Maka had been curled in the same position since the early hints of sunlight in the sky, watching them lighten the courtyard in her dismay. It's never this bad. What should I do? She considered rolling over, but another throb of her abdomen banished the thought. Maybe I can get to Franken and ask him for something for the pain, but… how do I sneak past Soul?
Soul was already sitting on the engawa, his back to her as he lit his pipe. "Masao."
"It's early, isn't it?" She tried to give that complaint, but found it weakly withering off her lips.
As if there hadn't been a question, silence lingered for a few beats of her heart before he cleared his throat. "Is the smoke botherin' you?"
He's never cared before. Maka just caught the hmph behind her teeth. "No."
It wasn't until her answer came that the smoke drifted by again, along with a clipped sigh. "Somethin's…" That was barely above a whisper but still sailed along with the grey mist.
Maka crept further along the bedding, just enough to catch the way his lips moved in a now soundless mutter with the pipe snuck between them. He's smoking early this morning. He usually doesn't until the afternoon since he's a lump afterwards. "My lord–"
Whatever else she had was cut off with the thwack! of the kiseru against the wood of the engawa, tossing ash into the dirt below. "I'll be back." He left the pipe out as he got up on shaky feet.
"You–" you can't, she wanted to insist, but he was already gone in a cloud of summer dust.
Marie stifled a yawn with the back of her hand before reaching for the greens and tossing them onto the chopping block. It was the quiet hour before the true dawn– a time when kitchen life only consisted of the glow of the hearth and the beat of her heart. Instead of this usual hum, a steady set of footsteps had started on the approach, making Marie turn and let the fire warm her back as she waited for either the sardonic smile of her husband or a sullen morning maid.
Instead, it was a masked face just breaking the threshold of the door along with his hand clenched tightly to the frame.
Her heart quivered up into her throat with the words: "Did something happen to Masao?" Oh, Death, not Maka! Please tell me she's fine because he was finally starting to trust her– maybe even like her!
Soul heaved a sigh as he graced the doorway, still easing his weight against the side. "He's sick."
"How sick?" Marie rushed towards him, her hands hovering in the space just before his comfort evaporated.
His shoulders rolled heavily before he shook his head.
"Soul," she scolded, "tell me what kind of sick."
"In pain," he muttered back.
"What about his breathing? His color?" If she could shake him she would have, but that aura around him kept her fists shaking with futility between them.
"Fine." His eyes rolled instantly around the holes of the mask as she huffed unsatisfied at him. "Just won't get out of bed. Curled up and won't move since late last night."
"You watched over him last night?" Marie offered as her eyebrows climbed up her forehead.
Soul eyes darted to hers, his hard stare doing nothing to melt the inquisitivity on her face. "He's loud"—the mutter barely made it off his lips—"since he's usually tossin' and turnin'. Not last night."
Yes, but that means you're paying attention to someone else! The idea twittered happily in her head before she turned back to the board, instantly starting on the greens. "Then you'll bring him something real to eat. I'll have Franken bring him some medicine, too."
"Food?" While he had tried to make it flippant, the question still fluttered with enough interest to reach her ears.
"I've told you many times before"—scolding was back even though a smile was starting on her lips—"that this punishment of yours is too much. A body needs nutrients, especially certain bodies during certain times. You may only get sick every now and then, but Masao's body is different–"
"Why would you say that?"
Marie shivered at the snap of his question, and when she turned her head, she was met with another hard glare. "At the very least, Masao is smaller." She tried to offer that with as little judgment as she could even though the rest raced away in her thoughts: And while not an hourglass figure, definitely has the softness of a woman's curves. Honestly, Soul, I don't know how you don't see it. She's a woman– the first woman you've ever let near you.
"Smaller?" he prompted.
"Smaller and…" Marie rolled her wrist as if to whip the rest from thin air. Has a myriad of other things going on with her that you'll never understand. As if you'd know the complexities of a woman's body… Her smile turned wry, a minute chuckle escaping her before she could snap her mouth shut.
His lips stretched into a thin line.
Marie ignored it and threw all of her interest into arranging the dishes on the tray. It was no longer the sparse serving of rice and chicken, but now the regular array of treats that would grace the lord's table. She made sure to add extra greens and fish, even a serving of that delicately sliced raw salmon that Master Wes always ordered.
"Masao's hidin' somethin'."
Marie spread a smile from cheek to cheek before turning to him, brandishing the tray in his direction.
Soul didn't reach for it, his hands tucking into his kosode instead. "Marie."
"If you're trying to chide me into telling a secret I don't know, it's obviously not going to work." She tipped the tray towards him again. "Take it to your page. I'll bring another tray for you in a moment."
His eyes searched over the dishes as his shaky hands took the spread from her. "Don't bother. Bring what I always eat."
Marie heaved a sigh, but he was already turning and out the door with a clatter of dishes.
Maka carefully cleaned out the kiseru which was the most she had managed after dragging herself from bed. It's never been this bad. Maybe I'll have to take a risk and trust Franken… A sigh feathered over her lips as she opened Soul's case to place the pipe with care. No! I should leave. Star was right. All I'm doing here– the only thing– Tears started to burn beneath her lids as she pressed them tightly shut along with the lacquer top, kneading the wood between her fingers.
