I don't own Soul Eater or Owl House.
But if I did, I would know what happens next in Owl House.
He stood alone in the void.
There was no light. No shadow. No discernible shape or line for his eyes to follow, beyond that of his hands, his sleeves, his hair, his pants and shoes. He felt the ground beneath his feet, solid, but when he searched for it, he couldn't see it.
There was nothing. Just endless white.
He blinked.
"Spirit."
He turned, spinning to face the voice.
For a moment, he mistook her to be Maka. But Maka wasn't that tall; the woman's shoulders were slim, her figure slight, her glasses enriching the emerald green eyes that stared at him with the same cold, marked disapproval, and somehow it was worse than when she yelled at him. Her pale skin matched her blond hair, so pale it was practically grey, tied back in a single tail that ran down her back. Her black skirt and blazer could have easily been mistaken for clothes of mourning, but he knew that wasn't why she wore them.
This woman was never one to mourn anything.
"Makoto?" he asked, "Makoto, is that you?"
He started towards her, quickly closing the distance between them-
Only for her to shove her hand into his chest, fingers splayed.
He felt her Wavelength pulse through her palm and into his sternum, making his ribs vibrate and sing with pain he only distantly noticed. He was flung backwards, the void spinning as he tumbled back across the ground, every scrape and crash leaving him with more aches that felt far more dull than they should have.
"No," she declared.
He pushed himself up, unsteadily, slowly rising to his feet. He stared at her, "… I'm gonna go ahead and assume I deserved that."
She didn't respond. Instead, a second shape crept out from behind her, much smaller – clad in a pink cross between a dress and overalls, she clung to her mother's skirt, her green eyes a little more pale, the blond of her hair a little more pronounced. The girl stared at him with wide eyes, head tilted.
"Maka?" his eyes widened, and once again he approached.
"No," Makoto declared again, more force behind the word, enough to make the space around her tremble. He felt it beneath his feet, making him stumble.
"Makoto," he spoke, his tone warning, "You are not keeping me from my daughter."
"… Choose."
He blinked, confused, "Choose?"
His former Meister slowly raised a hand, pointing; once again, he turned.
… and there stood another woman, her brown hair tied up in a bun at the back of her head, her skin a deep tan beneath the pristine white of the doctor's coat she wore. Her frame was large, with broad shoulders and hips that hinted at surprising strength. Her eyes were warm, warm like the melted chocolate they resembled, but she wore no smile – though she lacked the judgement Makoto carried. If anything, she seemed more tired than judgemental.
Beside her stood another little girl, a bit bigger than Maka, swaddled in a purple sweater, with short, almost boyish dark hair and wide brown eyes that sought to learn everything about anything they fixed on.
Camila and Luz.
He stared for a long moment, then slowly turned to look back at Makoto, "… no."
"Choose, Spirit," she repeated, "You can't have both families."
"I am not going to choose between my daughters, Makoto!"
For a long while, nothing moved. Not a sound was made.
"… then you will have neither."
The declaration was followed by a dark shadow appearing behind both women; his eyes shot back and forth as the shadows grew, shapeless and seemingly infinitely deep.
"Maka!" he shouted, reaching out, but it was too late; Makoto had already taken the girl, and retreated back into the dark behind her, disappearing from view entirely.
Gritting his teeth, he spun, sprinting towards his other daughter, "Luz! Luz, come here!"
Neither Camila, nor Luz seemed to hear him. They stood, staring, seemingly oblivious to the dark that threatened to swallow them whole.
No matter how hard he pushed himself, he couldn't get any closer.
They too were taken, disappearing into the dark.
Nonetheless, he didn't stop; or at least, he did not stop willingly. He continued trying to sprint forwards even as what traction he had beneath his feet simply ceased to exist, leaving him scrabbling for purchase in midair in fruitless pursuit of his daughters.
The white gradually disappeared from view entirely, leaving him alone in the pitch black as the darkness tugged at him from either side.
"Come back!" he shouted, though even his voice seemed to be swallowed up by the shadows, leaving him screaming in silence, "Please, come back!"
Even if he could be heard, he received no answer; instead, the pull grew greater, stronger, yanking him ramrod straight and keeping him bound. He struggled with all his might, but to no avail; he was kept in place only by the opposing forces, each trying to drag him into its shadowy pit.
