Chapter 4 : A Library Isn't Built For Hiding
[Maka has the power to unlock your fullest potential, and you have the power to emphasize hers.]
[Your brother will explain everything when the time comes.]
Stay with her, you and she will be stronger together.
Pride glared at her useless children with seething anger.
"It was a simple task! How could you fail?!"
"I'm—I'm sorry, Madam Medusa," Wrath stammered. "But the other one… The Ishvalan man… He is a weapon! The imitation!"
Pride's eyes widened. Well, well, seemed like the task wasn't a complete failure. She had searched for that thing for over ten years, who would have known that the Little Grigori would be the one who would bring it back to her?
What irony.
"Well, whatever. I will spare the both of you this time. Get out," she dismissed Wrath and Gluttony, waving a chimera over. "Eruka, are you finished yet?"
"Everything should be completed two days before the deadline, Medusa."
"Good," she purred. "I think it's time to see how that wench's doing."
A snake made from shadows slithered out of their lair in the direction of Gallows Hill.
The first creature who greeted her when she stepped into her own room was Blair. And the cat wasn't happy.
Her pet howled nonstop, her tone comparable to a disappointed parent when they found out their daughter had sneaked out in the middle of the night. Shame that Maka didn't have any energy left to contest her cat's accusations. It wasn't like Blair was wrong anyway.
Picking up the cat, she slumped onto the bed. "I'm sorry I didn't bring you this time, Blair, but North Province wasn't a really suitable place for cats."
Blair made a noise that was unnervingly identical to a belittling snort.
"They have bears, Blair. Bears!"
Blair hissed.
Tired, Maka scowled at her pet. "Well, sorry I assumed you can't handle a bear, Your Majesty. Now can I have my sleep in peace?" The cat meowed sharply and gave her one last dirty look before hopping down from the bed, padding sulkily to her own pile of fluff.
Maka buried her face into the pillow. Yes. She needed sleep.
Actually, she needed a coma.
She had to empty her brain and try her best to not let her thoughts wander to a certain injured Ishvalan boy in a certain chamber right under her own bedroom.
Maka sighed. She knew this was a losing battle, so she let her mind replay the events from the past week.
After that confusing fight and that horrid revelation, Maka never actually paid proper attention to anything. She knew that Kilik and Ford, of all people, were the ones who found her dragging a bloody Soul out of the rubble. She also knew that it was Kim and Ford who managed to find an underground doctor for Soul while Kilik and Jackie fabricated a cover story to General Pushka. She knew, but didn't really care, only followed them around on autopilot.
She diligently avoided any questions her friends threw at her about the entire debacle, and more importantly, she diligently avoided Soul, who she knew had been sending her concerned looks and signals of wanting to talk ever since he woke up.
She just couldn't.
Maka vaguely remembered the doctor's comment about how strange Soul's blood was, because his blood apparently had sixty times more iron than a normal human's, without actually showing any signs of hemochromatosis [1]. There was something about supercharged healing as well, but she didn't stay to eavesdrop.
Of course he had a ridiculous amount of iron, Maka giggled humorlessly to herself. He was a scythe.
A scythe that Mama made.
She had ignored both the Ishvalan boy and the music box for the remainder of the week, hiding herself behind a book until Soul had recovered enough for Kilik to take them back to Gallows Hill.
The music box was now laying on her nightstand, silently witnessing her crying herself to sleep.
Right under Maka's room, Soul was lying on his bed, wide awake.
Not because his injuries had been bothering him (well, that too), but because he was aching to talk to a certain green-eyed alchemist.
He thought the Rashville incident was bad, when Maka refused to talk to him and would not look him in the eye, but this was worse. She didn't even bother to hide that she was actively avoiding him. Hell, he wasn't even sure she'd been acknowledging his presence at all.
Rashville had been uncomfortable, but this? This hurt.
He wanted to see her green eyes, hear her voice, hold her hands. He wanted to make sure she was really okay. He wanted to make sure he was still allowed to be by her side.
Because after many hours in silence to think, he had found the reason of her new behavior.
'Can't be helped. You let her see a demon.'
He swore at his own brain, eternally cursing his Blood's manifestation. It was the bastard's fucking fault in the first place!
Yes, he had lost his control over his blood. He had transformed into a mindless killing machine right in front of her eyes. What was different from him and those immortals? In the end, he was the same; a bloodthirsty monster. He had given in to the madness, unleashing every urge to kill.
Fuck. He had enjoyed it.
Soul brought his arm to cover his eyes. It had been so long since he flipped his switch like that. It must have been terrifying to watch.
On top of that, he had transformed into a fucking scythe. As if he wasn't enough of a freak already.
What the hell was that anyway?
He grumbled to his pillow, shifting to his side while trying not to jostle his still tender ribs too much. God, sleep was impossible.
Next morning gave a new hope for Soul. Maybe, if he explained himself carefully and properly apologized, she'd listen.
He limped to Maka's kitchen, immediately brightening when he found her silently brewing coffee. She was always in a good mood—or at least better—when she had coffee in her hands. She gave no sign of noticing him, adding a spoonful of sugar into her mug with a blank look on her face. Maybe she closed her weird perception skill; she looked dead tired (that skill took quite a handful of energy if used continuously, something Soul learned the hard way). God, she looked even more terrible from up close.
"Hey."
Her spoon clinked as she flinched, immediately pulling herself back and taking a step away from his voice.
A block of ice was plunged into Soul's gut.
He suddenly wanted to run as far away as possible. But to his surprise, it was her who did. Maka grabbed her mug and cantered out of the kitchen, leaving his still frozen body to stare at the coffee she had spilled in her haste. Fuck. This was worse than he thought.
'She's afraid of you.'
Soul couldn't even curse at his Demon. How could he, when what the little bastard said was true?
Maka crouched behind her bedroom door, still cradling her lukewarm coffee.
She couldn't face him.
Not after dismissing his story a thousand times. Not after selfishly accusing him of fabricating truths and throwing slanders. Not after convincing herself that he was wrong for so long.
Everything swirled in a confusing mix of embarrassment, anger, sorrow, aggravation, fright, and shame.
She didn't know how to face him. She didn't even know if she wanted to face him.
How did she act around him before? How did she talk to him again?
She stared at a photo on the wall; at the smile of a woman she loved her entire life. Suddenly she didn't know if the woman's smile was warm or cold. Suddenly she remembered that her Mama was a war veteran. Suddenly she believed other veterans' words a little more; that Mama was ruthless and cold on the front lines. Suddenly she didn't know her anymore.
Maka Albarn had been wrong. Kamiko Albarn wasn't a saint; she was the Angel of Death.
What should she do? How could she deal with this? How could she ever continue her work? How—
A rapid series of knocks startled her. Hastily wiping her tears, she stood and blocked the door, afraid of facing him again so soon.
"Maka!"
She didn't know whether she was relieved or upset that it was Black Star's voice. Apparently her mind was in such disarray that it didn't even occur to her to activate her perception to check. She set down her mug on her nightstand and cracked the door open, revealing a brightly grinning Black Star, skin covered in sweat from his early morning practice.
