Lesson 14: It's never a good idea to fight a ghost.

Soul twitches as his mother pricks him with her needle as she finishes hemming his costume.

She frowns, tugging on his costume. "Hold still."

"That would be easier to do if you weren't stabbing me."

"You're as dramatic as your father," she says as she finishes, leaning back on her stool.

"I am not." His father's voice comes from where he sits in the living room, reading the newspaper before he goes to work. "My range for emotions is just higher than most other people."

His mother rolls her eyes as she gestures Soul to come down from the dining chair she had him standing on. "That's also where you get your humor."

"I see no problem with that," he says as he steps down, making her roll her eyes again. He goes off to the bathroom to check his reflection, pleased to see Palecat staring back at him in the mirror.

Or as close as he can get to Palecat anyways.

He adjusts his red hat so that it hides most of his hair, although a few white wisps still escape, and straightens the green shawl covering the tunic that is the exact shade of Palecat's actual tunic. Then he goes into the storage closet next to the garage, retrieving the plastic sword his mother bought him in fifth grade, and goes back to the kitchen, where both of his parents now are.

"Ta da." He strikes a pose with his sword. "What do you think?"

His father pushes up his glasses. "A little surprised you're still dressing up for HarvFest actu-" He breaks off as his mother elbows him in the ribs. "Your costume looks better than it came out the first time you dressed up. I can barely tell the sword is fake."

He lets the sword drop to his side, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "Thanks."

"You look great," his mother says, reaching out to move his hat and undo the work he just did.

Scowling, he dodges her hand. "I'm not a kid, Mom."

"You're certainly an adult acting like one, though," she says, pushing his hat back so more of his face shows. "You're lucky I still had Grandma Evans' old sewing kit."

"Right." After the week he's had, he doesn't need to add on his unresolved grief regarding his grandmother. "Thanks."

"We aren't going to be home until morning since we're helping the store with HarvFest," his father says. "But you're welcome to drop by, if you remember you have parents."

"Maybe I'll put a reminder on my phone," he answers dryly. "Why is a corporation like Gorgon Mart celebrating a tiny town's founding festival anyways?"

His mother sounds surprised. "The Gorgon sisters were born not too far from here," she says. "Didn't you know that?"

"I am not that well-versed in local history."

"We'll have to change that, now that you're back," his father says, searching for something in the kitchen drawers. "Maybe go to the museum or historical society sometime."

"Sounds like a thrilling adventure." He's not used to having so much of his parents' attention, especially at the same time. "Isn't Wes supposed to be home by now?"

"He's spending the weekend with a few friends in the city," his mother replies, putting on the putrid yellow vest that Gorgon Mart makes their employees wear. "He probably won't be back until Monday."

"Can we afford that?" The question escapes from his mouth before he can think better of it.

A silence fills the kitchen as his parents look at each other.

"Of course, we can," says his father after another moment. "What would give you the idea that we can't?"

He is intensely uncomfortable as he shifts from one foot to another, not meeting either of his parents' eyes. "Well, I know you have to pay for fall semester, even though I didn't spend much time being enrolled," he mumbles, fixing his gaze on the floor tile in front of him. "And Wes had to drop out to do your job while you had to get second jobs."

"That doesn't mean we can't afford to live," his father says. "Just because we've had to buckle down so much."

The words leak out of him unintentionally. "Doesn't seem that way to me."

His mother puts her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look up, although he focuses his gaze on the space above her shoulder. "Wes is going to be able to go back to school in about a year," she says in a gentle voice that makes him want to melt underneath the kitchen floor. "And we'll be able to go back to our old jobs."

He blinks, eyes flicking to her and then to his father. "Really?"

"Yes." His father nods. "Didn't you know that?"

Soul shakes his head.

"Now, you do," his mother tells him. "Does that help?"

"The mall isn't doing that good," he says instead of answering her question.

"It's not," she agrees. "But we can deal with that bridge when we get there."