Two separate forces, grabbing hold and refusing to let go.
It was like he was being pulled in two…
"Sir?"
Spirit's eyes shot open, gasping for breath as he jolted back into the waking world. His eyes shot back and forth as he gripped the arm rests of his seat, ready to unleash his scythe blades at a moment's notice.
"Sir, are you okay?"
The woman's voice made him snap his head up to face her; a woman in a uniform stood over him, mildly concerned.
Slowly, he regained his bearings, his eyes sweeping his surroundings; people were lined up in small rows of seats up and down a small corridor, all facing the same direction and murmuring among themselves in muted voices. His ears seemed to press inwards with an uncomfortable pressure, leaving him with a resounding headache.
One look out the window was all he needed to confirm.
This was why Spirit hated falling asleep on airplanes.
"I'm fine, miss, thank you," he assured the stewardess, "Though if you could get me some water…?"
She shook her head, "I'm sorry, sir, but we're going to be landing very soon. I'm afraid you're going to have to wait."
He nodded, "Alright. Thank you…"
As she walked away, the Death Scythe slumped back in his seat, letting his lips curl in discomfort; every part of him seemed to ache from sitting in this uncomfortable chair for so long. He couldn't even remember how long the flight was supposed to be, but whatever the case it was enough to leave him yearning for the chance to stand and stretch his legs, to get the kinks out of his spine and shoulder and get an ibuprofen for his headache…
"… just a few more minutes, Spirit," he coached himself, actively resisting the urge to reach for his bag, "You're almost on the ground. You can last a few more minutes. You're a Death Scythe, for cryin' out loud."
He let his eyes angle back out the window, staring at out across the city. He'd left Death City to catch his plane a whole other city over at two in the morning, taking off at roughly three thirty; it had only been a three, maybe four hour flight, but going off the time difference between each State, it was probably almost eight already.
At least he'd been able to get a row all to himself; a small blessing, but a blessing nonetheless.
He felt the plane jerk, then gradually descend, the engines picking up in volume; gradually, the city grew closer, the buildings more distinct. Camilia was probably already at the airport, which in itself was over an hour-long drive from town...
"… heh. All I can think about is the time until I can see Luz," he mused, leaning on his armrest with his chin in his hand, "I'm like a little kid waiting for his birthday."
Eventually, the plane touched down, slowly pulling in towards the airport; when the intercom finally announced that the passengers could begin filing out, Spirit let out a sigh of relief, pushing himself up and stretching himself out as best he could before grabbing his backpack, taking a painkiller for his headache, and slowly making his way through the line.
Even with the air conditioning on full blast, he could feel the hot June sun beating down on him through the airport windows; while his job frequently saw him up at all hours of the night, oftentimes, he found himself prowling Death City in the middle of the day as well, trapped in the sweltering heat, the cobblestone making up nearly every surface turning the city into some horrifying combination of frying pan and convection oven.
In his youth, he'd had no idea how anyone could manage to make it through the hot Nevada days in a full suit and tie, much less without complaint. As a fully-grown man, however, he had his answer.
That answer was by suffering.
Silently.
All the time.
That was the main reason he'd taken the opportunity to instead wear simpler clothing for this trip; he had brought his suit in case something came up, of course… but he doubted that anything would.
Honestly, even if it was just for a couple weeks, it was good to wear jeans and a t-shirt again.
After grabbing his suitcase from the baggage claim, Spirit finally stepped through the sliding doors that marked the end of security and into the ground floor; a large crowd of onlookers had gathered as people scattered to and fro, some off on their own, others quickly pairing up with people who had obviously been waiting for them, for some reason or another. Drivers met with clients, family members reunited, and the noise left Spirit's ears ringing.
But he paid none of it any attention. Instead, his blue eyes scanned the crowd, searching…
Eventually, his eyes met hers.
Camila gave him a slight smile, her hair done up as it usually was. Slowly, she raised a hand in a small wave, acknowledging she had seen him; he returned the smile, and raised his arm in a wave of his own, taking a step forwards-
"PAPI!"