"What?"
Her brother blinked at her irritated tone. "What a fiery spirit so early in the morning." She scoffed at his snickers. "For pomegranate's sake, you look like your beloved pet's been murdered in cold blood. Take a quick shower and come over. Tsu's cooking those Xingese noodles you like so much. Drag that travel buddy of yours along as well."
Her flinch didn't go unnoticed by Black Star. Curse his ability to be far too observant at annoying times. He turned his head curiously in the direction of the kitchen. "What did your boyfriend do this time?"
"He's not my—" Maka sighed, "Never mind. Just leave me alone, would you? I actually have work to do. I'll go get my share later."
"Maka." Dammit. He used his serious tone. "Something happened in Briggs, right?"
Maka refused to squirm. "Not really."
"I saw you guys get off the car last night. He's injured. Bad." Black Star frowned, "I'm not stupid, Maka."
"That's debatable."
"Would you just answer, goddammit!"
She sighed again, injecting just the right amount of frustration into her voice, "Nothing special, Black Star. It's just that we had a little mishap and… Soul ended up injured because he was protecting me."
It wasn't a lie, but wasn't the entire story either. It would do, though; anyone who knew Maka Albarn would know how repulsed she was to receive any help from the male half of society. It might've been the only reason why Black Star bought her half-truth and didn't question her further, though he still looked a little doubtful. Well, she was an amazing actress when she wanted to be.
"We're both okay, Black Star. I promise."
Promising a complete lie. How uncharacteristic of her.
The drive to Gallows Hill was unnervingly silent, making Liz's discomfort rise the closer they got to Albarn residence.
Everyone was quiet after hearing Kilik's report on Maka's Briggs debacle. Well, everyone except Patty, who was fogging the car's window and scribbling shapes on it while humming a children's song. Liz was practically vibrating with worry as she pulled the car into Maka's yard. Sometimes she envied her sister's ability to stay cheerful and positive at all times.
Kilik had said that Evans had mentioned something about immortals; a ridiculous concept to even think about. Except that she was Kid Morton's most trusted person, and he had told her that he witnessed his father's assassin walking away after being shot through the head, something Kid himself wasn't sure was memory or hallucination.
Liz suppressed a shudder. Fuck. She hated these supernatural things the most.
Harv and Ford quickly stepped out of the backseat, followed by a cheerful Patty, but Kid stayed still. Liz stole a glance at her Colonel. He had his usual calm façade in place, but she was familiar enough with him to notice his tense jaw and his rigid knuckles.
"Sir?"
Her voice seemed to snap him out of whatever he'd been thinking. "Let's go, Lieutenant."
Pursing her lips, Liz followed him out of the car. A loud growl of a motorcycle announced Kilik's arrival. (Liz gave Kilik's ride a dark look. She had secretly admired the thing, but for heaven's sake Kid wouldn't let her have one.)
They were greeted by the grumpy Ishvalan boy. Liz clicked her tongue at the sight of him. She still didn't like the rude man, a feeling that was clearly mutual, given the way Evans glared at her team like they had killed him in another life. Liz certainly wouldn't admit that his heroic act of protecting Maka and even getting gravely injured in the process had impressed her.
"Oooooh, so you're Soul?! Finally, I get to see Maka's hubby!" chirped Patty. Evans raised a brow, clearly confused with the word. Dumb guy. "You're right, Sissy, he looks mean!" she giggled, poking the boy's arm, which he answered with a swat.
"Where's Maka?" Kid said, ignoring Patty's snickers.
"Book nest," Evans grumbled, jerking his head upstairs. Kid nodded, gesturing to his team to follow him. Liz was last, looking over her shoulder to see the Ishvalan boy retreating further into the house instead of following them.
That was unusual. Whenever she met him, he had always been glued to Maka's hip.
Scoffing, she ignored the guy to follow her colonel.
Oscar was a little surprised to see it was Evans who opened the door.
It had only been two days since he had last seen the Ishvalan man, and he couldn't walk without being supported by Kilik then. Now he was standing in front of them, fully healed. Well, not fully, Oscar guessed; he still subtly favored his right foot and moved his torso cautiously when the younger Thompson poked his arm, and his bandages were slightly visible under his shirt's collar. So it was either Evans had an outrageous tolerance for pain or that underground doctor's words about his impossible healing rate were really true.
The latter was more likely, considering Evans was connected to at least four life-support machines the first time Oscar and Miss Kim left him in the doctor's care, but was already healed enough to go back to Gallows Hill a week after. Still, it was a little unnerving to see the man who had been half-dead ten days ago standing so casually as if he only had a bruised rib.
"Seems like what the Doctor told us was true, eh, Ford?" Kilik leaned over to whisper to him as they climbed the stairs to the second floor.
"Most likely," Oscar replied. "You don't usually see a man come back to life after being stabbed through the chest in just ten days."
"It's both creepy and cool, though," Kilik remarked.
"There's also the possibility that the doctor used a philosopher's stone or something," Harvar jumped in.
"Nah, I already checked," Kilik disagreed. "The doctor's not an alchemist. He's Jackie's old acquaintance, she's 100% sure of that. Even if he was, why would he waste a precious fifth element like that on a stranger?"
Neither of them replied that statement, because they had arrived and Colonel Morton was opening the library door. They found Albarn reading a book, or trying to read. Oscar noticed that the Ishvalan man hadn't followed them to the library. Figured. He hadn't seen Albarn and Evans exchange words since he had found them among the rubble.
"Kid!" Albarn hastily closed her book, suddenly looking uncomfortable.
"Maka." Colonel took a seat across her, and his team positioned themselves quietly around them. "How are you?"
"…Fine," she smiled. Oscar almost scoffed at her pathetic attempt at lying.
"We all know you're not, Maka," Colonel sighed. "How are you feeling, really?"
"Why do you ask, then?" she snapped. "Forget about me, you're here for the full report, right?"
Colonel Morton grimaced, but he nodded anyway. That was their main reason for visiting her. Albarn had refused to give the details about the incident in Baschool, saying that she would explain when they got back, and Evans couldn't provide any decent reports due to his hostility towards the blue uniform and his terrible communication skills.
Albarn began to speak about how they tracked the hidden lab to the ghost town, how they found a nasty tunnel, how they arrived at the odd dance hall, and lastly how they were attacked by two immortals.
Something was bugging Oscar, though. She wasn't telling the whole story; like what she had done when she first met Evans. The whole team was gobsmacked when they found out Evans could turn his body into metal blades (though it was rather interesting to see the elder Thompson almost choking their colonel to death for keeping it from them). Could it be that she was hiding something about Evans again?
"Did the immortals use blades or something?" Oscar fished, remembering many wide cuts and clean slices he found among the rubble, "Or was it Evans's doing?"
"It's… Soul's," Albarn answered a second too long.
"Huh, nice blade he has, to be able to cut through concrete that cleanly."
