Star sat on the rickety dais, watching the moonlight draw lines on what was left of the floorboards. There was a strangeness settling in the air, as if the dilapidation somehow made its way into the very ozone. Those fine hairs at the base of his neck stood on end, making his shoulders tremble from a quick chill. Probably ghosts. Some old monk wanderin' around without a head or some dead lady lookin' for her murdered kid–
The walls creaked and shuddered in the breezy night, making Star tuck his arms into his kosode sleeves. I wonder how far behind those two idiots are. Probably takin' their time, romancin' along the way. He rolled his eyes. Just so we can meet at that terrible place. The crossroads. Like Maka, trying to search back into that day left him with nothing but a grey haze. He remembered being there to help Sid– to protect Jackie– but did any of that happen? Was there space in his mind for much else other than the memory of a slick of blood?
He shook his head, disintegrating the thoughts along with it. Instead of drowning in that, he chose the other route, rooting through his bag until he came across the emergency skin of sake he always carried. It still held enough of its shape that he could be sure he'd lose whatever was left of that memory to a comfortable haze. He yanked it out, pulling it to his lips to drag in the fiery liquid. Kanpai.
Maka awoke on her own from that lingering half consciousness that could be considered sleep to some. She sat up slowly, catching Soul crouched at the fireside as he added more wood. After it'd been suitably stoked, Soul turned, catching her eyes in the dim glow and trying to wave her back to bed. He sat back against the wall of the cave, but before he could argue, Maka was in front of him and forcing space for herself between his legs.
He welcomed her with a huff, letting her lean her back against his chest. "You weren't going to wake me up," she whispered.
"Maybe," he grumbled.
"Telling lies at the beginning of a marriage is a bad sign."
He huffed again as he squirmed behind her. Suddenly, Maka felt his kosode open, the warmth of his bare chest radiating against her back as he wrapped the material around the two of them.
"Soul," she hissed. "They'll wake up and see–"
"I'm not doin' anythin', just keepin' both of us warm," he griped in return. He pulled her closer, hiding his face in the nape of her neck. "I'll sleep like this for a little bit."
"You'll get a crick in your neck," Maka chided, but couldn't put any heart into it. Any chill from the breeze of the night was dead, and there was an unearthly joy of safety permeating down to her core.
"Shiori, huh?"
She dipped her whisper closer to him. "Bookmark."
He chuckled softly.
"I thought you'd enjoy that." His arms were starting to relax around her waist, making Maka find his hands to hold while he started to drift. "I picked Yuki—snow—for your hair."
"S'a good name," he mumbled somewhere in between consciousness. "Maybe someday…"
"Someday?" she offered, but his breathing turned to slow warmth against her neck. I like those names too. She tried to focus on his hands, on the night, on the fire, on all the breath in the room– anything but the fantasy that wanted to take her. Instead, as she sat watchful in the night, she imagined little children like Haru or Aoi, but with white hair, green eyes, and heartfelt smiles.
The sun was starting to anxiously beat on Spirit's neck, amplifying the sweat that soaked his kosode at their fever pace. Marie seemed untouchable, Reina strapped to her back but somehow her steps were entirely unencumbered. The little girl's sweet voice was twittering away over her mother's shoulder, at least adding some tenderness to the panic.
Franken was at the lead, silent as ever while he used that internal honing device. Rin had been the same– able to pinpoint types of people, even certain people she knew well enough. There was a bit of bubbling jealousy eating at him, keeping him moving forward, keeping him wishing that it would only ever be him that would have to save his own little girl.
They'd reached a river, the cool water calling to the party as they took a moment to catch their breath. Franken had dunked his head, crouching quietly at the shore. Reina was free for a moment, dancing around her mother's feet before flitting towards her father. Instead of that being the only soft voice, Spirit swore he heard an echo of children. He trained his eyes on the pass, watching as a boy's face appeared and then a little girl behind him.
"Hello," Marie started pleasantly.
The father had come into view, giving a smile in return. "Good afternoon."
Marie moved towards them, bringing Reina forward to stand in front of her. "By any chance, have any of you seen a young man and young woman traveling together? He has white hair and red eyes and she's–"
"Blonde with green eyes?" The man offered.
"Yes!" Marie's smile brightened, her voice bubbling over her lips anxiously. "Please, where did you see them? When?"
The man blinked for a moment, his brow wrinkling slightly. "I-I'm not sure they were looking to be found, miss."
"I'm the girl's father," Spirit piped up from behind.
"They said her family was up north," the man replied as he pulled his children protectively to the side.
Spirit sighed before muttering in defeat. "I came for the wedding. Just a little too late is all. We're trying to catch up with them, travel together."