Only to be nearly winded as he was tackled with enough force to make a linebacker proud, a pair of thin arms wrapping around his chest with a crushing force they should not have been capable of. He wheezed, stumbling back slightly, only barely catching the elated shriek of joy that rose above the low hum of the crowd.
Despite that, however, he grinned, staring down at the small figure that had barrelled into him like a miniature train. Luz was still wearing that white and purple kitty cat hoodie, short sleeved and thin enough to be worn even in the summer; when he'd first gotten it for her three years earlier, she'd refused to take it off during practically his entire stay, and according to Camila, she still wore it nearly every day.
And yet, despite that, it was still in nearly perfect condition – he couldn't see a single stain or fray in its fabric. Given how inexpensive it had been, Luz must have taken remarkably good care of it. It still matched her complexion and her short, almost tomboyish hair perfectly.
"Hey there, Mija," Spirit managed between gasps for breath, returning the embrace, "You're getting bigger and stronger every time I see you. You're not gonna be able to keep doing that for much longer."
"And why not?" she asked, glancing up with a sly look on her face.
"Because next time you just might knock me over," he explained, closing his eyes and pursing his lips as he did his absolute best to imitate the matter-of-fact tone Maka always used when she was lecturing someone.
The only response he got from his daughter was another laugh before she finally let go, "Sorry! I'm just so glad to finally see you again!"
He chuckled, gently ruffling her hair as he stared into her eyes, eyes that held the world within them; they shone in the light, bearing energy and enthusiasm he could only dream of keeping up with. Her brilliant smile made his heart swell with joy and pride alike, glad to know that even at fourteen, she was still as gleeful and exuberant as ever.
"I'm glad to see you too, Luz."
With that, Spirit took his daughter's hand, and let her guide him through the crowd, where Camila stood waiting for them.
In that moment, he felt it. Something he hadn't felt in months.
True, genuine joy.
"You're both always out so early," Blair whined, leaning across the table with her lips downturned in a pout, clad in only a pink bathrobe, even her hat haphazardly thrown to the side and leaving her ears free to tilt to the sides in an image of pure misery, "I haven't even gotten to sleep yet and you're already on your way out. What happened to bacon and eggs in the morning?"
Maka ground her teeth, resisting the urge to grab the oversized hat off the counter and yank it down over the cat-woman's eyes. She did her best to keep herself focused on the finishing touches of her essay, cursing her laptop as the letters in the document appeared a solid five seconds after she tapped them into the keyboard.
Soul, however, just gave a tired sigh, looking up from his phone, a piece of toast hanging from his teeth, "Don't have the time, Blair. Slept in a little too late."
"You call this sleeping in?" the cat-woman stared at him, appalled.
"You kidding? Usually Maka's waking me up at five thirty to get ready for class," he looked back down, continuing to scroll through his phone.
"Ugh. No," she shook her head, horrified, looking over to the Meister, "Even six in the morning is way too early for anyone to be up and about. Why would you punish your little Scythey by making him get up this early?... why would you punish yourself by getting up this early?"
"It's not a punishment, it's something all students have to do," Maka growled, still not looking up from her essay as she once again saved the document, not trusting her laptop to not immediately crash, "Soul and I have to be up and awake by six at the latest, and out the door by six thirty in order to make it to class on time. Class always starts at seven o'clock, sharp, and if you're late or absent without an excuse, it's a big mark against your grades."
"Bluuuugh," Blair stuck her tongue out, screwing her eyes shut, "That sounds absolutely miserable, Maka."
"That's because it is," Soul grumbled around the last of his toast.
Maka rolled her eyes, running through the essay one last time; satisfied with her results, she swapped to her email, and sent it off, pulling her laptop shut without responding to the Weapon's jab.
"Look at it this way," she began, "The early start means that school gets out that much earlier for us DWMA students. Usually we're out just a little bit after two unless extracurricular stuff keeps us in school – though I'm sure you've noticed that, given that you've insisted on hanging around for the past week."
"I still haven't heard a no~…" Blair sang, smiling.
"Keep at it. You're certainly making a good case for our refusal," Maka huffed, setting her laptop aside.
"Hmmm…" Blair hummed, golden eyes fluttering closed as she leaned further forwards on the table.