Colonel finally caught his game, frowning to Albarn, demanding, "Maka…!"
Albarn sent Oscar a dark look, which he received with a smug grin. "I told you, it's Soul's! It's just that he had… a different shape."
"Such as?" Kilik urged, "He had implied that sort of thing, but he wouldn't tell me what!"
"And you didn't tell us why?" Liz snapped.
Kilik offered a sheepish chuckle. "I just remembered?"
"You—"
"Liz," Colonel Morton interrupted. Liz wanted to protest, but stopped, pouting to the colonel instead. "Maka, continue."
Albarn shifted in her seat, a nervous move that was so unlike the Grigori Alchemist. One would even say that she was squirming.
"I… accidentally touched him mid-transmutation," she confessed.
"What? Were you both okay? Did a rebound happen or—" Colonel frantically searched her body for abnormalities. Kilik did the same, his eyes scanning her for any unwanted alchemical texture.
Colonel and Kilik's worries were understandable. Even if he wasn't an alchemist, Oscar knew enough about alchemical theory to guess what would happen when a transmutation went wrong, especially when it involved humans. Transmuting living beings was a lot riskier and dangerous than with inanimate objects, because their bodies contained at least 26 different chemical elements in various amounts. Many alchemists ended up with horrible rebounds just for trying to transmute animals.
"We're both okay!" Albarn hastily replied. She added after squirming a little more, "Well, I was. Soul was… Soul turned into a scythe."
"A what?!" It was Liz who squawked.
"Like the farming tool?" her younger sister chimed in curiously, as if not affected by everyone's slack-jawed expressions in the slightest.
But it was Patricia's light comment that made Albarn chuckle and continue her ridiculous story. "Yes, Patty, like the farming tool. It was so big and heavy too."
"Wait, Maka! You're saying that Evans, a human, can transform into a scythe?! A completely inanimate object?!" Colonel finally found his voice.
"I have told you that he's a human weapon, right?"
"Yeah, that idea is still ridiculous and impossible, but at least he only transformed partially!" Colonel continued his protests, snatching Oscar's own words. "At least he maintained his brain and internal organs!"
"I don't know, Kid!" Albarn sighed, "And looks like Soul doesn't, either. He was just as shocked as me when it happened."
"I knew that guy was weird and creepy, but not to this extent," Liz muttered, bringing her hand to cover her eyes.
"Yeah, tell me about it…" Albarn scoffed, glancing away from them.
Everyone was quiet, didn't know what to say after hearing the ridiculous information. Even Oscar couldn't say anything to make all of these less absurd. Hundreds of alchemy theories he'd read were a waste. What even was logic?
"What's that? It's pretty!" Patricia distracted everyone by poking a small box on Albarn's desk. A music box?
"Oh," Albarn winced, as if just realizing the box's presence, or more likely, had been intentionally ignoring its existence the whole time. "I found this inside the piano. I… haven't tried examining it," Albarn said, raising a small intricate box for everyone to see.
Oscar was surprised to hear this. Well, who wouldn't be? Maka Albarn keeping herself from tearing a new alchemical finding apart to study it to death? Unheard of.
"Why?" he inquired. "It's a multiple-coded record hidden in the middle of military ground! No doubt it's an important finding. Very unlike you, Albarn."
"A lot has happened, Ford. Forgive me if my mind is still too busy processing everything!"
"Oh, please!" Oscar rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "We all know you're just drowning your cowardly ass in pathetic self-pity."
"What did you just say?!" Albarn's voice raised, accompanied by the Thompsons' hisses. Oscar considered himself a good man and often meant well, but he wasn't considerate enough to stop his mouth from spewing insensitive words, apparently, especially not when he had had enough of someone's shit. An inevitable effect of being paired with Harvar, no doubt.
"Let me say it again; you're a pitiful coward," he continued without hesitation, not letting her snap a comeback, "You're too afraid to admit that it was your mother who forged Evans into a human weapon."
Albarn's jaw drop was so satisfying to watch.
"What? You think I wasn't going to realize it?" Oscar scoffed. "I may not be an alchemist, but I'm not an idiot, Miss Grigori."
She flinched.
"We all know he has the weird ability to transmute his body into steel. We also know Mrs. Albarn was a genius in biological alchemy. Evans admitted that he has a history with Mrs. Albarn, and his transmutation produces green light, a trait that was unique only to your mother and you. Combine that with the things you just told us and your current mopey state, it's ridiculously clear."
Even Maka Albarn couldn't say anything when presented with the truth she had worked so hard to deny.
"Now you're lashing out all your frustration onto him. Pitiful."
"What do you know?!" She chose to lash out. "You'll never know the betrayal I felt! You don't carry her legacy! Hell, you're not even an alchemist!"
Oh. So she wanted to go there, huh?
It was unspoken knowledge that Oscar was more than a little sore at his lack of alchemical gifts; a feeling that always worsened each time he was reminded of it. How fiendish of God to only give him the brain and passion but not the gift.
"Well, yeah, obviously," Oscar bit back, his tone a little sharper. Albarn flinched again, maybe realizing her insensitive words a second too late. "But I know I wouldn't mope around pitying myself if I found a way to hold the deeper truth right in my hands!"
"Even if his words were harsh, Ford's right, Maka," the Colonel supported his statement, ignoring Liz's death glare. "We aren't seeing the whole picture here. And you have a way to expand our vision, even a little. I have told you to keep believing in your mother, right? We still don't know how, when, or why she did this. But Maka, you know her. You have been sensing her soul for years, right? And you had believed that she was a good person for all this time, so you have to keep believing. You have to be stronger in order to search for the bigger truth."
Well, he'd said the same thing, basically, only that Colonel Morton had the gentlest mouth among them. Albarn nodded reluctantly.
"Great, now about Evans's ability, I think we have to discuss it a little further."
Soul scowled at a framed photo in his hands, inspecting a much younger Maka getting crushed into little Black Star's chest, Tsubaki laughing beside them.
No, he was not scowling because he didn't like the photo. Soul exhaled, flipping the frame to find 'Maka, BlackStar and Tsu' scrawled in red ink on the back. It was Maka's happy memory. There was no way he didn't like it.
No, it was the guests inside Maka's library.
When Kilik said he would go straight to Gallows Hill after reporting back to Eastern HQ, Soul didn't expect that he would take his entire team with him, as in, the Reaper Colonel's team.
With the way Maka was avoiding him, he chose to ignore his need to be on her side. That didn't mean he was okay with them going in and out as they pleased, however. Even if Maka deemed them trustworthy and he trusted her judgement, Soul was still reluctant to get closer.
Nothing personal, just an old bias, of course. Only old bias that had morphed into strong animosity.
"Evans."
He turned to find the Reaper Colonel and his entire team staring at him with serious expressions, even the younger Thompson sister. He was surprised to see Maka trailing behind them, but he showed nothing except for the faint widening of his eyes.
"Maka had told us about your… interesting full-body transformation," the colonel started. Soul's tongue clicked without him knowing. Why did she tell them about that?
