Chapter 8

Maka stared down at the page, felt the warmed paper crinkle under the pressure of her palms. Her back had developed an ache, awkwardly crouched as she was in the empty metal tub with her legs pushed against her chest and her arms held tightly at her sides, but she ignored it. Her attention, for the moment, was elsewhere.

Every evening she attempted to read by the dim light of the moon, when only the disturbed snores of her father kept her company. Sometimes it worked, the words cooperating by some miracle to stay in one place long enough for her to read through the line, sometimes it didn't. But every night she tried, picking up whatever she could find that day to look through.

Lately, finding the time had been difficult. So that morning she had snuck into the bathroom while Soul slept with one of the flyers Blackstar had hanging around. With nowhere to sit, she had opted simply to lay down in the dry tub. From the pictures, the flyer appeared interesting, with pretty pink flowers edging one corner, but the words were beyond her comprehension.

"Maka!" The muffled call came from beyond the bathroom door; Maka shot it a cursory glance before focusing once more on the paper in her hands. It felt like her eyes crossed in her brain, worsening the harder she concentrated. But what else could she do but concentrate? Wiping her hands, Maka blinked her eyes, hoping futilely that the letters would remain in place.

When she looked next, they danced as hard as ever.

"Trying to read?"

Maka's head whipped around; she spotted Soul who stood just behind her, trying to catch a glimpse of the flyer she'd pressed to her chest upon his approach. "How did you get in here?"

He nodded to the open doorway. "You weren't answering so I thought I'd come in. You must not have heard me." His eyes moved to the page she held in a vise grip. "What are you reading?"

"Nothing." She felt awkward talking to him now, after what he'd said to her the day before, and after what she'd seen last night. The image of his defeated slouch still made uncomfortable pangs rise through her breast, making it hard to breathe.

A raised eyebrow and a quirk of his lips. "Really? It seemed to me you were reading a flyer advertising a four armed prostitute."

Maka's eyes shot wide open and jerked the flyer up to her face, the hidden silhouette of a woman now painfully obvious. With a disgusted noise, Maka threw away the paper and allowed her face to fall into her hands.

Laughing, Soul grabbed her arm and pulled her up out of the tub. She allowed him to grudgingly, taking the step over the rim to join him on the other side. "Come on," he said, letting her go and moving towards the exit. "We have company."

"Wait, Soul!" He looked down at her hand when she caught his arm, then his eyes rose to hers curiously. It took her a moment to collect the words. "I… I'm sorry. About turning you human without your consent. I know I don't act like it, but I am. I'm sorry. And even if it's only us against Tobias in the tournament," she swallowed, ears hot, "I'm glad it's you I'm fighting with."

He watched her silently, head tilted as if to gauge her sincerity. Then, finally, when she thought she might pass out from holding her breath, he answered with a genuine smile. "Thank you."

Maka breathed out, slumping her shoulders in relief. Soul snorted and shoved her towards the door. "Come on."

As she allowed him to push her, weak with relief (a weight within her lifted that she hadn't been aware she'd carried), his earlier words shot into her brain. Maka dug her heels into the floor and halted them, whirling around in his arms. "Wait, what do you mean company?"


Tsubaki waved pleasantly at them as they entered the room, sitting regally on a stool as Spirit wrestled with Kid, who had his hand wrapped tightly around the forearm of Blackstar. Angry screams of all three men were resounding throughout the apartment and Maka could only stare, dumbfounded, from the entrance of the bathroom. It was chaos.

"What are you all doing here?" Maka sputtered once she found the words on her tongue, disbelief colouring her tone. A shoe flung across the room, narrowly missing her head as it bounced off the wall to her left.

Everyone froze and turned to her, Spirit with his fingers in Kid's hair, Kid glaring at Blackstar, Blackstar making eyes up at Tsubaki, and Tsubaki still smiling pleasantly. A single beat passed before they all exploded in activity, detangling from one another and clambering up to talk with Maka.

"Why did you let these bozos into my house!?"

"He stole my money and isn't giving it back! I had eight copper in each pocket! Now I only have seven in my left!"

"Maka, darling, don't you think you should associate with more… reserved people?"

Holding her hands up, Maka took a step back, overwhelmed as they crowded her. "Okay," she muttered, then, louder, "okay! Back off! Everyone sit down!"

