Her: 13
Graduation is coming up fast. It's all Maka thinks about anymore. She's made sure of that. She fills every second of her day with presidential duties, and when that doesn't work she finds someone and has them distract her. At first, Kid is more than obliging, as he always has some detail about graduation to nip-pick about. She usually ignored the more eccentric side of his personality, but given the current need for distractions, she welcomes every complaint.
"There are only two hundred balloons," Kid frets one afternoon. "Why are there two hundred?" His eyes stray from the order details to Maka's blank face.
"That's what we agreed on ordering," Maka replies. "It fit the budget."
"We should have ordered eight hundred. Eight is a nice, symmetrical number."
"We already paid for everything. There's nothing left in the budget for more balloons." Maka resists the desire to beat her vice-president over the head.
These sort of distractions work great for a few days, until Liz realizes why Maka wants distractions. After that, Patty runs interference every afternoon. She becomes so demanding of Kid's time that Maka can't even talk to him about actual planning that is actually necessary. The sisters show no sympathy towards Maka's frustration, and Kid is too caught up with organizing the confetti by color to realize what is really going on.
In the end, Maka is forced to spend her time back at Stein's home. She does homework and reads and helps clean, but it's not enough. Her nerves are jittery. She's often alone in the house and has too much time to just think; it's tearing her apart. All her thoughts are jumbled and she isn't sure what to make of anything anymore. It's always the same thoughts too.
Soul was released from the hospital two days ago.
Soul almost died because of her.
Because of her negligence, they were almost killed by some mentally-unstable teen with multiple personalities.
She's still not sure what in Death's name happened there.
It was madness, at the time. As soon as Soul was bleeding on the floor, the attacker had backed off, crying in their own form of terror. They had clutched their head, wailing like a siren. The bloody knife fell forgotten on the floor. Crona had screamed and collapsed as if in pain. By that point, Maka was on the verge of a breakdown, trying to manage getting out her phone. Everything was kind of blurry. Everything was a mess. Stein showed up, along with her father and Medusa. She's not really sure how they got there so fast, or why all three were together. At the time, it hadn't mattered. All Maka cared about was the blood pouring out of Soul's chest.
He lived though. Thanks to Stein's quick thinking.
The thought of Soul dying, especially because of her, makes Maka sick. She doesn't understand how this happened. She doesn't understand why it always seemed to happen to her. No matter how hard she tries, things just seem to get worse. And now Soul has suffered for it. Hell, he nearly paid the ultimate price just for being near her.
She can't let this keep happening.
She's been avoiding him. Well, at least, she tries to. It's hard to completely avoid Soul when she knows it's all her fault. So she only visited him when he was sleeping in the hospital, just to make sure he was recovering well. Now that he's released though, she cannot afford to see him at all. What if she makes it worse? What if just being around her is enough to finish him off? She cannot take that risk.
Her friends don't see it that way. She knows they could never really understand.
There is a ring of the doorbell. It stops Maka from falling even deeper into a fit of guilt. Her conscious back in reality, Maka wonders if she actually heard anything. There is a long pause. She's the only one in the house today, so if there is someone at the door, she wouldn't know who it should be. Maka isn't expecting anyone. Marie would have told her if she was. Stein never gets visitors, at least, not of their own free will. There shouldn't be anyone at the door.
The doorbell rings again, letting her know that there really is someone there. She isn't sure what to do. Should she answer? Really, there was no reason she should not. If it is for Marie or Stein, she can tell them to come back later.
Maka fumbles to the door. She adjusts her sweatshirt out of mere idleness, then looks through the peephole. A woman in a long skirt and tan shirt is on the other side. A strip of long black hair dangles behind her. Maka opens the door upon recognition.
"Tsubaki," Maka says with surprise but delight. She does not see the other often, given that Tsubaki is two years older. "It's been a while. Do you want to come in?"
The elder woman blushes a bit with her usual sweet smile. "Hello, Maka. I'm sorry to just pop up like this, but I was hoping you would join me for a little shopping?"
"Shopping? Like, right now? It's late for that, isn't it?"
"Oh, then dinner. Have you eaten? Let's do that then."
"T-tsubaki? Wait." Maka is forced to step aside as the other comes through the front hall. Tsubaki doesn't move any further, however, and Maka realizes she is waiting for her friend to get on shoes. "Alright, okay. Let me grab my jacket too." It's a little daunting how much that sweet smile looks sinister, but Maka doesn't dwell on it.