His father draws closer to him now, awkwardly putting a hand on Soul's shoulder, but attempting to be comforting all the same. "We'll survive because that's what families do," he says. "Even if we have to let all of your mother's flowers die."

She slaps his arm. "Not all of them."

Soul lets himself relax in their touch for a moment, and then he shrugs away, stepping back. "Well, that was very touching," he says, getting a firmer grip on his sword. "But it's getting late."

"Be safe." His mother attempts to fix his hat one last time.

"I will."

"And make sure to tell us when you get home," says his father as he goes back to searching through the kitchen drawers.

"I will," he repeats as he treks through the living room to the front door.

"And make sure to wear your helmet when you're riding your bike," his mother calls as he opens the door.

"I will!"

Night has thoroughly settled in by the time Soul bikes into town. The streets are even more deserted than usual, although in the distance, he can hear the music coming from Market Street.

Soul lets himself coast to a stop when he gets to the beginning of Market Street, securing his bike to a streetlight using the lock Kid lent him. Dozens of cars clog the streets surrounding Market Street; the only time people from neighboring towns come to visit Shibunsen Springs is HarvFest. Ahead of him are large, orange and white poles standing on either side of the street, newly constructed and holding the huge banner that has Shibunsen Springs' 209th HarvFest written on it in white block letters against an orange background.

Lantern lights of varying colors flood the street, tinting the world in a technicolor hue. Soul feels distinctly unlike himself as he pulls his hat low to hide his face, and enters the crowd of people walking up and down the street.

But it's a good thing, he decides, as he ambles lazily down the street. No one recognizes him, and a few children even compliment his costume, or ask if his sword is real. All of the stores on Market Street have their lights on, doors thrown open while employees standing in front of the store, encouraging passerby to come inside to enjoy whatever activity they've planned for HarvFest. The festival's main attraction, a makeshift amusement park and maze sitting in the center of Market Street, attracts the most people, while stations for different games and treats line the street around it.

Eventually, he makes his way to Bid-n-Vid, where Black Star has set up an ice cream stand outside of the store, while Kid collects tickets from the people entering the store, mostly children and their parents. They both wear matching hats in honor of founders John and Steven.

He comes to a stop next to the ice cream stand, where Black Star is arguing with a furious twelve year old boy. "I saw you take that coupon from her," he says, pointing a little girl standing off to the side, looking absolutely petrified. "You're not getting an ice cream."

"Fine," the boy spits, throwing down the coupon on the counter. "I still have this one I won from a booth."

Black Star points to the "Right to Refuse Service" sign hanging on one of the tent poles of the stand. "Read the sign, kid."

The boy throws him a dark look before stalking away. "Whatever."

"Jerk." Black Star turns his attention to the little girl. "Do you still want an ice cream?"

Her eyes widen when he addresses her, but she nods.

"My little sister like vanilla with sprinkles best," Black Star says. "Do you?"

"I like sprinkles, but with chocolate," the little girl answers, taking a timid step towards the counter. She eyes his hair with apparent curiosity.

"Coming right up." Black Star scoops the ice cream onto the cone quickly, giving it a copious handful of rainbow colored sprinkles before holding it out the little girl.

"Thank you." The girl accepts the cone with a timid smile. "I like your hair, by the way."

"Thanks, me too, kid." Black Star waves at the little girl as she heads to the Bid-n-Vid.

"Wow," Soul remarks, drifting over to the counter. "You're pretty good with kids."

"To the ones that aren't assholes, anyways," Black Star responds. "Besides, I have to be, since Kid and I want a family one day."

Soul blinks in shock. "You want a family already?"

"One day," Black Star corrects.

"What's one day?" asks Kid as he comes up to the stand.

Black Star flushes. "Nothing."

Oddly, Kid doesn't question him any further, only raising an eyebrow. "We're going to be starting the movie soon, so I think that's it for ice cream right now."

"Fine," he says shortly. "I'll be right there."