"Soul, you got all your assignments done, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, they're done," He pushed himself up, stretching.
"The essay and the worksheets?" Maka asked, starting towards the door.
"Yes, Maka, they're done," Soul huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he followed her, "You asked me that last night."
"I'm just trying to make sure."
"You worry too much."
"No, our grades reflect on both of us; I'm not gonna get a bad grade because you spend your night watching bad anime instead of doing your homework."
"Have a good day, you two!" Blair called.
They stopped, turning to face her, surprised etched into both of their expressions.
"… I'm sorry?" Maka queried, confused.
"I said 'have a good day, you two,'" Blair repeated, tone bright despite her clear exhaustion. She opened one golden eye, giving a light wave, "Isn't that what you say when your friends head off?"
The pair looked at one another, then to the cat; it was obvious that they hadn't expected her to make such a remark, as though they'd thought her too selfish to say it.
Eventually, though, Maka crossed her arms, looking away, "Yeah, sure."
"We'll keep it cool," Soul turned away, "Don't mess the place up while we're out."
"Don' worry about that," the cat yawned, "I'm gonna take a bath, then I'm going straight to bed. I'm tiiired."
"You do that," Maka stated dryly, refraining from saying something more scathing, "See you, Blair."
"See you."
With that, she heard the door open, and close.
Stretching, Blair got to her feet, and padded down the hall towards the bathroom.
"Well, it's been a week," she noted aloud, "Haven't been kicked out yet."
She pushed open the door, and hung her bathrobe on the hooks, turning to the bathtub. As she twisted the knob, the steam that rose from the heated water already pleasant in her nose; she breathed deep, stepping into the gently rising pool, and pouring in a generous helping of her favourite bubble bath soap before sinking in, sighing contentedly.
"… maybe I should start looking to sell once I wake up," she mused, letting her eyes fall closed once again, "That… or start my job hunt… I wonder if there's anywhere that needs a cute bartender…"
"Mmmm! ¡Muy bien!"
Spirit smiled around his mouthful of burger, watching as Luz eagerly swapped between her own burger and fries with incredible voraciousness, taking a bite of one, then the other, sometimes without even swallowing first.
"Practicing for an eating contest, are you?" he teased.
"Hmm, yhm nmhmh nmmh!" she paused, swallowed, then wiped her mouth, grinning, "Hey, you never know! If I can get a free book or game or something out of it? I might actually be able to pull out a win!"
He laughed, "Be glad your mother isn't here to hear you say that. I don't think she'd be happy to hear about that little plan of yours."
Luz's eyes flickered, but did not dim, "She's not happy with most of my plans. What's one more?"
Despite her chipper tone, Spirit could still detect the small note of sullenness in his daughter's voice.
After she had picked Spirit up and dropped him off to pick up his rental car, Camila had once again been called back in to work; she had been expecting it, at the very least, and had planned to leave Luz with him regardless.
The day was theirs' to spend together.
The first thing Spirit had done after finally getting his rental was take Luz for an early lunch.
He was surprised Maxine's Bar and Grill was open this early, but hey – he was hardly complaining. Pretty much all their food was solid, even if Luz was really only in the mood for burgers.
"Hey, Dad?"
"Yeah?"
Luz took another fry, her tone curious, "I admit I can't remember if I've asked you this before or not…"
"Hey, if you have a question, ask away," he gestured, "Doesn't matter if you've asked it before."
"Okay," She ate the fry, setting what was left of her burger down for a moment to take a sip of her cola, "Then… what do Souls taste like?"
Spirit raised an eyebrow, "What, Kishin Egg Souls?"
"Yeah," Luz set the glass down, "That's part of your job, right? Collecting Kishin Eggs?"
"Not so much, these days," he admitted with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his head, "That's mostly left to Academy students, Luz. I haven't gone on an actual collection or Witch hunt in a long time."
"Riiiiight," Luz's eyes shone with sudden realization, "You're a teacher!"
"And Lord Death's personal Weapon," he noted, extending his finger and, with a flash of light, transforming it into a curved, sharp blade, small enough that it wouldn't be noticed by the other patrons. He stabbed another fry, "I can't usually be separated from him for long the way I am now, Luz."
