A/N: This one came from a tumblr prompt from dreams-of-vespa26. The song was added later because I like the song and it fit and I've wanted to use it forever (I adore Pearl Jam, what can I say?) I'm not a huge fan of writing in the anime-verse, so this is manga-verse, post-canon UA. I will share the original prompt at the end.
Hail, Hail:
Are you woman enough to be my man?
Bandaged hand in hand.
The hardest part of the whole thing was that Soul wasn't, strictly speaking, a meister. Oh, sure, he could wield her—their soul bond was so strong that there was never any question that he would be able to wield her—but that didn't mean he'd be good at it. It didn't mean he had the ready skill set to do so.
When they'd found out she was a weapon, it was a shock to everyone. A person carrying both weapon and meister traits was unusual enough, but generally, the weapon trait would manifest in adolescence. As it turned out, Maka was a late bloomer.
It happened shortly after the fight with the Kishin. During one of her recurring nightmares, the ones of Crona and Black Blood and Asura that had haunted her since her time on the moon, Maka had sprouted blades, shredding her bedding. She woke up confused, upset. What had happened? And more importantly, WHY WAS HER FOREARM NOW A BLADE?
It had taken a half an hour of a stunned Soul, (who had run into her room with his own blade bared at the sound of her screaming,) coaching and coaxing, for her to return the blade to flesh, and both were left speechless. Maka was a meister—she wasn't supposed to sprout blades in her sleep. She wasn't supposed to sprout blades at all .
The next morning, they had gone to school early, had gone to see Stein, because what choice was there? Several hours, a few requests to dissect her, and a whole battery of tests later, and they had their answer. Between the black blood and her constant, close proximity to her scythe, their bond and their frequent resonance, Maka's own latent scythe gene had awakened. Normally, receiving one copy of the gene might not give one the weapon property, and had Maka wielded any other weapon type, had black blood not been a part of the picture, had their soul bond and resonance rate been weaker, had any one thing been different or less, her gene might never have awakened. Only it had, which left them with the problem of how to deal with it.
The primary goal was for Maka to learn to control it, to not sprout blades in her sleep or under stress. That had taken weeks of practice and coaching from her own weapon, who had been through it all before. Once she had some handle on control, though, on sprouting blades only when she wished to sprout them, she had then decided she should learn to take her full weapon form, learn to be wielded.
Soul was not a fan of this second request—he was the weapon in this duo, and he was concerned that she would seek a meister—but Maka Albarn never did things by halves, and that included being a scythe. Yet, she would not seek a meister. No, instead, she would have her weapon wield her.
"What?" had been his response when she'd asked him to make the attempt. "I'm not a meister, Maka, I can't just—"
She cut him off. "You're my partner, Soul. We have a strong soul bond and resonance rate. It doesn't matter that you're not a meister, you can still wield me, just like Liz and Patti can wield one another. It'll be fine. Please?"
Of course he couldn't say no. Or wouldn't. The thought of anyone else wielding her was far worse than the fear of fucking it up completely. Apparently, she thought so, too.
It wasn't long into this new leg of their partnership, as she was trying to master her weapon form and he was trying to figure out just what one did with a full blown scythe anyway, that their partnership shifted once again. They were both so off kilter from the change, and now, not only were they spending almost every waking moment together as they had for so long, but they were spending most of that time resonating as he learned to wield her. When she kissed him, it wasn't planned, and it wasn't expected, but it wasn't strange, either. It had been a long day of training and somehow, in that moment, it just felt right. He kissed her back without hesitation, and everything fell into place. This was where their partnership was meant to go all along.
They decided not to tell anyone, at least for the time being. There was enough stress with trying to figure out how to manage Maka the Weapon; the last thing they needed was to deal with the reactions of the world to them dating.
Their first official date coincided with the first mission they took after Maka became a weapon. It was an easy mission, a one star mission. They took it because for this mission, Soul would wield Maka.
