Chapter 11
"Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and all those in between, to the final explosive battle of our gladiator tournament!"
The crowd roared, hooting and hollering beneath the blinding rays of the sun. Maka squinted up at them, hand shielding her eyes. They were all too high up to see anyone in clear detail, but their flailing was certainly discernible. Tobias was also up there, in his own box high above the stadium, safe and fat with his hoard of food. Huffing quietly, Maka turned to face her opponents. "Let's get this over with," she muttered. "I feel like I need a bath every time his eyes are on me."
"We'll get him soon enough," Soul promised, and she could tell his own eyes were glaring singularly up at the man.
The sheer malice in his words made her pause. "What do you mean?" Maka asked. When Soul didn't answer, she elbowed him hard enough in his side that his head swiveled down to glare at her. "What do you mean, Soul? I'm not exactly in the mood to be covered in black magic, buddy. Control the anger."
He didn't say anything to that, and Maka was just about to pinch him when the announcer's loud voice came back.
"The winner of this round will take home the trophy, win 100,000 gold, and for our rookie contestants, a chance to become a regular all-star gladiator in the ring! Our three competitors are: in the blue paint, Giriko and Golem, in the green paint, Wes and Evans, and in the red paint, Maka and Soul!"
Maka shifted uncomfortably, her armour feeling heavier than normal as she looked across the ring. Not twenty feet away, Giriko stood with his partner, his usual shit-eating grin wide on his face.
Her head turned away a second too late, and she caught his gaze from the corner of her eye. She could have groaned when he turned towards her. "Hey, pigtails!" Giriko called over. "Don't think that I've forgotten about our little bet. You still have to show me your tits!"
Maka felt her cheeks flush, though even she couldn't be sure whether the blood rose from humiliation or anger. Probably a volatile mixture of the two. She was careful to keep her eyes forward.
"Don't worry," Soul's warm voice said beside her. Surprised, she looked up at him. "He'll be dead before this round is over." It sounded like a promise, and as Maka studied Soul's determined profile, she realized it was one. The tight knot in her chest loosened somewhat.
"That or we will be," he grinned wickedly at her, "so either way it won't be an issue."
She couldn't help it, Maka laughed, a loud and uproarious sound that erupted deep from her belly. The urge to kiss him was a strong one, to smother his perfect face with butterfly kisses from his forehead to his chin. Instead, she just grinned up at him, till her cheeks hurt from the smiling.
She punched him.
When he jolted forward, rubbing his upper arm with a look of confusion, she merely faced forward, feeling content for the first time since perhaps she'd learned the news of her father. "Thanks," she whispered under her breath, shy for reasons she'd think about later.
"Crazy," he muttered, still rubbing his abused skin. After a moment of looking at her oddly, though, he breathed out through his nose. "You're welcome."
Maka beamed at him.
Across from them (and earning several glances from her partner when he thought no one was looking) was Wes, the enigmatic "brother" of Soul. The former wisp stood with his arms folded across his chest, his expression stoic. He saw her watching and winked.
Tobias stood up in his box in the stands, arms opening in a grand gesture. "Welcome," he bellowed, voice no doubt amplified by magic, "ladies and gentlemen, to the fourth and final round of our Gladiator tournament!" The crowd roared in response.
"It would appear, however," Tobias continued when the cheers had abated to a gentle hum, "that we have three competitors left. Now, I don't know about you all, but this arrangement seems somewhat...anticlimactic, don't you think?"
A slither of unease ran up Maka's spine as she watched Tobias warily. He was looking directly at her, she knew, those black eyes like empty pits as they pinned her.
Tobias grinned then, the yellow of his teeth a stark contrast to his pasty skin. "To make this more exciting for our extraordinary spectators, we will be allowing a small preliminary match in which one of our three contestants will be cut off, leaving a final match up for two finalists. I would take this moment to thank you all for coming, and I do hope you enjoy our final round."
Cheers, loud and echoing, rang a third time round the pit. The announcer, showing himself for the first time as he stood atop a hovering platform—a blue-skinned man in a sparkling jacket—took over where Tobias left off, and all eyes turned to him as he flew around the arena. All but Maka, who continued to watch Tobias, returning his taunting gaze with a dark frown.