"What, are your Souls linked somehow?" she asked, "Is that what makes you a Death Scythe?"
He laughed, "No, no, it's not quite like that. That's not how Soul Resonance works. I'm just the main Death Scythe on deck; if something goes wrong, I'm the Grim Reaper's Weapon and the DWMA's last line of defence."
"Oooooh, so you're the BFG," Luz nodded, grinning.
"Someone's been playing DOOM behind her Mom's back."
Spirit couldn't stifle a snicker at the faint 'Ack!' that escaped the Latina's throat, followed by the guilty smile, her hands rising with her shoulders in a shrug, "Uuuuh… theology research?"
"Luz, the only religions I'm aware of that include the worship of guns are ones I don't think are really worth researching," he stated, thoroughly amused.
"… please don't tell Mami."
"Don't tell your mother what?"
"That-" Luz stopped short… then smiled again, "Oh, you're tricky."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he smiled wryly, "But back on topic. Yes, I'm basically the DWMA's BFG. The strongest Weapon the Academy has on hand."
"So cooool," Luz drawled, and Spirit felt his heart swell with equal parts joy and pride; no matter how many times it was confirmed to him, the reminder that one of his daughters still loved and admired him was always another point in his book.
"I do have to note, I'm honestly more of a display piece than anything else," he stated, letting the blade transform back into his finger "I spend most of my time hanging out with Lord Death in the Death Room than I do even teaching, really. It might be more apt to say I'm less the DWMA's BFG and more the DWMA's fire extinguisher."
"Well, that's still really important," Luz said, tone reassuring, "It's true nobody really thinks about the fire extinguisher, but there's a reason it's there. It's a reassurance and a tool in case a fire breaks out. Nobody wants a fire to happen, but it's good to be prepared for one, right?"
"Hey, I never said I was complaining," Spirit raised his hands, "Means I get to focus on what's important in my life!"
"Yeah?" Luz tilted her head, "What's that?"
"You and Maka," he grinned, closing his eyes as he leaned back in the booth, "There's nothing in this world that I love more than my daughters."
"… yeah," her smile grew soft, her eyes falling to her plate, "Me and Maka…"
"… are you okay, Luz?"
"I'm okay," she nodded, "I'm okay. Just… kinda wanted Maka to come too, you know?"
'Really wanted her to, you mean,' Spirit thought, though he kept it to himself; he knew exactly how Luz felt. Instead, he gave her a gentle smile, "… I know, kiddo. I know."
"… she said she couldn't come because she and Soul had to catch up… she's a really good student, huh?"
"One of the best I've ever seen. Very dedicated to everything she does. Though I will say," he raised a finger, pointing at her, "You're far more prone to thinking outside the box. You're just as good a student – just in different ways."
"You think so?" the Latina seemed genuinely perplexed by the statement.
"Of course!" the Death Scythe exclaimed, "Take a look at yourself right now – you're asking me all sorts of questions. You're eager to learn. It's just a matter of finding what it is you're interested in and pursuing it.
"Without burning yourself out," he quickly added, taking the final bite of his burger, "That's a good way to take something you love and turn it into something you hate."
Luz's eyes were at once wide open and totally unfocused, seeming to stare into the open air as her jaw worked silently, opening and closing, but no sound emerging. A thousand thoughts seemed to be rushing through her mind, thoughts Spirit could only guess at, but he could tell one thing for certain with a single glance at her expression.
This was the first time Luz had ever been told she was a good student. That her curiosity and creativity were something actually desirable.
Slowly, another smile worked its way across the Latina's face, different from her usual boundless enthusiasm. This was… quieter, somehow. Understanding that brought not excitement, but a feeling of true profundity.
"… ¿Papi?"
"Yes, Luz?"
"Gracias."
"… Siempre, Corazoncita."
Luz settled back in her seat, closing her eyes with a serenity Spirit has only rarely seen from his daughter; even if just for a minute, it seemed that all the weight on her shoulders had been lifted.
For the moment, all her worries had been dispelled.
'Score one for Spirit Albarn,' the Death Scythe thought, a soft smile of his own forming, 'Take that, Luz's Misery.'
"… we got pretty off topic, huh?"
He blinked; when he finally realized Luz had spoken, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head again, "Yeah… I guess we did."