Soul wasn't happy about that. They were sitting on the couch when she mentioned that she had decided to take the mission, and his response was less than enthusiastic, to say the least.
"If you want to eat souls to get stronger, just wield me like you always do and you can eat the damned thing when we're done, I don't really give a fuck."
Maka just shook her head. "We're not going to cheat the system just because you're a death scythe, Soul." She crossed her arms, meeting his eyes and daring him to gainsay her.
"But I am a death scythe; I'm not a meister, you are. You know how much I suck at wielding you. Why reinvent the wheel when we don't have to?"
"It's not like I was always good at wielding you," she rolled her eyes. "It's called training, Soul, and practice. You have to do it to get better."
"You were always better at wielding me than I will ever be at wielding you." He insisted stubbornly. She let out a sigh.
"Be that as it may, you still need to practice wielding me properly, and there is no better tempering than real battle. And I can eat a thousand kishin souls and never be a proper weapon if I am not being used in the battle, being tempered myself. We need to do this properly, okay? Besides," she offered him a small smile. "I have an idea I think you'll like."
He raised one skeptical eyebrow. There was nothing about having to go out and wield her against a fucking kishin that he could fathom liking, especially when he felt absolutely undertrained and unprepared.
"Welll… you know how we sort of started dating last week, only we can't actually go on a date?"
"Mmmm hmmm…" He was well aware, considering that after that, little else had happened. A stolen kiss here or there, but that was pretty much that since they weren't announcing their new status just yet and he was letting her take the lead on this thing anyway, as he so often did. Hell, he was just happy he got to kiss her at all now.
"Well, since we'll be in France for this mission, I thought we could have our first real date once we collect the kishin soul. If, that is, you want to. I mean—" she was blushing and starting to ramble so he cut her off, grabbing her hand.
"Maka," he said, moving closer to her on the couch. "I definitely want to—if that's my reward for having to look like an idiot wielding you, it will make it all worth it." He grinned down at her and was pleased when she moved her face up to kiss him. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all, taking a mission like this, if it meant they could go on a real date.
Of course, things rarely went so smoothly, especially not for them.
The kishin itself was surprisingly easy to kill. It was a one star mission, and while Soul was no meister, he was still a death scythe, and some of those abilities were accessible when he was wielding Maka. Even he had felt he could probably handle this. He might not have figured out how to use special attacks like witch hunter, but he could manipulate threads and sound, that is, when he could take a moment away from just trying to swing Maka around to actually think. Her scythe form was longer and more slender than his, more like her dad's unsurprisingly, though hers was golden and beautiful, and he still found it tricky to swing her without endangering his own life and limb. Resonance helped. When they resonated, she tended to guide him so thoroughly that she almost wielded herself. This mission was easy enough, however, that he hadn't even had to resort to using any of his inherent death scythe tricks. He had been able to hack and slash the idiot thing into oblivion even with his limited combat ability, and as the tainted red soul was left floating before them, they still had plenty of time to get to the hotel, dress, and make it to their dinner reservation.
Maka had gulped the thing down uncomfortably, making a face and asking how he could enjoy eating them so much, for which he had no good answer, and then they'd made their way back to the hotel.
So maybe he'd overreacted. Maybe they could make this whole thing work. Maybe he wasn't as shitty at it as he'd proclaimed. But Soul felt a sense of foreboding tickle the edge of his thoughts. This was all too damned easy and it gave him the heebie jeebies.
He should definitely have listened to his instincts.
