No idea when Maka's birthday is supposed to be (the internets were unhelpful). So I made her an Aquarius (seemed to fit and it at least keeps my ramblings consistent with the other piece I wrote this week).
I think next chapter might be hijinks. Depends how wacky I'm feeling.
Disclaimer: see part 1
"When do you want me to pick you up?" Soul zipped up his jacket and Maka watched as he comically shrugged his shoulders over and over to get the leather to settle the way he liked.
"When you bring home a certificate of completion for those safety courses." A ride would actually have been super convenient, bus schedules being what they were, but she had to have standards.
Soul was getting increasingly frustrated with her answer, one he'd heard half a dozen times since he started using his Christmas present last week. "This was your idea, you know. And keep in mind our job is to fight evil monsters. How is riding a motorcycle where you draw the line?"
"More people die from traffic accidents than monsters, witches, and demons combined, you know."
Grumbles behind her as she left the apartment first made her smile briefly, but those fluttery feelings she'd been having more of around Soul lately were unacceptable. If the goal of initiating a physical relationship had been to quash those feelings, then it was a spectacular failure in practice. Maka wasn't about mourning past decisions, however, when there was more to be done with the day.
"Hey, hold up, I need some money for gas!" Soul jogged up next to her as they both exited the building into the depressingly cloudy February morning.
"I thought motorcycles took less gas than a car." She felt like money was practically pouring out of her account.
"Maybe if you don't ride them all day long." Soul was on the receiving end of a look of pure disapproval. "I need to practice, right?" Grinning with every one of his pointed teeth showing should have been more threatening than charming, but her insides churned anyway. This just wouldn't do.
Digging into her wallet, she grabbed a small bill and held it out. Soul continued smiling in her direction as he accepted her offer, while she sighed and grabbed her bus pass since she had the wallet in hand. "I'll be out until around dinner, if you feel like coming by headquarters before then."
"Maybe." They both knew it meant no. Soul's insistence that he didn't want to be poked and prodded by Stein coupled with the inability to sustain his scythe form for long while he was still healing meant he had no reason to visit the center.
There was a moment when Soul seemed to search her face, as if he had something to say and was trying to figure out if he wanted to say it to her mouth, nose, or eyebrow. In the end he seemed to decide against it, having realized that he'd paused too long simply staring. Their awkwardness together pained Maka, who wondered how well they would resonate once they could start combat practice together next month.
"See you later!" Maka said a little too brightly and turned towards the bus stop. A hand on her shoulder stopped her, and she tilted her head back to see Soul's pained expression.
"Hey…" She didn't want to breathe or blink, feeling the moment crystallize between them—"Nevermind, maybe later."—and shatter.
"If you end up at Black Star's again at least let me know." The two idiots had watched some sort of sports thing a couple nights ago and then played video games so late they both passed out and Soul had slunk in the next morning to an irritated partner. Black Star in between missions was always trouble, more so now that he and Soul had man-bonded. Too much testosterone was a dangerous thing.
"Yeah, sure."
They moved in their separate directions while Maka tried to figure out what Soul could possibly be brooding about. Hopefully it was the same thing she found herself obsessing over, which was merely the compartmentalizing and conquering of her inconvenient tenderness for her partner. It was up to her to keep things purely physical. Maka's faith that the mind could overcome any problem was still absolute.
"Hold up, Maka!" Her stomach sinking, Maka again thought how nice it was when Soul came with her to headquarters. Hiro never came up to her when Soul was by her side, and he looked especially handsome today with his fitted slacks and slim cut designer dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves. If he had grown up in a normal family, he probably would have gone off to Hollywood to be a star or become a model. Maka knew for a fact that all Hiro's nicely sculpted muscles were completely cosmetic, i.e. useless.
"I just need your signature on this form, you know how this kind of stuff goes." Hiro's laugh practically tinkled. There had always been a certain delicate masculinity to Hiro that simultaneously made her want to both protect him and push him around. It was inexplicable.
"Is that the last one? Really the last one?" Ever since she had been spending more time in the central building Hiro had been making excuses to come find her. When she had been too busy with missions, then too busy dealing with training her weapon, there hadn't been a chance to catch her.
Hiro managed so many seemingly unimportant aspects of her life (Shibusen payroll, benefits administration, insurance claims) and he always had a new form he 'forgot' to get her to sign as part of her and her partner's medical leave. He was a perfect outward face to legitimize the center to the unsuspecting community, but to Maka he would always be the worst decision she had ever made. The six months they had spent together when she was seventeen had felt a little bit like an eternity.
"You're so funny, Maka." Totally avoiding the question, as always, he trailed after her puppy-style as she swept down the hallway projecting as much menace as she could. Hiro never could take a hint. "So, as you know I keep a calendar with everyone's birthday on it and yours is coming up soon. I didn't know if you were planning on anything, like say a dinner or something, but I'd be really happy if—"
Cutting him off was crucial, her usual excuse of having a mission wasn't going to work this year. "This is the first year I'll be around for my birthday and I think Papa was really hoping we could spend some quality family time together." It was a lesser evil, and so long as Hiro didn't open his big mouth and spread it around she might not have to see Spirit either. Even the most mundane displays of affection from Maka ended up being so overblown by the sensitive Deathscythe that she often avoided him at strategic holidays. If Spirit knew she had said she wanted to spend her birthday with him, he would have wept with joy. Copiously. Embarrassingly.