"So?"
"I got the impression that you were not aware of this ability yourself," the colonel continued, making Soul's scowl deeper. "I was wondering if perhaps we could try to trigger it as well."
The fuck?!
"No fucking way."
"We have to get to the bottom of this, if you're intending to continue being Maka's… travel companion." The colonel's eyes were pinned on him, but Soul's own was on Maka. She was flinching when addressed, visibly uncomfortable. "We have to know exactly what this ability of yours is. What can trigger it, how it works. For your own safety, partly. And Maka's. It will be dangerous if it turns out that you're gonna change into a lump of metal every time you're touched by a transmutation circle."
"Huh?!" Soul's attention snapped back to the Reaper Colonel. Did this guy just— "Are you implying that I could be a hindrance for her?! That I'll become useless every time I'm touched by an alchemist?!"
"If you don't agree, then show us," the colonel retorted flatly. "We have three different alchemists with different circles here."
Soul held back from gritting his teeth. As much as he loathed being touched by military soldiers, the colonel was right. They had to get to the bottom of this. It would be ridiculous if Maka was in a pinch and he couldn't do anything because he was turned into inanimate steel. He didn't even know what he'd do if he hadn't been in Maka's hands at that time. He was useless without a wielder.
Besides, them doing this could be a sign that Maka still wanted him around. Somehow.
"…Alright."
The Reaper Colonel nodded, turning to Maka. "Then… Maka—?"
"We already know that my circle works."
Ah. No hesitation in the slightest. It would be a lie if he said his heart wasn't aching at her instant rejection.
'She's that disgusted, huh?'
Oh, like he needed the Demon's cheerful comments right now. Luckily for him, Kilik decided to break his rapidly darkening thoughts by offering his hand, smile sincere and uplifting. "Then maybe I can go first?"
Soul's eyes left Maka reluctantly, taking the major's left hand. Electricity sparked as Kilik's thunder circle activated, but nothing happened. Soul was still standing in his spot, fully human.
"Huh?" Kilik tilted his head. "Maybe both?" He raised his other automail. Soul rolled his eyes, taking it.
The same process happened, only that a spark of fire now accompanied the electricity. Still nothing.
"Guess I can't, then," Kilik hummed thoughtfully, taking his steel arms back and scrutinizing the circles on them curiously.
"Then it's my turn." Reaper Colonel stepped forward, all business. Soul felt his Demon trembling slightly, whether it was from fear or excitement he didn't really know. Must be because of the guy's alchemy. It affected souls, not only physical matter, after all. He gave the colonel a questioning look when he offered both his hands. Ah, yes. This guy had a weird thing with symmetry and balance. "Both hands, please."
Soul complied quickly, refraining from his instinct to pull himself away. While Maka's alchemy felt like a flowing river, Kilik's was like a lightning bolt. But the Reaper's alchemy felt… weird. Almost unpleasant. It was rigid, dark, and chilling, like goosebumps. Soul was awfully aware that a slightly different arrangement of that transmutation could unbind his soul from his body.
But like what had happened with Kilik, Soul was still standing there in his normal human form. Or as normal as his freaky body could be.
The colonel stepped back with the same calculating expression Kilik had. "What do you think, Kilik?"
"Yeah, I think it's like… 75% safe to assume he's not going to turn into a butter knife whenever he's touched by an alchemy circle," Kilik replied, smirking at Soul's scowl.
"I wonder if only alkahestry can trigger it?" Kid muttered to himself.
"Possibly," the bald one, Forg or Fred, Soul wasn't sure, agreed. "Won't be weird if it's true. The one who made him was an alkahestrist, after all."
Fuck. They knew about that too?
The soldiers discussed the topic further, but Soul's mind was wandering to the only person in the room who mattered. She was sitting beside the younger Thompson, draped in her friend's arms. If Soul hadn't been staring at her so intently, he wouldn't have noticed her occasional glances and the slight tremble of her lips, as if she was trying so hard but failing to not give him any attention.
It was depressing to think that she still ignored him even when sensing his soul's silent pleas.
Was she really afraid of him?
How could he fix this?
Normally, if she was anyone else, he wouldn't give a single damn. If other people were afraid of him, he would just walk away. He would just let them go. But she was Maka. He refused to walk away. He absolutely refused to let her go. Hell, he wasn't sure if he was physically capable of doing that. At least not before he explained himself first. Not before they had a proper talk and sorted things out.
He just wanted to see her smile at him again.
"Kilik, I'm stationing you here. At least until we can get more intel on our new enemies." Reaper Colonel's command startled Soul out of his inner agony. "There's still the problem with the immortals' behavior. We don't really know if they were really planning to take Maka away, and if they did, we don't know when or where they're going to attack next."
Maka protested right away, "Kid, I don't need to be protected!"
As much as he preferred Maka to be safer, Soul couldn't help but agree. Not because he had noble belief like her being a strong woman who didn't need no man or anything like that, but because the selfish and greedy part of him hated to let others take his place.
He was chosen by her mother to protect her. It was his job. His.
'As if she would allow you to protect her right now.'
What wouldn't he give to stab his own Demon.
'Don't be mad because I speak the truth, boy.'
"Maka, they can't die," Reaper Colonel chided. "There's no way you'll survive a fight with two of them without a scratch. There's no telling if they were moving independently or under another's command. For all we know, they could be a part of a larger group full of immortals. I can't leave you here without back-up!"
"I'm here too, y'know?" Soul made himself known, his voice coming out a lot harsher than he had intended. Maka looked like she wanted to yell at him for his unnecessary interjection, but she stopped herself and threw her gaze away, much to Soul's dismay. He'd rather be yelled at than be ignored.
"You're injured, Evans," the colonel dictated, as if the sentence could rest his case. Bastard.
"Th-there's still the Barrett—"
"They're civilians, Maka," Reaper interrupted Maka. "No matter how capable the entire Barrett family is; I can't ask civilians to protect my subordinate. And Maka… Black Star does have his own family to protect now," he added, voice softening near the end.
Maka opened her mouth to argue further, but closed it again, begrudgingly agreeing.
If there was something Soul had learnt after being with her for months, it was that, deep down, Maka Albarn was terribly kind. She would never wish for other people to neglect their own life and responsibilities just for her own benefit. She refused to endanger others just to feel a little safer. Not even her own family. Not even him.
Was there a way to tell her that he didn't mind doing just that? Well, without admitting that he was already doing it in the first place.
Soul was still standing in his spot as the Reaper Colonel herded his team back to Eastern HQ. He just watched in silence as the Gunslinger Sisters hugged Maka goodbye. He stared morosely as she shut the front door and cantered past the living room to lock herself inside her library again. He still glared at the empty corridor where she had vanished into, until a clink sound was heard as an automail arm draped around his shoulder.
"What's with that scary face?" Soul turned to find Kilik giving him a playful smirk.
He swatted the steel arm away. "Not your business."