He inclined his head to her, lifting a crystal goblet to his mouth—the wine it held, red as blood, clung to his lips when the glass lowered.
In the background, the announcer spoke. "In this round, contestants will remain separate from their partners. When only two pairs are left, the bell will ring twice, signaling the final battle between the two remaining gladiators. At this time, the warriors and the wisps will be allowed to join."
The announcer zoomed down, the buzzing of his platform loud as he neared the base of the ring. "If the contestants would form a triangle around me, please."
Eyes locked on Giriko and shoulders back, Maka walked forward purposefully, not bothering to wait for Soul. She stopped just before the floating platform, Giriko's leering face catching her eye. He licked his teeth and squeezed his crotch.
Maka raised her chin slightly, just enough so that she looked down her nose at him. It didn't seem to bother him at all, his intense gaze unwavering.
"We're killing him first," Soul murmured under his breath as he stopped slightly behind her.
"Don't worry," Maka returned, "there was never another option."
The announcer cleared his throat. "Weapons will be given to each being, however these are only temporary and will disappear once we are down to two teams."
On queue, six balls of blue light burst down from the sky. One floated down in front of Maka and, hesitantly, she touched her hand into the light. It burst out, blinding her with its intensity as a weight filled her palm. When the light faded, Maka opened her eyes to see the weapon she would be fighting with.
A fucking garrote wire.
"Motherfu..." she bit off her own curse and, growling, wrapped the wire around her hand. It was better than nothing. She chanced a furtive glance to her side, hoping that Soul at least had something decent.
He was glaring down at a spoon.
Death help them.
The bell tolled three times, signaling the start of the battle.
"Maka."
"I know, I know."
Together they braced, moving back to back, but to Maka's surprise, they needn't have bothered.
Wes and his partner ran in front of them, their weapons noticeably better as they poised them to strike. Soul faltered behind her, and she could feel his confusion. "Wes, what are—"
"Step aside, little brother, leave this to the big boys," Wes called without looking over his shoulder, amusement in his voice.
"Wait, why are you doing this!?" Soul took a step forward but Maka grabbed his arm, halting him.
Wes ignored Soul's question, holding up the broadsword in his hand and walking towards Giriko. Soul tugged again, but Maka held him steady. Though she felt his confusion, and she could see how his gaze locked desperately on his brother, he didn't try to pull free again.
Giriko spoke loudly when he addressed Wes, hip cocked to the side. "You really think you can defeat me, one eye?"
"I do."
The grin that grew on Giriko's face was malicious. Maka squeezed Soul's sleeve, her unease rising. "Something's wrong," Maka said. A muscle in Soul's jaw twitched but he remained silent, simply watching his brother.
"Are you sure about that?" Giriko asked, playing with the serrated blade in his hand.
"Yes, I—" Wes paused, feet frozen, and almost instantly Maka knew it was Tobias. Her eyes darted to where she knew he was in the stands, and the cruel smile was evidence enough.
"Soul, Tobias is controlling him."
"I know," he said, appearing physically ill.
Wes jerked, trying to lift his legs and move his arms, but he was frozen in place.
"Can you remove it?" she asked.
Swallowing, Soul shook his head. "I tried. If it was on you, maybe, but not—"
The single slice tore through Wes's neck, tearing it almost clean off if not for the tethers of stretching sinew that kept the head attached for a moment longer. Then the body fell in a dead thud to the ground. It kicked up a small plume of dust, masking the gruesome sight before it too settled, leaving only the horror filled images in its absence.
Aside from a sharp gasp, Soul remained silent beside her. She could feel it though, the sudden and gaping hole in her heart, and for a moment Maka struggled to breathe.
Then the black magic wrapped around her like an inky blanket. Maka jumped when she saw the darkness smoking off Soul in waves. "Soul," Maka cautioned, authority in her tone. "Keep it together—"
"AAAHHHH!"
The inhuman scream tore Maka's attention away from her partner, and she looked over in shock to see Evans, Wes's warrior, clutching his head in agony. She frowned, brows furrowed. "Wha—?"
"You've killed me!" the man screamed, shrieking his pain to the world. "You bastards, you've killed me!"