Even Hiro's look of disappointment was adorable, pushing a silky blond lock back from his face with a lopsided grin. "I think it's sweet you're so connected to your family. Have a great twenty-first!" The fount of positivity from him made Maka feel like the worst person, but encouraging him would have been even crueler.
Watching his athletic behind retreat to his office near the entrance of the building, Maka wondered yet again if that vague sense of pity she had for him was the same kind of pity the other witch hunters had had for her before she had gotten Soul. Angst and depression over her lot in life had driven her towards Hiro initially—the worst trainee hunter of their generation—but pretending to be a normal girl in a normal relationship had hurt worse than the feelings of inadequacy from her lack of demon weapon.
Speaking of feelings of inadequacy…
Lower than the training halls and infirmary, lower than the war rooms, lower than the storage for armor and weapons, but not quite into the areas that even Maka couldn't gain admittance to, there were cells. Some of these cells were nicer than others, and it wasn't very far in before the fluorescent lighting illuminated a shock of pink hair bowed down over scabbed over knees. Crona was a ball of quiet misery, as per usual.
"Hey, it's me." She spoke softly, as if she were approaching a frightened child. Nygus had told her that Stein's brief examination of the teen put Crona's age closer to Maka's than she ever would have suspected. Malnutrition and rough treatment kept Crona underdeveloped, even as cords of muscle stood out on their arms. Unlike Hiro's lean bulges, all of Crona's muscles were perfectly capable of feats that a malnourished individual should never have been capable of—the dents left in the bolted down metal bedframe and a tiny incident during initial transport had made Crona's danger to others very clear.
"Did you take a look at the book I gave you?"
There was a barely perceptible head nod, only telegraphed through the swaying of pink hair. Today was a bad day, it seemed.
"I re-read a few chapters last night myself, just in case you wanted to talk about a part you like."
Shoulders shrugged, but Crona lifted their head up enough that Maka could see mournful eyes pointed in her direction. Carefully staying several body lengths away as per usual, Maka sat down on the floor across from Crona and began to talk about her day.
"Soul has been taking lessons in motorcycle safety, I told you about that last week, and he somehow talked me into spending what felt like every last penny we had in savings to get him a used bike. It's kind of old, but he and Black Star seem to think it's the coolest thing they ever clapped their eyes on." Maka allowed herself a chuckle. "Tsubaki said she saw Black Star looking up custom bikes online, and every time he brings it up she starts talking about basketball. So far that seems to be working."
Seemingly human. Stein had said. But also no freckles, moles, or birthmarks. Wouldn't talk to anyone about anything, even during one of Sid's interrogations, but asked unprompted about the 'green eyed girl'. That's how Maka got mixed up in all this. Crona didn't want to interact with anyone, except for perhaps Maka but maybe not even her the way things usually went. Kid had told Maka that priority one was to get information, as a half-demon with PTSD was still a half-demon and they needed to know more about why they were in that factory. It had been a month and all Maka knew was a name, and that Crona's hair color was legitimately pink.
"Every time he asks me to go for a ride all I can think is how many ways we're unprotected on a motorcycle. At least in a car there's a layer between an outside attack and you."
"…the same." Crona spoke so low sometimes it was hard to tell words had escaped at all.
"What?"
"It's all the same. Metal. Air." Slowly, a black blade coalesced in Crona's hand and with an easy swipe-swipe the small bolted down metal desk and chair in the corner collapsed in on itself in pieces. "Mother taught me safety is an illusion."
This was not the first time Maka had seen the blade appear, but it was the first time she had seen Crona use it since their unfortunate first encounter. It was perfectly obvious the only reason Crona was still in this room was because they either wanted to be, or they didn't have enough imagination to escape.
"You're safe around me." Maka tried to back her voice with steel but her heart beat in her ears as every bit of her training told her to get out and find a weapon. Sitting still and smiling was an act of pure willpower.
Crona regarded Maka with the same sad face they always had. "I don't know about that."
At the edge of her vision, Maka watched Crona's soul fight against consumption from their demon half. Rarer even than a Grigori soul old enough to drink, finding a half-demon was like winning the lottery. Crona might be the first in a hundred years or more. Was it lonely to be the only one of your kind? Despised by demons, feared by humans, even if Crona did leave they would be hunted as an abomination. Other than the very real possibility of starvation, Crona seemed otherwise indestructible.
"My mama went on a vacation recently, I don't imagine I'll see her any time soon." There was no regret in her voice, Maka made sure of that. "She was the most amazing fighter, and I don't think I'll ever get to her level, but I can keep trying. What's your mama like?"