The two women leave in Tsubaki's car. It's a little thing, but it's reliable and the seats are comfy. The driver doesn't tell Maka where they're going, and the passenger is a little too put off to ask Tsubaki about it. Instead, they both just sit in silence. The car ride is fast. Maka watches out the window, realizing that she's not familiar with this part of town. Yet, there is still something about the buildings that catches her attention, like a faint memory. Tsubaki stops in a parking complex.
"What restaurant are we going to again?" Maka tries as she gets out. The reality is that there are no real restaurants anywhere near them. It's all residential. Excluding the random sketchy pizza shop four blocks down. Maka is well aware of this reality.
Tsubaki is adamant in ignoring the question, as well as Maka's face. Instead, the woman leads her friend down a familiar street. Maka can't place how she knows it, but she does. Then her eyes spot the apartment complex. Soul's apartment complex. It's ridiculous how long it takes her brain to comprehend what is happening.
Maka turns, ready to run. What stops her, however, is a muscled arm trapping her in a head lock. She struggles, even contemplates biting, but the arm is resilient. The man attached to it, even more so. It seems the more she fights, the harder he pulls.
"Not so fast, Bookworm," Black*Star bellows right in her ear. She considers screaming back, but it would only encourage him. "Time to face up."
A feeble, defiant No is all she is able to hiss out in this position. However, it is no less fearsome than any other time she's been stubborn. Her rejection is undeniable.
Black*Star cackles back at her. "What was that? I can't hear you." He shifts his grip on her, like they're in some wrestling match in the middle of the street. Maka tries to use this to her advantage by stepping on his foot with her combat boot and twisting out. It works, but she doesn't run because Black*Star is faster than her. He's just as trained in judo and other martial arts as her. Honestly, the only way she ever wins in their fights is when she manages to out think him.
They square off in moments. Neither moves and instead they just stare each other down. Maka notes that the strange dilation of Black*Star's pupil is absent, which means he isn't outright furious with her. At least, not yet. She focuses on his feet, tell-all signs for what he wanted to do next. In the background, Maka thinks she hears Tsubaki sigh.
There is the slap of sneakers on pavement, and it confuses Maka because she's still looking at Black*Star's feet. He hasn't moved. Her body tenses anyway. Her brain reasons that it's an outsider, that she should ignore it. She does. The world is blocked out. Her senses narrow. Her entire being focuses on Black*Star.
Said opponent lunges forward. His hands are out, like he's going to make a grab for Maka's torso. Or maybe her arms. Her reaction speed saves her from ever knowing which, as Maka tumbles to his left and stands up just as fast. Black*Star doesn't look surprised at her escape tactic. They both know that this is just a warm-up.
Maka takes a few quick side-steps as Black*Star attempts more grabs. The goal at this point is to stay out of Black*Star's range. If she can do that, then all Maka has to do is wait for an opening or mistake and then run like hell. A stupid plan, in the grand scheme of things, but the only one feasible. There's no way she can beat him into submission. When in the zone, Black*Star thrives in close-range combat.
She steps back towards the apartment complex, her front still facing Black*Star. For a moment, Maka ponders a fake-out. She could act as though she would go towards Soul's home and then jolt down an ally instead. She's far more nimble than Black*Star. It could work, if the confusion stumps him long enough.
Maka twists like she plans to run to the street. Black*Star follows the movement, much to her delight, and Maka takes that mistake to run towards the apartment complex. In order to do so though, she has to pull a complete one-eighty. This is where things fall apart. Drastically.
As soon as Maka turns, not even two steps into her escape, she hits a wall. It's made of flesh, covered in a shirt, and smells like leather and musk. But a wall none the less.
The wall can talk, it seems, as the thing lets out a grunt. It also appears to have appendages, because they grab onto her and keep Maka from collapsing to the concrete on impact. They are warm. They are strong. They are sure. The appendages remind her of another time where she was grabbed and held and kept safe.
"Soul," Maka chokes out. She's shocked more than anything. The adrenaline is still rushing though her. "Soul." She doesn't notice her hands cling to his shirt.
Soul grunts again, arms adjusting to hold her better against him. He sends a glance at Maka and Black*Star in turn, looking both annoyed and humored by their antics. "I seriously can't leave you two alone. Are you actually playing extreme tag in the street? I'm starting to think that you both feed on each other's crazy. So uncool."
Black*Star looks sheepish. Over the blood in her ears, Maka can hear Tsubaki sigh.