In the haze of opening them—that little bit of liquid blurring the picture before her—she found Soul crossing the yard, a tray filled to the brim in his hands. "W-what's that?" Maka couldn't stop the squeak.
"Eat," he answered simply as he settled the tray next to her on the engawa. Without a passing glance to either her or the food, Soul made broken steps back into the room to his own bedding.
"Soul–"
"Just eat," he muttered before falling into the mess of fabric. "Marie's bringin' medicine."
"What about you?"
The lump in the sheets did not answer.
Maka looked between him and the meal, waiting for at least another grumpy word. "Thank you, Soul."
Even that did not birth a reaction.
In the absence, she found herself sighing before picking up the chopsticks. He went through all this trouble. Maka shook her head in an attempt to toss away the thought as she nabbed a piece of grilled eel before popping it in her mouth. No. Don't see this as some kind of kindness. Isn't this what other people in the house are eating? Why should he– you be any different?
Bite after bite brought satisfaction to her stomach, but not her mind. Even worse was that knowing smile that graced Marie's face as she arrived through the overhang as soon as the meal was finished. "I heard you aren't feeling well, Masao." She had another tray in her hands with Soul's simple meal along with a vial.
Maka eyed the liquid, and while it was definitely a different color from Soul's usual concoctions, her heart started to seize in fear. "I'm sorry if it's gotten in the way of your work…" she managed to mumble even if her focus couldn't fall from the ichor.
Marie was already shaking her head at the idea. "It's not like you got sick on purpose. And, honestly, it was nice to see Soul actually getting off his ass for once."
"Marie," Maka hissed as she threw a glance over her shoulder at the pile that still refused to move.
"He's asleep," Marie replied with a laugh as she sat the tray next to Maka's before resting beside it on the engawa. "I could smell his pipe on him when he came to the kitchen."
"Yes…" Maka answered tentatively. She snuck another look back at Soul, finding him still motionless, but a bit of guilt blossoming in her chest nonetheless. "What's in that smoke?"
"Who knows what Franken makes," Marie's murmur sounded close to her ear as she leaned to follow Maka's line of sight, "but it steals a lot from him. Fogs him over."
"Why?" She instantly wanted to swallow the word back up, especially as Marie's tender glance lighted on her, flickers of sadness betrayed in those doe eyes.
"Because he's afraid," Marie whispered before dropping her gaze to the dishes. She rearranged between the trays, taking what Maka had finished and replacing it with the vial and Soul's meal. Her fingers stopped as they tapped the china that housed the sashimi left untouched. "You don't like it?"
Maka couldn't stop her nose from wrinkling. "I never have."
A breathy laugh trickled out of her. "It's Soul's favorite. Master Wes always buys it hoping that he can somehow convince him to indulge, but…" This chuckle came ruefully as her fingers hovered along the edge. "It's always untouched when I try to give it to him."
On impulse, Maka's hand tapped away hers. "Leave it."
That spurred Marie's attention back to the vial, picking it up and pressing it closer to Maka's reaching fingers. "Take this. It helps with all sorts of pain. I take it every month for my cramps." She placed the medicine down so she could roll her wrist for the rest.
Maka held her breath as she eyed the liquid in the glass.
"But lack of proper nutrition is probably the real problem," she chided with that sweet motherly air. "He doesn't understand—so please don't blame him—but I'm sure you'll get real meals from now on."
"What about him?" She continued to twist the vial between her fingers as her eyes drifted back towards his motionless bedding.
A long, pained sigh drifted over Marie's lips. "Years, Masao. I've tried for years." She motioned towards the plain plate that was Soul's every meal. "When I met him, I had to feed him bland things– broth, porridge. He'd gone for so long without food that he needed to start slowly, but when I began to try to introduce more to him?" Another blustery breath broke free before the words: "He's never let himself have anything since his mother died."
His music. The grave. Even food! Is it all just punishment? Atonement? Why does he– Her glare went back to the bedding, heart screaming towards the motionless man. Why does he insist on all the cruelty in the world to be placed solely on him?
"The only reason he isn't stunted is because for a while…" Marie risked a glance back at the man in question, an utter fog of sadness coming over her gaze. "Franken used to lie to Soul about the drinks he'd give him. It was really nothing more than–" The secret caught on her tongue before Marie tilted her head back towards Maka. "I have to be going. I'll send Franken by tonight with more medicine, but I'll bring lunch and dinner." She stood, starting the walk into the yard before turning with a finger of warning. "Tell Soul not to have any more of the kiseru. I honestly wish he'd quit it."
"Thank you, Marie."
She waved off the gratitude just as quickly as she made her way out of the yard.
Maka was sure she should have some kind of hesitation but she opened the lid quickly and shot back the bitter liquid. She knows. She snapped her tongue against the aftertaste before sighing. She has to know. There's a good chance that she's on her way to Wes or their father now to tell. So get up and leave. Get out now. You're full, your pain should be abating soon, and–
A soft groan startled her from her thoughts.
She dropped the vial next to the tray before pausing.
