Star was convinced that Maka's sole purpose in life was to ruin all of his fun. She'd made him discard the bokken as if that was going to keep him from giving Soul the pummeling of a lifetime. Even worse, for the first few hours of the morning, it wasn't even hand-to-hand but she forced him to just produce moves for Soul to mirror, her stupid voice twittering corrections for both of them. That annoyin' lil–

"How tired are you?" Maka was beside Soul, her hand hovering between them.

"M'fine."

Star scoffed at the blatant lie. It wasn't like the guy was some dumpling—he barely had extra weight on him even though Maka was mothering him into three square meals a day—but Soul's habits weren't exactly helping him. "Listen," Star barked to interrupt the sickeningly sweet doting that was slinking into every other moment with the two of them. "First off, you're slow as hell, and that ain't about practice–"

"Star," Maka tried to hiss in the middle, but she should have known beratings from Black Star stopped for nothing and no one.

"How much did you smoke this mornin'?"

That accusation fizzled any more of Maka's objections, especially as her own whisper followed it: "Was it more than usual?"

If Soul's eyes shifting guiltily wasn't enough, the quick nod of his head proved it.

"Shit's poison," Star spat.

"Agreed," Maka muttered.

Soul drifted with defeat into the dust, his shoulders heaving through a long breath. "If I don't, who knows if I'm gonna–" He cut himself off with a sharp sigh.

Star raised his eyebrows at Maka, passing the usual unsaid question: Your way or mine?

Maka stubbornly shook her head. "Both of you go clean up. We're done for the day."

"Maka–" Soul stole the complaint right out of Star's mouth.

She blinked before sending her glare to him. "So you'd prefer to pass out, hurt yourself, and not be able to practice for a week instead?"

Star could– did cackle at the defeat on the other man's face. "C'mon. It's the baths for us or else we can't be in the presence of the lady."


Maka rarely feared anything, but the smugness on Wes's face as he entered the courtyard left her with a cold itch trickling down her spine. He had a fine, black lacquer box in his arms, burdensome from the way his steps faltered until he reached the engawa and deposited its weight.

"I assume asking if my brother is here is a useless question." Wes gave a jovial smile as he slicked the sweat from his brow.

"He's at the baths with my brother." Maka couldn't keep the slight sullenness from her murmur as she waved towards the hillside out of view. Why does it feel like he's spending more time with that idiot than me? And why… why does that bother me? She pressed that want from her mind. "How are you today, Wes?"

"Oh"—Wes interrupted himself with a laugh—"I'm sorry, my lady, I forgot all about the pleasantries. I'm better than fine at the thought of such a sweet girl becoming my sister-in-law."

Banter of that caliber would usually leave Maka's eyes rolling, but Wes had a grin that melted away all that taint of dishonesty. "You flatter me, my lord."

"You used Wes just a moment ago– no need to get formal now," he teased as he leaned closer. "And how are you this morning? I assume my brother visited at least for a moment before running off."

Maka motioned towards the breakfast tray at her side with a strange swell of victory. "He stayed for a few bites before he left. He said he ate with you and your father, but…" He needed more after getting knocked around by Star.

"He did," Wes started with a hesitation that struck Maka as odd before he tilted back his head, "but it was very little, so I'm glad he joined you."

He has to. He knows the rules now, her mind answered smugly. Training, eating, all of it is part of the deal.

"Now, may I show you the gifts I brought?" Wes flourished towards the box, finger tempting to open the lid.

"Gifts are definitely not necessary, Wes–"

"Nonsense." He waved any last bit of her argument away. "It's time these things had a good home, anyway."

It's time? She resisted the surprise, leaving it just a jump in her chest. No, he'd never be so stupid to give me… no, that's too much.

"Well, here we are…" Wes opened the lid, a book instantly visible at the top of the pile. He handed it to her. "One of those books that every young lady should read at this time in her life."

Maka lingered over the finely gilded characters on cover: In the Light of a Hundred Moons. Wes was back to fiddling through every last item in the box as he tossed silks into her lap. "My mother's. She had a fondness for blue, which I think is still fitting for you."

"Oh…" The way he just tosses them! She didn't allow her fingers to leave the book, simply staring at the cloth. "I couldn't, Wes. If they're your mother's things–"

"Were my mother's things." Wes left the fabric there before pausing at a smaller box, this one adorned with a night sky. "All of this beauty is just gathering dust. It's better to give them life again– for Soul to see them alive again."

No—trickled down her spine like melting snow—I don't think he would. No matter what he's done so far, I don't think he's faced all of it just yet. So seeing those things, seeing me…

Wes opened the box, displaying the breathtaking treasure inside. The stars sparkled to life on the comb, winking in the soft sunshine. The deepest of blues, pearlesque and shining in its own right, made the sky that set those delicate orbs. Maka couldn't deny her desire to reach but again her fingers stayed still, only pressed to the leather binding of the book.

