Soul's eyes fell on the koto, the strings still pristine since the only time he'd touched it was for Maka. Maybe I should take it to her room. Let it be another thing that burns. He shuffled closer, kneeling so his fingers could run along the wood, not calling for any sound but another fleeting memory of his mother. If I burn all these things, will every last bit of you disappear with it? His head tilted, making one final tap at the side with a hollow thunk. Are we ever allowed to keep just the happy memories?

He left that question at the strings as he stood to toss one last look around the room. There was a small pile by the engawa, simple kosode and hakama with the last few treasures he kept, and it was the only thing that called to him. The finery his brother had bought him for the engagement, the haori emboldened with patterns for the coming fall, were left for the moths. None of it matters.

There was nothing chaining him to the room, no urge pulling him to stay as he walked out onto the engawa and gathered the only pieces he'd need of this place besides her.


The silks of the kimonos slipped through her fingers, producing no want from anywhere within her. Maka unearthed the pack from the back of the closet, Masao's clothes stacked neatly inside. She counted, all four sets clean and ready for the return of ambiguity. A return with him. There was finally a smile, the first wave of emotion to strike her since she started sorting her things. This place would bring her no sorrow upon leaving since the one thing that was hers would stay hers.

She turned to the bookshelf, another pang hitting her heart. If there was a way to strap the entirety of it to her back, Maka would shoulder it gladly but she knew the reality of libraries for years. They were never hers to have. Instead, she moved to the stacks and grabbed for one– the robin's egg blue calling to her every time her eyes fell on the arrangement. She slid it out, clutching it in utter safety to her chest until she could slip it in her pack.

Maka would take all the things that were hers.


The teahouse was bustling as Star sat with one leg up on the bench to rest his chin on his knee. It was really sake that he'd wanted, but Sid's message had actually seemed like an order, so here he sat while his patience drained.

He'd ordered the special—that crappy zunda mochi—and had pushed all the bean paste to the side as instructed. It wasn't like he was going to eat that green monstrosity to begin with—it's a vegetable posing as a dessert—but that along with the upside down second cup was meant to be a signal. For who, for what, for when was beyond him but when Sid used his real name at the top of a paper, Star knew it was above arguing.

"Hey, kid."

Star finally jumped to attention, less from anything close to a startle but more because of the voice. His glare darted up, catching the red hair and green eyes that were an echo of Maka's. "What the fuck?"

"That's the greeting I get?" Spirit griped as he sat opposite Star at the table. "It's been years, so you'd think–"

"I got jack shit to say to you." Star dropped his foot to the ground to make room for his arms over his chest.

Spirit rolled his eyes, another mirror of his daughter. "Look, I get it–"

"No, you don't," Star replied flatly. "And if you're gonna ask me about Maka, you can go ahead and fuck off."

"Looks like Sid never did get around to teaching you any manners…" he grumbled under his breath as he ran fingers through his red hair. After the motion, his hand moved towards the mochi, picking up a piece to dangle over the plate. "Like I was trying to say, I get it: I left, but I found out things. I know we all wanted to believe Rin was dead, but–"

"Didn't want to believe that," Star corrected. "We had to. We all saw it, Spirit, and you and this bullshit little 'search' did nothin' but…" He let that grit between his teeth, memories of Maka flitting over his mind that Spirit didn't deserve.

"Find out the truth," Spirit finished for him as his lips erupted into a bitter smile. "Sorry, kid, I can't let you hear it first. I just want to talk to my daughter. There are things she has to know and I know she's in trouble, so spill." With surety, Spirit popped the mochi into his mouth, chewing as he waited.

"She's not in trouble." Star let a smirk spread in reply as he flattened his hands against the table. "If she can't take care of herself, her husband sure as hell will." He enjoyed the way that word struck Spirit, the scarlet starting to sneak up the older man's neck as the rage built in his eyes. "He's a good guy. I like him, and it's obvious she does too, so you better leave them alone."

The chewing stopped, Spirit gritting whatever was left in his teeth.

"I don't know what you thought this meetin' was gonna get you"—Star stood as he cocked his head with a little bitterness to taint his smirk—"but I got nothin' to give other than that."

"I just want to protect my daughter," Spirit hissed.

His snort of derision turned into a cascade of cackles as he turned from the table. "Told you, she's got Soul for that now."


Marie plaited Reina's hair, trying not to let the mourning leak into her heart. It's ridiculous, but just the idea that they'll be "dead" tomorrow makes me… She reached the tie and sighed, throwing her arms around Reina's neck to bring the child back against her chest. For once, there was no squirming in reply, only a tender tuck as her daughter turned the hold into a hug.

"Mama, I don't want to," she murmured.

"I know, darling." There was no stop for the spill as Marie let the tears come. I'm not losing my daughter. I'm not losing my husband. She nuzzled into Reina's hair, taking in the sweet scent of plum. "But remember, it will only be hard for a little bit and then we'll all be back together."

That brought a few grumbles and sniffles, Reina refusing to end the cuddling. "Can I sleep with you and Papa tonight?"

Marie let out another forlorn sigh. "I'm not sure Papa's coming to bed tonight, but you're welcome to stay with me."

"Where's Papa?" The fear that tainted that sweet voice broke Marie's heart.

"Just in his study at the main house. He'll come home soon, but he's going to be busy." Supplies to gather, final messages to send, bodies to pick and arrange. She gritted her teeth against it, forcing herself to relax with a kiss to Reina's crown. "That's why we're in Star's room tonight."

Reina whimpered, letting it peter off into a sigh.

"Did you already say goodnight to Shiro-chan and Maka?"

She shook her head.

