Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater, its characters, or its concepts.

Chapter 10 – Of Visitations and Stories

Maka began to question whether this was the right thing to do. Before her were the grand, cherry wood doors decorated by bronze handles. These housed the famous mansion that Soul rarely talked about, the one circled inside beautiful gardens, stone paths, and arch ways that beat out even the nicest of the parks nearby. His family really was as rich as he mildly spoke of only when asked.

How she arrived so quickly, you wonder? The girl had borrowed death's quick-transport mirror that was used for communication when he wasn't looking. She really would have asked, but she had no explanations to offer, and she didn't particularly feel like facing anyone with no logical reason to back up her want to visit Soul where he wasn't supposed to be. She needed to go alone.

Part of her wondered if this was what he truly preferred, isolation from the life he had with the weapon and meister institution, if he'd really grown tired of facing the danger it posed to their lives every day. But another part of her knew that his sudden unannounced departure and unexpected change of agenda was unnatural, even for quiet people like himself. Even if he did mean what was relayed on the television, their bond was close enough he'd have never left without telling her in some form or fashion. So here she was, preparing to face him, to ask him why.

Maka grew excited when she saw a tall head of white hair answer the door, holding her breath to raise a smile, but she let it loose once she realized this wasn't Soul. It was Wes, the brother he'd been so fond, yet envious. Another reminder that this sudden move back home wasn't natural. "Hello there. How can I help you today?" Wes' smile was definitely one for public eyes, pleasing and official at the same time, as though it fed off attention.

"H-hi… Is Soul home?"

Wes' dialect sounded rather proper compared to what she was used to hearing from his younger sibling. His words came out prim and proper, just the way she'd expect from someone buried in riches and fame. "And who is this speaking?"

"An old friend…" Maka decided to surprise him. For what motive, she wasn't sure. Let him know that she knew? Stop him from avoiding facing her if he knew?

Wes raised an eyebrow, suspicious of her reply, but seemed to accept it anyway as he confirmed he'd retrieve his little brother, stepping away after inviting her inside the visiting foyer before the grand welcoming stairway lined with velvet carpet.

Deciding to take a small front-view tour, she walked along the wall, staring at everything that adorned it. Elegantly drawn and apparently fairly old pictures of high-postured musicians with their instruments. The wall paper, if it was even paper at all as it felt too finely textured, held a beautifully striped pattern in rich greens and maroons. Everything was as crisp and clean as it could be as though nobody lived there at all to taint such tidiness. The scene felt as though there should have been classical music playing softly in the background and a fine wine glass in her hand. This was the life he left behind when he came to DWMA…

"Ahem…"

That voice! He'd finally shown up! Maka turned quickly, unsure whether to express anger at him for not informing her, or happiness that they were confronted once more. Either way, her eyes locked immediately on his ruby ones. She sprinted to where he stood at the bottom of the stairs and lunged forward. "Soul! Why didn't you tell me this was what you wanted! I've missed you so much!" Maka pleaded as she threw herself at him. Her heart felt too strong in his presence to hold any grudge. "You should have told me, you idiot!"

She expected warm arms to wrap back around her in return. Certainly he had to miss her just as much, considering how close their hearts grown previously. However, Soul made no effort to make contact, holding his arms back as she buried her face into his chest. "Soul… What's… what's wrong?" she continued, tilting her head to look upwards at him when she noticed he didn't have a hug to return.

Instead, he put arms in the small space she left between their bodies and pushed her off gently, shifting from his forearms to his hands, creating an arm's length of space between them once again. "Um… I'm sorry, but…. Who are you?"

Maka stared in disbelief, unsure what to say in response. This had to be a joke… it had to be!

"No, really, do I know you from somewhere?" he said as he stared awkwardly in her elongated silence.

Now she was getting irritated. First he stops talking to her. Then he just leaves without notifying her. Now he was going to deny that they spent any time together? What did she do so horrible for him to treat her like this? Now, he was really going to get it. "I… you… Soul, we were a team! It's Maka, You, idiot! How the hell do you forget who your meister is? Don't you care about the safety of the world anymore?"

"Meister? Team? Really, what are you talking about?" He raised a single eyebrow in utter confusion, awaiting an explanation.

If he really wanted an explanation, she was going to give him one, one that she'd hoped his parents would overhear, one that would make him look stupid in front of the brother he idled. "Come on, really? Soul, you're my weapon partner who turns into a scythe, and I'm your meister. That's right, you have real magic in your blood, from eating mystical souls! You chomp down on them like they're dessert! Oh, and black blood, too, that makes you go crazy every now and then. In fact, if you recall, I'M the one who turned you into a death scythe! Soul, we've lived together for years now. You know, we fight these creatures called Kishins and witches to protect the people we love, like YOUR BROTHER?" She explained, emphasizing in higher volume the mention of his brother. If he wouldn't wake up for his brother's sake, then he really didn't care anymore. The blonde couldn't believe it. She was actually running through almost every bizarre explanation of what they had been practicing and learning together for years.

Soul laughed to himself sarcastically. "I'm sorry…. But I believe those are just characters in fairy tales. Apparently you've been reading too many of them. A human couldn't physically turn themselves into some hunk of metal. It would take a great deal of iron in their blood. Even then, they would likely die as their system doesn't support such a material." It sounded simply too amusing to bypass on the possibility she could simply be on drugs, and too outlandish to be real (which was more than half the reason he'd even stuck around for this, for entertainment beyond rich parties and tea.)

Before he could get the details he asked about, he changed his mind on the request. Practice was soon and his mind didn't need to be plagued with odd stories from a girl he'd just met. Such ideas were too distracting and the pianist needed to be at the top of his focus. Glancing back at what seemed to be a rather elegant clock on a wall where the stairways split up, he looked back at her. "You know what, never mind. Listen… the name was 'Maka' right?" Soul began.

God, how good it felt to hear him say her name again! Even if she was a little annoyed at him.

"It was nice to meet you, and I'm pleased that you admire me enough to visit my home and entertain me, but you're carrying on this… fantasy… a little too much. I'm going to have to ask you to go." The man's half-smile held intrigue, but his ruby eyes held impatience. Little to his knowledge, she knew him well enough to decipher each and every one of his smallest expressive quirks and read his body language like it were her own.

He genuinely meant every word he said about not knowing her, about being so oblivious to the weapon and meister teams he described as being "fantasy stories", and being ignorant to the existence of the kishins that posed what was seen as unperceivable science-fictional danger to the world. This reaction he displayed to her explanations were pure truth, as told by the unwavering look in his eyes as he listened to her, kept a stern gaze back into her emerald ones, and spoke in return with none of his classic grins to offer with.

His admitting to carrying no knowledge of such out worldly ideas was no lie. The life they had, training, fighting, and achieving things that nobody else could was completely forgotten and disappeared. It was plucked away from her for no explainable reason. It was as if she, and everything associated with her no longer existed in his life at all…