Maka enjoyed each strike, watching as he met her with more skill than she'd seen most men develop in just a few months. Maybe– no, she certainly had to admit it was the quiet way he studied as he denied doing so. While Maka had thought she'd pinned him perfectly as lazy, that was only an exterior, something that she had watched him wear like another mask. Instead, he was unblinking in his observations, never offering the same crowing as Star but always applying smart tweaks here and there to his movements after each practice.

Soul was a challenge now– not someone she could instantly disarm and send into disarray. It was only her tenacity that wore on him, stamina still trying to match the growth of all his other skills. Transformation was still a slow bit of practice, but their sparring had moved to almost every day. While Soul was improving, he was still technically years behind, which meant every fight ending the same: with a puff of dirt and his back on the sun-baked earth.

She reached down for him, ready to bring him back to his feet just as she always did when his lips suddenly exploded into a smile that was more than just a show of teeth, bolstered by his rumble of a laugh. He tossed a dusty hand back through his hair, shaking sweat into the ground behind his head.

Maka hesitated as her hand stayed untaken. Even worse, the laughter rang down to her bones, bringing her knee down into the dirt next to him. "What is it?" She couldn't excuse it as fear in her chest, that tightness that only churned as his twinkling eyes fell from the sky to hers.

"Nothin'." That wasn't veiled in a lie, especially as his smile stayed true with another breathy laugh. "It's stupid but– I guess I don't mind."

"What?" Her lips tried to curl to match his, but she forced them into a thin line instead.

"Sorta gettin' used to endin' up in the dirt." He chuckled at himself again as he started up on his elbow. His hair settled askew, still slightly damp from the exertion. "With how you are, it's the only place I can expect to be."

"I didn't–" Indignant was her aim, but there was too much of a warble to it. She threatened to get to her feet, but his hand delicately caught her wrist, sticking her knees to the earth.

"I'm just sayin' you're too strong for me." There was nothing glum in that admission, and Maka could swear it was something closer to pride that glowed off his tongue. "So I guess what I'm sayin' is thank you."

That was a bird that fluttered through her head before spiraling to her chest, not resting until her heart started out of time.

"I can sorta be a pain in the ass, I know…" His fingers risked the journey from her wrist to her palm, waiting patiently there regardless of the sweat.

Reflex tilted her hand, greeting his fingers with her own. "Not sort of."

His laugh rang again, awakening that bird with another breath of fire. "Alright, alright." He used her hand to pull up, bringing him close enough that she could smell the sun on his skin. "You'll only hear me say it once, but this was a good idea." His stare was nothing more than shining, forcing her eyes down to the collar of his kosode. Soul's chest still heaved somewhere between catching breath and laughter. "What– cat finally got your tongue?" As if the squeeze of his fingers wasn't enough, he tugged her close enough to bring them face to face.

"Just– you giving a compliment seems impossible–" Fluttered whisper-weak off her lips.

"Yeah…" That cooled some of his humor, the smugness falling from his face as he stroked his thumb along the side of hers. "Thank you's aren't that common either, so let me say it one more time: thank you for"—the sweet rhythm of his breath broke momentarily as he struggled to clear his throat—"maybe it's stupid, but thank you for stayin'."

There was no ground underneath her, all of it stolen by his words and the gentle stroke of his thumb that continued in a singing rhythm against hers. Staying was as alien as her reach, the way she let the inertia take her to fall against him as her free arm slung around his neck.

"H-hey," he croaked– a sound she could feel just as well as hear in the closeness. "You okay?"

No, she wanted to scream because it wasn't fear that was sending that singing creature that used to be her heart alight. It only deepened as his hand tentatively touched to the small of her back, steadying her just as much as it threw her into disarray.

"You're not hurt?" his sweet whisper tickled closer to her ear. He tried to unravel their hands to check her, but she refused to be parted. "Maka…"

"I'm fine, just shut up for a minute," she murmured, thankful that his only reaction was another soft laugh and a little more freedom with the way his palm pressed into her back. Stop making it worse, she begged, but at the same time, her hold around his shoulders tightened. Because I know– I'm going to have to start admitting that you– that what I'm doing is– "You would have done it on your own."

It was the first laugh to ring of self-deprecation as he suddenly clung to her just as much as she was to him. "Nice'v you to lie."

"No–" She mourned the word and the way it brought them apart, her hand planting firmly against the beat of his heart instead of clinging to him. "You can– you will keep doing this, Soul. You-you're on the right path now and…"

"I'll be fine when you leave." The murmur was lifeless on his lips, the words dull but still carving a hole into her chest. "That's what you mean."

