Soul stared at the ceiling, eyes burning in annoyance at the lack of sleep. It hadn't mattered the excuses or rationalizations– the only thought he could hold on to was holding Maka. He had tried looking at Star's book, leafing through the pages until the same urges welled up inside of him. While there had been some similarities, the parchment brought an emptiness that only that moment with her could fill.
I was wrong then. This is– at first maybe I just needed her, then maybe I wanted her, but this is–
Sure, you love her so much that you lie to her. You pretend you're not some monster– that you couldn't kill her with just a second's worth of a misstep.
He sat up, fists clenched as he screamed back at that inky voice: Then what if I tell her? What if she knows, and she has a choice, and she–
You think she'll choose you? A velvety cackle filled his head. You really think she's here for something other than her own purposes?
Soul dug at his ears, the feedback making his head ache.
"Soul." Wes announced as he always did before sliding open the door.
He reached to his side, grabbing the mask and slipping it over his face as his brother shut the door and came further into the room. "You're awful early today," Soul grumbled.
Pleasantries fizzled like a flame without air. "Did you sleep with that girl?"
"You mean my bride?" He offered back with a wave that meant to waft away the ridiculous question. "I'm supposed to, aren't I? Isn't that what you want? The sooner she has a child, the sooner–"
"But being close to her–"
"I should have known–" Soul sighed roughly. "What? Afraid I'll kill her before we even make it to the hundredth night?" He sucked his teeth as he threw a hand through the scattered mess of his hair. "Just means it'll open me up for all those ladies you paraded around last night."
"Father invited his closest friends," Wes retorted, but Soul only rolled his eyes. "Those girls all remember you from Mother's shows, that's all."
Soul butterflied his legs, leaning on one with his elbow to appraise his brother. "I would've believed that if you hadn't made me talk to Chiyo. I think I remember her sayin' how plain Maka was– askin' if she even played or sang or any of that junk." He shook his head with a sour smile. "I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out. Was last night some insurance? In case the whole first engagement doesn't work out you can just paint over the truth again with some pretty little lie and find me a new bride?"
"Can't you look at it sensibly for one moment?" Wes snapped. "Having insurance never hurts—not for this—not when it's to make sure Asura doesn't take you!"
There was a small want still left in Soul to latch onto that, to actually acknowledge in some twisted way his brother did love him. Loves me as long as I keep my distance. As long as I'm sedated and hidden away. I wonder… How far can I push before it breaks? "Maka is my bride. I don't want any more of these shows."
Wes gritted his teeth before sighing. "Then at least let the physician see to Maka."
A trickle of cold ran down his spine. "She's not sick. And she lives with Franken, so I'm sure if she was, he'd already know about it."
"Medusa," Wes corrected. "From what I gather, conception of a weapon is difficult. Mother went to Medusa, and even then it took some time before a child– you survived. Send her to Medusa so Maka can have the treatments done. Perhaps that will allow you to have less interactions with her, since it's safer."
Interactions? He wanted to laugh but the bitterness of it only bubbled in his gut. You mean sex with my future wife, Wes. That's what you mean. I can't even do that—what a man should—except for under some doctor's orders. "What kind of treatments?"
Wes shook his head. "I didn't ask. You're proof enough that they were a success– Mother wasn't even supposed to be able to have children again after my birth."
Soul willed his lips flat, but inside all of him curled with rage. Why don't I trust that? "She suggested this?"
It was his brother's turn to roll his eyes. "After your display last night, I'm not surprised. She's concerned for the young girl– who wouldn't be?"
"Right…" Everyone feels bad for the woman marryin' a monster. A sigh drifted over his lips. "I'll talk to her today."
"That's the first sensible thing you've said all week," Wes replied flippantly before moving a step back towards the door.
"Wes," croaked from his throat as the rest of the question started to strangle him: If I killed her, would I really be worth savin'? Is the love you have for me really that warped?
"Don't." He displayed a cautioning hand. "You need to go back to protecting yourself. I don't understand what's blossomed this defiance in you, but… you were better off the way you were."
Soul nodded, hiding the tightening of his fists as he slid them back into the bedding. It's not defiance, Wes. It's courage, it's strength, and I know exactly why.
Maka continued to sip on the bitter tea, wishing that there was more of an ache in her head so the upheaval in her heart could be outshined. Could I have been more stupid? She tightened the hold on her cup, the porcelain hard under her grip. I acted like a child! Grabbing his sleeve– begging him– wanting to make sure his attention was mine and no one else's. She huffed, trying to call up anger or frustration but finding tears in her eyes instead.
