Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.


Chapter 11: ...it would be natural

She really hoped she didn't look too suspicious. After all, she had only ever asked him about it once and he had deflected it so casually that it was almost as though she hadn't posed the question at all. No, this was different. Looking at her position now, she realized that she couldn't look anything except suspicious. Her hand were sifting through the mix of pads, tampons, and hair products they kept under the cupboard, eyes flicking to the locked bathroom door more than once. Soul would kill her if he found out that she was rifling through their shared items, even though he had complained many times that her pads kept falling out of their packages and onto his side of the cupboard.

She'd claim that she was organizing, she reasoned. That excuse sounded likely and not at all guilt ridden.

"Where is it?" she muttered under her breath. Soul had club activities and she would be lucky if he was later than usual. Still, her curiousity had gotten the best of her as her hands sifted through jar after jar of the boy's hair gel.

So where in Death's name was the dye?

"This is hopeless!" She threw up her hands and tried to plead with the exasperation within her. She was bored and hungry and had things to study for but she was too stuck on this to focus on anything else. She hadn't seen any receipts for it, and his hair didn't look that different when he came back from the barber's with Black*Star.

He certainly didn't smell terribly different either. She was sure that the bleach needed to dye hair would leave some kind of scent, but the only odd thing she could catch on his clothing was whatever stick on deodorant he had decided to wear that day. Granted, the boy always managed to just smell good in general, but there was nothing else that led her to be suspicious of him. Nothing unusual had taken place concerning the shock of pale hair he sported day in and day out without fail.

Maka's eyes slipped over to their garbage cans with a grimace. Soul had been the one on garbage duty for the last few weeks now. He had gotten so accustomed to it that they had agreed to trade laundry for garbage, something that she had been completely supportive of. Unfortunately for her, having garbage duty would have likely solved the mystery faster and led to more nights of non-wrinkled fingertips. Perhaps she would have found empty bottles of hair dye or things akin to it. Something, anything, to give her a hint as to what lay at the literal roots of her partner's peculiar hair colour. She tried not to contemplate the option too much before hearing their front door open and shut was a distinct thud.

"Soul?" she tried cautiously, and winced when his voice came back, clear as crystal.

"Maka? You're home early."

"Really?" She swallowed nervously and tried to force all of the items she had withdrawn back into the cupboard as fast and quietly as possible. "I would have said the same about you."

"Nah, it's already 5. I normally get back this time on Thursdays." He had taken off his shoes and she could hear his feet thumping around their apartment. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine." She stared at the random assortment of conditioners and hair gel she had pulled out and began returning them to their normal spots, She had gone almost a couple years since she last mentioned his hair. These days it was more 'do you need me to pick up a new head band?' or 'where did you put your hair gel?'. It had been a long time since she had mentioned the colour of his hair. Was it wrong to bring it out again? It sure felt foolish enough to even considering it. "Hey, Soul?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"...you know what I mean."

"Sure, but wouldn't you rather be out of the bathroom to ask me things."

She pinked and pretended to flush the toilet, running the tap to mask the sound of her putting the items back into the cabinet and closing the door before stepping out into their living room. Her partner gave her a curious look over the milk carton he was drinking from and she felt the urge to reprimand him for it. Only, if she did, her curiousity wouldn't be satisfied anytime soon. It wasn't until he replaced his beverage and shut the fridge door that she realized he didn't have a shirt on, his pale hair drooping a bit while his fringe hung just before his eyes.

"So, your question?"

"Uh, right." Maka did her best to dispel the heat from her cheeks and ignore the glossy sheen on his skin. Why did her partner have to be so distracting? "How was your combat training?"

"Same old, same old. Patty kicked ass, I bested Liz until I realized that she'd been distracted for a chipped nail, and Tsubaki and Jacqueline nearly tied; it was pretty impressive."

"So, I'm assuming you're going to take a shower?"

"Yeah. I don't like the school ones. They kind of weird me out, you know?" She laughed weakly and moved away from the bathroom door as Soul strode towards it. Her heart beat widely as he stopped, turning to face her with a curious glance. She hoped he hadn't caught on to any changes in the bathroom. She had been so sure to put everything back in its place."That it?" he asked instead. "You look like you have more to ask me."

"Well, I don't really..." Her eyes flicked back to his mop of white and back to his eyes. They tempted to roam lower but she steeled herself, saying instead "I mean, yes, I do. You know your hair?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah."

"It's white."

"Thanks for noticing?"

"I mean, is it, uh," Would he be offended that she was asking so late in their partnership? She sincerely hoped not as she finished her long awaited question, only to have the long awaited answer laughed in her face. "So?"

But he had slipped into their bathroom, locking the door and allowing his sounds of mirth to echo within the tiled chamber.

"Soul, come on! It's not funny! I was just curious."

The running tap water and the sound of working pipes could be heard and her shoulders slumped a bit. So she hadn't exactly offended him; she'd simply made a fool of herself. Classy. She contemplated checking his room, just a peek to see if there was any dye there as well but suddenly his head popped out from the semi-open door, a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face.

"Well?"

"It's natural." He rolled his eyes. "Took you long enough to ask, though I thought you'd be smart enough to figure it out."

"I didn't want to make assumptions!" But he had already shut the door, the sound of the droplets hitting solid objects coming in clear to her ears and mingling with his laughter. She relaxed into the couch, laying down a bit with a soft smile on her lips. So his hair had been natural all this time! And here she had thought he had been dyeing his hair. What a pleasent surprise...

She wondered if that meant his children would have hair as pale and devoid of colour as his, if it was a dominant gene, and considered asking him about Wes' hair colour or that of his family.

She sighed and turned on the television, banishing the thought. Maybe she would wait and ask him another time; one where he wasn't shirtless enough to distract her from the task at hand.