They did so. Grudgingly.

Tsubaki, who was already sitting and so naturally remained where she was, asked Maka politely, "Are you feeling up to today's round?"

"I guess," Maka answered, she shifted on her feet.

"Yeah, are you ready to kick some ass? Knock old Tobias down a few pegs?" Blackstar butted in, as loud as ever as he collapsed back on the bed.

Maka pinched the bridge of her nose. "Aren't you supposed to be in jail?" she asked Blackstar, walking to the makeshift kitchen and leaning against the counter there. It creaked in protest under her weight.

"Got out on good behaviour." Blackstar winked, then turned with a genuine smile to Tsubaki. He nudged her foot, balanced carefully on the pegs of her stool, with his knee. "Although I may have had some inside persuasion." Tsubaki only smiled, a hidden twinkle in her eye as she blushed.

"Hm," Maka hummed, a carefully noncommittal sound on her part. From the corner of her eye she noticed Soul watching the two of them with interest. Filing that away in her mind to ponder on at a later date, Maka turned to Spirit next. As soon as she faced him, she felt instantly uncomfortable, unsure when their relationship had once been so easy. Clearing her throat, Maka crossed her arms and asked him, as confidently as she could, "And you? Why are you here?"

Spirit raised an eyebrow, like he couldn't believe she'd just asked him that. "I said I'd help you, didn't I?" he asked, disgruntled, then looked pointedly around the room before meeting her eyes with a conspiratorial look. "And if this lot is any indication, you certainly do need my help." He received several dirty looks.

"I see," Maka murmured, smiling softly at him before she could help herself. He returned it after a moment, nodding gruffly.

She looked to Kid next, who was trying to sneak up on Blackstar (busy making kissy faces with Tsubaki) and pinch from his pocket. "Kid? Why are you back?"

Kid pulled his hand away just as Blackstar turned sharply to glare at him. His plan ruined, the teenage boy straightened his shirt, large on his lanky frame, and made a grand display of regally clearing his throat. "I thought you could use my help. Which I can give for a price."

Blackstar snorted. "What could a tiny little runt like you contribute?" He winced when Tsubaki flicked his shoulder with her finger, a menacing look on her face. He rubbed his arm and looked wounded.

Kid ignored him, brushing the top of his shirt like it was an expensive business suit. "Soul told me yesterday that Tobias was causing you some issues, and I decided that you might like some help gaining an advantage over him. I have certain contacts that know about the tournament and the rounds in it."

Blackstar snorted. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Maybe not this coming round, since it's happening so soon." He looked at Maka. "But the next one will be important."

Maka narrowed her eyes at him, head tilted as she scrutinized the orphan. "In what way?"

He folded his arms. "I don't know. I still have to find out, and I need a way into the colosseum."

"There's a party tonight, a ball," Tsubaki cut in, and everyone turned to her. "They are holding it after this round for the guests—however participants also join. You can find a way in then, I'll help you in fact. Blackstar too."

"Wha—? Who said I had to help? I just got out of jail!" A single scathing look from Tsubaki and Blackstar was quiet. Rubbing the back of his head, he acquiesced with a shrug. "Or I could lend a hand, I suppose. With me you are all guaranteed to succeed, after all."

A beat of silence.

"That could work," Kid said. "If you offer me 10 percent of your winnings, my crew and I will help you by getting the information."

"Ten?" Maka repeated, incredulous. "Five and it's a deal."

"Eight."

"Five."

"Five and a handful of any gold you win."

Maka considered it a moment. "If I think it's worthy information, then fine," she said. "You have a deal."

They shook on it.


…..

Later that morning, early enough that the sun had only just risen above the great wall of the colosseum, the gladiators stretched freely in the arena—the crowds slowly meandering to their seats with eager shuffles. The air was fairly cool, much of the stadium still covered in shade.

"Ow!" Maka cried, feeling a pinch by her ribs. "Watch it!"

"Don't be such a child," Soul muttered behind her. "It has to be tight, and Tsubaki didn't tie it secure enough. You don't want a repeat of what happened last time, do you?"

Maka winced at the memory and grudgingly remained silent as Soul tightened the bodice of her armour. Her body jerked as he tugged on the strings, lacing them tight enough that the bulky clothing wouldn't hinder her fighting.