The words, an odd echo of her past that left a sharp pang in her chest, had Maka shooting a guilty glance at Soul. He wasn't looking at her, instead intently focused on Evans. Maka followed his gaze back to the breaking warrior, only to see him rise, death in his eyes as he faced Giriko.
He charged, weaponless, with such fervour and rage that, for a moment, Maka believed him to be invincible.
But Giriko struck him down with the same ease he'd killed Soul's brother, further drenching his body with blood. Maka watched, frozen as the second body dropped that day and painted the brown dust red. If not painless, she thought, swallowing, then it was at least a swift death.
"You're next, lovely."
Maka calmly turned to Giriko.
The bell, loud and clear, tolled two times. "FIGHT PAUSE! GLADIATORS JOIN!"
They did so, in a violent swarm of black magic that left an acrid taste in her mouth. It was more concentrated than usual, and Maka could feel Soul struggling to push it back.
She walked to the centre of the ring, the dust swirling around her like a small storm as she stared down her final opponent. Soul's unease was like a tight knot in her chest, and every now and then his compulsion to check their surroundings for an additional threat took over her control and had her eyes darting anxiously around the field before she batted him back.
Maka took a deep breath in attempt to calm them both.
This was it.
Everything they'd done in the last week now came down to this. If they won, they'd go down in history. They'd never be forgotten, even when the sands of time took their souls.
Her eyes flickered to Tobias, his fat form sitting safely in the stands, the whites of his eyes abnormally pronounced as he glared down at her in silent rage. Tobias sneered further when he noticed he had her attention, squeezing the violet-skinned girl on his knee till she released an inaudible gasp of pain. His guards shifted behind him.
"So this is it, then."
Maka looked back at Giriko, his hair windblown and his face relaxed. "I suppose," she answered, could feel Soul's caution as he watched him through her eyes.
The bell tolled. Once. Twice.
"FIGHT!"
"May the best gladiator win," Giriko offered good-naturedly.
Maka clenched her hands around the steaming scythe blades in her hands. I intend to.
The third bell rang loud through the stadium and Maka launched herself at Giriko, the battle cry releasing from her lips as she ran at him. He dodged the first strike easily, swinging his sword in a wide arc in retaliation. It nicked the hard leather of her armour, but Maka jumped back before he could deal any further damage.
Let me fight! Soul shouted from within her, and she could feel his will trying to take over before she fought him back.
"No," she hissed, quickly pulling up her blade to defend against a strike. "This is my fight." She felt Soul back off reluctantly.
"Tired yet?" Giriko asked in his usual charming tone.
Maka only glared and lunged forward again, sweeping her blades in a figure eight that had Giriko jumping back in surprise. She spun again, twisting on the balls of her feet to slice the edge of her blade against his leg.
He growled and swiped back but she was already dancing away. She shot him a grin as the adrenaline rushed through her. "You done?" she asked, twirling her blades expertly, as her father had shown her all those years ago.
"You're good," he allowed, raising his weapons once more. His easy attitude had vanished, replaced with one of agitation. "Not good enough." He lunged forward again.
Maka spun away, was about to slam both weapons down on him when her hands slowed. Panic took over her heart, fast and powerful.
Another spell. She looked up at the stands, could see Tobias with his hands raised, blue light swirling around him.
Soul, she warned.
I'm on it.
Maka jumped back, as far away from Giriko as she could in her current state. She felt slow, as though she was moving through thick molasses. Even blinking took time as she watched in fear as her opponent ran at her.
Move! Soul commanded. She did so, pushing out with her legs. There was a hint of residual resistance, struggling to keep her in place, but she soon broke through it and was mobile once more. A breath of relief passed her lips.
"Thanks," she whispered, gathering her bearings.
The bell tolled and the announcers voice shouted clear through the ring. "GLADIATORS SEPARATE!"
"What!?" Maka shouted, but she could already feel Soul forcefully pushed out of her body. She fought to keep him with her. "Again?!"
Despite her efforts, Soul was ripped away and he stood beside her an instant later. Her features returned to normal, her weapons gone. Giriko and his partner stood across from them, looking at ease as they stretched smugly.
"They knew," she hissed at Soul.
"Yes," he agreed, glaring up at Tobias who sat smug in his throne. Soul took her hand and tugged her from the middle of the ring, watching the area around them cautiously.