Kilik let out an exaggerated sigh. "If it's Maka you're worrying about, no, she's not mad at you or anything. Just give her time."
Soul unconsciously stepped back, perplexed. "Wh—how did—?"
"It's clear for every human and their dogs that you think it's your fault she's been upset and avoiding you. You look like she's gonna kick you out of the house at any given moment."
Soul went still. Was he that obvious?
"Maybe I wasn't her childhood friend like Kid or Black Star, but I do know her, Evans. This is what she does when she's upset. If she's avoiding you, then you're not the source of her anger. Frustration and confusion, maybe, but not anger. You'd be back in Death City by now if she was really mad at you."
That would be comforting if Soul's concern had been about her anger. Actually, he could endure her anger just fine, even her wrath, but it was her fear that terrified him the most. The thought of her flinching away from his touch and shutting him out because of fear was so much worse.
"Aw, cheer up, Evans!" Kilik punched his shoulder lightly, minding his still tender ribs. "You almost rival Harv with that kind of frown!"
Soul growled, intending to ignore the major and go back to his room, but Kilik quickly caught him before he could escape, dragging him to the front yard. "I know just the thing to distract your moping ass. I'll introduce you to my baby!"
Soul spent his days reading music books and being dragged around by Kilik to worship his motorcycle. It was a decent distraction, but not good enough to make him forget his current predicament.
It was almost three weeks since the Briggs debacle, and Maka hadn't spoken to him even once.
Kilik had advised to give her time, but until when did he propose he waited?
He had tried his best to approach her, but his Demon kindly reminded him that she was afraid of him.
She hadn't kicked him out of her house yet, yeah, and she was still dealing with whatever it was that had upset her, sure, but nobody said she wouldn't throw him out in the end. Something told him that he would leave without protest if Maka really wanted him to, but Soul vehemently dismissed the thought. Instead of thinking when or why she would evict him, he would do his best to keep that from happening. If she was afraid of him, he would work his hardest to change that. He would earn her trust again.
Three weeks without talking to her brought things into perspective.
He was happy. Being with her made him happy. It was like being taken by Mrs. Kamiko to see the stars all over again. It made him forget his terrible past and the traumatizing experiments. Only that with Maka, he didn't have to run away and look over his shoulder all the time. She made him walk beside her and look forward.
Even with Mrs. Kamiko, he could still find the will to leave, if he'd really wanted. But it was different with Maka. He wouldn't leave. He couldn't leave. He had forgotten how to live by himself. He had forgotten how he could endure his boring days in Death City. Just in three short months, she had taken away his ability to be alone.
He lamented the fact that there was no big brother he could blab his problems to. Huh. Wes would be surprised to learn that his socially retarded brother had become this attached to another human being.
Oh, fuck. As if missing a single person wasn't enough already.
Blair padded to him with a worried meow and sat on his lap, glancing at the closed library door. Soul set his book down, following the cat's line of vision. Maka hadn't come out of that book nest for two whole days. It was getting frustrating.
He missed her.
Had she even had a decent meal? No, he didn't think so. There were only books in that room.
"Do you think I should bring her something?" he asked the cat. God, had he been desperate enough for a decent conversation that he started talking to a cat? Maka must have rubbed off on him.
Blair answered him, regardless, and her soft meow solidified his idea to bring Maka something to eat. A quick inspection through Maka's kitchen yielded no ingredients to make a meal. Must have been Kilik, the bastard; his stomach was like a black hole. Soul grumbled, he had no option other than to go next door.
The Barrett house was usually empty during these hours. Black Star and his dad would be in the shop and Myra would still be working in the little town's only hospital. That would mean he wouldn't have to socialize that much, thank god. Not that he didn't like them, but faking a smile and exchanging pleasantries when he wasn't in a good mood was tiring. Sid and Myra were the type of people who always put their best smiles on, the kind of smile that would make Soul feel so guilty if he didn't respond in kind. Black Star... well, Black Star wore a mask around him.
Luckily, his deduction proved true when he entered through the back door. There was only Tsubaki, who was silently chopping carrots.
"Tsubaki?"
The Xingese woman turned at the sound of her name, surprised. "Oh, Soul! How can I help you?" She paused her chopping. Tsubaki was the only one in the Barrett family who Soul felt no need to fake a smile for. Her kind nature made her reluctant to pry into others' business, respectful of their privacy, even though she was so perceptive about the feelings of others, almost as if she had the same perception ability as Maka's.
Seeing the chopped vegetables and a loaf of bread on the table made Soul change his initial goal slightly. "Uhhh… could you teach me how to make sandwiches?"
Tsubaki would just give him her own cooking if he asked for food, but he wanted to do more. His first thought was sandwiches. That thing looked easy enough to whip up and definitely delicious enough.
Unfortunately, he wasn't that familiar with those fancy seasonings and sauces. He had survived for years living by himself, yes, but that didn't mean he was an expert cook. The best he could do was to throw meat into a fire or hang it above the smoke.
"Sure!" Tsubaki answered with a smile, leaving her carrots to stir the stew on the stove. "It's very simple. But if you're hungry, there's a leftover cinnamon roll from this morning."
He scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously. "Ah, actually, it's for Maka."
Tsubaki's hands stopped for a few seconds, her expression lightening in understanding. "Oh! For Maka-chan?"
"Yep," Soul cleared his throat. "She didn't even come out of that book nest for food, so I'm—I think I'll make her something…"
The woman actually giggled, making him blush. He didn't even know why he was so embarrassed by the thought of making Maka food. He had done it the first night he met her, for god's sake.
"I was just thinking of bringing her something too, but okay, you can take the job." Still giggling, Tsubaki left the stove to lift a pan full of potatoes.
Feeling his ears warming, he took the weight from the pregnant woman. "I'll help."
"Aah, but Soul, you're still injured!"
"I'm all healed now," he hissed, placing the pan on the counter.
But Tsubaki scolded him. "It's not even two weeks since you've been back from North Province, Soul. There's no way you're already healed."
"I'm fine." Soul rolled his eyes. Three weeks were enough for a human to heal that kind of injury.
Right?
Apparently not, if Tsubaki's wondering eyes were any indication. No one ever made a comment on his healing rate. Was his body that weird?
Well, yeah. It was.
"Could it be…?" Tsubaki tilted her head to stare at his chest, her brows furrowed, but she shook her head and put her smile back on. "Just wait until I put the pie in the oven, then we could leave it to make the sandwich. I think we still have some turkey left. Maka-chan loves turkey sandwiches!"
Soul nodded, helping the woman despite her protests. He was peeling the potatoes when a thought crossed his mind.
"Tsubaki…?"
The Xingese woman hummed slightly, her hands skillfully flattening the pie dough.
"Why do you always call Maka like that?"
"Huh? Like what?"
"Maka… chan?" Soul's climbing tone turned it into a question.