In the silence, his low grunt started before petering off into a whimper.
"Soul?" She tried first but only received another rumble from him. Maka stood, taking the tray with her as if she needed the excuse to get closer. He'd left his mask on, but she could still see the sweat glistening along his jaw. "Soul?"
"Momma," he whispered hoarsely, just in time for Maka to realize what she thought was perspiration was actually salty tears leaking from underneath his mask.
Her hands hovered, ready to touch him when his warning screamed again in the back of her mind. Just another thing he's not allowed to have. She leaned closer before loosing a bit of her frustration: "Soul!"
He sucked in air, eyes shooting wide as his fists clenched into the fabric. His chest heaved a few more times before his glare settled on her rather than the frightened revolution around the room. "What?"
"What do you mean 'what?'" Maka snapped back as she gestured towards his mask.
Soul shrunk away, turning onto his side so he could hide his face enough to lift the mask. Before Maka could see much more than the curve of his cheek, the sheet pulled up and over his head.
"You were having a nightmare," Maka pressed but received only minimal movement to the cloth in reply.
"Fine," he grumbled from underneath. "And now I'm not."
Maka rolled her eyes even if it was only for her own benefit. "You need to eat."
"I'm not hungry."
Everything in her was screaming to rip away the sheet. "Turn over and look at me."
"This is the thanks I get," he muttered.
Her fists curled tightly against her thighs. "Soul, turn over and look at me now."
"What?" he lashed as the fabric pulled away to expose his mask once again. Red eyes blared at her with fire that threatened to consume, but she met them all the same.
"You need to eat." Her voice was as even as she could make it as her hand swiped towards the tray.
"I said I'm not hungry," he seethed between tight teeth.
"You have to eat"—she pressed back with a sigh—"because I need to thank you for what you did."
Some of the fire died with a blink as Soul looked skeptically between her and the food. "Thank me?"
"I know it must have been hard to go to the main house," she huffed the begrudged bit of credit. "The smoke doesn't make you feel well—it's probably nothing but more poison. You did that so you could walk over, didn't you?"
He was silent, only shrinking back against the sheet.
"I have your favorite and you're going to eat it." She picked up the dish of sashimi, posing her chopsticks over it. "Sit up and take this."
"I don't eat that," he answered breathlessly.
She brandished it at him again with little mercy. "Except it is your favorite."
"It–" His eyes darted to the plate and then back to her. "You eat it."
"No," she shot back exasperatedly. "You're going to eat it. Even if I have to feed you myself." Maka snipped at the fish, picking it up cleanly before hovering it closer to him. "Open up."
He balked, "I'm not a baby."
"You're acting like one!" She spat back. "Open up or I'm going to hold you down and stuff it–"
His fingers clenched tightly again as a dangerous bit of need clawed from somewhere deep in his chest. He jutted up on an elbow, startling the rest of the sentence from her mouth. "Why?"
"Why?" Maka parrotted back before huffing pure annoyance. "Do you not want me to thank you?"
He dug his elbow into the tatami mat as his eyes fell on the treat still clamped in her chopsticks.
"Open up," Maka repeated.
His jaw dropped just enough as he leaned forward. Maka finally realized the trembling in her fingers as the food met his lips, his tongue sneaking out to help with the bite that she was no longer really aiding. As he chewed, a hint of a smirk started to curl his lips.
"What?" she snapped.
"You're red," he mumbled through the last dredges of food.
"Well, it's embarrassing!" Her voice fluttered up too high, only bringing more heat to her cheeks. "A grown man–"
"–feedin' a grown man," Soul finished for her as his red glare caught her.
"Yes," she murmured as she turned her head away. "Embarrassing."
A soft chuckle from him crept up her spine, leaving a trail of annoyance and something even more prickling. "Well, you're not very grown. You're the tiniest man I ever saw, Masao."
"Now you can finish this by yourself!" She clattered the chopsticks and the plate in front of him as she quickly got to her feet. "And you can forget–" The threat fizzled behind her teeth since she could barely formulate a thought beyond the bright burn on her face.
"You're feelin' better…"
"I am," she clipped quickly as she barely managed to drop her eyes to his.
Soul was staring up at her expectantly, still lounging easily with a smirk.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself, my lord." For a moment, her hands dug into her hips until she forced them to slip. "Especially since from now on you're eating. You saw what happened to me and the same could happen to you if you don't get the food you need. Not to mention, you're practically skin and bones as it is! A man like you–"
He was lazily looking down as if to verify her statement.
Maka's eyes shot off towards the yard as she turned from him.
A hazy chuckle left him. "I'm–"
Her voice warbled with the heat still driving up her throat. "If you're trying to tell me you're fine, don't bother. I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."
His sigh withered up between them, but the silence lingered for only a moment after when she heard the clink of the chopsticks against the plate. Maka took a few more steps towards the engawa, forcing her eyes to train on a corner of the garden as it came into view. "Masao," he called towards her.
"I already said–" As she turned to him she saw the empty plate he was spinning against the mat.
He was smirking wider—as if threatening to crack the jaw with the mirth of it—as he continued to toy with the ceramic. "You're welcome."