"The weapons, go!" Soul cried, pointing to the decorative weapons nailed to the inside walls of the ring.
Together they ran to the edges, leaping at the walls once they arrived. Maka tugged at a large sword, pulling with all her might. "It's no use," she grunted, panting as she released it. "It's nailed down too firmly."
"Step back!" Soul ordered, blasting at the weapon.
It unhinged beneath the force of the black magic and dropped in her hands. It weighed more than her own weapons, and her arms were pulled down with the force. "I don't know if this is going to work," she muttered, struggling with the heavy weapon.
"Try," Soul urged, turning back to face their opponents. He did so just in time to push Maka away from a bolt of magic. They landed in a heap and Soul quickly pulled her up. "Take Giriko," he panted. "I've got the wisp."
Maka nodded and they separated. She walked towards the warrior Giriko, who waited for her patiently, having retrieved a large ax from the wall. "Give up," he said, bouncing the handle of his weapon on his hand. "You don't have a chance."
Maka hoisted the broadsword over her shoulder, panting with its weight. "I'm not giving up," she said fiercely.
Giriko shrugged. "I suppose you are a brave little thing," he conceded. "Although a mite stubborn for your own good." With that, he charged, the ax held high and threatening.
Maka barely dodged in time, weighed down so much by her own weapon. For a moment she considered ditching it but quickly shook the idea off. Without a weapon she'd be gone before the fight even started.
She lifted the sword above her head and lunged towards Giriko—but too late saw her mistake. The weight threw her off and when she missed, Giriko had easy access.
His axe broke through her arm, snapping the bone like a wet toothpick.
Maka screamed in pain, collapsing to the blood soaked sand. The pain was excruciating, like nothing she'd ever felt before in her life. With shaky fingers, she reached out and clutched her detached arm, connected only by skin and taught sinew.
"Maka!" Soul's shrieks registered faintly in her muffled mind. The tears drained from her cheeks, and almost instinctively she looked up just as Giriko was raising his ax above his head to strike.
"Maka!"
The axe was blown from Giriko's fingers and suddenly Soul was beside her, crouching down in the sand painted red. Without warning, he grabbed her arm with one hand, her shoulder with the other, and pulled the limb free. Maka screeched at the loss, an unholy sound that heightened the bloodthirsty cheers around them. Soul's bloodied fingers clasped her sweat-coated cheeks, stopping her when she would have reached for her arm. "Look at me," he told her firmly. "Maka, look at me."
She did, his appearance blurry through her tears. "You have to focus," Soul told her, his thumb brushing her cheek. "You have to help me."
She nodded.
The bell tolled. "GLADIATORS JOIN!"
Soul instantly vanished in a plume of black magic and joined Maka. The smoke materialized from her ragged stump and grew into an arm. She clenched it and breathed deeply. The sword appeared next.
You okay? Soul asked, his warm voice a familiar comfort in her head.
"Yes," she breathed, testing out her new arm. She breathed deeply. "I can do it."
Maka!
Maka looked up to see Giriko's ax swing down towards her. She rolled out of the way, the mystic metal creating a deep crevasse where she'd just stood. Her eyes darted up to Giriko's. "Eyes on me, sweetheart," he chided.
Maka darted back, swinging her swords around her before steadying them in a single defensive stance.
"Give up, love," Giriko tried. "You know you can't beat me."
"Do I?" Maka asked, arching an eyebrow. "Because we've been fighting for an awful long time and I'm still standing."
Giriko's easy smile faltered at that and he just glared. "Fine. I gave you an out, but if you're so eager for death then you got it." He swung at her and then they were fighting.
Their blades bounced off each other as they fought in tight circles, their footwork precise and their movements like dancers. But the fight wasn't even. It was obvious that Maka had the upper hand since, though weaker, she was much faster, and her technique more polished.
Giriko's frustrations soon showed on his face and his blows grew choppy, less deliberate and more rage-induced. His hands came together for an overhead blow and Maka saw her chance; dodging the powerful strike easily, she kicked him in the jaw with her foot and watched him fly backwards.
She was on him an instant later, her sandal planted on his chest and her scythe blades crossed at his neck. "Surrender," she seethed through gritted teeth, panted as the sweat beaded on her forehead.