Getting ready hadn't taken long. The place Soul had chosen was a cozy little cafe his grandmother had taken him to a few times as a child when she had still lived in Paris. It was light and warm and romantic, yet, it was also casual enough that they could enjoy themselves without feeling the need to be stiff or formal. In short, it was perfect for a first date with his meister and he was uncharacteristically excited to take her there, but then, this would be his first real date with the person he loved.How could he not be excited? The very idea that he was going on a date, with Maka, and that she had kissed him and that he could kiss her when he wanted to and that she loved him as much as he loved her was new and wonderful and he wondered if he'd ever stop thinking he was the luckiest asshole on the planet that this ridiculously strong and violent and warm and sweet and smart and nerdy and bookish and beautiful badass actually wanted to be with him. He didn't really care how uncool that sounded; he'd happily be the most uncool idiot around if it meant he got to be with her, but he figured there was no way that was a problem. Maka herself was too naturally cool without even trying for that to even be possible.
His thoughts were interrupted as she finally emerged from the bathroom. She had been getting ready in there and when she walked out, he couldn't help it, his jaw hit the floor. Maka was always beautiful. Covered in blood and grime and sweat after a battle, scrubbed and in a school uniform, it didn't matter—Maka was Maka and she was radiant, body and soul. But seeing her with her hair down and in a dress was such a rare sight that he was struck anew, after just having been struck, by how lucky he was. The dress was dark green and above the knee, with gold ivy winding throughout, and her hair was curled with golden barrettes to either side. It put the dark jeans and white button up he had chosen to shame.
"Well?" she tilted her head to one side expectantly.
"It'll do," he replied, determined to keep his cool in spite of the waves of internal awe that were still bombarding him.
"That's it?" she looked a shade hurt, which wasn't cool at all, so he stepped forward and looked down at her, moving a hand to run it through one side of her too-soft curls.
"Pretty sure I have the prettiest meister in Shibusen. The coolest, too," he managed to get out through his embarrassment because it was still hard to say these things, damnit, before bending down to kiss her. She returned the motion gratefully for a few moments before pulling back to look at him again.
"But not the prettiest weapon?"
"Both," he smiled softly, moving in to kiss her again, a light, sweet moving of their lips.
"Definitely both," he finally murmured against her mouth before pulling away. "But we should get outta here. Reservation is in ten minutes. Don't wanna miss it."
"Yeah, I guess not," she agreed, though she seemed mildly disappointed for some reason he couldn't quite fathom.
"Let's go, then!" she brightened quickly, smiling at him as she took his hand. Hand in hand, they headed out of the room and off to make the short walk to the cafe.
The place was just as cozy and potentially romantic as he remembered it, and when Maka looked around, squeezing his hand with approval, he couldn't help but to feel a little proud. They were seated at a cozy little table near the fireplace. The room was largely illuminated by candlelight and filled with antiques and old world charm. As they were seated, one across from the other, Maka smiled at him.
"This place is really nice, Soul. How did you find it?"
"I have my sources."
"Oh?" Her eyebrows shot up.
"My gran used to live in Paris," he admitted with a slight laugh before that overpowered brain of hers could jump to any wrong conclusions.
"Oh! How neat!" she smiled. "I'll bet it was really great to visit her."
"Yeah, it was cool, I guess." He shrugged. They were interrupted by the waiter bringing a basket of bread and asking for their order in French, but as neither had actually so much as glanced at the menu yet, Soul waved him away.
"So, uh, what's good?" Maka eyed the menu skeptically. It was in French, which Soul could read, but he was fairly certain his meister couldn't.
"Well, there is a nice fish special this evening," he grinned at her.
"Soul…" it was her warning tone.
"But in your case, I'd probably go with the cheese souffle. Gran always liked it. I can order for you if you'd—"
He was cut off by a very loud crash that most definitely came from the large picture window at the front of the cafe. It was followed by screams and people scrambling, and Soul and Maka both shot up, their heads turning as one to the source of the commotion.
It was another kishin egg, much like the last, large and drooly and full of teeth, the type that was lumbering and stupid. Why it would attack a cafe was beyond Soul—normally, these things stalked dark alleys—but here it was, and here they were, and it seemed as though their first date was about to become their second kishin fight with Maka as a weapon. Fucking figured.
Maka turned to him, her head tilted inquisitively, causing her curls to brush against her collarbone in the most lovely and distracting way.