"There," Soul muttered, tying a double knot at the base of her spine. "That should hold." Pulling at the chest area that pressed against her lungs, Maka vaguely wondered if she even could get it off.

She coughed and wiggled her arms to get used to the pressure. "How much longer?" Maka asked Soul, trying to touch her toes in the stiff suit. Her fingers bounced against her shins and stayed there. She was stuck.

Soul pulled her back upright by the shoulder and looked around them, screwing up his face in thought. "The sunlight has almost filled the ring. Ten minutes, maybe?"

Maka nodded. She was feeling pretty good about the upcoming round, the talk with her father a well needed confidence boost. With him at her back, acting more himself than he had in years, she felt that she could take on anyone. The mere reminder had her chest swelling with pride.

"Hey, do you…" Maka turned when Soul spoke, his voice sounding odd to her ears. He was watching the ground, a pinched set to his features. She frowned

"What?" asked Maka.

His eyes met hers. "Do you think Tsubaki and Blackstar have been intimate?"

Maka's face went immediately red, the colour burning up her neck to her cheeks and finally the very tips of her ears. She coughed, then continued coughing as the the word "intimate" swirled around in her mind until she was dizzy.

Soul's hand touched her back. "Are you okay?" he asked.

His touch only made it worse, and Maka had to concentrate on mundane things to regain her composure. Like trash, her dad's feet, Blackstar stealing underwear from Tobias every Tuesday. Finally she had regained enough of her senses to ask, somewhat hoarsely, "Why do you ask?"

Soul shrugged. "I don't know, I guess they seem to touch each other a lot. Why are you getting embarrassed?"

"We touch a lot." It was out before Maka could censor herself and, if possible, her face burned even hotter.

Soul turned to her in surprise, eyes roving over her face. It was something he did often, and normally Maka didn't mind, but with their current subject of conversation, she found herself compelled to look away—and immediately wanted to kick herself for the wimpy action.

His words touched her ears then, soft and soothing as always, "I suppose."

Her eyes met his, shocked, but whatever understanding connected between them in that moment was shattered in the next when Soul stuffed something hard over her head.

"What the—" Maka sputtered, reaching up to grasp the object.

Soul slapped her hand aside. He then carefully pulled back the hair from her eyes and started to buckle up a strap beneath her chin. Maka shoved him away; felt with her fingers the hard cap on her head. "What are you doing?" She had to tilt her head back to see him under the rim. "Are you trying to make me wear a helmet!?"

"Yes." Soul moved in once again to snap the buckle when Maka side-stepped him. He frowned at her, arms crossing as he explained, "Your father gave it to me. He said you need to protect your head and I agree."

Whatever Maka would have said in retort was cut off as gongs rung, loud and echoing around the stadium, quieting the excited titters of the audience. All the competitors in the ring stopped what they were doing and looked up.

An official, standing in one of the VIP boxes, raised his hands dramatically and said into the microphone before him, loud and boisterous, "Welcome!"

The applause was raucous, so much so that Soul winced and covered his ears. Maka remained somewhat unaware, most sound muffled by the hulking helmet over her head. She pushed it back from her brows, trying to see better.

When the people calmed once more, the official, some sort of announcer by the brightly coloured robe he wore, spoke. "Welcome," he said again, "to the semi-finals! One round away to crowning our victor! Thank you for joining us on our humble planet. Drinks and refreshments will be available after the round, followed by further entertainment by some of our local musicians. In addition, to mark the midway point of our tournament, we will be hosting a ball tonight which you are all welcome to attend. Formal attire, of course, is required by all." He paused for effect, looking around at the crowd.

Maka finally managed to pop the helmet off, her hair flying around her face. She dodged Soul's hand when he would have intervened. He glared.

The announcer started up again. "Enough of that though, we are here to enjoy a more sophisticated sort of entertainment. Back to the tournament! In this magical test, sponsored by the folks at our neighboring planet's zoo, we will be testing the stamina of our fighters!

"Gladiators will have to battle the special shadow beasts found locally on the planet Kishin. The number will show up automatically on our scoreboards, which you may have noticed on the southern and northern sections of the ring, specifically added for this round. The three participants with the most kills will advance to our fourth and final round! In addition to this, the gladiator with the most kills will receive a special aid in the final round, which will increase their chances of winning by an estimated thirty percent!"

