Soul's ears perked at Star's boisterous voice from behind the bamboo paneling: "Pages are supposed to attend their masters."

With a roll of his eyes, Soul grabbed his abandoned kosode and draped it over his otherwise bare lap just in time for Masao's dragging steps to shuffle through the opening. "My lord said I should wait outside."

"And what if he's drownin' in the bath?" Star cajoled as he shook the page by their thin shoulders.

"I'm fine," Soul grumbled as he clutched the bit of cloth tighter. "And I didn't invite him or you to join me."

"Don't tell me you're shy?" Star's eyebrows wiggled as he continued to jostle Masao.

"Let me go, Lord Black Star." That sweet voice was a hiss without an ounce of servitude.

Soul barely stopped himself from cracking a grin.

"Well, Masao, at least bring us some sake." Star nudged the page for good measure, sending them and their averted eyes back out behind the screen.

"You're an ass." Soul settled against the edge of the pool with a sigh, loosening the tight grip on the cloth at his waist but still letting it sit in his lap.

"Well, most men aren't that shy." Without ceremony, Black Star dropped his yukata off his shoulders before trouncing into the water, sending waves to lap at Soul's knees.

"Not shy." Soul set his kosode to the side before slowly slipping into the current Star left behind. His grimace flashed just below the mask before it parted in his experimental declaration: "I think you know Masao's a woman."

Every last bit of joviality slid away from Star's features as he just stopped from sitting, his backbone straightening tall instead.

I'm right. Not him– not them– she. Soul tilted his chin upwards, staring unblinking at the other man. "What's her real name?"

"How should I know?" Star answered flatly.

"You do." Soul eased lower, tilting his head back so his eyes could focus on the wide open sky. All of this is a bet, but I'm willin' to take it. I want to know. I don't want secrets between us anymore.

"If I know all this," Star hissed, "maybe you shouldn't be showin' me your throat, you ever think of that?"

He made no moves to cover, just another slow sigh leaking from his lips. "What's her real name?"

"Why do you even think I know her?" he grumbled, but Soul smiled as the water shifted with Star's submersion.

"Because you're just as much an ass to her as you are to me." Soul rolled his head towards his shoulder, catching Black Star stubbornly sitting in the water with his arms crossed. "You bicker like siblings."

"Because she's a pain in the ass," Black Star snapped before dropping his arms with a sigh. He shook his head slowly. "See, this is why I told her she should have paraded around like a marriage prospect. Not that she's much to look at, but she isn't fooling anyone that she's a man."

"Passable." Soul shrugged as he let his head roll back to the sky above.

"Then how'd you know?"

"The way she averts her eyes"—his voice came breathily and weak-"like she's never seen a man before. That's much more than shyness."

"Pfft–" Black Star managed only the sound before erupting into cackles. "Technically, she hates men. Her father was a real piece of work. Hence the whole refusal to even try to woo you– not that I think she could. So… you gonna out her?"

"Why should I?" Because that would be the easiest way to get rid of her, and I know that's the last thing I want. I need her here. Masao or… whoever else she happens to be, I need her. "She does her job."

Star chuckled again. "Barely."

As if to answer that, unruly grumbles started behind the screen before Masao appeared back in the entryway. Her eyes were focused on her feet as she carried the tray and set it between the two men. "If there's nothing else–"

"Could join us if you'd like." Black Star flicked a finger of water at her.

Soul watched with a growing smirk as her cheeks turned cherry blossom pink before rage-filled green eyes snapped to Black Star's face. "No, thank you."

"Shy just like your master, huh?" He shot another stream of water her way, just barely catching the bottom of Masao's yukata.

"Go, Masao," Soul murmured.

Those pert lips didn't take that order well, wrinkling further as jade orbs flashed fury his way. The pink shaded to red before she turned her head and started away from the bath.

"'Go, Masao,'" Black Star mimicked mirthfully. "She's gonna rip you a new one for sayin' that when you're alone."

Soul snorted a laugh. "What's her real name?"

"Why do you even care?" Star swept his fingers over the water with a quick chuckle.

"I don't like lies– secrets."

Star scoffed. "Says the man hidin' behind a mask all the time."

The weight of it ached on his face at the reminder, the thin veil of sweat that hugged between the wood and his skin making him itch for air. "I think… I think I just want to know."