Crona shuddered and buried their head back into their knees before a small voice broke the room's silence. "I don't know… strong." And after a longer pause came the whisper. "Frightening."
In the Shibusen mental strength and physical strength had to go hand in hand or you eventually succumbed to madness. Crona's captors seemed to have engineered strength of body and frailty of mind to some purpose. What Crona needed was a therapist, and maybe a friend. Maka wasn't sure if she was equipped to be either, but she was the only one here to deal with it having been handed a mission she couldn't brute force her way through or think circles around.
"It's my birthday soon, Crona. If I can get permission I think you should come have dinner and see a movie with me and Soul."
There was no movement from the youth, but tension activated around Crona like an aura. "In here?"
"No. Not in here." She swallowed, watching Crona's soul swirl in her vision like a whirlpool. "Is that something you'd want to do?"
Turmoil. Indecision. Worry. "I don't know."
"I'll see if I can get permission anyway. They might say no, they'll probably say no, but I feel like the least I can do is try to give you a choice."
It was a horrible idea, really, but Maka's intuition was telling her it was the right thing to do.
"It's a horrible idea!" For one thing, Soul had already internalized that Maka wasn't really into celebrating her birthday for various reasons and had planned on respecting her wish to 'keep it low key' by simply making her dinner and then giving her a massage (which he had hoped would become an opportunity for something else once she was relaxed and mostly unclothed). Babysitting a lunatic for a night because Maka felt bad for them seemed like the opposite of low key.
"You don't have to be there, honestly I'm not even sure why I told you."
"I'm sure as hell not letting you go alone!"
Maka rolled her eyes as she chopped up carrots for the stew she was making in the slow cooker. As expected, her knife skills were impeccable even if every attempt at the crockpot so far had been bland but nutritious.
"You let me go alone nearly every day already. How would this be any different?"
Soul wasn't really sure why either, other than the idea of Maka having an intimate dinner with the person who she spent hours and hours a day with every… oh Death, he was jealous of that freak. The urge to smack his head into one of the upper kitchen cabinets was very strong.
"Maybe you're right and I should be meeting you at headquarters." Soul tried to keep it calm. Maka wouldn't even let them cuddle after sex, the idea that she could possibly think of that pink haired creature as anything other than a mission was far fetched. Then again, with his albino coloring and freakish teeth it was hard to know what it was that drew Maka to him at all. Not his stellar personality for sure.
"Stein was the one that thought it would be a good idea. Secretly, I think he just hopes everything will go sideways and he'll be given leave to dissect Crona for science…"
It was a dark day when Soul and good doctor found their goals align. While watching Maka unwrap and cube up the beef she had bought, Soul tried to offer up some more reason. She liked logic right? He'd logic the shit out of this. "What about all the innocent bystanders? You going to risk them too?"
"My birthday's on a Tuesday night, Sid said they could probably get a small private party room booked for cheap. I wasn't about to go totally alone, obviously."
It was totally unreasonable to think this way, but an insistent voice in the back of his head laughed at him. One freak traded for another. What if she was grooming Crona to be her new partner? A partner that wasn't useless outside of weapon form, that wouldn't talk back to her, that could protect her, and who probably already worshipped the ground she walked on…
"Pass me the salt."
The voice, which sounded like him in his head and yet spoke of ideas he never would have imagined, wove a tale of his future without Maka. Abandoned, he'd have to slink home and live off the scraps his family threw him or stay on the mortal plane and go rogue. If he went rogue, eventually he'd be hunted down and killed by the very same people he played pick up basketball games with now. Maybe he'd have a chance if he made the first move and ate that enticing soul standing right in front of…
"Hey, earth to Soul, salt please!"
The salt grinder was in his hand and he hadn't moved to give it to her for Death knew how long. Blinking back what felt like a darkness creeping over his vision, Soul forced a smile and finally brought the salt to Maka's impatient hand. He could feel his heart race in his chest as if he'd spent the day training hard with Black Star. The dreams he had of the music room at home were happening nightly, but this was the first time those dark whispers had followed him into his waking hours. That he could remember, anyway.
"I think this one is going to turn out pretty well. I actually bought a seasoning packet this time so I don't have to guess at it." Maka hummed to herself gently as she rubbed salt into the meat and dropped it in with the chopped vegetables.
Not-Maka had moved from seduction to abuse lately, reminding him how useless he was, how weak, ugly and despised. Last night, in a fit of anger he had struck her in his dream only to wake up sweating and thrashing around in his bed half expecting to find blood on his hands. It hadn't escaped his notice that Maka had stopped setting the wards, and he was on the verge of asking her if she could start again.
…But asking her to do something like that was as good as an admission that he couldn't handle whatever it was that was causing these dreams. He felt like his fears were on the tip of his tongue, but as soon as he went to tell her his pride choked the words back down.
"Good thing too, that last soup tasted like dishwater." The large wooden spoon that smacked him in the forehead still had a piece of chopped celery sticking to it. Joke was on her, now she had to wash it before she stirred the pot again.