"… so. Can I keep asking questions?"
"You just did. But you may."
"Alright then. Kishin Egg Souls?" she asked again, settling back forwards and picking up her burger again, "How do they taste? And Soul Resonance – if you don't have to be in Death City twenty-four seven, three sixty five, then how does that work? And what's the difference between a Meister's and Weapon's abilities? Can't Weapons use their Soul Wavelength in all the same ways a Meister can? And why can't Meisters eat Souls?"
"Well…" he began, arcing his neck back and staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, "Let's answer these one at a time. It's been a while since I've had one, but… Kishin Egg Souls are actually kinda tasteless? Not in a bad way, mind you, it's… kind of like eating ice in a way? You know how ice by itself doesn't really have a taste?"
"Yeah," she nodded, "I still chew on ice to make up for the fact that I can't eat ice cream."
"Your dentist must hate you, then. But yeah, Kishin Egg Souls have more texture than anything else. Each one is different in some subtle way, but they're usually pleasantly chewy – you can really work your jaws on them, but it's not like chewing on gum or gristle," he subconsciously cracked his jaw – he'd forgotten how he'd always looked forwards to eating Kishin Eggs, "It's difficult to explain, since actually describing it makes it sound disgusting, but it's one of those things you have to experience to get."
"Like the joys of eating really spicy food?" Luz ventured.
"Yeah, exactly like that."
"Okay. And my other questions?"
"Well, if we're gonna talk about Soul Resonance, then first we have to talk about Soul Wavelength…"
"The Soul Wavelength is, in the most basic terms possible, the heartbeat of the Soul. Its Frequency and Amplitude is different for every person and creature, and is determined by a number of factors," Professor Von Nonameheim droned, his voice dry, mechanical, and stuffy in a way that British documentary narrators could only dream of imitating.
On the wall, two separate projectors displayed a long sprawl of notes so dense and clinical that it hurt the eyes to even look at them, and beside them a basic Y graph displaying a number of arcing lines rising and dipping back and forth over a straight line in the center; every time the line dipped down across the line, it was marked with a harsh black dot, with the word "FREQUENCY" written at the top of the graph.
"To clear up the confusion early, the power and strength of a Soul Wavelength is not determined by its Frequency. Rather, the Frequency of a Soul Wavelength determines the compatibility between Souls, and in turn is determined primarily by personality; a more active, excitable and outgoing personality will produce a higher Soul Wavelength Frequency, whereas a less active, reclusive and introverted personality will produce a lower Soul Wavelength Frequency. That being said, the Soul can exert a certain amount of control over its Soul Wavelength Frequency, allowing one to be at least somewhat flexible in regards to their compatibility.
"The other determining factors for Soul Wavelength Frequency are mental, emotional, and physical status; under great mental or emotional duress, the Soul Wavelength's Frequency will become unstable. Its rhythm will be rendered uneven, which in turn will interfere with Soul Resonance, which we will cover later in this lecture. Likewise, the ability to actually use the Soul Wavelength is as much a physical ability as any other activity; much like how if one maintains a sprint for too long, they will not be able to continue running, the same holds for the channelling of the Soul Wavelength. The Soul can, in fact, become exhausted."
He pushed his glasses up his nose, clicking the slide so the notes continued on, "On its own, the Soul Wavelength of a given individual can be channelled by its user in a wide variety of ways. It can be used to empower the body far beyond its conventional limits, including strength, durability, perception speed and both mental and physical alacrity, but it can also be used to directly channel a pulse from one's Soul directly into an object through physical contact, thus greatly empowering physical blows, just as a couple of examples. It can even be used to perceive other Souls by enhancing the senses. But most notably, it can be used to perform the technique known as Soul Resonance."
The entire class was holding back a collective groan as the professor continued to drone on. The only person who seemed to be paying any amount of attention was Maka, who was in the process of taking down entirely new notes for reference; beside her, Soul was leaning back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling, hoping the stucco would give him something more interesting to contemplate than the stuffy voice of the substitute teacher.
"I can't believe we're stuck in the remedial class," Soul groaned, pushing himself so far back in his seat his head was clonking against the wall, "We already know this garbage, Maka."