The sound of ripples filled the silence until Star huffed. "Maka."

"Maka," he echoed. It feels like a corner bein' fitted, dovetail tuckin' perfectly into dovetail. "Will it… will it hurt her that I know?"

"Let me talk to her," Star replied flatly.

"Alright…" That stone settled in his gut. "I don't want her to think–"

"How stupid are you?" Star snapped as his hands sharply broke through the water.

"Huh?" Soul lifted his head, focusing on the annoyed wrinkle to the man's brow.

"A woman poses as a man to get close to you and you don't even think about why? You're too worried about her feelings? Who the hell cares when—like I said—you're leavin' your throat to be slit?" He added the garish motion along with a rasping noise that grated along Soul's nerves.

"I care," Soul muttered with a shrug.

"About gettin' your throat slit? Obviously not."

He only shrugged again.

"And you call me an ass," Star huffed. "What about me?"

The question seemed to get lost somewhere in the steam since Soul had tilted his head back, the stars much more captivating than the other man's scowl. "What about you?"

"I know her, her name, and that she's a pain in the ass." A lively chuckle drifted after the words, but the next came drenched in ice: "You worried about me?"

Soul rolled his neck again, trying to loosen the wind of his shoulders. "I'm worried you won't shut up and let me relax."

"That's what the sake's for."


There was a pleasant heat and thickness to his blood, his limbs fuzzy as he swung them along. Tonight was filled with oddity that was starting to sink to his bones. Maybe… He tried to push back against the thought, but there was no fight left in him. Maybe I'm not alone. Maybe I don't have to be. Maybe I'm–

It was a fox's yelp in the night that broke that hope. Soul paused, eyeing the darkness of the overhang and expecting to see beady eyes glowing in the dark but instead saw a flash of fabric. Another cry slipped through the darkness, mostly muffled.

"You're the Scythe's little page, aren't you?"

Gone was the joy that lingered in his veins, snapped away with the cold question as he took another hurried step into the bower.

"Does he know your dirty little secret?"

That brought that animal yip again along with the start of a scuffle. Soul followed the sound, just off the side of the arbor against the building adjacent to their home. There, Maka was kicking and clawing at another servant who had her pinned half in the dirt, hand over her mouth while the other was yanking one of her arms. By the time he stepped into the man's shadow, she had already kicked him off, the man tumbling into Soul.

"Who said," he started in a low growl as his hand clutched the man's neck from behind, "you could touch my page?"

"M-my lord– do you see?" The man was frozen except for the hand that struck an accusatory finger in Maka's direction.

She was heaving breath, trying to fix her yukata that had been pulled out of place to no longer cover her loosening bindings.

"She's been deceiving you, my lord!" The digit pulsed at Maka again.

"And that gave you the right to touch her?" His voice bit like acid into the man's ear as he threw him to the side. While Soul's heart might call for her, the fog of his mind was giving into the seething, turning after the servant he'd thrown into the dust. "Do you really think I'd let you touch her?" he bellowed as he fell on the man, his fists curling but a blade unfurling with the blind rage. Instead of a strong right hook, the curved scythe that had popped from his wrist clearly cut into the man's throat, erupting in blood that splattered hot and fresh against his mask.

"Soul!" Maka shouted, but he was lost, tumbling down a hole into a blackening frenzy.

Do you think I'd let you touch her? He pulled his arm back again, ready for a second strike to join the first. White hair, red eyes wide with fright, that deep blue kimono like the winter sky flashed over his mind. He could feel the other blades ripping through his skin, one at his ribs while the other split his hakama on his left thigh. I won't let you. I won't let you do this to her– to her!

"Soul," she urged again, but this time her hands joined her voice, pleading fingers slipping around his waist from behind to snag the front of his kosode and pull his back to her chest.

His mother's face disappeared from his mind, no longer bathed in blood. He was overwhelmed as if all that touched was skin, not both bodies swathed in cloth. While panic should have gripped him, it was euphoria instead, especially as the blades slowly receded as if called, as if Maka's fingers willed his body at ease. He choked out an unidentifiable sound, the strange marriage of a sob and a laugh.

"Did you–" Her question failed to come completely to life as she slowly released him to move to his side, staring down at the blood that was pooling beneath the man's body. "Thank you."