Her hand clenched into a fist, balling his kosode uselessly in her fingers. "I– that's not what I'm–"

"It's alright." His hand slipped over her painfully clenched knuckles, untangling them only to lace those fingers together as well. Balanced, he brought their hands between them, close enough that he could rest his forehead against hers. "Like I said, I'm thankful for what– everythin' you've done so far. You don't owe me more than that."

A stuttering breath quaked over her lips as the tenderness snagged the last little stitch in her heart. But I do. She wanted to take their hands and shake him, but it would in no way force what she wanted into his heart. It's not fair to him. It's not fair that I haven't told him.

He pulled away from her just enough that their eyes met again. "Maka, if–"

The sound of footfalls startled Maka backwards, making her backside plume dust as she ripped her hands free of him.

"Break time!" Marie chimed as she slid the door open and emerged onto the engawa with a tray brimming with tea and treats. "And what happened here?" She motioned towards the two of them, the dust settling again as Soul's concerned eyes searched over the terror on Maka's face.

Soul produced another smile, tipping it over his shoulder at Marie as he laughed. "Just Maka beatin' me into the dirt again." He swept his hands over his hakama before standing. "I'll go get cleaned up." He chuckled again as his dashing smile split between the both of them.

"Have tea first!" Marie pressed, but Soul simply waved away the words. "Soul, something," she added as the man already started to trudge towards the engawa in defeat.

"Just some tea," he muttered to her as he made a show of reaching down and picking up one of the cups. He didn't sip, just downing a gulp of the already cooled liquid. He grimaced with a slight groan. "Mugicha…"

"You loved barley when you were younger," Marie cooed back before curling her lips into a pout. "And it's good for your circulation."

"I'm not a little boy anymore," Soul complained, "but I'm sure she'll like it." Maka caught the playful grin over his shoulder, but all it did was tear another hole in her heart. "I– uh– I got that cleanin' up to do," he murmured as he absently put the cup back on the tray, his gaze flitting away to the dirt. He grabbed his mask from the engawa and tossed it on before disappearing under the arbor.

Maka sat powerless in the baking sun, watching him go. "I'm guilty."

"Of?" Marie murmured encouragingly from her seat on the wood.

"Of what you said." She offered a sad smile to Marie, her eyes starting to burn. "He thinks– knows I'm going to leave."

She nodded as her lips pressed into a hard line.

"And I–" She choked on it, eyes falling to the dust just in time to watch her tears litter it. "I don't want to go, Marie. I don't want to leave him, but…"

"No," Marie corrected sharply. "If you don't want to, then you won't. There are no buts." She wiped her hands over her apron as if to dust the rest away as she stood. "Franken needed to talk to you. Take the tray and go see him in his office."

She rubbed the moisture from her cheeks, sure she was smearing dirt over what should have been that fine, lady-like painted porcelain. All she wanted was to go, battered and bruised, to Franken's office but the need for the show ached in her gut. That meant back into the house– back into a finely layered kimono– back to being a version of herself that had started to weigh her down.

Once cleaned and coiffed, Maka made her way to Franken's office. She knocked, waiting dutifully for his acquiescence before gliding into the room. "Marie said you wanted to see me?"

"Shut the door."

Maka followed the order. "Did you… have you found Erasyl?" she offered with a vague spring of hope.

"Still waiting on that, but"—Franken held up a battered piece of parchment—"this came for you."

"If it's Sid–"

He shook his head.

"Orders?" Maka murmured, her voice losing all the rest of its strength as Franken repeated the motion.

He carefully placed an elbow next to his papers, leaning on it to angle a grim smile at her. "Spirit is incredibly predictable, so finding him wasn't all that taxing for me. I have known your father for far too long for him to get away from me." Seafoam eyes studied her. "You weren't that far off. If you left tonight, you could see him in a few days."

The paper crinkled between her fingers as they tensed.

"That is, if you wanted to." He stared unblinkingly, still with an easy curve to his shoulders as if he hadn't torn her world asunder.

"I-I'd like to be alone." Maka took a shaky step backwards, clutching the letter to her chest. He's alive. Another step and Franken's gaze refused to leave her. I could see him again. Her hand reached blindly backward for the door, trying to catch the slide. If I just leave. If I leave all of this behind. If I just let go of everything– everyone I've met here, I can go back to where I belong. Her heart thundered as she got the door open behind her and slipped out into the dwindling light.


Kiddo–

I'm not going to pretend you're not mad at me since I can't imagine this is what you wanted. You deserve to say all the things I know you're going to say when we see each other again, which I hope will be soon. Don't think I haven't missed you and don't get hung up on the idea I didn't have a reason to do this. When we see each other again, I'll tell you everything you need to know.

For now—and I know this is asking a hell of a lot—trust your papa for just a little longer. Go home and stay quiet. Please, go home. I'll come get you there soon.

Love,

Papa