The morning repeated itself like it had for some time, Maka stared off into the early morning glow as she rewrapped her bindings. The skin was starting to redden and chafe, the cloth unforgiving. Maybe I should have been a courtesan. At this rate, I'll look like a leper in no time. While she expected the weight of her sigh to take up space, it was instantly swallowed by the hurried footsteps that hit the courtyard. Maka quickly pulled her kosode back on, straightening it just in time for the lamp light to start to leak onto the engawa.
"Soul!" Wes's hurried whisper started from opening before the rest of him appeared, lantern in one hand and a vial in the other.
"What is it?" Soul started groggily from the other side of the screen.
"They're here." Icicles of distress hung off Wes's sentence.
All of the air left the room, silence perseverating in the vacuum. A soft shuffle of sheets sounded before Soul's squeezed reply: "Give me the vial."
"If he– Soul"— Wes saturated every inch of the name with begging—"if he doesn't–"
"I know," Soul spat. "I know." The crackle of broken glass followed that mournful refrain. "Masao," he croaked.
"Yes?" Maka added a yawn to bolster the sleepiness in her voice.
"Get dressed. We're goin' to the main hall."
Soul always felt him before he saw him. Asura was a string tied around his heart and with each step closer it wound again, slowly cutting off blood and strangling the beats. That poisonous concoction had already started rushing through his veins, clouding the urge to fear the moment as well as making his muscles weighty and useless. Still, Soul forced each step, concentrating as best he could on the fluidity of it as Masao's quiet footsteps continued next to him.
He only looked at Masao once, but that was all it took to send his mind whispering back to that first day. An unfamiliar ache started in his chest– wishes that he could grab at Masao's hems just as he had his mother that first time she walked him to the main hall. He doesn't fear me. Another lurch in the unsteady rhythm in his chest. Mother was the last one– the only one. "Masao–" Soul heard it for the whimper that it was and winced.
The page's brow furrowed, footsteps slowing regardless of the urgency all around them. "What is it, my lord?"
"Don't speak"—his voice shook, his fingers still dying to grab for cloth in some pathetic comfort—"don't look at him. I-if somethin' happens, stay right where you are."
Hesitant jade eyes searched his face. "My lord…"
"Promise me," he squeezed from his throat.
Masao lowered his head with a nod.
Soul sighed, running a shaking hand through his hair before picking up the pace as best he could. The room was an identical reflection of every time before, leaving him to shrivel down to that ten year old boy again. His father and brother always knelt– always dutiful at the right side of the hall as they abandoned the dais for him . For that beast wearing the skin of a man.
"It's been a long time." Thin lips parted in a chilling smile. As Asura's head tilted in greeting, his hair moved to blink like eyes.
"My lord." Soul started the bend of his knee.
"No, no need for that," Asura chuckled. "Come closer. You were just a boy when I saw you last. I'd like to get a better look at you."
Soul cut his hand back at Masao before taking a few more trembling steps towards the dais.
"You're shaking." His voice fluttered in all amusement. "Are you ill?"
"He's in perfect health," Soul's father finally chimed but his eyes remained averted, trained to the floor.
"No, you're right. He's just scared," Asura cooed. "Come on. Come closer." A slim hand beckoned, taloned fingers curling. Another step brought Soul to the foot of the rise. He tucked his chin, ready to bow when nails dug into his neck. The world spun as Asura lifted Soul's face to his. "Still just a frightened little mouse."
That other discordant memory threatened to push into his mind. No, no, not now! He tried to focus on the pain as Asura lifted him to his toes.
"What do you have to show me other than fear?"
Soul grit his teeth.
Unblinking eyes studied him until Asura raised his other hand to snap his fingers. "Everyone else out. Leave me with the boy."
Tight fists clenched at Maka's side as she stood outside the door. She kept reliving the faces in the room– the horrible reality of the cruelty around her.
Asura– with a face that called back the memory of Kid. Brothers, but not.
