already breaking. Was Soul really the answer?
Soul's breath hitched for a moment. "Do you remember something? Tell me, Maka!" He shook the unstable girl desperately, trying to extract an answer from her. "What do you remember?" Soul exclaimed, losing himself a bit in his anger and worry.
"Soul- scythe-...-dance- me?"
"I'm sorry!" With a great push, Maka shoved the weapon onto the ground and ran as fast as she could out of the ballroom, leaving everyone dumbfounded and frozen. She sprinted through the hallways, heart racing and breathing uneven, not bothering in what direction she was going. The farther away she got, the lesser the pain was, but in exchange for the hammers, needles prickled against her once again in the very places Soul had held her.
She hated herself. She hated that look that Soul had when she pushed him away. She hated the expression of betrayal from not only Soul, but everyone in the ballroom. She hated everything.
Maka came to a stop next to a classroom, leaning against the closed door. Behind her, she could hear the call of her name, a voice in particular standing out like a sore thumb to her. She wasn't ready. Maka grasped the doorknob and let herself in, hiding for the time being.
The classroom wasn't actually a classroom, but a music room. She'd never been there before, yet...
Maka slid her fingers across the cover of the piano keys, dragging it along as she walked alongside it. The piano, the only thing that drew her in like a planet in orbit. She circled it a couple of times, admiring the beauty of its sleek black painting and the perfectly tuned keys. Wait... How did she know it was tuned?
Her mouth slid into a frown as she paused in her orbit, taking a seat on the stool. Her fingers traced invisible lettering on the cover before carefully lifting it to uncover a set of glistening white keys under the Death City moon. Music isn't something she knew well, but she had an uncanny attraction to pianos, she noticed. Pianos and the pianists.
On impulse, her finger hovered over a single key to her right and pressed down against it, emitting a single note into the asymmetrical music room.
"G." A voice stated from the doorway. "Such a Maka note." He laughed as he made his way toward her, noticing the way she tensed from his voice, but still he continued his stride. "I don't believe that you've forgotten Maka."
Maka snapped her hand back to her lap, pretending to have never laid a finger on the grand piano.
Soul stood directly behind her now. He leaned forward, replacing the cover and leaning against it for support. He tilted his head so his voice would reach her ears directly, not caring if the position made her uncomfortable.
She could feel his warm breath against her neck, the relentless needles focusing their attention on the area in response. Maka gulped visibly, but tried to hide her nervousness.
"I didn't want to have to do this to you Maka."
Maka's eyes widened as she shot up from the stool, whirling around at Soul in horror. His hands were already unbuttoning the front of his tuxedo, tossing it aside when it was successfully off. There was a different kind of pounding inside Maka as Soul's hands began their work on his crimson shirt. One button, then two... Her eyes followed his hands, her own gripping the side of the piano. Soul wouldn't... He wouldn't...
Unwillingly, Maka licked her dry lips, biting her bottom lip anxiously as he reached the bottom of his shirt. "S-Soul, th-this is..."
The determined boy lifted a leg onto the stool separating them, closing in on the distance. "You have to face this again, Maka. Just like before." Soul reached for her hand, strangely enough, without resistance from the other.
Maka head swirled in confusion. What was happening? She and Soul were only meister and technician! Wasn't that the case? Was there something more than that? Not a single memory came to mind as Soul grasped her hand, too caught up in her chaotic thoughts to put up a fight.
Soul brushed aside part of his opened shirt, a large scar crossing his chest, glistening in the moonlight like a proud declaration of honor. It shone in the dim lighting as he clasped her hand against the mark, settling it between his hand and his chest.
"Remember, Maka? The troubles we faced as partners?" Soul gazed longingly into his meister's eyes, searching for a hint of understanding. He found none. Instead, she only looked confused and puzzled. "This scar... you made such a big deal of it." He chuckled painfully. "We so nearly lost our ability to work together because of this. You have to remember, Maka. At least this..."
"Soul... I..." She shook her head frowning. "I don't... I don't see anything."
Maka... Let my heart come in touch with your SOUL.
xXx
TA: Whoo! Chapter 4 is done! That last line was actually from one of SE's early chapters. I decided I liked it so I added it in. :P I hope everyone liked this chapter! I realize my portrayals are a bit off now that the manga has progressed and music is actually a big part of Soul and Maka's connection. -cough- So, I apologize for that. Even so, I hope you continue to read this story!
Y'know what funny? The original genres for this story were romance/humor. Pfft! I don't see any humor at all. So I changed it to romance/angst. More fitting, yeah? I just have to say this before I go: I love Soul in the latest chapters. He looks wonderful in casual clothing and not his original outfit. It's attractive, yeah? :P Also, for all the SoulxMaka fans, I suggest reading the latest chapters... It's just pure love.
Let's just say it involves love letters, gender bending and jealousy. :) Interested yet? Haha, okay, okay! To wrap it all up, please review and tell me how I'm doing!