A dark reprieve came as she pressed her hand over her eyes. She leaned back, letting the wall take her weight. A knock rattled the frame of the door, prompting Maka to sigh and call out: "Come in."
The door slid open to soft footsteps. "Tea didn't help much, huh?"
Maka lowered her hand and all of the night before came flooding back to her– all the same urges she wanted to deny filling each corner of her mind as she stared at Soul without a word.
"That bad?" He cracked half a smile, but it didn't survive more than a few steps into the room. "I'd go, but… there's somethin' important I have to say."
"What?" Her heart was pounding while it climbed desperately into her throat.
"Mind if I sit?" He waved a hand towards the mat next to her bedding, and Maka nodded. "I, uh… last night…"
Say something first! Words fluttered over the back of her mind but none of it filtered to her mouth. Tell him– oh damnit! Tell him anything just not that– that you've–
"Sayin' we were sleepin' together started somethin'." With an exhausted sigh he reached for his mask, pulling it off to let it clatter next to him in frustration. "Medusa offered treatments– ones that are supposed to help you conceive. I didn't know but, apparently that's what she did for my mother. For me."
All of the worries of jealousy– of the childishness fluttered away as she saw the rage building in the fire of his eyes. "What kind of treatments?"
"I don't know, and that's why– it's not fair, but I need to ask for your help." He threw up a hand, letting it tug at the roots of his hair as he smoothed it back. "I'm not sayin' you have to, but we're all in agreement that she's dangerous, and knowin' what she's capable of might be important."
"You also want to know for your mother– for you," she corrected.
"Yeah," he admitted weakly, eyes faltering but still coming back to her face. "I wanna know if… if what I am is because of that."
Her forehead wrinkled as she inched closer. "Soul, I still don't understand–"
"Yeah," he cut her off quickly as he reached into his kosode. He'd hidden a book there– entirely unidentifiable by its cover. "I know it's time for that, too." His voice broke and warbled until he cleared his throat. He placed the book between them, opening to the picture of a woman lapsing through a transformation that Maka knew all too well. "That's my grandmother, Nazgul." Before Maka could absorb the full sight, he was flipping the page, this time a likeness of a man's face on the left with another woman's on the right. "That's my uncle, Erasyl, and my mother, Aruzhan."
Maka tenuously touched the page, keeping him from flipping again. "Do you remember all of them?"
His eyes widened momentarily before he narrowed them at her. "I-I met my uncle twice. Whoever drew this got him right." He traced the jawline of the picture that mimicked his own before moving to the ebony hair. "Momma used to say that the only difference she ever saw between the two of us was the hair, and she was right. My grandmother I never met. Was supposed to, but…"
He reached for her hand, taking it from the page as all the pain filtered through his touch just as much as his words. "I never knew, but Momma was gonna send me there. I was supposed to go and live with them but she must of gotten killed first or–"
"You don't believe that," she murmured, feeling the pulse from his skin that confirmed it before his words could.
"I remember when Erasyl came for her body," he murmured hoarsely, "and my father refused. There's no grave for her because he said, 'she got what she deserved for keepin' secrets.'" Tears started to glaze over his eyes. "I never knew what that meant, but now– was that the secret? Freein' me? Did she die for me?"
While he seemed paralyzed by the questions, as soon as Maka's hand moved to his shoulder he was putty underneath it. She was able to pull him forward, letting his forehead rest on her shoulder as she felt the sprinkle of tears against her arm. She hushed him softly, letting her other hand stroke his hair gently. "Have you tried contacting your uncle?"
"I don't know how to," he mumbled. "I only just found this book and… before I never would've thought to even…"
"I think that's another thing to put on your list." She ran her fingers through his hair again, feeling the heat of his breath as it warbled against her sleeping robe. "I'll figure out some plan with Star about the treatments. You should ask Franken if he can try to find Erasyl."
His hands were suddenly clutching at her forearms as if he were going to shake her, but instead he only parted them, lifting his head to look her in the eyes. "Don't you get it? This is what I am, Maka. One of them. It– I'm a demon weapon."
I know– wanted to simply rattle off her tongue, but the desperation blaring in his face softened her teasing. "Which doesn't make you a monster." His eyes popped impossibly wide, loosening another set of tears. "And if it does, then that means I've been friends– been close to many monsters before you." Though he winced at the touch, her fingers moved to his cheeks, starting to clear the liquid. "I've even lived with a few before."
"H-how?" Barely trembled off his lips as his blurry eyes searched her face.
"You're not the only one." Maka laughed softly as she let her tear-soaked fingers fall back to her lap. "A lantern, a tanto…" my papa, a scythe "... even another scythe." Her smile threatened to slip slightly into bitterness, but the shine of his eyes kept her steady.