"It's a term of endearment in eastern Xing," she began, laughing softly. "You see, Xing is an incredibly large imperium with over 50 different clans. Each of those clans has their own language and customs. My family and Maka-chan's mother were from the same clan. It's located in a secluded valley in north east Xing. Even among other clans, our local language and customs differ greatly from common Xingese," Tsubaki was babbling with obvious excitement. Her tone was much gentler than Maka's, but she certainly was as passionate about Xing customs as Maka was about alchemy. "…and because of that, we—oh, I'm sorry I talked too much!" she caught herself, her cheeks tinting pink. Soul waved her apologies off with a little smile.
He thought her explanation was done; he wasn't expecting her to suddenly stop her work and smile sadly. And he especially wasn't expecting her following words, "It was what Mrs. Kamiko used to call her."
Ah. So it was like that.
"I think the first time she openly cried was when I called her that name."
Tsubaki really was a kind woman.
"It was a week after Mrs. Kamiko's death. I just… couldn't bear to see her like that. If I didn't do that, I felt like Maka-chan was gonna crumble. She was so lifeless, not responding to any of us. She didn't even shed a tear at the funeral. As if her world stopped after hearing about her mother's death."
Ah. Grief sometimes froze people; a familiar story. Only that his doll-like state had lasted much longer. There was no one to snap you back to life if you mourned in Death City.
"You noticed that we often speak to each other in Xingese, right?" Soul nodded. Tsubaki resumed flattening the pie dough, her voice cracking a bit. "I… I wanted her to think that her memories with her mother were real; that Mrs. Kamiko's love was—is—still with her even if she isn't here anymore. I wanted her to know that she still had us, that she was still loved."
He understood. There was a reason why he used 'Soul' instead of his full name.
"You haven't meet Mr. Spirit yet, right?" Soul cut off his darkening thoughts in time to nod. The old man was still an unknown to him; Maka's face when she talked about her father made his brow furrow. Tsubaki chuckled wryly. "My other reason is because… well, Mr. Spirit took out his grief by drowning himself in other women's arms, intending to forget about his wife, completely—but not intentionally—ignoring his daughter."
Soul's anger slowly rose the more he processed Tsubaki's words. Intentionally or not, how could a parent—family—forget about their child in times like that? He was in no position to judge, having no parents to compare to, but he knew Wes would never do that to him, and he would never do that to Wes. They would never ignore family.
"Thanks… for telling me, Tsubaki…" Soul whispered under his breath.
"Thank you for listening too, Soul." Tsubaki smiled again, this time more genuine and warm. "I had never told anyone about this except my husband."
Soul returned the smile, finally cracking something other than that toothache grin. Tsubaki put her finished pie into the oven and started to pull out the ingredients to make his sandwiches. Soul listened diligently, but his brain was still thinking about her words.
Should he start calling her 'Maka-chan' too?
Nah, with the current tension between them, he was sure she would kill him if he ever attempted to do that.
Inside Major General Albarn's office, Major Azusa Yumi was comparing two files.
"No doubt about it, Sir," Azusa said to her superior, fixing her glasses. "It was done by the same person who orchestrated the incident ten years ago. Possibly even the same as the one behind the coup against the late Führer Morton."
Major General Albarn whispered at the paper, eyes glinting with something akin to madness, "After ten long years. I can avenge you, Kamiko..."
Azusa shuddered at her superior's almost feral expression. The general was always fooling around and donned an idiotic mask, hiding his vengeful grief behind his womanizer persona. She was one of very few people who had the privilege to witness this side of the general.
Was it really a privilege?
"By the way, how is Maka doing?" Azusa said with the most casual voice she could muster, watching the general's expression slip into a cheerful smile at the mention of his daughter. "Sergeant Thompson mentioned that Maka discovered a new finding in Briggs."
"Oh, really? Well, I have to congratulate her, then! Maybe with a little father-daughter date? We haven't done that in the longest time!" General Albarn beamed. Inwardly, Azusa rolled her eyes. How could he forget the disaster their last 'date' had turned into?
"But… Briggs? Isn't that a bit unusual?" She raised a brow. She didn't remember the first Grigori Alchemist ever being stationed there.
"You're right," the general mirrored her wonder. "Well, I guess Kristopher knows something."
"Crap, I have to replace the inner tube."
Soul watched Kilik grumble to his motorcycle. Out of sheer boredom, Kilik had planned to teach Soul drive, and Soul had accepted, wishing to distract himself from a certain green-eyed girl. Unfortunately, the bike refused to cooperate, as showcased by this flat tire.
Kilik grinned sheepishly. "Soul, can you go to Black Star's workshop and borrow some tools? I'll ask Sid for a spare tube."
Huffing, Soul turned to the Barrett automail shop, telling himself it was only a simple task. He just had to ask for the tools and get back, no need for further conversation.
The automail engineer was tinkering with a prosthetic leg, occasionally lifting his muscle shirt to wipe his sweat.
"Hey, uh—Black Star," Soul cleared his throat to get the older man's attention. "Can I borrow some tools for replacing a bike's tire?"
As usual, without Maka's presence, Black Star made no sign of wanting to socialize, only nodding faintly and gesturing to a shelf before going back to his work. Soul shrugged. He didn't hate the silent treatment. If anything, he preferred it. But it didn't stop him from wondering why. From what Soul had seen, Black Star never kept such distance from any others. On the contrary, the man loved attention.
Had he unknowingly crossed the engineer or something?
Soul reached for the box Black Star had gestured to. As he heaved the box to a more comfortable position, its shiny surface reflected the automail engineer behind him.
It was then he caught sight of a star tattoo on the engineer's right shoulder.
Oh.
Soul had never seen him without sleeves, or rather, Black Star had never shown his bare arms. And Soul understood why.
Behind a certain photograph of Maka and her childhood friends, were their names written in red ink. And there was a star symbol in the guy's name.
'Black Star' was not just a nickname. It was his full name.
Well, shit.
"You're Star Clan."
Black Star turned at him in surprise, unintentionally giving him his full attention for the first time. Oh, shit. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.
There was no soul in Amestris who didn't know about Star Clan; the clan that had a longer killing record in the Ishval War than the entire State Alchemist Department, all because they didn't really have a preference in which side they were killing. At first, they had been hired by a group of Ishvalans to fight the military, which they did splendidly, but they didn't stop at that. Cornered Amestrians started to hire them as well, and they responded in kind. Too kind. The assassin clan gutted hundreds—maybe thousands—of humans like fish, tainting the holy land of Ishvala with the blood of His children. If the Führer hadn't ordered the State Alchemists to wipe out the entire clan, the bloodshed would surely have spread throughout the entire East Province. Maybe further.
The Star Child furrowed his brows as his jaw clenched, challenging Soul. "Yeah. Got a problem with that?"
Soul warily stared at him, his voice dropping without him knowing. "No."
Black Star made a disbelieving 'tchah!'
His face contorted into a sadistic smirk as he laughed with a terrifying mix of disgust and exasperation. "Just fucking say it! Just admit that my tattoo makes you disgusted! You want to kill me in the cruelest way imaginable as payment for your fucking family's lives, I'm sure!"