"Never," Giriko grated.
"I will kill you," Maka snapped, stomping her foot down when he struggled beneath her. "Don't think I won't."
He spat in her face.
Maka, do it. Soul's voice was calm and final in her mind.
"Fine," she grated, teeth clenched. Here scythes crossed, slicing through his neck easily.
The battle was over.
….
The dust settled in the ring as the body lay dead, blood cooling. Not far from it, Wes lay just as silent, just as cold. She felt within her breast the ache Soul experienced at the loss, but it was a distant pain, one soothed by years of distance and disagreement.
She breathed deeply, shoulders rising and falling as the exhaustion caught up with her. Was it finally over? Had they finally done it?
"NO!" The furious roar was sudden and invasive, echoing like thunder around the ring. All eyes snapped to the source, to Tobias, as he stood from his bedazzled throne in a red-faced rage. His fingers were clenched into meaty fists as he towered above. "I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS!" he yelled, the whites of his eyes seen from all corners of the colosseum.
Guards emerged suddenly from the gates around the ring, armed and masked as they marched forward. Wary, Maka took a defensive stance, eyes moving from the guards to Tobias in confusion. "What's going on?" she whispered.
Be ready to fight, Soul replied, sounding grim. I don't think he appreciates the loss.
And, as if to prove his words, Tobias' screams erupted one last time. "KILL HER! I WANT THEM DEAD! KILL HER!"
Murmurs of confusion could be heard from the crowd as the metal-clad men stomped towards Maka, their armour clanging with each marching step. They picked up speed until they were running, their guttural shouts ringing as they all raised their weapons.
Maka clenched her fists around her blades, and braced herself as best she could.
She traded blows with her first opponent, who went down easily enough beneath the superior strength of her magically enforced weapons. A bone broke beneath her foot as she kicked the felled body away, the ribs incomparable to her strength.
You're getting tired, Soul cautioned, his words soft.
"I got this," Maka grated in return, wincing as claws raked down her back unexpectedly, tearing through the leather. She whirled around and caught the perpetrator in his skull with the heel of her sandal. "I'm fine," she panted, wiping the sweat from her forehead before it could drip into her eyes.
Maka!
Maka looked up as Tobias himself stomped towards her, his hands already gathering magic. He threw it from his palm with a roar; it connected with her chest and threw her across the field with dizzying force.
Her back hit the rusted steel walls of the ring, thankfully avoiding the lethal spikes that lined it. She coughed, pushing herself up off the ground, only to fall back on her rear in the dust.
"GET UP!" Tobias roared, hand shooting out towards her. He constricted his hand, and she felt the invisible force like a vice around her neck. She was lifted from the ground then, and though she fought the unseen grip, slicing it with her scythes and kicking out, her efforts proved fruitless. "I SAID GET UP!"
The power forced her against the wall behind her, holding her there as Tobias walked towards her. "I hate you," he said. "I hated your father, I hated your whore of a mother. You should all just DIE!"
Though the pressure around her neck increased, Maka choked out, "My mother?"
"She was my favourite concubine, and decided to run off with that scumbag father of yours. As soon as she came back for her things I ordered her killed. Spirit, though, didn't seem too put out about it, so I killed his precious wisp for good measure." He was waddling closer, the luxurious fabric of his robe dragging in the dirt as he grew closer. She could feel Soul fighting within her, to take over, to push her free.
Fuck! I can't move you, he grated in her mind. He's restricting me too.
The black magic soaked through him in his anger, and Maka sensed it creeping through her mind, lapping at her with its toxic tendrils. Soul pulled it back, but it remained, steadily increasing in power the closer Tobias came.
"When finally I had him where I wanted him, put in his place, you showed up. He started paying his bills, stopped gambling, stopped drinking, stopped whoring around." She was pushed harder into the wall; her leather armour protested loudly. "Then, to make everything worse, you joined my tournament with a wisp with black magic."
Maka coughed, her eyes watering. The air had completely left her lungs.
"Now," Tobias panted, white-eyed and crazed, the veins of his neck protruding, "you die."
He raised his free hand, collected power within his palm, and aimed.