The words barely registered, just his eyes falling desperately to her face. Fear– she should be afraid of me– she should be terrified– she should be–

"If you hadn't– I would have," she partly answered his panic.

"Maka…" Her name fell off his lips so effortlessly just so her eyes could blossom wider than they had at even the death scene. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." Her glare darted quickly back towards the body as she half-turned from him. "Go wash up. I'll find Star, or–"

"Marie," Soul corrected quickly. "She'll get Franken. The body won't be a problem." His movements were impossible, and he desperately tried to blame them on the drink as he reached for her. She allowed his hand to fix the tendrils of hair that had loosened over her face, clearing it back behind her ear. "Come home after you tell Marie."

Her sigh trembled, skin burning under his fingertips. "I-I will."


Marie leaned against Franken's desk, sighing at his unwillingness to move a muscle besides the flipping of pages. "Franken, it's late. Reina's still at the temple and–"

His hand snaked out, abandoning his books to clutch at her waist. "Maybe that was part of my plan." Franken's chin finally tilted upward, grin calling to her as much as his words: "Perhaps, you and I could…"

She hung on each syllable, dipping lower to answer the call of his lips when they suddenly pressed to a thin line. "What is it?"

Franken released her, turning to get to his feet. He was halfway to the door when Marie finally heard the quickening footsteps in the hall. By the time he had slid it open, Masao's colorless face was hovering in the divide.

"Masao?" Marie immediately strode forward, hands grasping at thin shoulders that were even more frail.

"Marie, s-something happened. I need your help." There was still a willful glow to those green eyes but all the muscles were taut with worry under Marie's fingers.

Soul! She bit into the cry. Instead, she pulled Masao into the office, allowing Franken to close the door behind them. In the lantern light, Marie could finally see the disheveled nature of Masao's clothes, the bindings that had been messily tucked back together still peeking from the page's kosode. Oh, Death, no. "Who did this to you?" Marie's hands moved from Masao's shoulders to the top of the cloth that could no longer hide the femininity.

"Marie–" The page scared away Marie's hands, back brushing against the closed door as she retreated. Discerning green eyes looked up at Franken. "There's a body that Soul needs you to take care of."

Franken flicked a cool glare Marie's way before pushing Masao aside and slinking out the door. It slid closed, leaving Marie to watch what had been a boy settle into the corner.

Marie took a moment to still her own breath before whispering, "Does Soul know now?"

"Know what?" warbled back with no conviction, just Masao's hand coming to rest on her chest.

"I've known for some time," Marie murmured gently, "that you're a woman. Franken too. It hasn't bothered either of us all that much, and I doubt that Soul–"

"The body," Masao reminded. "That's what I needed your help with, not this." Stubborn hands pulled at the kosode's collar, Masao still trying to cover a truth that was all too obvious.

"What's your real name?" She tried again, this time taking a step closer to Masao with tender hands stretched between them.

Obstinance shone in Masao's glare before it blinked away, a melancholy mist covering any sign of it. "You don't need to know that. I-I can't stay now. I'm sure he– well, it doesn't matter what Soul says, it just can't be like this anymore."

Even with the bristling, Marie rested her tender touch on Masao's shoulders again. "Have you asked him? Talked to him?"

Her face turned away, glare trying desperately to hold on the doorway. "I don't– I said it doesn't matter." Marie's fingers tried to follow but Masao was pulling towards the door, sliding it open to give enough space between them that all contact fell. "Thank you, Marie, for everything."

Marie had no reply, just watching the figure disappear into the darkness. She sighed, letting her wayward hand rest on the door. Soul, don't let her go. For both of your sakes, don't let her go.


Maka watched the light tremble weakly from the open slide out into the courtyard. He'd left one lamp burning and while it called to her, the panic in her heart kept her stationary.

He knows.

She dug her heels into the dirt, ready to turn back to the darkness.

He knows, which means the mission is ruined. If I go back into that room, what else can he do but murder me? Imprison me? He'd be a fool to do anything else, so I'd be a fool to do anything but run. He can't stop me. I'll find Star, and we'll leave since it's obvious Papa isn't here. It's obvious that he's just some sad, lonely man imprisoned by his family– trapped and–

Instead, she launched a step forward as her knees wobbled.

