They curled next to the trunk of the tree, shrubs reaching spindly branches to snatch and scratch at their face. There was no way to escape the dissonance, forcing Crona to dig their head into the bark in the hopes that the pain would clear some of the noise. Inside or out, it was calamity. That dark thing had been cackling away since they'd hid in the shade, but the clear clang of weapons was also there to bite into any bits of silence.
Oh, ho, ho, look at that!
Crona blinked before they could focus on the swift movements that filtered through the gaps in the undergrowth. Franken was using the hammer to block with another frightening clash of Maka's scythe against it ringing down to Crona's bones.
That one– that one's dangerous. The girl we can take, eat, but that one will swallow us whole.
They bit back a whimper. But Maka…
Will be an easy meal. The scythe can try—and how delicious, delectable his fear will be—but he'll watch her die.
Crona sighed as their eyes fell upon that determined face– a girl entranced with the power she held in her hand. If you'd just chosen nothing. Not me, not him, but nothing. That would have saved you.
Speaking of girls… where's the little one?
Their glance wavered from the battle in the clearing to the outskirts. There was not a spectator to be seen. Not here.
Too early for little ones, don't you think? She's probably sleeping cuddled up in her bed.
Well… The image should be a sweet one but the inky voice was making Crona's gut shrivel.
Sleeping, safe and sound. All alone. Maybe someone should make sure the little one's alright.
He hasn't made one offensive move yet. Soul's weapon form was a strange limbo, a place to see, hear, and know, but in a way to be powerless while still so powerful. Maka wielded him as if he only weighed an ounce, slicing him smoothly through the air but seeming to rarely find the metal of Marie. Why do I feel like the mouse while Maka definitely thinks she's the cat? "Maka…"
"What is it, Soul?" She was breathing heavily, crouching in anticipation of another burst forward.
Do I even get a say? Should I even–
That's right, who's the boss here? Are you just some tool–
Soul sucked his teeth. "Listen, Franken hasn't done anythin' but defense. Don't you think that's weird?"
"It's just training, he's probably–" Maka's mind snapped shut on the idea before he heard nothing but her whisper: "Compromise." Instead of jutting forward, she slid to the side, watching as Franken followed her with his eyes only. "What should we do?"
He barely choked back the snort of disbelief. Askin' me? Who the hell asks me that kinda question? This time the weak chuckle sounded. "We'll never get an opening if he doesn't attack. Just don't know how to provoke a guy like that."
"Provoke him?" Maka's voice was all too pleasant, all too pleased.
"Uh, Maka–" Not exactly sure how this is a compromise, but–
They wavered in the doorway– the pristine living room, warm and inviting, making Crona's head spin.
It's time to check on the girl, Crona.
A mewling little grunt escaped Crona's throat as their toe tapped to the tatami mat. All I was supposed to do was watch Maka. Wait for Maka.
Sure, but another plaything won't hurt. You know how excited Medusa will be to get her hands on that brat?
Crona watched their feet, sure each footstep would leave behind a trail of ashen residue. This place is beautiful, isn't it? And I– I'll only soil it.
Stop wasting time!
The snap of that voice sent Crona's shaking feet forward, bringing them to the hallway divide.
One to the right, two to the left. Make your choice, even though it only buys her another minute of two.
Crona turned right towards the lone bedroom, sliding the door open. A perfect family of bedding crowded the floor. Mama and Papa and little Baby all sweetly lined up and ready for slumber. They approached the smallest mass, a bundled comforter speaking nothing of what was underneath. Crona unsheathed the tachi at their side, letting the blade skitter along the floor as they moved forward.
Maka had been hit before. Growing up with Black Star, it was hardly a novel occurrence, and there had been more than one time that she'd had the air violently stolen from her lungs. That's why when Franken's palm struck her chest—something utterly unexpected in what was supposed to be a duel of weapons—she'd expected maybe some faltering. At worst, she should have stumbled.
Instead, she flew.
In all the topsy-turvies of it, there was a strong set of arms to suddenly right her even if the world and the air didn't want to instantly come back. "What the fuck, Franken?" Soul hissed, sprawled behind Maka as he cradled her to his chest.
How did you get behind me? Maka wanted to ask but that numbing reverberation from her sternum to her throat was still buzzing.
In a flash, Marie was next to Franken, her hands instantly on her hips. "Soul Menace? Franken, unbelievable."
"It was an experiment," Franken twittered with amusement as he approached the fallen pair.
Soul's arms constricted, pulling Maka closer as he hissed. "Well? What the fuck was that?"
"It'll wear off in a second," his voice was almost chiding as he knelt down to Maka's level. "Actually, a little congratulations are in order. Soul only transformed back willingly. My assault on your wavelength could have interrupted, but it didn't."
The burn in her chest was finally fluttering away. "Why… didn't you hit… with Marie?"
Franken chuckled. "Because that would have killed you." He stood with a victorious swipe of his palms over his hakama. "For a first spar with your weapon, I have to say you lasted rather long." His mirth filled glance fell to Soul. "Was it you who realized my pattern?"
"Yes," Maka confirmed before Soul could somehow dissuade the attention. "Soul sees everything." She tilted her head, trying to produce a beaming smile. By the sourness on his face, she could only guess it was still a little ragged.
"You okay?" he murmured through crumpled lips.
My husband the worrywort. That brought vibrancy to her smile, sapping away some of the worry from his brow. "Okay."