"Now, don't you think that will match perfectly?" He gently lifted the comb out of the box, waving it high to position it at the crown of her head. "And it's just lovely against the color of your hair."

"What are you doin'?" Maka leapt at the grit in Soul's voice. As she turned her head to catch the sight of him, the comb seemed to press deeper into her hair, taking its place there and making his eyes pop wide. "That's–" his voice trembled at first until it settled with a sharpness that could cut even the hardest heart. "Those are Mother's! You have no right to take them out!" While his footsteps were still uneven—the exhaustion of recovery still obvious with every move he made—Soul strode to them until he could snatch the ornament from her hair.

"Soul–" Maka started desperately.

Wes's mouth gaped before he shook his head slowly. "Brother, that's hardly the way to treat–"

"She is not Mother"—he gritted the words through his teeth—"so givin' these things to her is just cruel."

The steady thump in her chest drowned her ears so that she could barely hear the whisper at the back of her mind: You're not though. You're just living a lie– lying to him and to everyone here so why would you expect any different? You don't deserve those beautiful things.

His next move was to snatch the box from Wes. The gentle handling of the comb was the only tenderness he offered in the moment before slamming the box shut. The color drained from his knuckles as he clenched it. His eyes darted unsure towards the rest of his mother's things, before seeming to give up and showing the pair his back without another word.

Maka watched him go, her heart pounding along with each one of his steps.

"I'm so sorry," Wes murmured.

"No–" She shook her head quickly, starting to pile each one of the goodies at Wes's side. "He loves his mother very much." He does, but maybe for a moment– just a second I thought– She thrust the rest of that from her mind with another swivel of her chin.

"It doesn't excuse him." An unexpected harshness drifted into his voice, leaving Maka blinking. "He just can't control himself."

He can, Maka wanted to urge back but the sudden cold in Wes's eyes made her bite her tongue. I can't believe you don't see that it's you. If you just keep hurting him, day after day, of course he'll lash back.

"Who died?" Blake's bark broke Maka sullen thoughts.

She turned to him, watching him toss his hair with a towel. "It's nothing."

"Where'd Soul go? He said he was comin' back here to–"

"Back to his room," Maka answered quickly. "And I think it's time for me to go back to mine."


Whatever part of a man's brain dictated his ability to mind his own business was something that Black Star was never blessed with. Meaning that while Wes left that box for him to deliver to Maka, it didn't exactly have to mean immediately. Instead, Star was eagerly rummaging through the contents, throwing aside silks and other uselessly girly accouterments. It wasn't that he was actually trying to find something in particular, but maybe the idea of utter disorder and chaos was what kept him digging.

While reaching the bottom should have satiated whatever urge had compelled him in the first place, he only found a new bit of interest piqued. He definitely couldn't and wouldn't attribute this little trick to Wes– the guy was alright, but not all that much of a conniver. As his hands ran over the bottom, he found the catch that opened the secret compartment that should have been obvious to anyone with a few brain cells to rub together. The false panel popped out, and Star tossed it to the side.

He had hoped for some shiny cache or quarry, but the dullness of it made his shoulders slump. This kind of mystery was actually better left to Maka– a letter and a book sat side by side. Now, there was a smidge of tact still left rattling around that head, and when he saw Soul's name so carefully and beautifully printed on the outside of the letter, he was kind enough to leave that alone. But that didn't mean the book was off-limits.

There was no title or any other type of markings on the leather binding. If anything, it was just another boring piece of a boring puzzle– a black ledger that probably held nothing more than accounting. Opening it released no numbers but a family tree that spanned from one page to the next. It was obviously hand-written, smudges here and there of ink near some of the names. There was only one small group that he recognized– his eyes instantly training to 'Takehiko.' It connected to Aruzhan, who birthed Nishi (Wes) and Narzhan (Soul).

Lineage wasn't exactly Star's forte, but as he flipped through the pages it suddenly became something a little more his speed. Hand illustrations—obviously created with painstaking diligence—showed an older woman with cropped white hair and fiery eyes. As if Star was blinking, the shot slowly changed as it evolved across the page. That aged woman slowly evolved from just human to weapon– a scythe that glistened with its deadliness. He weighed his options just like the book in his hand before grabbing the letter, getting to his feet, and starting for the door.


The blood had drained from his knuckles a long time ago, but Soul still held tightly to the box. How am I any better than my father? Embarrassin' her like that in front of my brother? His hands shook with the loathing. I hurt her. That look on her face was the same–

The footsteps broke any concentration he had on his own woe. There was no way it was his brother's– too boisterous and wild to be that smooth bastard. The next moment answered his question as the door violently slid open and Star's shining grin parted at least some of the darkness in the room. "Do I have somethin' for you!"