Master Wes– Soul's brother who just like his father simply turned his head and did Asura's bidding.
Soul– and the way those desperate eyes simply closed rather than search for any help amongst those in the room.
The worst of it was the fear that emanated from the other side. No door or wall could keep it out, hitting her like waves and filling her mouth with it's bile-like aftertaste. I shouldn't care —a tiny corner of her mind tried to insist— but how can anyone– anyone watch a man suffer like that and not? There can't possibly be a sin he's committed that warrants this– this abandonment! The skin of her palm screamed for relief only to receive none as her nails dug deeper.
Again, that speck of bitterness tried to speak up: But what if he's stolen Papa? Isn't that enough? It could still be true. You could be falling for this sad tale but forgetting what he really is: a monster who's stolen what you love.
She tried to latch onto the thought, but the only thing her fingers could reach was more of her own flesh as her knuckles creaked.
"Oh, you must be the new page…" Words sweet as honey drifted closely to her ear, making Maka stumble back a step. Next to her, peering close enough to breath down her neck, was a blonde woman with glowing golden eyes. Instead of the vibrant kimonos of a lady, the woman was plainly dressed in a hitatare, the crest emblazoned with the scales of a snake.
"Masao"—Maka bowed her head slightly—"and you, my lady?"
Her laugh was a throat full of grit instead of the usual high pitched twitter of courtly ladies. "Medusa– not exactly a lady, Masao. Just our great lordship, Asura's personal physician."
Regardless of the way that knowledge made her bristle, Maka reached for more. "Is his lordship sick?" she offered quietly while her eyes dared to dart towards the door. Another wave of sickly anxiety pulled her there.
"No." A gleaming smile followed as Medusa dipped her face back into Masao's view. "Are you worried for your little lord?"
Maka forced a slow breath, mimicking Medusa's ease as best she could. "I am only waiting where I am expected."
"What a dutiful little dove…" A pointed black fingernail was suddenly at Maka's cheek as if to strike until it only trailed a delicate line along her jaw. "And such a pretty face for a boy. A shame it'll go to waste as his page." That hand easily smoothed past Maka to the screen of the door, sliding it enough for the woman to slip through. "Asura," she called sweetly.
Maka bucked against secrecy, positioning herself in the doorway to catch the scene. Medusa was sauntering towards Asura, putting a hand on the man's shoulder as he crouched on the ground. His fist was in Soul's hair, straining strands to lift the unconscious face upward in an unnatural twist from his body.
"Be gentle with him, won't you?" Medusa lilted sweetly but her nails tapped impatiently to his shoulder.
Asura didn't bother to glance at her, focused entirely on the young man in his hand. "Why can't you just see it, Soul? You belong with me. I should just do you the favor of swallowing you whole. Releasing you from all of this–"
"But he's not ready," Medusa reminded softly. Her hand slipped down to his, unwinding fingers until Soul's head thunked back to the mat. "Let's be going now. Masao"—her head snapped back towards the door with a pleasant smile—"come fetch your master. It looks like he's not faring so well."
Maka rushed to follow the order, feeling sets of slithering eyes on her as she dove to Soul's side. "My lord–" She reached instinctually, his warning gone at the first sight of the sweat beading on his brow. Her fingers struck his pulse, finding it nothing more than a whisper of a beat. You're going to hate this, but I'm going to have to really touch you. I can't just leave you here– not like this. Maka rolled him onto his side, hefting his arm over her shoulder so she could start to pull him up.
While she had expected entirely dead weight, Soul lifted with only a short struggle. "Let me help you." For all his cowardice before, Wes had appeared to bolster his brother's other side. "Franken is already waiting for him back at the house."
Maka bit any reply on her tongue, still tasting the bitter words borne from all of their abandonment. She focused on moving instead, Soul simply hanging like a ragdoll between them. All signs of the others had disappeared, the halls and entryways ghostly empty of even servants. "Where did they all go?" Maka murmured.