"Ready?" she asked with an amused little smile.
Soul forced his gaze to her eyes and nodded. "When you are."
In a flash of golden light she was the scythe, warm and light in his palm. He shifted her weight into both hands and then, looking around long enough to assure himself the civilians had moved out of his way, charged the thing. He had surprise on his side, and he made a long swipe at the thing, severing its arm and causing it to howl in rage. Soul careened past it and jumped through the broken picture window, thinking to lead it out onto the darkened street. There was traffic, but at not much on the little side road the cafe was on, and at least they would have more open space and less concern about hitting a civilian.
"Good," Maka's image flashed in the blade as he stopped at the edge of the road, the confused and enraged pre-kishin moving to follow. "I saw a dead end alley on the walk here. If we can lead it there, we can keep people out of it and finish this cleanly."
"Mmph," Soul made a noncommittal noise but nodded his assent as he taunted the creature and led it in the direction his meister—scratch that, his weapon (he wasn't sure he would ever get used to thinking of her that way)—had suggested.
After several moments, he rounded the corner into the small, darkened alleyway, running down to the middle and hoping the kishin was on his heels, when he heard his partner shriek. "Wait, Soul, look—"
But it was too late. Golden talons of light were almost on him when he saw the flash of light, felt the scythe fly from his hands, shrieked his own "noooooo!" as his meister come weapon come newly minted girlfriend tackled him to the ground, one of the talons sinking into her left shoulder just before they hit the ground. She gasped then grunted in pain.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Soul growled at her as they both scrambled to their feet, looking around the alley warily.
"You're the one who always says the weapon protects the meister," she said smartly, shaking her head. "Anyway, this isn't the time. You need to transform. Now."
Soul eyed her now bleeding shoulder skeptically and began to shake his head. "I said now. It's a witch, and a powerful one. We can't handle it with me as a weapon. We have to do this the old fashioned way, okay?"
"'Bout time," he grumbled and complied, the blue light almost blinding in the alleyway as he transformed into her hands. It felt so right to be sitting in her warm grasp after so long playing meister that he sighed in something like relief, even as his fear for her began to mount. She was dodging attacks from the witch, but her swings were sluggish. She called for resonance, and he could feel her pain and discomfort through their soul bond, but even more than that, something felt entirely wrong, like the wound was festering far too much for the small hit she had taken. She called up witch hunter, but it missed by a long way. Yes, something was very, very wrong.
He blinked and found his consciousness had shifted. No longer was he staring out the blade, but standing in the black room, the demon in his favorite chair smiling back at him.
"You're right, you know. That wound isn't normal at all. It's festering with dark magic, and if you don't do something, and I mean now, the infection will spread."
"How do you—"
"Know? I only know what you know, and what she knows, too. You would have figured it out in an instant if you'd probed her thoughts at all. Looks like you're going to need me again, eh Soulie boy? But that's alright. Your life is my life, as it were, and it seems that means her life too these days, doesn't it? I suppose it always has, really. Well, then, shall we?"
Oni hopped to his feet with a spring in his step. After their uneasy truce, the thing seemed to lived to remind him that there were times when he actually needed him. Soul hated it, and yet, couldn't deny it; the blood could help Maka, and Maka was in trouble. That was all he needed to know.
He sat before his soul piano, as he had done countless times before, and began to play. Knowing time was short, he pounded on the keys, quickly invoking his madness, allowing it to wrap himself and his meister in its spell—he would never let it push them so far they couldn't return. The part of his consciousness that was still with Maka watched in satisfaction as her green dress was replaced with black, watched as the witch shrieked out of hiding for a second time in frustration that her plans were being foiled, for she had counted on the poison taking its target. Yet, even still, something was wrong.
"Hmmm… interesting," Oni said, sitting on the bench beside him with a small shake of his head.
"What?" Soul growled, his playing never ceasing.