"Not today, fatass!" A dagger wizzed by suddenly, slicing Tobias's hand mid-dair. He shrieked aloud in rage, clutching his wounded arm. Maka fell from his grip to the ground, clutching her throat and wheezing. Eyes rising she saw a flash of blue, charging a nearby guard with a kick to the head.
"Are you alright?"
Maka looked up further to find Tsubaki standing over her, throwing knives in her palm. With her spare hand, she clutched Maka's shoulder. Barely managing a nod, Maka allowed Tsubaki to lift her up.
"Soul?" she asked.
M'fine, he replied, just a bit of trouble with the black magic.
"Kiss this, terrorist fiends!" someone, presumably Pattie, shouted nearby—blasting guards with her guns.
"Everyone's here," Tsubaki told her, somewhat grimly, as she watched her father glare back at her. "We expected something like this to happen."
"Tsubaki, what the hell are you doing?" Tobias yelled.
"What's right." Though the tears rained down her face, Maka noted that Tsubaki stood firm and unrelenting, facing her father with no slouch in her posture nor indecision in her eyes.
Tobias seethed, baring his yellowed teeth. "Then you will die with them. GUARDS!"
More guards, clothed in armour, poured out of the gates. Once in line, they pointed their weapons towards Maka and Tsubaki.
Shots fired from behind them, just over their hands, embedding into the faces of the guards. A moment later, Kid zoomed in front of them, balanced on his hoverboard, twin pistols in hand. He turned to Maka, grinning. "I'd say you've done enough for one day, how about leaving the rest to us?"
Maka smiled weakly at him. "Thanks."
Liz appeared next, her own gun in hand and propped against her shoulder. "Don't worry about it Maka. We got these losers covered. You rest up and take it easy."
And for a moment, Maka believed her. The gunshots rang like firecrackers around them, but guards were retreating, lessening in number as they fell dead to the ground. Her body relaxed before she could stop it. For a second she believed it was over.
Then she saw Tobias.
The magic swarmed around him in an angry small storm, and for some reason no one else seemed to notice it. Pattie had even begun to celebrate, dancing in a circle even as the magic rose to dangerous levels.
"Why can't they see it?" Maka asked, knowing Soul saw what she did.
They don't have the level of magic we have, Soul said, sounding strained.
She noticed his pain immediately. "Soul? What's wrong?"
The black magic is reacting to it… I can't… Maka I… Just as Tobias's magic erupted, bursting from him in a wild torrent, Soul's did the same.
It came all at once, powerful and sudden, pushing through her with inky darkness to clutch her limbs and encompass her being. The black magic coursed through her, free and without reins.
And it felt good.
Unbelievably good.
The world around her seemed to slow as Maka lifted her head to her opponent, saw Tobias shaking with energy, his hand raised—poised to strike. "TODAY," he roared, the people around him finally starting to notice the power he wielded. "TODAY YOU DIE!"
The shot blasted from both his hands, bursting at her in a giant blue mass of energy. It sizzled as it neared, and Maka felt her hair raise from the static. She dodged, diving out of the way in time to save all but the tips of her sandals.
Maka rolled to her feet and collected the magical weapons in her hands, now completely black. She leapt towards Tobias, crashing through the meager shield he put up—no obstacle for the explosive power rushing through her.
With her feet, she pushed him into the red sand. She pulled back her arms and dug the black blades into the softness of his belly. They sunk deep, blood spurting.
"No, today you die," she hissed.
He spat red in her face, glaring up at her from beneath his thick brows. "We both do," he said, and his fingers twitched beside him, lifting and curling slightly in a beckoning motion. The grin on his face was manic, teeth stained with blood.
Maka!
She turned, just in time to see the great ball of blue energy, the same one she'd dodged earlier with such success, bounding towards her. She went to push herself up, but slipped, sticky hands clamped around her arms. When she turned down it was to see that same crazed grin on his face. "Time to die," he wheezed, fat fingers squeezing her flesh harder.
MAKA!
She felt Soul beginning to separate, probably to try and pull her free, but it was too late, the blast hit her full force in the back, launching her into the air. Maka landed several feet away, immobile.