What was that look on his face? The fear of killing a man? Or the fear of me seeing him kill a man? And why would he—someone scarred and constantly flouted as a murderer—look so absolutely lost?

As if beckoned by her questions, the subject stepped out onto the engawa, his masked face now wiped clean of blood.

"Were you hurt?" Maka offered as her voice tried not to tremble.

"Isn't that what I should be askin' you?" He failed where she succeeded as he tried to take a step back towards the opening, creating distance between them. "Tell me what happened."

"I…" Her arms tucked around her elbows, hugging tightly. "I came back here, decided to unwrap my bindings because you'd come back and slink behind your side of the screen anyway. You've never noticed before." She raised her eyes to his.

He shook his head.

"Someone sent him since there's been no reason for a servant other than Marie to come here before. He saw me–" She pulled at her yukata to cover what was already hidden but still tugged at her heart. "I was coming back towards the main house so someone might hear."

"Why didn't you just kill him?" It wasn't curiosity in the question but an unfamiliar pain that Maka couldn't place.

"How would I explain that?"

"How were you plannin' on explainin' this?" He motioned towards her.

That bit into her, the reality of it finally letting the call at the back of her mind come forward. "Star knows, and– it's time for you to know too."

A lengthy sigh fluttered under his mask as he receded the rest of the way into the room.

Now run. You've told him everything—more than he should ever know—and now you should disappear. Even with that desperate urging, her feet brought her up on the engawa to see him sitting with his back to her, his mask laying next to him on the floor. "Soul, could you put your mask back on?" she murmured as she took a step. "I don't want to talk through the screen, and I–"

The turn of his head murdered the rest of her thoughts. It wasn't just his face shining in the lamp light—one she might think of as handsome if her mind had the ability to churn—but the tears surging over his cheeks that struck an icy shard straight into her chest. Maka stumbled another step closer before coming to her knees at the edge of his bedding. Soul watched her, motionless other than the silent flow of his sobs.

"Y-your mask," she murmured uselessly.

He lent a second's glance at it before he moved to face her entirely uncovered.

"Why are you crying?" Her fingers hesitated at the edge of her knees, gripping the fabric tightly.

A bitter bit of a laugh fluttered over his lips before his hand moved towards hers, a trembling finger lighting on the top of her knuckles. The barely there contact made another wash of salt water flow down his cheeks.

"Soul…" With all his hesitation, her's fluttered away as she grasped his wavering hand and brought it down to her knee. "What is it?" she ordered as she clutched him tightly.

That grip broke him, a terrible, guttural groan of pain rumbling up from his chest before he pitched forward.

The terror brought a tug backward of her hand. "I know I'm not supposed to touch you–"

"No!" he brayed desperately as he pulled her hand back. When his forehead touched the mat he brought her fingers to his face, saturating them in his tears. "Please– please don't take it away."

Her heart clamored against her ribs as he continued to clutch her hand tightly against his cheek. He must be drunk– the excuse attempted to latch with exasperation, but his next unchecked sob destroyed it. He is, but he's also… in so much pain he might break. "Alright…" she murmured softly as she scooted close enough that the crown of his head touched her knees. With trembling fingers, she touched her other hand to his hair, starting to straighten wayward strands. "Just try to breathe."

A jagged rasp came in reply as he unfurled her fingers so the warmth of her palm would cover his cheek.

"How–" The start of the question burned the back of her throat and Maka suddenly realized the heat of tears in her own eyes. "How long has it been since someone really touched you?"

A pained whine of air scraped up from his chest before he sucked in another breath. She half expected more silence or only stuttering gasps, but his voice came weakly: "Ten years."

He was a child! That cry willed strength into her fingers, movements that had no hope of making up for a decade. Maka watched the jittering rise and fall of his back smooth out as the monsoon under her right palm began to dry. But why now? It can't be because I'm a woman– he would have let Marie or Reina if that was true, but I've seen him shy away from both of them even in all of their warmth. The next swipe of her hand came with a tremor. It doesn't matter. I'm leaving anyway. Tonight. I'll let him have this and then I'll go. "You should try to rest."

His spine must have ached but he righted himself with ease even though his shoulders hunched. Her hand came uselessly back to her lap since she was no longer the curator of his cheeks– a job left to the sleeves of his kosode. With his face clear, his eyes settled on hers with that still glossy shine.