Soul quickly shook his head as he finally released the box to leave it at his side. "I-I don't feel like doin' this right now, Star."

"Yes, you do," he urged back instantly as he crouched on the mat next to Soul, offering up the book right under his nose. "First page, lower right-hand corner."

Humoring him would drain the last of his energy, but Soul did it all the same. He took the tome, opening the nondescript cover and following Star's orders. "Aruzhan… no one called my mother that, only my uncle."

"Which means you're lil Narzhan!" Star shot out a rough laugh. "What kinda name is that?"

He was too far immersed in the wonder of the name to hear the teasing. On the page, his finger drifted over the flow of each letter. "My mother was from the West, over the ocean. That's how Wes got his nickname." He moved to the name in question, tracing those curves as well. "She named me like her, but my father and brother just called me what my name meant– Soul."

"Turn the page."

Soul followed the request but as soon as his eyes hit the image, he dropped the book to the floor. He scrambled back, trying to create enough distance between him and what felt like a mirror reflection.

A sharp laugh broke from Star. "What's that for?"

Pinpricks of sweat beaded on his neck as Soul tried to set a level stare on Star. "Where did you get this?"

"That box of your mom's things." He waved at the book before reaching into his kosode and yanking out a folded piece of parchment. "False bottom was hidin' that and this. Addressed to you."

Soul's shaking hand met him halfway to grasp the letter. The writing instantly caught him, sending his heart thundering again. "That's my mother's handwritin'."

"Listen, I'm shocked"—Star rolled his eyes—"but before you have your little readin' session, tell me why this freaks you out so much." A firm finger poked into the page right above the scythe.

He risked a glance, feeling his stomach undulate under his ribs. "I-I–"

Star's finger continued to dimple the paper. "You're one of them, so why are you so scared of it?"

Frantically wide red eyes darted from the image to the man before him. "Why would you say that?"

"Because I had a hunch, and my hunches are always right." Star leaned closer, a devious joy to his smile. "And can I just tell you Maka's gonna be so pissed when she finds out I was right."

"No!" That clamored violently from his heart before he could clamp it between his teeth. "Please– please don't tell her."

He broke into chuckles, the volume only increasing as Soul continued to scramble. "What are you so desperate for?"

"If she knows–" She'll hate me. She's forgiven– overlooked a lot but this is too much! "Everyone who finds out, who knows what I am–"

"Has been stupid up until now." The effortless laugh that followed only drained more color from Soul's face. "Trust me, Whitey, for the two of us it's not as big of a deal as you think it is– or at least not in the way you think it is."

Rationality couldn't grab hold of him, his heart still a fragile bubble that threatened to pop in his chest. "I don't want her to leave." The admission was nothing more than a warbled breath.

This was a look Soul had never seen before– all of the humor suddenly draining from Star's face. There was no joy in his voice, no warmth, no teasing or laughter. "I already told you that's gonna happen, but this ain't the reason she would."

Heavy eyes that threatened tears fell to the book as Soul hesitantly reached towards the page. "You're right, but… I can't control it. When it started, my mother told me to keep it a secret, but once she died I haven't been able to do anything about when or how it shows up."

"Probably'd help if you had a meister."

"Meister?" That word had some floating anchor in the back of his memory but it was still so grey. Did Uncle talk about that? It was only just that one time that we talked, but I swear…

"You really know jack shit about all of this, don't you?" Star sucked his teeth before pushing the book closer to Soul. "Read over your little note and the book. Maybe you'll get it then. For now, don't worry about me or Maka." He stood, stretching his arms over his head as if they'd talk about the weather. "Don't want to get your hopes up, but you may have just bought more time with her."

Soul tried not to let that tangle up in his heart, forcing the memory of her face back into his mind. "I dunno. After today, I'm not sure she'll want to see me again."

Star snorted a laugh. "You don't know much about girls, do you?"

He grimaced.

"Not that Maka's much of a typical girl," he muttered towards the ceiling with another roll of his eyes. "I know you're not that stupid. Figure it out. And a gift never hurts." He tossed that over his shoulder as he started the move towards the door.

A frustrated sigh grumbled up from his chest. "Then I will be just like my father."

Star paused, sucking his teeth again as he shot an annoyed glare over his shoulder at Soul. "Says who?"

"He'd hurt her and then give her gifts," he muttered in return.

Instead of sharing in the sorrow, Star flicked a dismissive hand at Soul. "Then you are that stupid. Even I know it's how you give the gift that matters. Expectin' somethin' in return for a gift– that's when you're a real slime ball." Without any further argument, he disappeared through the doorway, slamming it shut on his way out.

Soul stared at the letter, his name so lovingly drawn over the paper. "Momma… I have to fix this first, and then… then I'll hear whatever you've got to say."