"I should've taken that hit," he grumbled. He eased her up, getting her to her feet but still cradling at the elbows. "Next time, put me in the way."
"No–" Maka had enough air to produce a scornful laugh. "I can take a hit, Soul. It's not that big of a deal, especially sparring."
"But outside of sparrin'," he urged back, twisting her with his grip on one of her elbows. "I take the real hits. Isn't that the point of a weapon?"
Maka blinked at the question. For all her unsurety, none of it marred his features. He already knows the answer he wants, but is it the right answer? She glanced back at Marie, eyes begging for the wise intervention that always came from those cupid-bow lips.
"A weapon dies for their meister," Marie delivered with a finality that struck Maka down to her core.
A fleeting moment of Franken's doting touches surfaced as he cleared Marie's hair from her shoulder. "Then again, a good meister keeps that from happening."
Little soul, ripe for the picking…
The tachi twitched with a life of its own, catching the corner of the bedding.
B-but wouldn't Medusa want her alive? Isn't s-she more important alive?
A meal.
But–
And a blow to all those idiots who worship that little thing.
The tachi slid under the linens, gathering enough fabric before flicking it to the side.
The only marr on the pristine white was a patch of navy– a yakuyoke with the clear plea to protect against evil.
"Guess it's about time to get Reina." Soul couldn't keep the grit from his voice, still rumbling over the way Maka had faltered– how Franken had been anything but gentle.
"Unnecessary," Franken intoned as they wandered down the path from the peak of the mountains. "She's already at the temple this morning."
He glanced back, catching Maka doing the same. "Somebody was there?"
"Actually…" Franken's musing was interrupted by Marie's huff, her eyes snapping between the pair before back at her husband. "Just an old friend. Consider it an added layer of protection."
"Who?" Maka sounded quickly as the fingers that had been so lovingly dangling in Soul's suddenly became taut.
His grin slicked from cheek to cheek. "Someone who knows to stick to the background. You won't have to worry about them."
That brought a miniscule wash of relief to her, but Soul still studied her from the corner of his eyes. Her mind was working in circles, clearly playing across her features. "Maka," he murmured as he dipped closer with his next step.
"Hm?" Her eyes came back to focus, flicking from the distance to him.
"You were really amazin' today."
A tint of pink appeared on the apple of her cheeks as her smile blossomed. "We both were. I can't do it without my partner, right?"
Soul nodded, trying to let that settle into the fluttering of his heart. He toyed with her fingers, arranging his next bit of words carefully. "When we leave… it'll be like that? You and me, trainin' and…"
"Every day." Her surety seemed to bloom with each word, the confusion of her old thoughts left behind. "I'll introduce you to Kid—Sid and Mira too—and they'll help us to complete missions."
"Like?"
"Finding more weapons and meisters." Maka shrugged. "Granted, finding meisters is a little more difficult since there's no real outward manifestations–"
"Incorrect," Franken's voice fluttered to life behind her, making her jump. "You still haven't been honing that skill, have you, Maka? As Rin's daughter, I would have expected–"
"Mama never taught me," she snapped, catching Soul completely off guard with the saturation of anger that came in that short sentence.
"I could," Franken offered cooly in the face of her fire.
In the face of Maka's now silent fury, Soul couldn't stop his inquisitiveness. "Teach her what?"
Franken was suddenly at Maka's side, words meant just as much for her as for Soul. "Soul perception. Only a few of us—myself, Maka, her mother, and another late comrade of ours—are blessed with the ability to sense souls. We know what people are before they know it themselves."
Even with the wonder laced in that description, he could feel a door shutting in Maka's heart, her eyes turning downwards. Somethin' about all of this scares you. The desire to scoop her into his arms raged to life, only stilled by the company. You were worried that first time we transformed that you couldn't. Now, there's this. You're strong, Maka. Stronger than you know, so I hope… let's unlock that together.
Medusa stared at the two frightened mice in front of her, both skittering in their skins. "You were supposed to be watching that dutiful dove."
Crona shuddered. "I-I know, but–"
Her glare turned to Eruka. "And you were supposed to be exploring Franken's lab."
Eruka's fingers desperately clenched into the table between them. "There wasn't any mention of–"
"Failure," Medusa hissed. "Failures, both of you." One taloned finger dug into her lip, tugging at the lower one to bear teeth while she thought. What are you planning?
"Th-they were practicing," Crona finally spat.
A pleasant wave released all the raging tightness from her features. "Practicing what, darling?" She reached out a hand, petting Crona's hair almost lovingly.
They shrunk under Medusa's hand but their whisper continued: "Soul transformed into a scythe, and Maka was wielding him. Franken had Marie–"
"I know all about those two," Medusa snapped through the start of a smile, "but go back– Soul transformed completely? Stayed transformed?"
Crona nodded, only to find that hand smoothing diligently over their hair again.
"And his madness?" Medusa leaned closer, golden eyes glowing at her child.
"I-it didn't affect him or her," Crona stuttered through, "o-or at least I don't think it did. They fought well–"
"But we'll still eat the girl up," the other voice interjected, making Medusa's smile grow.
"I know you will," she whispered back soothingly, "but you're right. We'll have to separate those two from their mentors." The word slithered with disdain off her tongue. "And remember: I want him to see it. He needs to see you kill her. To break him– to finish what his father started with his mother."