The crowd cheered again, letting out whoops and hollers into the air.

"And let us not forget our winner from last round, Evans, who has earned himself and his wisp, Wes, five additional points!"

Soul's head whipped to the side, eyes on the man waving to the crowd.

"Is he your brother?" Maka asked, remembering the words the other male had said to her in the maze. The announcer droned on behind them.

"Sort of," Soul answered, shifting on his feet. He looked uncomfortable.

"What do you mean sort of?"

He leaned in closer to her; spoke under his breath as he said, "I told you how I would sometimes attack the Colosseum? How I was isolated afterwards?"

Maka nodded. "Your great raids, yes you told me. Got you the name 'Soul Eater' or whatever. Stupid name, really."

He pointedly ignored the last part. "Well anyway, my brethren didn't take kindly to it."

"What? They like being taken?"

He shook his head, irritated. "No, but it's against our beliefs to begin fights with others. We're generally very peaceful and, when I wasn't, I was...ostracized. My 'brother' got taken about a year later." He looked to him now, almost wistful. "The other day was my first time seeing him since."

She grabbed his shoulder. "Wait, so you were just living on your own? Away from your family? I thought they'd all been killed!"

"No, they're still alive," he said. Then, probably guessing the direction she was taking with her words, pointedly added, "That doesn't mean I appreciate being taken forcefully from my home."

Once again, the announcer's words pulled them away. "And now! If our competitors would please fuse together with their wisps and join the centre."

Soul took her hand without question; it was warm and dry against her own.

Before he could do anything, Maka quickly tugged on his hand to get his attention. "Wait." When he looked at her in confusion, she said, "The black magic. It did that weird stuff last time, will it be a problem again?"

"No," he said it firmly. "I'll try and control it better. And if something goes wrong, I'll just distract you again."

Maka nodded, cheeks slightly pink at the reminder, and lowered her lashes. She breathed in deeply, the essence of him entering her, and breathed out through her nose. When her eyes opened, they were one. Power surged as it always did, sparking through her veins with pleasant tingles. She flexed her fingers; the twin sickle scythes emerged, dark and smoking, in her palm.

Maka took her place next to another warrior, who grunted at her as she stopped. Her response was a sharp-toothed grin.

"Release the beasts!"

The ring went quiet as the giant metal gate that faced them shook once before slowly rising from the ground. The metal was rusted a faded orange colour, like rusted copper, and the loud screech it gave off as it lifted was a testament to its age.

It thudded to a halt as it reached its peak, and a second hush fell over the stands, nothing but the hesitant shuffling of feet as everyone awaited the arrival of what lurked in the dark. Maka felt her heart pound against her lungs, like both were working far too hard in the wake of her anxiety. She swallowed the moisture that had collected in her mouth, eyes darting to the competitors around her. They, at least, looked just as nervous as she. Palms sweating and throat tightening, Maka faced the dark tunnel once more.

Her breath hitched as a mad skittering noise resounded, like the scraping of metal, only higher, and in the rhythm of shrieking laughter. It was loud and piercing, hitting all parts of the arena with a foreboding menace. All of the gladiators braced, Maka included, as it grew louder.

Stay calm, Maka, said Soul, close and warm in her mind. But brace yourself.

She nodded, though he couldn't see her, finding comfort in his words. Maka willed her heart to slow, breathing out carefully.

A moment later they came. Bounding from the tunnel in sticky swarms of black, all at once, then gradually peeling off into separate forms and twitching bodies. The creatures collected at the gates, like infantile spiders crawling from the nest in a moving swarm. Her gorge rose at the sight.

There was a beat of silence in which no one breathed, the two opposing forces sizing each other up.

And then chaos erupted around the ring.

The inky black mass launched into the ring, smaller bodies detaching from the main form to attack nearby gladiators.

One leapt for her.

Maka, Soul cautioned.

She steeled herself, raising the twin weapons in her hands. "I see him."

The ebony creature hit her blades with unexpected force, pushing her back till her heels left indents in the sand. Its horned head moved through the 'x' in her scythes and it laughed its chilling cackle into her face. For a moment Maka was frozen, caught by the horror that faced her. Its features were completely black, but in the darkness she could make out the beady eyes, pointed teeth, and a nose that consisted of only two oval holes. Black sludge oozed from its jutting tongue as it reached below to lick up the side of her cheek. The smell was enough to make her eyes water.