"It'll only be for a few days," she assured, only barely listening to Von Nonameheim for the sake of confirmation, "Just hang tight, we'll be out of here before you know it."
"This is so uncool," he pulled his headband down over his eyes, "Blair was right, this was not worth getting up at six for…"
Maka found herself suppressing the urge to crack Soul upside the head, but by the same token, she had to admit he was right; so far, she was finding that all of her old notes applied perfectly well to the review that was occurring and was mostly jotting down new ones for the sake of reinforcing her memory than for the purposes of reference…
… as well as just giving herself something to do; this man was so dry she was convinced that he would turn the ocean into a desert if thrown off of a seaside dock.
If anything, that was the main purpose of these new notes; to keep the professor's barely interested lecturing from driving her to the same bored tears that were currently being shed by her Weapon.
"The act known as Soul Resonance is the interaction between two or more Souls, typically that of a Weapon and Meister," Von Nonameheim continued, once again changing the slides; a similar graph to the one before now appeared, but rather than marking the Frequency, it was now measuring the actual length of each peak and trough of the curved line as it passed back and forth over the center, with the word "AMPLITUDE" acting as the label.
"When two Souls engage in Soul Resonance, they combine their Soul Wavelengths into one, greatly increasing their Soul Wavelength Amplitude; unlike Soul Wavelength Frequency, Soul Wavelength Amplitude is determined by the strength of the Soul, and in turn is a measure of how greatly one can use it to affect themselves or the world around them."
"Here's a drinking game for you, Maka," Soul whispered, "Take a shot every time he says "Soul Wavelength.""
"That's his job, Soul," she muttered dryly, writing out the notes.
'Soul Wavelength Frequency –Determines Soul Compatibility.
'Soul Wavelength Amplitude – Determined by Soul Strength.
'Soul Resonance – Compatible Souls Interact to Increase Soul Strength.'
'I just summed up in twenty one words what took this professor well over three hundred to explain,' Maka ground her teeth, then let out a calming breath.
"… besides," she quipped, "That would destroy your liver in the first ten minutes."
At this, Soul jerked up slightly, tilting his head up towards her and slightly lifting his headband; he managed to catch the slight smile on her lips, though she did not turn her head to look at him.
He chuckled ruefully, "Oh, God, this must be bad if you're starting to snark about someone other than me or your idiot dad. We gotta get you out of here."
"We can't skip, Soul," she stated, "We're not exactly in a position where either of us can be playing hooky. We need every single A we can get."
"I'll happily take a zero if it means escaping this torture," he let his headband snap back into place, sitting up and digging through his desk, "Didn't that hack fanfic writer from the Renaissance include something like this in his description of Hell?"
"No, Dante's Inferno does not include a lecture like this."
"It should. At least being set on fire is somewhat entertaining."
This time, Maka did not offer a response. She simply kept writing, despite being fairly certain that the teacher's current tangent was one that could easily be missed.
"Specifically regarding Weapons and Meisters, the interaction of their Souls greatly empowers the capabilities of both parties. Even during a Basic Resonance, wherein the Souls are only passively interacting with one another by virtue of the Weapon and Meister being in physical contact, the Meister finds their physical capabilities and control greatly bolstered just by wielding their Weapon, becoming capable of feats and techniques they would not otherwise be capable of performing even without consciously using their Soul Wavelength. Likewise, the Weapon is bolstered by being wielded by a Meister – blades become capable of slicing through stone and steel, bullets can bore through armour plating with relative ease, and fire can melt down even the most heat resistant ceramics with minimal difficulty."
'Basic Resonance – Physical Contact with Compatible Weapon/Meister,' Maka wrote, 'Passively Boosts Physical Capabilities of Both Parties.'
"… Maka."
"What is it, Soul?"
Abruptly, Soul shoved the heavy textbook in front of her, opened to the introductory pages of the course; he pointed to the page.
"He's quoting from the textbook. Almost word for word."
She blinked, following the passage as she listened to the professor; after a moment, she blanched.
"Oh my God," she bemoaned, her eyes wide and mouth agape in abject horror, not so much setting her pen down as she did drop it, "He is."