"Got it." Kid gives Soul a nod before he disappears back to the store.

He turns to Black Star as soon as Kid is out of earshot. "What was that about?"

"That's the way he always acts when he comes back from family visits." Black Star shrugs, like he's not hurt, but the truth reads plainly on his face. "He goes away from himself for a little while."

For the first time, Soul thinks he understands Kid a little bit. "That can't be fun."

"No." Black Star flips the open sign hanging on the tent pole to closed. "But I've learned the best thing is to wait for him to come back."

His answer surprises Soul. "That's kind," he says as Black Star pulls the tent curtain closed and emerges from the tent. "Most people aren't that patient."

"I love him," he says with another shrug, but the expression on his face seems a little lighter. He gestures to the Bid-n-Vid. "Do you want to watch the movie with us?"

"As much as I'd love to watch Forrest Gump to see that one extra from here, I think I'll pass," he says. "Besides, I haven't visited Maka yet."

"Because a cheesy play of Shibunsen Springs' founding is so much more thrilling," Black Star retorts with a knowing look. "Make sure to tell Maka to dim the lights before the showing, and not during it."

Soul tips him a salute as he heads towards Scythe'n'Saw. "Thank you, director."

However, when he gets to the shop, the door is closed, but the lights are on. When he tilts his ear to the door, he can hear voices arguing behind it.

There are some people waiting outside of the shop, mostly young families who are hopefully in need of tools and repair services. Or at least, that's what Maka had told Soul she hoped for when she texted him yesterday.

He clears his throat when it looks like a few families are on the verge of leaving. "Er, I'm friends with the store owner," he says, trying for a confident voice and failing horribly. "I'm sure she'll be opening the shop soon."

As soon as he finishes speaking, the door opens. "See," he says, turning to face Maka. "I-"

His words break off as he makes eye contact with Spirit Albarn.

Like the rest of the town, his appearance has changed for the worse: unkempt red hair shot through with silver, sallow skin, and a scraggly beard that ages him by ten years. Soul wouldn't have recognized him if it wasn't for his eyes, identical to Maka's.

Spirit doesn't say anything as he all but pushes Soul to the side, although there is a glimmer of recognition in his eyes as he passes.

Soul is completely speechless, for once. Alcohol would explain the change in Spirit, but he didn't smell any on his breath when Spirit crashed into him. Before he can think about it anymore or address the confused crowd, a hand pulls him into the shop, pushing the door closed behind him.

Maka's face is pale underneath her witch's hat, and her eyes sparkle oddly in the bright light of the store, but her expression is drawn in a fierce determination.

"Okay, long story short, I'm in a bit of a crisis," she says, words coming in a rush, though her voice is steady. She's still holding his hand in a tight grip as she continues. "And I don't have anyone else who can help."

He understands the question, even if she doesn't say it. "What do you need?"

Exactly six minutes later, Soul throws open the door to the Scythe'n'Saw, announcing to the people still waiting in a loud voice, "Come one, come all to the Scythe'n'Saw's play of the founding of Shibunsen Springs!"

He ushers the people in with a flourish of his hand. For the next ten minutes, he calls out to people passing by, inviting them in, while firmly crushing the part of him who abhors public speaking and interacting with strangers. Still, when Maka touches his hand to pull him back in the store, he breathes a heavy sigh of relief.

"Don't forget that you only come out onstage when I give the signal," she says as she walks with him to the back. She pauses when they get to the back door, looking at his face. "Tell me, what's the signal again?"

"When you throw the purple glitter in the air."

"Good." Maka pushes a wisp of hair that's come free of its pin. She reaches out to squeeze Soul's hand suddenly when he turns to go. "Thank you."

She's already let go of his hand, otherwise he would have squeezed back. Instead, he simply says, "Of course."

In the back, he changes quickly, putting his hat on a half-empty rack and pulling his shawl over his head. He replaces it with a vest made of faux fur, and jams a beaver hat onto his head.