Maka! The angry snarl in her head unfroze her limbs. She threw the creature off her blades, launching him to the ground at her feet. Crying out, Maka lifted her weapons and cut down on her opponent. It caught them once between its teeth, but the second assault successfully lobbed its head clean off.

She panted, chest rising and falling as she stared down at the felled beast. "See, I was completely fine," Maka said, out of breath.

Of course you were.

Maka wasn't so sure she liked Soul's new found sarcasm. They might have to have a talk about that. Putting that aside in her mind for later, Maka turned to the scores, the numbers rising steadily by every name. Every name but hers.

A cold line shivered up her spine. "Why is it still a zero...? We killed one..."

Maka pay attention!

She looked up, blocking in time as two more creatures launched themselves at her. Even as she fought, Maka kept looking at the scoreboard as her panic worsened. "Soul! We still have zero!"

You knew going in that it would be rigged.

She stabbed one, kicked aside another with the heel of her boot. "Yeah but..." Her eyes darted again to her name.

How would they win?

A stray claw clipped her shoulder, slicing the leather clean off. Instincts had Maka jumping back before it could do further damage. Maka! Soul sounded mad now, growling in her head. Focus or I'm taking over!

Grumbling, Maka told herself to concentrate on the creatures tittering around her. A black body attacked and she defended with one sword, pulled her arm back and impaled the creature with the other. It writhed for several beats before falling limp. She kicked it off her blade with her shoe.

Anger and frustration wrought from the situation insured the next was killed just as easily, handled with just as much disregard.

Maka's eyes strayed, before she could stop them, to the scoreboard. Her heart suddenly lurched in her chest, filling with hope.

"We have two!" she cried, grinning so suddenly and so widely that her cheeks hurt. "Soul, there's a two by my name!"

Her arm was wrenched upward without her consent to block a blow, then again to strike out with lethal force. Once the threat was dead, Soul slithered back in her mind. What did I tell you!? he snapped.

"Yes but look!" She dodged another claw, pointing with her weapon to the board unnecessarily. "We can win!"

Yes, I see, Soul said, though she could hear hints of amusement behind his exasperation. Now can you start fighting so we can win this thing?

So she did. With a vigour and skill that had her dancing through the bodies, the black blood spraying from her opponents as she tore their limbs at the bone. As she fought, her eyes would dart to the score every now and then (much to the ire of her wisp). Her number steadily rose, but still only counted every other kill.

The battle wore on and Maka's body weakened. By the time the final beast was slain she was ready to collapse to her knees. The bell rang three times and Maka felt Soul leave her body, the scythes in her hands disappearing with him as the magic dissipated from her veins. She felt his hand land on her back, familiar and warm, as she caught her breath.

"What's the score?" she panted.

"Why don't you check yourself?"

Her fingers curled in the sand. "I'm afraid to look," Maka said honestly.

Soul sank to his knees beside her and his finger lightly pinched the bottom of her chin. When he tilted her face upward, Maka's eyes found the scoreboards. The sight left her weak with relief and she sank against Soul with a shaky sigh. They hadn't won, not by a long shot, but they wouldn't be disqualified either.

"The final beasts have been slain!" The crowd cheered as the announcer's voice rang once again around the ring. "Our scores are in and it looks like Giriko and his wisp, Golem, will be taking the first place position! Joining them in the final round will be Evans and Wes, along with Maka and Soul! As a reward for their ranking, Giriko and Golem will receive a boon in the final round!"

Maka felt her heart pound wildly in her chest as a grin brightened her features—so large it showed off her teeth and made her cheeks hurt. Her chest bubbled with laughter and the sound escaped past her lips. He appeared taken aback at first, but soon returned her grin with a warm smile of his own. They'd done it.

"We did it," Maka gasped. She lunged at Soul, wrapping around him in a fierce hug. He groaned in her arms. "We did it!" she repeated, squeezing harder.

"Let me go," Soul wheezed, though he patted the small of her back—the only place he could reach with his arms fastened to his sides by Maka.


….