"But they can control their change," he murmured mournfully.
Maka hummed thoughtfully. "Well, two of them are older. Jackie's the only younger one, and she's been with us since she was small."
"They've never hurt anyone like I have," Soul corrected.
She sighed, reaching for his hand even if he tried to shy away. "You can ask Star who's got a burn on his ass from the time he told Jackie she was just a nightlight. She made 'liar, liar, pants on fire' literal rather than figurative." Her laugh wasn't contagious, only bringing half a sour smile to his face. "They're not you, Soul. They don't have the same experiences, the same fears, so I can't compare you."
He tried to untangle their hands in vain. "Then you can't say I'm not a monster."
"Soul"—she sighed with the weight of all her exasperation—"if you're trying to make me hate you, it's not going to work."
His shoulders stiffened while his lip quivered.
"What I said still stands: I'm not afraid of you." He choked out air, and Maka grabbed him again, pulling him towards her until it was his cheek against her shoulder. More of those gasps for air heated her neck, tears dotting through the fabric. "You're so stupid," she murmured sweetly in his ear, "keeping that all in. Keeping this all to yourself." There was a bitter irony to her words and she knew it, but she swallowed that pill. "I won't consider it a favor, but I'm still going to do it."
"Then what is it?" His shuddering whisper rang near her ear.
"I'm protecting myself," she answered primly, shoulders steady and straightening even under the weight of his head. "And Reina. And maybe even you." He was silent besides his breaths, Maka gently stroking his arm. "I think it'd be good for you and I to fight today."
That brought him back to life, head jerking up as he stared at her with wide eyes. "What?"
"I'll have Star keep watch so no one can see the improper show"—she rolled her eyes with gusto—"but I think I'm just hungover enough that I won't beat you in five hits. Should do something for that ego of yours."
Star listened to the hits behind him with dramatically growing impatience. He'd started with finger tapping that slowly morphed to foot. At this point, he was knocking a fist into the arbor, ready to pull teeth out of boredom. She can't just be normal, can she? That brought him a laugh despite the lingering annoyance. Fightin' the guy instead of comin' up with an actual useful way to vent her frustrations. He glared around the scenery one more time before bellowing over his shoulder: "I'm bored!"
"I'm busy!" she chimed back with all the sweetness of vinegar.
He rolled his eyes, listening to another round of grunts behind him. He's slower– as if that's possible. The count started in his head, timing beats and smacks of the bokken. Shaky too– and it's not like she'd push him too hard. Star turned, glare falling on Soul as he took another hit from Maka. Somethin's not right. "Call it quits."
Maka stepped out of the fight to scowl at him. "I said we were busy."
Soul paused to stare, running a hand over the sweat on his brow. "S'alright. It's about lunch time anyway. I'll let Wes know about the physician."
"Alright…"
Star watched with faint interest as both of them stayed stationary for an extra minute, eyes meeting and fluttering away as if there was more to say than goodbye. "See ya," he prompted with a chuckle as that brought both of them to life.
Soul nodded swiftly before moving past the two of them and towards the arbor.
"So, what's up with Franken?" Maka turned at his question, her eyes lingering beyond Star– even though he didn't need to wonder where. "Unless you wanna talk about what happened last night."
Maka's eyes rolled to his face, a frown gracing her lips. "It was a good act, but it's also brought some interesting attention. It's not Franken, but I think we should actually let him in on this."
Star crossed his arms over his chest. "Why's that?"
"Because neither of us has been very good with potions." She turned quickly, swinging the bokken as she walked towards the engawa. "We should wait until he comes home and then we'll all discuss it. In the meantime, I'll get changed–"
"You notice somethin' about Whitey just now?"
Her steps shuffled to a stop, her chin peeping over her shoulder. "He was tired. He didn't sleep well last night."
That brought a rumble of laughter from Star. "So you did keep him up last night? Y'know– good for you. It's about time that you just followed one of those urges instead of just killin' it with logic."
Maka shot a cautioning finger out to her side. "Nothing happened."
Star whistled. "Sure, nothing."
She huffed, hand slapping back to her thigh. "Nothing–"
"Sure," Star snapped before yawning. "It doesn't matter much to me anyway. Just sayin' that maybe havin' a little fun isn't gonna kill you."
"I'm not having fun!" The cry seemed desperate enough that Star simply sighed.
"Then be careful"—that calculating coolness filtered back into his voice—"since somethin' wasn't right with him. Just my hunch."