"… this has got to be the single most uninspired teacher I have ever seen," Soul grumbled, taking the textbook back and laying his head down on it like a pillow.
Maka buried her face in her hands, "This guy has no idea what he's doing…"
'This is karma,' she decided, 'I should have just gone to see Luz.'
"Can't believe I'm actually wishing for Professor Sid back," Soul mumbled, "He might've been strict, but at least he could make a lesson interesting."
Slowly, Maka pulled her hands away, a note of melancholy entering her words, "… that's right. That's who this guy is subbing for, isn't he?"
Soul gave a slight bob of his head, "Yeah. Did you hear what happened?"
"I heard he was found dead after school on Friday," she began, "But nothing specific."
"Apparently someone jammed a model of the Statue of Liberty through his forehead. Put the base right through his skull," Soul mused, "Perfectly circle shaped hole, or at least that's what I've heard."
Maka opened her mouth to respond, only for the classroom door to abruptly swing open, cutting her off; the woman that stepped in made her heart plummet and the room go silent.
Mira Naigus. The former weapon partner of the late Sid Barret.
Her blue eyes were frigid, piercing as she surveyed the room, her deep brown hair tied back and her dark skin free of its usual bandages, giving the world a rare look at her face; lips pulled thin and brows furrowed, the usually unflappable woman was tense, almost angry, a far cry from the calm and composed air she usually projected.
When her eyes finally landed on Maka and Soul, she stopped, and the Meister felt her blood run cold.
"Scythe Meister Maka Albarn, and Demon Weapon Soul Eater," she called, voice tightly controlled, if slightly stilted.
Immediately, Maka stood, hands at her sides, Soul wordlessly picking himself up in turn.
"Yes, Miss Naigus?"
"Lord Death has requested your presence," Naigus announced, "You are to report to the Death Room immediately."
"I-Immediately?" Maka asked.
"Yes. You are excused from all classes until further notice," the Knife Weapon gestured to the hallway, "Now, go."
"… I'm not complaining," Soul started towards the door, hands in his pockets, "Come on, Maka."
Grabbing her notes, Maka silently followed, sparing Naigus a glance as she passed; the sheer menace pouring off of the woman was overwhelming. She'd known it couldn't have been easy for anyone to lose a partner, but Maka had expected Naigus to be in mourning.
This… anger…
"… so what do you think Lord Death wants?"
Maka jolted as Soul's voice pulled her away from her train of thought; she shook her head, bringing her hand to her chin, "I dunno. I thought we were keeping up a good pace in our remedial lessons. We just need a mission that we're ready for to actually come up and we can start collecting Souls again."
"Hm…"
"… it's strange to me, now that I stop to think about it."
"What, Lord Death calling us?"
"Well, yeah, but I was actually talking about Sid," Maka bit at her lip, mind starting to race, "Think, Soul. Professor Sid was a Three Star Meister; even a Two Star Meister is significantly stronger than a One Star Meister, and the same system applies to Weapons. Since Miss Naigus is still here and unharmed, we can guess that Sid didn't have her with him when he was attacked."
"Yeah?"
"But even so, a Three Star Meister shouldn't have been beaten so… soundly as what you described. They're masters of combat, able to handle nearly any situation with or without a Weapon partner," she pointed out, picking up her pace to walk beside Soul rather than behind him, "If Sid really was murdered – if he was killed by someone who's able to beat a Three Star Meister like that – don't you think it would make sense to pull everyone out of school and look for the killer? One Star Meisters and Weapons wouldn't be able to handle an opponent that strong…"
"… now that you mention it, that's a good point," Soul's jaw set as he started up the stairs, beginning the ascent to the higher levels of the Academy, "Pulling everyone out to let the teachers handle things seems like it would be the smarter play… and yet here we all are treating it like it's just another day at the office…"
"… Soul?... I'm worried."
"… let's just see what Lord Death wants, Maka. Maybe he can clear things up for us."
A nod from the Meister, and the two continued making their way up to the Death Room.
I'm gonna need a little more time before I can get to the Boiling Isles. In the meantime, I think you Soul Eater fans know what's coming next.
Thanks for giving this a read, everyone, and thank you so much for your patience and understanding with me. Let me know what you think! I hope you all enjoyed the fourth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!