"Take your pick," Wes answered glumly. "Whether it's Soul or Asura, they all run off. Neither man has much of a good reputation in the main house."
Well, with what Kid's told me about Asura… The name still slid goosebumps down her spine. That subtle madness that you can't see. Next flashed the picture of Soul's craned neck with those ghostly fingers ripping into his hair. Madness that would make him say Soul belongs with him… She tipped her head ever so slightly, catching the way his hair fell over his cheek as his head still hung limply. I still can't imagine why that should be your fate unless you are really as horrible as they say.
"Bring him inside." Franken's voice broke Maka from her thoughts just as they entered the courtyard. He was standing on the engawa for just a moment before disappearing back into the room. As soon as they dragged Soul in, he started again. "When did you give him the mixture?"
As soon as the two got him to the bedding, Wes stood. "Just after I left you. I thought it was better not to waste time."
Franken shrugged. "He's far into the overdose now."
Wes grasped at Franken's sleeve, a panicked effort to shake him only resulting in a small sway from the older man. "Are you saying the antidote won't–"
"I said no such thing." Franken removed Wes's fingers before kneeling next to Soul. Maka watched carefully as he produced a vial with a purplish liquid before tilting up Soul's still unconscious head. "I'm saying when we extend the time, we run the risk of permanent damage. Masao, open his jaw for me."
Maka reached, putting enough pressure at the corner of his lips to pop open his mouth. The indigo ichor started to slide from the glass into the space she'd created. "He was poisoned?" she asked quietly, even if the question felt useless.
It fluttered between the two of them, Franken letting it fall into the silence with ease. He dropped the vial, massaging at Soul's throat before checking the inside of his mouth. "Keep him on his side for the next few moments in case he vomits."
"Yes, sir." Maka stole a glance at Wes after answering, finding the man teetering at the doorway. Why don't you stay with your brother? Why do you look just as afraid of him now? She wanted to spit the venom at him but instead it turned in her mouth. And why am I so angry when it has nothing to do with me?
Wes caught her eyes, seeming to peel the questions from her glare. "If anything changes, send for me." He turned and disappeared into the glaring light of midday.
Franken watched just as attentively as Maka. She found quickly that it wasn't for those venomous thoughts of Master Wes, but to wait for the beautiful face of his daughter to pop into the doorway. Her little arms were stuffed with extra comforters, barely keeping from dragging them along the dirt. "Papa, Mama sent these."
He simply buzzed a hum of recognition before looking back towards his patient.
"Reina…" Maka started, quickly rising to help with the load. "Maybe you should–"
"She's fine," Franken assured quickly. "She knows what to do."
A blink of a smile blossomed on Reina's face as she sidestepped Maka to bring the blankets to Soul's side. "Papa, do you want the water to be warm or cold?"
Franken helped pull the heavy covers over Soul. "Cool. Bring the dipping cloth. I'm not sure he'll be able to drink on his own for some time." His glare fell on Maka. "Can you handle that?"
"Yes," Maka whispered stiffly.
"Reina"—Franken interrupted himself to place a soft hand on the crown of the girl's head—"after you bring the water, stay with Masao for a bit. See if he wakes."
"Yes, Papa!" Reina chirped as if there wasn't a practically lifeless body between them. She was up and off before Franken could even form a smile.
"She's seen this before," Maka continued quietly.
"Many times," Franken answered succinctly.
Maka looked after the shadow of the little girl, seeing fragments of herself drifting away with her. How many times did you see Papa like this? Or Mama? Back from a mission and– She swallowed desperately. "I can take care of this."
"I'm sure you can." Franken's grin, previously warmed with love for his daughter, cooled. "If he wakes, be careful about touching him. He'll be more comfortable if you don't."