He emerges from the back just as Maka is settling the crowd, who sit in plastic chairs in the center of the store that she cleared out earlier. Trying to be discreet, he crouches low beneath the counter, which has been draped in a cloth with a very abstract-looking forest painted on it. On the corner of the counter, where a toolbox usually sits, is a paper-mache tree and an ornate bowl of water that stands for the spring their town was named for.

Soul can't see anything from where he's at, but the buzz of the crowd hushes and he assumes Maka has done something to get the people's full attention. Then, the lights in the store go out and the spotlight Maka borrowed from Kid turns on, illuminating the counter, and the silence of the crowd becomes even more expectant.

"Thank you for coming to the Scythe'n'Saw's fifteenth annual play of Shibunsen Springs' founding." Maka has produced a microphone from nowhere, her voice amplified by a speaker he can't see. "My name is Maka Albarn and I will be your narrator this evening." Her voice is smooth, and she doesn't stumble through her introduction, but he can hear the nervousness underlying her words. "We hope you enjoy the show."

There is a pause as the crowd claps politely, and then Soul pushes a button on the boombox sitting next to him. A folksy sort of tune fills the air as Maka steps onto the counter and begins to speak.

"The year was 1810," she says, deepening her voice in an effort to sound ageless. "And the country was little more than wild forest, roaring rivers, and sprawling grasslands. It was a dangerous place for people to live, but a haven for the animals who called the area home."

At her words, the beaver puppets Soul barely shoved his hands into in time appear above the counter. He has no idea how beavers move or behave, so he does his best without being able to see what he's actually doing, crawling on his knees as he moves the puppets across the makeshift stage. There are a few giggles from what he thinks are little kids, but they don't sound mocking, so he continues as he is until he reaches the end of the counter with the spring on it.

"In this place was a spring with water so pure, it was said that the water could cure anyone of anything, even someone on the verge of death," she continues once the beavers disappear back underneath the counter. Her voice goes quiet as she takes on a spooky tone. "However, it was also said that the spring belonged to a very possessive witch."

Here, Soul pushes another button on the boombox, and the music is replaced by the shrieking laugh of a witch.

The silence of the crowd is rapt as Maka speaks again. "Most people heeded the warnings, but there were a pair of fur trappers who were too tempted by the scores of beavers living in that part of the woods, and so ignored tales of the witch to hunt the beavers and make themselves rich."

Underneath the counter, Soul readies himself, holding tight to the scarecrow that would act as Founder Steve, and the canvas sack filled with feathers.

"And their names were-"

A spray of purple glitter arcs above the counter, and he hauls himself onto the counter in one leap. The crowd lets out a gasp, along with several oohs, as he sticks the landing. "John," he announces in a loud voice, balancing the scarecrow with one hand.

"And Steven," says Maka in a raspy voice, speaking for the scarecrow. She stands on the edge of the counter where the register generally is, a flashlight to her face as she holds the microphone in her other hand.

With a smile that he hopes doesn't appear too pasted on, Soul tries to make it look like he isn't dragging the scarecrow beside him as they trek in slow motion across the counter.

"The trappers traveled for many miles, hunting and bagging over three hundred beaver pelts," says Maka in her narrator voice as Soul pulls out the sack he had been hiding behind the scarecrow. "After many weeks, they ran out of supplies, and soon became very hungry and thirsty. They were on the verge of dying when one day-"

"Look brother," Soul says loudly to the scarecrow, struggling to remember the script Maka gave him twenty minutes ago. "A spring!"

"We're saved," says Maka in her Founder Steve voice. "Huzzah!"

Soul collapses dramatically to his knees by the bowl of water, awkwardly bringing the scarecrow with him, who simply lays flat on the ground. In a fit of inspiration, he dunks his head in the bowl, making sure to hold onto his beaver hat. Laughter ripples through the crowd as he surfaces. "It's the magic spring the others told us about, brother."