Reina had fallen asleep in her father's lap, Franken stroking her hair with such tenderness that it had Maka mesmerized. For such a cold man– a strange man, he does love. That brought a pang of its own– ghosts of her papa and mama playing across her mind. She tried to shake away the thought. I don't have time for that right now.
"Something happened?" he murmured with only half interest, still focused on the tranquility in Reina's face.
"Soul asked me to do something that I think requires your help." Maka stood firm, only peeved by the not so subtle roll of eyes next to her.
"Still don't know why we're doin' Whitey any favors," Star grumbled. "Not like he's doin' much for us besides givin' us a roof and food. Sorta startin' to get the feelin' that we're gettin' the short end of the stick, and for what?"
What are we getting out of this…? Maka worried her fingers into the soft silk of her kimono. "He's a demon weapon." She had expected more surprise in the room, but all present were as serene as the delicately sleeping child. "So isn't it our duty?"
Marie huffed as she poured herself another cup of tea. "Because Shibusen is the only reason to help that boy," she muttered under her breath but the hiss was enough for the room to hear.
The scolding scalded Maka's heart. Sorry, Marie, I'm still just– just childish, right? I can't accept it, can't think that I'm here because of who he is rather than what he is. "Anyway, this is a little more personal, I think. And the two of you have known him much longer, so… I'm asking you to help."
Franken waved his free hand for her to continue.
"Soul's mother received treatments from Medusa after Wes was born." Ice crinkled up her spine as she shared his secrets, still so saturated in his tears. "And now she's attempting to do the same with me. I– Soul wants to know what these treatments are because he's convinced it has something to do with his condition. I don't know what, but I'd like to give him the peace of mind."
"Soul and 'peace of mind' don't exactly go together," came Franken's bemused reply, "but it would be very interesting to see what that little witch has been up to. What were you thinking?"
A swell of pride struck her, watching Franken acquiesce so easily to her. "Well, I am a dutiful bride, aren't I? I'll accept, but we'll have to find a way that whatever potion she gives me gets to you. I doubt she'll just give me vials– that's too easy. I assume we'll have to create some kind of panic mid-treatment, and that's where Star comes in." She waved a hand at chaos himself.
"Why not just ask the master of infiltration? The king of ninjas to snatch whatever it is?" Star boasted as he leaned back against the wall. "See? Talents wasted."
Maka once again exercised the muscles of her eyes, sending them for another spin. "Talents that often just lead to boisterous outbursts and that's what you're going to do. I'll get the vial in my hand, and when I say the word, you burst in and it'll give me enough excuse to spill it. If I get enough in the fabric of my kimono, can you test it?"
Franken nodded thoughtfully. "I'll have a special handkerchief for you."
"Perfect," Maka sighed with satisfaction. "All you have to do, Star, is play the worried brother. You didn't OK this, so be indignant."
"In-what?"
Maka gave a slow blink to build her patience. "Angry."
"Still feels like I'm goin' to waste here," he replied in an irritating sing-song.
While that normally would have trickled into a fight, Marie cleared her throat, setting both spines straight. "I think I'd like to know what it is you two actually plan to do about it– about him."
That was another ghost that Maka had begun to bear. She lowered her eyes again, focused on the pattern of her kimono. "I'm just doing what Soul asks me to do."
"Just because he's asked you to do it," Marie offered back quickly.
"Y-yes."
Marie put her tea down on the table, leaning forward. "And that's what Shibusen– what Kid and Sid have approved of?"
Maka winced.
"So you haven't asked then." Marie sighed. "And you haven't gotten orders to take Soul in, which means everything you're doing for him now, it goes away when you do."
"Marie…" Franken cautioned, his hand moving from Reina to a soft stroke down his wife's arm.
Instead of giving in, she flinched away, trying to keep her timbre. "I'm not going to deny that you've given him a lot—both of you—but you have to realize that he knows you're temporary, even if you don't want to act like it." Her fists tightened and hit the table, clinking the porcelain. "Taking steps, earning his trust, just to leave him here to suffer all the same just seems cruel, doesn't it?"
"I–" Maka croaked in protest, but it withered as her eyes met Marie's. I'm trying, Marie! Don't you see that I'm trying? "I can ask Kid's opinion–"
Marie broke the excuse with a sigh as she got up, barreling from the living room to disappear in the hallway.
Franken watched after her, a heavy breath of his own filtering over thin lips. "Your plan should be sufficient. I will give you the handkerchief tomorrow. As for Marie…" Cold eyes flitted between the two of them. "While she is emotionally driven, she is not wrong." He lifted Reina so her head rested on his shoulder before he stood. "You take away his masks one by one and what will he be left with?"