Soul didn't react to the outburst, just silently watched him spit all the venom out of his system.
"Yeah, I'm a Star Child! I'm a direct descendant of the strongest assassin clan that ever existed!" Black Star bellowed with sarcasm, but his tone transformed into anger as his volume rose. "You think I'm fucking proud to have blood ties with those lunatics?! There's no one more disgusted than me at what they were doing! There's nothing I want more than to cut the ties I have with them!"
Soul stayed silent.
"But there's no way you're gonna fucking believe it, huh?!" Black Star continued to laugh maniacally. "Of course you wouldn't! There's no fucking way I can deny the fact that I'm just a part of a disgusting, blood-bathing clan! Ha! I even got the gift as well! The gift to be an assassin! To kill! I'm a Star Child by birth! By blood! A filthy murderer!"
"I never said that you're a murderer, Black Star."
His calm words froze Black Star completely. They stared at each other in silence, the tense atmosphere thickening, red eyes calm while green were full of anger. Finally, Black Star's expression dulled, morphing into a grimace. The anger in his eyes transformed into loathing. Soul was perceptive enough to know that those emotions were not aimed at him.
"Sorry, I just…" Black Star heaved out a breath, throwing away automail parts he had been death-gripping the entire time. "You're an Ishvalan."
"I am." Soul nodded, still with a straight face. "But I know you're not a bad guy."
The older man bulged his eyes at him in shock. "I'm a child of assassins, Evans. The assassins who massacred your tribe! For all I know, my parents might be the one who killed yours!"
"Perhaps. But who cares, anyway? They're not the one I'm facing right now."
Black Star threw him a skeptical look, unconsciously whispering, "Are you an idiot…?"
Soul snorted, "Maybe."
But Soul knew his judgement was right. He didn't need Maka's weird perception ability to tell that Black Star was a good guy. A cool guy, even.
If Black Star was disgusted with his clan and really wanted to cut ties with them, he would adopt a new name and erase that tattoo off his arm. He would forge a new identity, burying his past. He would live in peace as Sid and Myranda Barrett's adoptive son without worrying about the hate he would receive whenever he introduced himself, or the condescending stares people threw him whenever he revealed his tattoo.
But here he was, still responding to that name and working his tattooed arm off for new automails to help people regain their former lives back. He wasn't only acknowledging his ancestry with his head held high, but also working so hard to prove that a Star Child could help instead of harm.
That was why he was a cool guy.
Mrs. Kamiko was right. The shape really doesn't matter. The only thing that's important is the soul.
"So, I got some spare time while Kilik replaces his tire. Maka said you're good in hand-to-hand combat?" Soul offered a lopsided smile, Black Star gaped slightly for a few seconds before returning the smirk.
"The bestest."
What was with this guy?
Black Star was bewildered. The guy who was currently sparring with him actually made him fight seriously.
He partly regretted his decision to keep his distance from Soul. Because of his prejudice (no, it was certainly not fear of the past he was feeling), he neglected his chance to properly observe the Ishvalan guy. He should know better than to let his blood blind him, seriously; Maka had actually brought Soul home, there was certainly something about him.
Now he knew there was really something special with the guy.
Being acquainted with many high-ranking soldiers meant he was familiar with their fighting style. The way Soul moved… it was certainly like a soldier. And it wasn't like an ordinary soldier like Harvar or even Big Sis Marie either, but like an elite agent who had been trained for solo missions; like his adoptive dad.
Black Star bit back his sneer as Soul nearly grazed his cheek. He blocked the Ishvalan man's kick before motioning for them to stop.
"Think this is enough. You're still injured, right?" Black Star made a quick excuse. "Maka would be mad."
Soul snorted, "She wouldn't care."
Black Star frowned. "You uncooked macaroni, she'll kill me if I worsen your injuries!"
Soul chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Black Star raised a brow. Were they still fighting? He had been too busy in the past month, with six orders from Rush Valley. He hadn't checked on Maka again after their return from Briggs. It was unusual for Maka to be upset at Soul this long; the little alchemist was oddly attached to the Ishvalan man after all. Ah, fuck, he should be paying more attention.
After some more prompting, Soul dragged himself back to Maka's house. Black Star watched until Soul's back vanished behind the front door before darting towards Maka's back door. He changed his direction mid-sprint, catching Maka's figure on one of her library windows. With two quick leaps Black Star was already perching on the second floor balcony.
He jumped into the next window and yanked it open. He wasted no time storming over to the stunned girl.
"Who the fuck is he?!"
Blair was meowing again from the faraway table, tirelessly trying to get her owner's attention to the untouched plate of sandwiches beside her. Sadly, Maka preferred to find out if she really could photosynthesize.
Maka was staring outside the library window, at a certain Ishvalan boy who was sparring with her brother; the culprit behind the untouched sandwiches, also known as the source of her dilemma.
Despite her current poor treatment of him, Maka couldn't help but worry. There was no way Soul was already fully healed, supercharged healing or no. He shouldn't be out there doing a spar, let alone fighting against such a formidable opponent. Black Star wasn't known for holding back. Hell, even she had never beat him.
Why was he sparring with Star anyway? She never got the impression that Soul liked her brother enough to initiate a conversation, never mind a friendly sparring.
At first Maka thought it was because Soul had miraculously deemed Black Star trustworthy enough to let himself relax, but then she remembered that it was physically impossible for any living being to simply ignore her brother.
Her reverie broke when the library window banged open, revealing an angry Black Star. Blair bolted to her feet and hissed at her brother, but Maka didn't get a chance to speak before Black Star stormed to her in long harsh strides.
"Who the fuck is he?"
Maka blinked in confusion. "Who's who?"
"Evans!" Black Star shouted. Crap. Maka prayed that his awfully loud voice wouldn't alert the boy in question. "Who is he?!"
"What do you mean who? I've told you that he's an Ishvalan I met at—"
"Cut the shit, Maka. The way he moves, it's like an elite military agent. 'Cept he can't be one, so who is he?" Black Star interjected, glowering. "Certainly that guy ain't a normal boy-toy you pick up along the road."
"How many times do I have to tell you he's not my—ugh, fine!" Maka groaned in exasperation. "He's just had good training."
"Maka—" her brother snarled, indicating he was not in a joking mood.
Maka shifted her eyes to the ground, mumbling begrudgingly, "He was trained to be a special soldier. Sort of."
She hated how well Black Star knew her, because he gave her a skeptical frown and folded his arms in front of his chest, clearly sensing that she still had so much to explain.
"This is part of why you've been avoiding him, right?" he coaxed with an uncharacteristically stern voice. Maka cursed inwardly. Of course he would know. "Start talking."
Refraining from sighing, Maka finally relented.
She didn't know when had she been herded to sit on a chair or when Black Star had perched on her desk. When she started talking, it poured out. She spoke about everything, every detail she remembered, knew, and had deduced about Soul and her mother, even things she had held back from Kid. It eventually digressed into her pent up emotions, about how lost she was, about how ashamed she felt, about how she couldn't look at Soul without being reminded of Mama's sin. And furthermore, about how frightened she was when Soul had almost died because he'd gone with her. About how he'd shielded her body from the collapsing building. About his disturbing cries.