"And so it was," Maka says into the microphone, appearing to briefly struggle with regaining her narrator voice. "But just as the pair thought they were saved, disaster struck."

Indiscreetly, she turns off the spotlight illuminating the stage, and Soul springs into action as she jumps off of the counter, dragging the scarecrow with him across the stage. He counts to five before he turns the light back on, doing his best to appear horrified as Maka stands in front of the spring with her hands raised and fingers splayed.

"It was the witch," Maka thunders, her voice sounding muted without the microphone. "And she was not happy with the brothers."

Adopting a croaky voice, she aims a glare at Soul and Founder Steve. "What are you doing at my spring?"

Soul looks the crowd in the eye as he answers, "Drinking."

There's another wave of laughter as Maka gives him her best witchlike glower. "Without even offering me a crust of bread or one of your beaver pelts?"

"Do you have any money?" asks Soul.

Maka-the-witch raises her hands even higher. "I curse you and your fellow trapper," she says. "And you will die tonight!"

Soul pushes the button for the spotlight with his foot, and the light goes out again as Maka scrambles down and takes up her original position, grabbing the microphone and turning on the spotlight.

"And indeed, the fur trappers did die that night," she intones, back to her narrator voice. "For the witch had cursed the spring!"

Clutching his throat, Soul collapses in slow motion and attempts to appear dead as he throws the scarecrow behind the counter. The, he awkwardly rolls off the counter.

"But things would not end well for the witch either," Maka continues after he disappears from view. "Since her anger awakened the God of the Forest."

Soul pushes the last button of the boombox, and Spirit Albarn's voice echoes through the store. "Witch, you have taken too long at the spring," he booms. "I hereby banish you to wander the night forevermore!"

"With the witch gone, the spirits of John and Steven haunted the spring, cursed to spend the rest of their existence as ghosts," says Maka. "But through their foolish actions, they opened up the land to settlers, and Shibunsen Springs came into existence, and for that they are called the founders of our little town."

With that, she bows with a flourish, and the audience bursts into applause. Soul tries to measure how much of it is genuine as he stands up from beneath the counter, stretching. He's surprised when Maka gestures for him to get back on the counter.

"A special thanks to Founder John, who also serves as our special effects director," she says, holding an outstretched arm to Soul as he stands on the counter. "This play wouldn't have been possible without him."

Soul does a little bob with his head, eager to get back down, especially since his beaver hat fell off when he 'died' and his face is completely visible to the crowd. However, no one in the audience jeers, and he blinks as the applause grows louder.

Maka speaks into the microphone one more time as someone turns the light on. "Thank you for visiting the Scythe'n'Saw, Shibunsen Springs' number one place for home tools and machinery repairs. Please be sure to check out our wares on your way out!"

Pulling the microphone away from her mouth, she makes eye contact with Soul as people start milling the store. Maka's eyes are bright, and her face is glowing as she looks at him. "Thank you."

"I can't believe we pulled that off," Maka says with a slight groan once the last customer leaves the store, kneading her back with her knuckles.

"Neither can I," Soul answers as he picks up trash from the floor, shucking it into the large trash can in the middle of the shop. "I was sure I was going to forget my lines or mess up somehow."

"You've seen that play a million times," she says, starting to count the money in the register. "You helped me practice my lines when I first started narrating after my mom died."

Soul freezes at the mention of Maka's mother, as does she. Her mother was the elephant in the room Maka had forced them all to ignore, even herself, ever since she passed away in a car accident shortly after Maka turned twelve. He can count on one hand the number of times she's willingly brought up Kami Albarn.

"Something died in my dad when she died," she says after a long moment. "Even though they were divorced, he still loved her."

For once, Soul waits.

"It was bad, but it got worse when I graduated," she says, eyes going distant. Her fingers fold and unfold the bill in her hands over and over. "He basically handed the shop over to me, and I couldn't tell him I got into-"

She cuts herself off, swallowing once. "He doesn't try anymore, and I can't even convince him to try to try. I think I saw that clearly tonight."