"It's just—I have contained the infection, but I can't reverse it. Your meister's arm is useless for the time being, I'm afraid."
"Fucking FIX IT! Isn't that why I'm doing this?" He could hear the madness in his own voice, the desperation.
"I did try, and I am trying, but the magic is too strong, the infection too deep. I suspect your Dr. Stein could find a cure, but I can only stop it from spreading. Your little meister can't win with that dead arm. Looks like you'll be the one leading the dance this time, eh Soul?"
"Fuck!" he growled again, but he knew the Oni was right. He transformed, appearing next to Maka in his black room suit, the black blood protecting him as it did his meister. He looked at Maka, who looked back at him in shock. She had not been privy to the black room exchange—he hadn't wanted her to be, had wanted to contain the madness as much as possible.
"May I cut in?" he heard himself ask, holding out a hand. The witch seemed stunned by the change, halting in her chanting to look between the two of them.
"What is this nonsense?" she shook her head, puzzled. "I've seen you fight my little pets, the rookie meister and weapon. I wished to take your souls, to show the dogs of Shibusen that true witches do not bow before a false death god. Yet it seems I have found a bigger catch than I planned, wouldn't it, last death scythe? And now you would change places again and waste the chance you had to defeat me? Oh ho—the very defeaters of Arachne and Asura grace my doorstep and play the role of greenhorns. What a prize your souls will be!"
Maka ignored the witch for the moment, wary but with enough distance to react if need be, to frown at Soul, but he just smiled. His grin was full of madness, he knew, but hopefully it conveyed something like love as well.
"Trust me. We can do this." She didn't reply, but she did transform, the golden scythe gleaming in his hands as he faced the enemy, the witch's thin lips spreading into a satisfied smile. A small part of his consciousness kept to the black room, kept the piano playing, kept the madness high and the black blood flowing. Maka was next to him in there, sitting on the bench, entranced by his music. But out here, he was facing a traitor witch, with golden eyes and brown hair, chanting his intended doom.
"Eagle eagle, talon talon, eagle eagle, talon talon!" she cried, and more of the golden light streaked towards them. In the black room, Soul accessed the web surrounding his piano and keyed into the attack. Outside his soul room, he held out a hand before the witch, his mad grin widening.
"SOUL HACK!" he screamed. "These are a part of my song now." The witch's face contorted in surprised fury as the golden talons reversed, flying towards her. She shrieked as her own attack hit home, piercing her in multiple places. Soul followed shortly after by grasping Maka in both hands and arcing her beautiful, golden blade downwards, clefting the surprised enemy in twain, an ear splitting death keen and the eagle witch's purple soul soon all that was left of her.
Maka immediately transformed in a flash of golden light, still wearing the black blood dress. She turned to her partner with a wide grin only slightly tinged with madness, the piano still playing between them, their resonance still active and very, very necessary to her survival.
"That was great!" she said genuinely. "You really did it!"
"We did it," he corrected. "Though I'm hurt you thought we wouldn't."
She just shook her head, standing beside her partner and eyeing what was left of the witch thoughtfully. Maka seemed about to say more when there was a loud roar from the end of the alleyway, and they both suddenly remembered the reason they had come here in the first place—the kishin egg had finally found them.
"Soul?" Maka held out one hand expectantly, a well practiced but currently impractical motion.
"Nah, I got this one," he said, his grin becoming feral as both forearms transformed into scythe blades and he charged the rampaging beast. Soul might not be much of a solo weapon, but these things were so weak he could handle one easily himself. He slashed inwards with both blades, meeting in the middle to slice through the drooling thing cleanly, soon leaving behind only an angry red soul. He took it gingerly into his palm and walked it over to his partner, who had returned to eyeing the witch's soul contemplatively once it was clear her partner was out of danger.
"I've got a present for you," he grinned at her, holding it out for her to take.
She just shook her head, "Your kill, your meal."
"Suit yourself," he shrugged and gulped the thing whole, swallowing it down with a satisfied groan.