She knew, almost instantly, that the blow was fatal. Soul separated from her, his magic leaving her. The arm that had been cut off was once again absent, the stub bleeding like a dying fountain around her. She was collected up into arms and rolled onto her back. They were surprisingly warm, she thought vaguely, eyelids heavy.
Or maybe she was just cold.
"Maka! Maka!" A hand slapped her face gently, but her head merely lolled back against his chest. Her eyes closed.
The golden binding bracelet slid off her wrist and into a pool of her blood.
Maka's heart had stopped beating.
….
In a way, she knew she'd died. Air did not enter her body, and the blood had slowed to a standstill in her veins, yet still she was present. Her eyes watched blankly from the cold corpse of her own body, as her friends fell to their knees around her.
There was no bright light, as she'd heard prophets explain, no greater calling. She merely watched from blank eyes as the bracelet fell from her wrist, then from Soul's.
She heard his inhuman screams, and his cries of rage and sorrow. It would have broken her had she been whole. Soul trembled as she watched, shaking with her dormant body clutched like a lifeline in his arms.
As she watched, his skin grew paler, more translucent. He began to glow—an ethereal light that shone from his skin.
He was once again a wisp.
Tsubaki neared him, hand outstretched. Tears shimmered in her eyes, as she hesitantly spoke. "Soul—"
He jolted back when her head brushed his shoulder, taking Maka with him. "Don't touch me!" he spat, pushing away. "You filthy fucking human." A tear ran down his cheek.
Maka felt detached from the scene, and in the deepest part of her she knew it must be him that still kept her tethered to life. The urge to reach over and touch him was a strong one, but no matter how hard she tried, her limbs remained still.
"Soul, give her to me!" It was Kid's voice. "Soul, Liz can help her, but you have to hand her over."
"Don't fucking touch her! I hate you all, you miserable pieces of ungrateful filth!" He spat each word with complete and utter loathing.
"Well, someone needs a timeout," Blackstar said from somewhere nearby, directly before she was ripped from her former partner's arms.
Soul lashed out, lunging for her, but he was promptly punched in the face by Blackstar, who had since passed her off to Kid.
"Quickly, place her on the ground!" Liz came into view, hovering above her as she rubbed her hands together quickly. Between them static sparked. She pulled them apart, sizzling electricity sparking from her palms, before slapping them down onto Maka's chest.
The shock was all encompassing, charging every molecule in her body and shaking her limbs. She jolted, once, twice.
Then Maka woke, gasping for breath as life returned to her.
"Maka!?" Soul shoved aside Blackstar and Liz as he scrambled towards her. Before she could fully register what was happening, or notice the relieved grins of her new friends, she was collected up into his familiar arms and hugged tightly. He was careful to avoid her bleeding arm, which Tsubaki had moved in to bind hastily. The pain had numbed somewhat.
"Soul," she breathed. "You're a wisp again." Her heart ached at the knowledge. He didn't seem to hear her for a long time, content to simply hold her in his arms. The blood that still drained from her stump soaking down his side.
When Soul finally pulled away, as if her words had finally registered, he seemed disoriented, eyes wild and bemused as he examined her face. Then, with an aching slowness that Maka felt like a blade in her chest, he looked down at his transparent hand. At first, she could see only confusion in his expression, but then his gaze returned to hers, and she saw the uncertainty.
He was torn. And it killed her.
Before Maka could say anything, she was brought close again, hugged tightly in his warm embrace. She had the urge to speak, perhaps to comfort the trembling man-turned-wisp, or the people who had helped her survive the past week, but whatever she might have said was cut off.
By a rain drop—a fat glob of water smacking down onto her nose. She was so shocked that any form of thought froze completely.
Kid grinned when she looked at him helplessly for an explanation, raising a hand to the sky. "The drought is over."
"What do you mean?"
"The last fifty years, Tobias has been making this planet go through a drought. He did it so people would get behind his idea for a bigger tournament—when he died, his hold on the weather died with him."
Maka blinked stupidly. "So that means…"
Soul answered for her, a mumbled sentence against her neck. "No more fighting."
…..
That night, after all the politics of winning a tournament whilst subsequently killing the founder were dealt with, Soul and Maka wandered back to her father's shack. They collapsed together in her bed, and Soul pulled Maka close. His leg flopped over hers, and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
He didn't let her go once that entire night.