Soul gets one look at Maka-blonde hair framing green eyes flecked with gold, freckles sprinkled over her tanned skin-before he is thrown back by a blast of light, scythe ripped from his grasp. He lands hard on the ground but he springs to his feet immediately; he expects to see Tsubaki and her soldiers but he only sees Maka, points the Kokketsu scythe at him.

Her voice shakes with rage. "Did you think that I wouldn't remember the elf that imprisoned me in that hellhole?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't act like you don't know," she shouts, scythe trembling in her hands. "The person that trapped me in there had this scythe." Betrayal seeps through their connection. "You're the one that locked me away!"

"I didn't," Soul insists. He tries reaching out through their link but she refuses to acknowledge him. "I've only had the scythe with me for a week."

"Stop lying," she says through gritted teeth.

He stops pushing at their connection and tries a different tack. "If I was the one who locked you away, then why would I free you?"

Doubt flits on her face for an instant. "You wanted to kill me." She gestures at him with the scythe blade. "You said so when you caught me the first time."

"Why would I wait till now?" he points out. "I could have done that the moment I broke down your door."

She is stymied again but she doesn't lower her guard. "You're afraid," Maka answers. "As much as you try to hide it, you're afraid of everything. Of light, of yourself, of what's in your mind. I felt it." She unravels his masks with deadly precision, exposing things he's never even fully admitted to himself. "Or do you deny that too?"

Soul fixes his eyes on a point on the ground. "I...don't."

"But I'm not who you think I am," he adds quickly. "Asura and Arachne are the-"

"Asura?" The scythe slackens as Maka's expression turns distant and blank.

Soul waits for minutes and then Maka opens her mouth.

"He brought down the night," she whispers, still somewhere far away. "He killed Vajra and the witches took over." Her words become frantic. "He chased my people out of Sathros and he tracked me down and he sealed me away in the darkness and I failed everyone, I failed-"

"Maka?" He takes a step towards her.

She jerks away, raising the scythe. "Don't come near me."

He draws back. "Why did you say you failed?"

"Because I-" Her voice breaks and her face works furiously for several moments. When she speaks, her voice is steady. "I wield the Grigori scythe."

They look at the Kokketsu scythe and then at each other at the same time.

A horn sounds from far off.

Maka starts. "Who is that?"

"Asura's soldiers," he answers. "And they're not going to be happy to see either of us so we need to get moving now."

She throws him a dark look. "Who says I'm going with you?"

"I said I'd help you," he says, tilting his head to hear better. The soldiers are still far away enough that they can get away if they move fast. "Do you know where you're going?"

The words roll off her tongue reluctantly. "We had a resistance group in Traicor."

"Where?"

"I don't know the name." She wavers. "It was near a desert mountain range with four peaks. They looked like a crown."

He recognizes the description. "Those are the Lorios mountains. They're not far from the border," he says. "I can get you to them."

Maka's eyes widen momentarily before narrowing. "And why should I trust you?"

"I can't convince you to trust me unless you want to," he answers. "But know that even without the scythe, I could go."

Soul meets her eyes. "I'm not leaving."

Maka stares at him and Soul stares back, their link opening for the first time since they left the cave.

"Fine," she finally says. She tightens her grip on the scythe and the link shuts. "But I'm keeping this until we get to Traicor and you get me to the resistance."


Soul listens to the forest for a minute before relaxing. "This is far enough." He shrugs off his pack and props it against a tree. "We'll be safe sleeping here."

Maka eyes him warily from the other side of the small clearing. "How can you be sure?"

"Night elves were created to get around by other ways than sight," he says, rummaging around in the pack. "Our hearing is the best sense we have." He pulls out a blanket and shakes it out, extending it to her.

She sits in front of a fallen log and places the Kokketsu scythe behind her, pulling her legs to her chest.

The movement draws Soul attention to her feet and bile rises in his mouth as he catches sight of the mangled mess of her toes. "What happened to your feet?"

An abashed look crosses Maka's face. "I had to try to escape, I wasn't just going to sit there and do nothing," she says defensively, her chagrin permeating through the block in their connection.

He resists the urge to shake his head. "I've got some bandages and salves."

She waves him away. "I can heal myself."

Soul sits back and watches for several minutes as Maka silently struggles to summon her magic.

When she gives up, she throws him a glare like she holds him personally responsible. "I was stuck in that crystal for a long time."

He raises his hands in surrender. "I didn't say anything."

"But you were thinking it."

"If you opened up our link, you'd know that's untrue."

She harrumphs but makes no reply.

"Can I bandage your feet now?" Soul asks.

"They'll heal on their own."

He can't fight the urge to roll his eyes. "If those get infected, then your only problem won't be Asura."

Maka doesn't voice her surrender but she rises to sit on the log and cracks open the tiniest bit in their bond, which is as much as an invitation he's going to get.

Soul notices the rips in the dirtied white tunic she's wearing. "We'll have to get you new clothes when we get to Traicor."

She snorts. "You too." She's silent while Soul cleans her cuts but speaks when he begins to bandage her feet. "Is Asura still the wielder of the Kokketsu scythe?"

"It's definitely not me."

He hears the confused frown in her words. "Then how can you use the scythe?"

He's already been stripped bare of his facade and he's tired of keeping Oni a secret. "There was a night demon who got bound to me at birth," he answers, tying the last knot on her bandage in place. "He's possessing the scythe."

Maka is looking at him when he glances up at her. "But don't demons normally try to possess people?"

"Yes, they do." She doesn't protest when he takes her hand and begins applying salves to the cuts there.

"Oh." There's silence as she thinks and Soul has moved onto her other hand when she talks again. "And you think that would explain this." Maka gestures to the space between them.

"I don't know," he admits, finishing wrapping her hand. "Oni's magic has never worked that way before."

Her face is closer when he looks up this time and he can count each freckle on her cheeks if he wanted to. Maka doesn't pull back but watches him with the same intensity, her breath tickling his skin; her lips part and Soul wonders how they would feel on his.

She tugs her hand out of his grasp and she stands, plucking the Kokketsu scythe off of the ground. "Whatever the reason, it was your kind who did this to my people and I will not forget that."

"So it's best if we just ignore it." Maka walks off into the forest.

Soul watches as she goes and heads back to his spot, lying on the ground. He wonders if the pang twisting in his chest is just because of himself.