"This is going to be a mess, you know," Maka finally said with a sigh. She was somewhat fidgety, the madness of the blood seeming to manifest within her in a need for constant movement, but otherwise seemed in relative control of her faculties. "The witches won't be happy we killed one of their own, and Kid is going to have a major headache to deal with."
"We could just eat it."
"I can't eat it," she said firmly. "I've only collected one soul. It could kill me this early. And you could eat it, but it would just cause a bigger mess if the witches found out. No," she shook her head, "we'll need to take it back, report all of this to Kid. It was self defense, a rogue witch, so it will get sorted. It's just going to be a diplomatic pain none of us really needs."
Soul groaned. This had to be the worst first date ever. Hell, it was over before it had even begun. And she was hurt. Really hurt. Fuck, he had almost forgotten how badly. They needed to get her to Stein, and he'd need to keep the black blood flowing until they could get back to Death City. What a fucking mess.
"We need to get you home," he finally ventured.
"I know," she sighed.
"And if you ever do anything that fucking stupid again, I'm going to chop you."He said sharply. She turned her attention from the soul to glare at him in response.
"I did what needed to be done. You didn't have time to react. I sensed the witch when she cast her spell and had to drop her soul protect, and I kept both of us from getting killed."
"I woulda handled it."
"No, you wouldn't have. You said yourself you don't have my ability as a meister."
"Doesn't mean—"
"Look, I know you're used to being the protector and all that ingrained weapon stuff, but we're a team, and I was the weapon this time. I did what needed doing. If I had been wielding you, I could have dodged, but since I was the weapon, I had to dodge for both of us and I did. If I hadn't, we'd both most likely be dead. But you are right about one thing—we need to get back to the academy. You up for flying?"
Soul wanted to protest further and was about to, but he could feel in their resonance her determination and they really didn't have time for this now. It would have to wait. Aside from which, somewhere deep down he knew she was right. He just didn't want her to be; he would always want to protect her. He couldn't help that, anymore than he could help loving her.
"Yeah," he said with a nod. "You?"
"I'll manage," she smiled. "I've got your blood protecting me, right?"
She suddenly walked close, looking up at him and standing on her tip toes to kiss him. He kissed her back, embracing her, just happy she was safe, that they both were. The kiss lasted a few moments. In their slight black blood frenzy it became possessive, a frantic sliding of tongues and biting and licking of slightly chapped lips, before Maka pulled away, panting.
"We need—to go—" she managed to get out, and as much as Soul wanted to grab her and pin her against the alley wall for more, very much more, he knew now was hardly the time and pushed down the madness of lust to nod his agreement. Maka grabbed the witch's soul, putting it gently in her evening bag, before motioning to Soul to transform. Soon, they were up in the air, flying through the spring night and across the ocean towards home.
By the time they reached Death City, both were ready to collapsed in exhaustion, but still Soul pushed the black blood on, protecting his meister from the infection. In the end, it took the combined efforts of Stein and Kim to counter the dead witch's poison magic, and even then, Maka ended up with an angry red scar on her shoulder that took months to fade.
Appeasing the witches' council had not been easy, but after a week long joint investigation, they had determined that the slain eagle witch, who had been named Amera, had indeed gone rogue, and Maka and Soul were absolved of any blame and thanked for their service. The soul was confiscated by the witches, and the whole affair forgotten.
When the entire ordeal was over and both were safe and whole and absolved of all blame, both weapon and meister decided to throw caution to the wind and announce their new status as a couple. Their second date was in Death City, and the worst they endured was a few jealous glares from Soul's fan club as they shared a milkshake, the capstone to a simple evening that had included dinner and a movie. They made their way back home without a kishin or witch in sight, finishing out the night tangled up on the couch, ready, as ever, to face whatever came tomorrow together.
The original prompt was SoMa: Meister Soul, Weapon Maka, Black Blood. First Date Ruined by a Kishin.