The man pursed his lips as he glanced at his children.
"What's her favorite book?" the girl piped, looking up expectantly at Spirit.
He let a laugh flutter off his tongue before the reply came as easily as breathing: "The Bamboo Cutter and the Moon Child."
The little one looked up at her father. "It's okay, Papa."
The man seemed to deliberate for another moment before murmuring, "We stayed in a cave just up the road here together last night. They left very early this morning."
"Then we can still catch up to them!" Marie clasped her hands excitedly. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" She twirled Reina up into her arms. "Come on, Franken, Spirit."
"Here, let me take her," Franken chided softly, fiddling the wrap away from around Marie.
As they fussed, Spirit turned to the father, stopping him just as he passed them. "Thank you. Really. I just– I have to see my daughter."
He nodded, starting another few steps down the path with the children herded in front of him. For a moment, he paused, looking over his shoulder at Spirit. "Take it easy on the boy."
"What?" Spirit's head snapped back.
"Well, he said he didn't ask for your permission…" The man chuckled softly. "But he does really love her. The way he was with her last night… Well, that's all I'd wish for Aoi. So as one father to another, give him a chance."
Soul slowed as Maka did, examining the crumpled sight before them.
In its heyday this must have been a place for pilgrimage, but the Shinto temple in front of them had started to disintegrate into disarray. Grasses broke the walkway, while old wood that had baked for years in the sun looked closer to splinters than boards. The dusk was starting to settle, bringing an eerie grey to each corner of the building that stood in utter silence.
"What is it?" Soul finally broke her revelry, watching Maka's hair flick as her chin appeared over her shoulder.
"I don't know. I just–" She looked back, hands swaying slightly at her sides. "There's something there."
He moved closer, a hand protectively placed on her elbow. "Somethin'?"
"You know what Franken said, about that gift my mama had…" She sighed as she closed her eyes, one hand coming to her heart. "I know something's there, or someone. It's just pulling me."
His eyes floated along the edges of the building, trying and failing to tune into whatever was there for her. He glanced at her face again, seeing the worry lines on her forehead, the tight pull of her lips. "Then we'll go in."
She looked at him, searching his face before giving him a weak smile. "Alright. Thank you."
"Now, when it ends up bein' some ghost…" He teased as he nudged a shoulder into hers.
"They'll probably leave us alone," Maka corrected as they walked up to the doors and her hands connected with the heavy handles.
"Oh?" He tapped a hand to her waist playfully.
"With the red eyes, white hair, they'll already think I'm haunted by one."
With their laughter, Maka swung the doors inward, opening up the broken temple.
Waiting, waiting, waiting.
There wasn't enough darkness to do it comfortably, the last dregs of the sun still filtering through the cracks of the half dead roof. It dappled the floor, fluttering circles that shuddered and dimmed as the sun began to fall. It was then that the heavy door squealed, calling violently on its hinges as the two shapes entered.
So hungry– so, so, so hungry.
The tachi chattered in their hand, reverberating with the call.
It's her– it's time!
When the two made it to the center of the temple, Crona dropped from the ceiling beam, wood splintering under their feet.
The pair jolted before freezing, both wide-eyed. "Crona?" Maka started but Soul's hand was instantly on her, pushing her a step behind him.
"I-I really tried to warn you," Crona moaned mournfully as the tachi raised. It seemed to slither through the air, vibrating back and forth like a rattler's tail.
"Maka," Soul snapped sharply. "Use me."
"What–?"
Whether she was bound to accept or refuse the noble offer, Crona jutted forward, drawn by the sword in their hand. They dragged it low, ready for the upswing that would tear her asunder, spill her guts and let this dark thing wallow in the putrescence. Instead, in a flash of light, a scythe toothed with crimson lines appeared, stopping the strike.
How fun this'll be–
Crona pulled back the tachi, lobbing another swing that was met with an ear shattering clap of metal.
–even if Mother said you shouldn't play with your food…
Bravery coursed off of her in waves, urging that scythe with calculated hits that Crona lithly blocked. Each clang brought another tremble through the metal in their hand, another blind, bloodthirsty call.
Let her try– let her feel like she's won something–
Crona let Maka gain ground, pushing them back towards the dais that crumpled under the hard steps of each battle stance. The hits were the same, intense but in no way breaking Crona's form.
–because it'll only taste sweeter when she finally awakes to the fear of it all…
They eased back a little more, the distance from the door now seeming an eternity. This slice was different, ready to catch them at the shoulder and drive them to the ground. Crona didn't block, letting the blade sink just a toothy bite into their skin before stopping. It was caught on the blood, black as it seeped onto the floor.
Now– now she'll know fear.