A part of Soul that hasn't felt anything in a long time begins to ache.

"Anyways," she says with a quick shake of her head. "Thank you for helping, I really appreciate it."

"You don't need to thank me," he says, pausing as he comes to rest in front of the register. He wishes he could reach out to hold her hand like she's done for him before. "And I think," he continues slowly, "if you decide to go down the path you want, it's not a selfish thing. People can only carry other people for so long."

For a second, it looks like she's going to argue with him, but then her shoulders drop and she nods. "Yeah."

Slightly impressed he's retained so much from his sessions with Stein, he turns back to survey the shop, which is mostly put back together, but still needs a lot of work. "So, where do you want to start next?"

"I can tackle the rest on my own," Maka says. "Plus, I need to count up all the money and that's going to take forever."

"So tell me-"

"I also just need to be alone for a while," she interrupts, an apologetic look on her face. "I hope that doesn't sound mean, but tonight's just been a lot."

"And you need to not be a person for a while," he says, ignoring the sting in his chest. "I get it."

"Exactly," she says, a ghost of a smile appearing on her face. She looks down, then glances back up at him. "But you can come by tomorrow, if you want. I can even give you a ride to the party in the mines."

Her eyes widen, and she adds, "If you still want to go, that is. I know-"

"I'd love to go," he breaks in.

"Oh." She blinks. "Okay, good."

"Yeah, good," he echoes. They both stand there for a minute, and then he comes back to his senses. "Anyways, I'll see you later."

"Tomorrow," she says. Her face is suddenly pink, like she's winded, though it's been at least twenty minutes since they finished moving the shelves.

"Yeah, tomorrow," he agrees, heading for the door before he can embarrass himself any further.

At the door, Maka calls, "Bye!" and he looks back to give her a final wave before exiting the shop.

Being in a good mood with nothing bad underlying it feels foreign to Soul. It chafes at him, and there's a part of him that looks for something to ruin his mood, but he cheerfully shoves it away as he heads down Market Street.

The festival ended about an hour ago, and it's incredible how quickly the people and the cars lining the street have drained out, leaving it deserted, aside from himself and a few other people walking on the other side of the road. The shops, once brightly lit, have all gone out like candles. Even the lantern lights illuminating the street don't do much to make it feel less lonely.

Briefly, he considers going to see Black Star and Kid, but he decides to text Black Star instead.

Soul: how did forrest gump go?

Black Star: total success dude! the store was packed :D

Black Star: how about u? how did it go with maka?

Soul: well i had to put on the play with her bc her dad ducked out but i think it went well

Black Star: aw man that sucks for maka :( she told me spirit's been difficult to deal with

Black Star: but its good that you were there for her! im glad everything turned out okay!

Soul: im just happy i didnt fuck anything up

Soul: i also helped her clean up afterwards

Black Star: ooooooooooooooh did anything else happen? ;)

Soul: 1) never ooooooooooh at me again and 2) shut up

Soul: she invited me to the party tomorrow

Black Star: !

Soul: exactly

Soul: anyways how are things with Kid? are you home yet?

Black Star: better i think

Black Star: he's talking more at least so i'll probably make him some hot chocolate before we go to bed and cuddle w him on the couch for a while

Black Star: he likes it when im the big spoon

Soul: thats very sweet and thoughtful you're a good boyfriend

Black Star: i try and i succeed

Black Star: im probably going to be heading out soon so i'll talk to you later dude

Black Star: and dont forget we got band practice tomorrow!

Soul: how could I forget

Soul: night dude

Stowing away his phone, Soul takes his time getting to his bike, especially since Wes is gone for the weekend and his parents won't be home until tomorrow. There's a light mist wafting from the sky as he continues down Market Street, but unlike times before, he doesn't flinch at the rain.

There's someone smoking on the opposite corner of the streetlight where Soul put his bike, slowly pacing back and forth. His face isn't familiar to him as he reaches the streetlight, and he figures the man is either someone from a neighboring town or someone who moved in after he left.