Black Star was silent the entire time, only sucking a breath quietly and tensing his jaw in all the right times.
Ah, contrary to popular belief, he really was a good listener.
She hated to find herself opening up to Black Star that easily.
"You don't look surprised."
Black Star shrugged, "Well, I am, it's just that… it's something Aunt Kami would do."
Her chair screeched as she shot up, banging the table. "What?!"
"Well, not the dissecting children part," Black Star continued, not affected by her seething anger in the slightest. "I mean the part where she eventually saved Soul, and arranged for you guys to meet, and the fact that she hid this from all of us."
Oh.
She hated to admit that he was right.
After a long silence, Black Star exhaled, shifting his position away from her. "It wasn't his fault, Maka," he muttered in a soft voice other people wouldn't think he was capable of producing. "He didn't ask to be turned into a weapon. Like how I didn't ask to be born a Star Child."
Her heart did one guilty backflip.
"See him for who he is, Maka, not by a mistake he didn't have any control over." He patted her head once, smiling a little sourly, and jumped out of the window.
Black Star had actually given her advice. Maybe there was gonna be a blizzard that night.
Maka grimaced. She knew. She didn't need to be reminded by everyone. She knew. She understood, dammit. But having Black Star say that doubled the effects. Her brother's soft tone made her guilt triple in size.
Maka hid her face in her knees. Blair, who was uncharacteristically silent the entire time, walked over to her and curled her tail around her legs. Maka cracked an eye open, afraid that it was watery.
"What should I do, Blair?"
A soft meow answered her. Maka chuckled sourly, "I can't just walk up to him and say sorry."
Her eyes flew to the untouched sandwiches.
He really tried so hard. And she hated him for that.
She hated finding herself tucked in bed in the morning despite having passed out in her library. She hated finding warm meals on the library's corner that Tsubaki never said she brought.
She hated how he didn't force a conversation. She hated how he respected her personal space, both physically and mentally. She hated how he was giving her time.
Oh, who was she kidding?
She missed him.
But she couldn't face him. She just couldn't.
"Soul."
He whipped his head so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. He didn't mind, though, because a voice he had missed so much had just called his name.
Maka was approaching him with a sullen face. Soul's heartbeat was raising anxiously with each step she took. It was either their long-awaited make up time or her final words to banish him from her life.
They stood awkwardly for a long minute. Or hour. None of them knew what to say or do, only opening their mouths every other second and failing at producing any words. It was at times like these that Soul really wished for decent conversational skills.
But like every other time, it was her who took the first step.
"You should go."
Ah, it was the latter.
"Maka, I—"
"You should go."
Dammit. It was worse to hear it the second time.
"Why?"
"Being with me—it's just—it's dangerous…"
But she didn't even look into his eyes. She was frowning, her arms were brought to hug herself, and she was mindful of their distance. It was dangerous, she said. Yeah. Having a human weapon with unstable blood as a companion wasn't the safest situation. Especially a human weapon who could turn into a creepy lump of metal.
Was that a sardonic laugh he heard inside his head?
But no. He wouldn't go down without a fight. He couldn't.
"Do you mean that?"
She was determined to keep her head down. "Yeah."
"Tell me the reason."
"I just said it was dangerous."
Soul's jaw tensed, but he soldiered on, asking for that one final confirmation. "We both know that is not your real reason."
"I just… I…" Maka gritted her teeth. "I don't want you to be here."
"Why?"
She hissed. Her temper made itself known again. "I just can't look at you without being reminded of Mama's sin! Your presence upsets me! There, I said it! So would you please just go away?!"
Ah. A different reason than what he had thought. It was no less painful, unfortunately. And he didn't know the solution for it. If she'd been afraid of him, he could change that, maybe it would take time, but he could. But what could he do if it was his very existence that was upsetting her?
His face didn't betray his inner turmoil in the slightest. Half of him was protesting, screaming that he had promised to protect her, vow to her mother or not. But the other half was accepting the defeat. There was nothing more important than her happiness. He would go if she really wanted that.
'Sometimes, boy, I wonder if you're just a masochist.'
"Look into my eyes, Maka," Soul heard himself speak with a calmness he didn't feel. "Say it. Do you want me to go?"
"Why did you always—" She stopped herself as she realized she was unintentionally lifting her eyes to meet his. Soul smiled despite himself. Even when there were tears threatening to pour from them, her eyes were mystifyingly beautiful.
Unknown to him, his hollow smile had broken Maka's final wall. Her lips trembled as she whispered, her voice thick, "Don't go."
He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I don't plan to."
Her dam finally broke. "I'm sorry…" Her quiet sobs slowly transformed into a strangled cry. "I'm so sorry, Soul…"
"Why are you apologizing?"
"I've been so unfair to you…" She sucked a breath. "I'm so egoistic…"
She processed to pour all of her inner demons, about how ill her thoughts about him had been, about her own shame, about how she had been treating him.
He noted with perplexity, she never once mentioned his cold-blooded rampage, nor his freaky transmutation into a literal weapon, as if she didn't care the slightest bit about them.
"And then I just selfishly told you to leave… Just because I don't want to face my own shame and Mama's mistake, I just—I'm so sorry, Soul…"
If it wouldn't worsen this little chance he'd gained, he would laugh. All her concerns seemed so trivial compared to his own fear.
"Even when I think of you like that, after I've been accusing you cruel things for so long… You just went and got your chest impaled to protect me… Do you have any idea how I feel about that?"
"What?" he chuckled slightly. "Just because of that?"
"Just because—" Maka shot him a mix of anger and disbelief. "It's serious for me, Soul!"
"Ah, no, I didn't mean—I just…" Soul chuckled again, a little wry, but when he continued, his face was clearly relieved. "I've been so scared that—that you're… that I…" He fidgeted, "I was—I am… scared…"
"Scared of what?"
He dropped his head, his hand nervously going to the back of his neck. When he whispered, his voice was heavy and a little broken. "I thought you were afraid of me."
"Why would I—" she quickly interjected, but stopped herself as her eyes slightly widened in understanding. "Soul…"
"I am a monster, Maka," he choked. "I have wicked blood that constantly have to keep under control or everything will go haywire."
"You're not a monster, Soul. You're not a weapon…" Maka softly said, quoting words she had said forever ago. "You're a person… and a good one…"
She hesitantly placed a hand over him, squeezing slightly. To think that they'd been berating themselves over such trivial matters.
Rashville should have been a clue. They both sucked in the communication department, apparently.
He was really glad he hadn't just left without a fight.
Footnote :
[1] Hemochromatosis: an iron overload disorder. The symptoms might include fatigue, abdominal pain, irregular heart rhythms and the skin to take a bronze color. If not treated, it can damage many internal organs like liver, heart and pancreas.