Blackstar, Kid, and Tsubaki were waiting for them on the other side of the gates. Tsubaki was the first to congratulate them, the smile huge on her face. "Well done, you two!" she cried, bouncing on her toes. "You fought so well! Maka, you were practically dancing in the ring!"

Maka smiled warmly, wordlessly thanking the other woman.

"Nice work out there! You two actually made it to the finals." At the exuberant words, she turned to see Blackstar patting Soul's back with enough force that the wisp was jarred by each good natured slap. Soul didn't seem to know whether to be confused or mildly annoyed by the display—his face was a curious mixture of the two.

Maka laughed at them, and it felt good. She hadn't laughed in a long time.

"Maka." The clear voice of her father cut through all others, and her head immediately darted towards him in the crowd. He was standing just to the right of her, and was reaching for her with a hand. She grasped it in hers. "Can I speak with you?" Spirit asked her softly.

Swallowing thickly, Maka nodded—allowing herself to be pulled away from the excitement. Almost as an afterthought, she looked back and spotted Soul, whose head was turning this way and that as he busily searched the crowd. She caught his eye and offered a small wave, motioning to her father with a finger.

Soul looked concerned, she noted, as he frowned at her, and for a moment she wondered if he would stop her. Instead, he nodded in understanding and turned back to Blackstar.

Maka was tugged from the bustle into a more secluded side street. When they were finally alone, Spirit released Maka's arm. She rubbed it, hating the anxiety that swirled in her belly. "You came to watch—?"

Maka was engulfed in a hug, the familiar and comforting smell of smoke and crackling clay surrounding her. She was at first taken off guard, could only stand there as her father hugged her for the first time in years. Finally though, trembling, Maka returned the embrace. Tears came unbidden and she buried her face in his shoulder.

"I have someone I need to see soon, but I wanted to tell you that you fought well today," he told her, brushing her hair. "And I'm proud of you."

She pushed away, gauging the honesty in his expression. What she found made her smile. "Thanks, papa."

Spirit squeezed her shoulder and nodded. "I'll meet you back at that idiot's apartment," he said, then walked away after a small wave.

Maka sank down onto the wooden box behind her as she watched him leave, hunched over as he usually was, down the darkened path. A myriad of emotions coursed through her, and Maka wasn't sure specifically what she felt in that moment—or even if she felt anything at all. She was just… confused.

"Hey."

Maka looked up to find Soul standing before her, his eyes watching her carefully. In his hand he held two steaming sticks of jort, the sticky sauce draining down the balloon of meat onto his fingers. He held one out to her.

Smiling shyly at him, Maka took the stick and waited as he sat down on the place beside her. He licked his fingers and remained silent, waiting. She knew he was allowing her to speak first, to unload on him if she needed to.

Instead, she allowed herself to lean against him, her head lowering to rest against his shoulder. He stiffened beneath her a moment, but soon relaxed. He was warm, she noticed, and her lids suddenly felt heavy.

"I'm a bit tired," Maka admitted in the silence, closing her eyes. "I think I might just...rest a bit."

And so she did.


….

Spirit walked alone down the hallowed halls of the colosseum, his steps wary as his eyes darted around him, every slight moment catching his attention. It wasn't unusual behavior for the man, he'd been jumpy for many years now—leaping at the slightest brush of the wind or movement of shadows. Now however, he had a reason beyond phantom memories. The nightmares were tangible.

"You're late on your payments."

Spirit froze at the voice, turning around rapidly. "Tobias," he said, words clipped. "I thought I'd find you here."

"I assume you don't have the money?"

"You know I don't."

Tobias sighed, as if weary, though there was a fiendish twitch to his lips. "Yes, I do have first hand account of your gambling practice," he said, sounding pleased with himself. "You do so frequently visit my establishments—not to mention my girls you bed regularly."

Spirit remained silent, his eyes hard.

"However, a deal could be made between us. And the charges would be dropped."

Spirit scrutinized the other man, understandably wary. "Deal?" he repeated.

Tobias was quiet as he brushed out his robe, dusting off one sleeve primly with his fingers. When a sufficient silence had passed he said, his tone aristocratic, "Make your insufferable daughter drop out of the tournament—do this and I'll drop all existing charges. Her wisp and his black magic are causing me grief."

"I can't do that," Spirit said. His fists were clenched at his sides. "I won't."

"One might say you don't have a choice."