He spins in the combination to the lock, but it doesn't snap open when he tugs on it. Swearing under his breath, he spins the dial rapidly to clear it, and happens to glance up at the exact moment the shadowy figure from the mausoleum comes up behind the smoking man and slams something heavy into his head, grabbing him from under his shoulders as the man sags backwards.

"Hey!" He isn't aware that he yelled until the figure looks up at him, gaze drilling into Soul, even though he can't see their eyes. They take a step towards him, but then they glance up the street, where a couple of people have paused, too far to see what's going on, but attention drawn by Soul's yell.

The figure looks back at Soul for a second, and then, hauling the man over their shoulder, they turn, breaking into a run.

A fraction of a second passes before Soul plunges after the figure, slipping on the sidewalk as he sprints across the street. His arms windmill wildly, though he rapidly regains his balance, pushing himself to go faster as the figure escapes further and further into the distance.

He keeps his eyes locked on the shadow and the man, who is unconscious or worse, as they reach the end of the block. Fighting the stitch in his side, Soul sucks in breath after breath while begging his feet to move faster. There's only a few more blocks until the figure reaches the chain link fence that goes around the whole of Market Street, and then-

He doesn't know then, but he still continues to chase after the figure.

A victorious roar rises in his ears as the fence sharpens into view, although the figure doesn't slow.

They're less than a few yards from the fence now, and he expects to see the figure come to a halt, but instead they keep running-

And then, they're beyond the fence somehow; without climbing it, without doing anything but running, they're beyond the fence.

Soul grinds to a halt in front of the fence, doubling over as his body refuses to move any further, gasping for air.

But even when he regains his breath, his hands are still shaking.

Soul: are you guys awake?

Kid: I was trying not to be.

Black Star: hard same

Maka: what happened?

Soul: i need help

Soul: something happened somethings been happening and i cant explain it or ignore it anymore and

Soul: i need your help

Black Star: meet us at our apartment we can talk there

Maka opens the door when Soul arrives at the apartment. An odd, surreal feeling had taken over his body as he made his way to the apartments, but it flees as she looks at him, leaving a jittery anxiety in its stead.

She lets him in wordlessly, following him to the living room, where Black Star and Kid are waiting on the couch. They look like he just interrupted them in the middle of a conversation, and he tries to keep his mind from jumping to conclusions as they fall silent.

"Okay." He jumps slightly at Maka's voice as she enters the living room. There's a furrow in her brow as she perches on the arm rest of the couch. "What do you want to tell us?"

He feels like he's standing in front of a jury as he paces in front of the TV and tries to compose his thoughts. Shaking off the sensation, he comes to a stop, opening his mouth.

Everything comes out: from the train station to the mausoleum and the dream of the Sea Goat and finally to the forest yesterday and what happened just now. He speaks until his voice is hoarse, and beyond that. When he's finished, he feels completely empty, though he doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing as he looks at his friends' faces.

There's a long silence. Kid is the first to speak. "So you're saying something's been calling to you," he says in a careful tone. "And you think it's connected to this figure you've been seeing."

"That you think might also be a ghost," finishes Black Star, coming out of the deep thought he was in. "Who just kidnapped or murdered someone."

"That about sums it up." They clearly think he's lost touch with reality, and are trying to be nice about it. He forces himself not to look at Maka, who hasn't moved or said a word since he began talking.

Black Star starts to talk again, but something in Soul snaps and he cuts him off. "Look, I'm not asking you to believe me," he says, throwing his hands in the air. "I wouldn't believe me."

Pausing, he goes over his words for once, although it's still harder than he'll ever admit to speak. "I'm asking you to help me prove to myself that I haven't gone crazy. He adds, "Again."

For another minute, it's dead quiet in the apartment.

And then, Maka gets to her feet. There's no judgement in her eyes, but something else he doesn't quite recognize.

"What do you need?" she asks.