She could do nothing more than stare, knowing that her questions would be useless to utter: Why? Why is touching him such a sin? Why does it scare most of them and even him? "He'll have to expect at least some touching. You said he wasn't going to be able to drink on his own, didn't you?"
"Hm," Franken purred as he got to his feet. "Stubborn, aren't you, Masao?"
Stubborn, just like your mama– drifted past her ears in Papa's voice, just as much amusement where there should be exasperation.
I'm just still thinking of Reina. Maka tried to shake the noise from her ears. That's the only father and daughter here. "If that's a problem, bring it up with my lord."
Chuckles drifted as Franken started an easy walk towards the door, already on the engawa before bothering to offer a glance back. "Take care of him. Reina will help."
Before Maka could argue the finer points of saving a child from that sort of work, the man disappeared, leaving her only with the one at her knees. "Soul?" Her murmur stung her in its uselessness, watching every muscle of his besides the shallow rise and fall of his chest remain motionless. Regardless, she continued: "You knew what you were drinking this morning. If Asura was going to hurt you, shouldn't you have just used the pipe? Wouldn't that have done just as much but without all this…"
The memory assaulted her mind's eye again– the fear that shed from him as soon as his eyes shut.
She tried to swallow the heartbreak of it, but it drifted out on her quivering sigh. "Why couldn't you ask for help?"
Little footsteps quieted anymore lamenting. Reina appeared on the engawa, a basin of water balanced carefully between her hands. "Masao, is Shiro-chan still sleeping?"
"Yes."
A dissatisfied hum left her little cupid-bow lips as she finished walking the water to Maka's side. Without spilling a drop, she deposited the bowl between them before leaning over Soul's face. "Shiro-chan?" Her beautiful curls spilled over his chest as she lay her head there before Maka could grab her. "His heart is still slow. Thump. Thump. Thump. " She mimicked beats that shouldn't be possible, sending a crawling trail of fear down Maka's spine. Nevertheless, her head popped up with a soft smile. "It means he'll be asleep for a while." Gentle little hands moved to the comforters, bringing them up and tucking him in like a dutiful mother.
"Does Shiro-chan get sick like this a lot?" Maka offered quietly.
Reina suddenly had more than just her father's eye color, all appraisal as they fell on Maka. "He wouldn't like it if you called him that," the little girl answered pertly as she went back to arranging the covers. "Give him some water."
Just like her father. A weak grin took hold of her at the thought as she shuffled closer to him. Helping him drink wasn't entirely out of her repertoire, but the rules and regulations in place seemed to fly in the face of it. Instead, as Maka was apt to do, she tossed all of the logic of others aside and slid into what she knew to be right. She moved, getting close enough that as she lifted his head carefully she could rest him on the slope of her legs.
Reina glare touched each one of Maka's movements. "That's not how the other pages did it."
"He might choke if it just drips down. An angle is better." Maka tried to rip away the intimacy of it, but the way his soft hair brushed her fingers brought a momentary flash to her senses. Don't be stupid , she chided internally, reaching for some kind of switch in her mind to flick. She tried to focus on the chill of his cheek beneath the mask as her fingers moved to ease his jaw open again.
Maka dipped the cloth, bringing the droplets to his lips and letting them fall as a gentle drizzle over his tongue. It was as if marble were under her fingers, the cold, smoothness of his skin as her hand slid to his throat making her think of nothing but stone. Thankfully, she felt the movement of a weak swallow, his mouth closing slightly with the motion. He's alright . The sudden gentleness of the words in her mind made her buck, her eyes going wide.
"Don't be scared." Reina's hand caught Maka's wrist, keeping it in place against Soul's throat. "Please, don't be scared."
"Of him?" Maka looked from Reina's desperation to Soul's stillness and sighed.
"Shiro-chan's good ," Reina urged. "He just–"
"It's alright, Reina." She dipped the cloth again, repeated the process of the smooth touch to his jaw, the gentle parting of his lips, the light rain. "There's nothing here that I'm scared of."