"Why don't you do that before it gets too late?" Marie started to unwind Reina's iron grip, getting her far enough that she could clear the tears from her cheeks. "You won't get to see them in the morning, but once we get where we're going you'll have all the time in the world with them."

"Mama…" Reina murmured before chewing into her lip.

"What is it, darling?"

"I know you said you can't promise…" Her eyes clouded again while her lip quivered. "But I want you to. I want everything to be okay. I want–" She broke off in a whine, little fists digging into her eyes to ebb the flow.

Marie cupped Reina's cheeks, bringing her lips tenderly back to her forehead. "I want that too, darling, and maybe if we all want it bad enough, it'll have to happen."


Medusa's slithering soul always betrayed her. Franken could smell it like the kiseru smoke as it drifted before, announcing the madness that accompanied it long before those golden eyes appeared. "Franken," her voice joined the call, and while Franken tried to find it all sour, there was still a reminiscent nature of it. She was an old wound that would never heal.

He turned, eyes still mostly blurry from the endless parade of print he'd had in preparation for the early morning boom. "Is there something you need?"

She smirked, teeth gleaming in the low light of the lantern as she stood in the doorway. "There are a lot of things I need."

"Let me rephrase." He tilted back, elbows catching the table to lean. "Is there anything you need that my wife would approve of?"

A soft gritty laughter left her throat. "I still can't believe you call her that."

"I call her what she is," Franken corrected coldly.

"Is she really?" Medusa purred as she took a step into the room. "That cheerful, bubbly mess of a woman actually turns you on?" Her hand moved to her obi, finger running under the fabric. "I seem to remember you being someone who was a little more… rough in bed than someone like that could take."

He chuckled, letting half a smile pull at his lips. "Well, unless there's something neither of you have been telling me, you wouldn't know what Marie is like in bed."

She pursed her lips, tugging at the tie to loosen it slightly and let the cross of her robe sink deeper.

His eyes didn't move from her face, a chill dissolving any playfulness in his tone. "If that's all you're going to do, Medusa, you're going to leave here disappointed."

"You have never once disappointed me…" Her voice was a husky whisper, sinking towards him as she slid across the mat. She moved to his lap, daring to straddle him as he sat.

His lean dissipated, spine straightening to come close enough that his breath could graze her lips. His hand slid from her cheek to her hair, suddenly clenching into the straw colored locks as he ripped her head back. "I have not once thought about you fondly since we left each other." He caught the start of her hand, that taloned reach that he knew was coming for his own throat. Before she could latch, he used his hold to throw her back, toppling onto the floor before any of her venoms could hit him.

"Franken!" she seethed as she came to her knees, struggling the rest of the way to her feet.

"There is nothing else between us but a black past." Franken put up a finger of warning, watching as it just barely stilled her rage. "And coming any closer again—to me or to any of the others—will only bring you more disappointment."


"Soul?"

There was no glow penetrating his eyelids, making him sure it must have only been a moment ago that he shut them. "It's early, Maka," he grumbled.

"I know…" She fidgeted against his side, hand worrying into his sleeping robe.

"If you don't sleep–"

"I know," she huffed.

He rolled over, tossing an arm over her to pull her close. "If it's about leavin'–"

"No," she answered quickly, the word lost as she burrowed against his chest.

"Then?"

"If you knew when I was Masao…" Her sigh warmed his neck before the rest of her words could come. "How long was that?"

That question slowly started to prod him back towards wakefulness as he tilted to rest his cheek against her hair. "Sayin' you didn't fear me…" It's like strugglin' with a lock– a key that won't budge even though I think I really do want it to. "That started somethin', but when you told me I could stand up for myself"—he cleared his throat to buy another second of time to arrange the tangle of thoughts—"it was different than anythin' anyone had ever said to me. You get so down that you just expect that someone is gonna have to save you, but you gave me hope that I could do it for myself."

Her prideful hum buzzed into his chest, toying with the tempo of his heart. "Will you believe me now when I say you're strong?"

His smirk blossomed. Listen to you… won't let it go, huh? I know I'll never be as brave as you, Maka, but if I get to stick with you… "Maybe."

He was almost sure he could hear her eye roll. "Soul…"

He chuckled, curling her closer in hopes that the warmth that was calling him back to sleep would catch her as well. For a moment, there was a hollow echo of that night when she came crying to him– of wishes whispered in his mind for her to stay. Soul tried to overwrite that memory, burning the surety of holding her now into his mind. As husband and wife. His contented sigh fluttered over her head.

The wriggle in her was back, once again denying the siren song of sleep. "The last night I was Masao…"

His eyelids lazily blinked in the darkness, waiting.

"I…" Her shoulders shook through a breath. "I could have killed that man by myself. Easily." Her forehead rubbed against his chest as her head shook. "I told myself– oh, I don't even know what I told myself. Why I ran, it wasn't fear– it was because I knew if I killed him, I would have to leave. Going to you, getting found out, it meant that maybe– just maybe I could still stay."

"You wanted to stay?" Elation fought with that recollection of despair. I knew she was leavin' that night– that's what I was sure of. I was always so sure she was leavin' me, but… I was wrong.

"I tried to convince myself that you'd kill me"—she laughed breathily—"but I couldn't compare it to the idea of leaving you." Maka shifted, and he just barely allowed her to free from that desperate grasp of his. Even in the darkness, her jade eyes glowed. "I couldn't admit it. I couldn't even think about it then, but there was no turning back, not after touching you. I never, ever want you to go without that again."

Delicate fingertips kissed his jawline, leaving Soul to tumble back into her. There wasn't a wisp of sleep left in him as he captured her lips, stealing all the sweetness of those words. Careful was a million miles away as he tangled in the sheets with her again, mind repeating: stay, stay, stay.