"Lay down," she ordered as she stood.

Like a child, his hand shot out and grabbed the hem of her yukata. As his fist bunched into the fabric, his eyes fell to the floor, shame coloring his cheeks.

Say it– her heart irrationally called to him. Don't pretend that I know because right now, I don't. I don't know who you are or what you need, just that I'm– I'm supposed to go. As the silence continued, her hand fell to his, prying loose his grip. "Lay down." Soul settled vertebrae by vertebrae into the bedding, his abandoned fingers falling uselessly to press into the mat. "I'm going to go talk to Star, and then I'll be back."

Red eyes pierced upwards, striking her face with a force that smacked her back towards the door. "Good night," he murmured, but Maka heard the finality in it– the goodbye.


Star dangled his feet over the ledge of the roof. Balance was key on this dilapidated structure as the thatch threatened to fall through at any moment. Regardless of the danger, it was the appearance that mattered, the way it stopped Maka dead in her tracks as she appeared in the clearing.

"You're going to break your neck!" she snapped.

He snapped his tongue in irritation before narrowing his eyes at her. "Your lord knows your little secret."

Her hands slipped to her elbows, cradling her arms across her middle. "How do you know that?"

"From the way he made it sound, he's known for a while–"

"When did he tell you?" Her voice was a whip, but hit him with a dullness that only brought a roll of his eyes.

"Tonight in the bath, before the sake. All he seemed to want to know was your name."

"And you told him!" Maka took a charging step forward but still found her feet wavering.

"What else was I supposed to do?" He shrugged off her agitation. "Plus, he didn't give a shit– that you're a girl, that you could kill him, or that I know all your secrets." A finger flew upward with each part of the list until he finished with a laugh. "I still can't figure out if he's stupid or just has a death wish."

"Both," Maka murmured in reply before lifting her hands to her face. Maybe there was hope that she could hide the overwhelming storm that was starting across her features behind her palms. It was worth the shot, but Star's words spoke of her failure.

"You gonna run?"

"Run?" She let out a guttural shout as she dropped her hands. "What else can I do? Papa obviously isn't here—neither you nor I have been able to find a trace—and Soul's not some murderous bastard–"

"That you've spent almost a year with." Star left that conflicted cut elsewhere, raising his eyebrows for his real quarry: "So what happened tonight that's special?"

Maka flustered momentarily, her hands clenching together with the memory of his. "He killed a servant because they were attacking me."

He was no longer dangling but coming to perch, his feet under him as he crouched. "You saw his weapon? The Scythe wieldin' his scythe?"

The memory rolled back over her mind– the broad reach of his shoulders as he hunched over that slimy bastard. The way his fist had reared back but the wound was no punch but a gash. "No. Not a scythe. He must have… maybe he was hiding a blade in his hand."

"Or…" Star spun the air with his finger.

"No." While she had tried to make it firm, her voice faltered.

"Dunno, Maka," he piped cheerfully as he abandoned his crumbling post to jump down to the earth. A cloud of dust drifted over his feet but Maka was too busy staring at his smirk. "You ever think maybe you went looking for one imprisoned scythe and found another?"

Her head started to swivel back and forth. "It can't– Papa was the only one. The rest have mostly been rumors besides the few that are with us, but we've never found one of the same."

He shrugged before dipping that shoulder into hers. "Yeah, but it's me we're talkin' about. Of course I'd be lucky enough to find a second scythe, maybe even one that I could–"

"In your dreams," Maka snapped.

Star continued to jut his elbow, making a home in her side. "Oh, that's right, he's yours, huh?"

"That's not what I'm saying–" Maka started, but the smug smile on his face dried the sass on her tongue. We're… close. If I– well, if he was

"Look, just because the guy follows you around like a lost dog–"

"Don't call him that," she hissed.

"–and you just fuckin' love it, admit it!" Star continued to rattle her, rage boiling away to fluttering embarrassment on her cheeks. "And for some reason, he doesn't mind bein' at your beck'n'call even though you're supposed to be the servant. And speakin' of that– this page bullshit–"

"I'll talk to him," she interjected before he could form that entire thought, even if the rest drifted over her mind. How long can I keep it this way?

"That's bullshit," Star snickered. "Expect me in the mornin'. Good luck with your little chat."